The progress I’ve made since my January fall from my front porch, the legs surgery and rapid initial recuperation has been slowed to a crawl since, say, May. I worked myself pretty hard until I could locomote without the four-legged folding walker. Another major milestone in mid-May was finding myself improved enough to pull myself up to the flat top of a floodlight stand overlooking the airport tarmac where the airplanes (Cessnas, Bonanzas, Learjets, etc.) park to refuel or overnight while flight crew and passengers do business and pleasure in the city. The big advantage of climbing up on that raised base is that I can take pictures of arriving and departing airplanes without the fence getting in the way.
This was the single most important accomplishment since losing the walker. There should have been more significant accomplishments, but they’ve not happened. Until July 8, my first day back at my employer after a four-day temporary “parole” away, spent mostly at the airport museum, I had been okay with using the railings on stairways to pull myself up the steps and brace myself to keep from falling forward and tumbling, coming down the steps. Two events happened over the four-day hiatus from the plantation . . . okay, from my employer if you insist.
Number 1 was my discovery that I’ve not had a working telephone land line since APRIL. Part of my life as been a daze of depression and simply denying the rest of my responsibilities because I’ve been so bleeping SAD. I don’t receive many phone calls at home, and I just assumed life was going on as normal. I’ve not tried to call anyone from my home in several months. When I need to call someone I use my employer’s phone or my cell phone. I rely a lot on e-mail. Even so, I wanted to keep my land line phone number. To do that I had to re-establish my phone line. I did that this afternoon. Paid the past due bill over the phone, and an e-mail from the phone company informed me that I’m re-connected.
Item B was a better understanding of how precarious my balance is. It was always an issue (Lousy sense of balance) in physical therapy (PT) at the hospital, and they urged me to practice; showed me the exercises, which — after they released me from further required visits for an hour PT — I of course did not do. Starting July 8, a realized I am almost ASKING for another accident to happen if I don’t get serious again. Solution? I am making myself ascend and descend steps without touching the railings. I’m doing it s-l-o-w-l-y now, but I’m doing it every time without hands on railings. As I get my balance back, the speed will come.
Part of my daze, really since the discharge from the hospital, has been my avoidance of the hospital bills. I am not earning enough to pay much, but I did qualify for Medicare with help from someone at the hospital, and I am s-l-o-w-l-y turning my attention to those bills. This is really going to be hard. But I have made a few steps in the right direction. I spent part of the 4th of July sorting the bills by companies indicated in the upper left corners of unopened envelopes. I’m summoning the strength of mind to open everything, pitch all by the most recent bill from each provider and go from there next week.
There are some more concerns awaiting the attention of a civil, intelligent citizen which I am trying to become. Maybe I’m running out of days and don’t know it. Things need to be set right whether I leave this world next week or 20 years from now. I need to do this not because I’m running out of time but because it’s the right thing to do.
As the BeeGees used to sing, “The road is long with many a winding turn that leads us to who knows where.” As I once wrote in one of my songs, “I haven’t found the flavor, but I’m getting there.”
Live long . . . . . . . and proper.