greatbear: (reverse polish sausage)
More news on the health front. The shot in the spine did next to nothing as far as making me all better again, and I've since been punted around to a couple more doctors. Today I made arrangements to try once more with a directed cortisone shot (or two) using a slightly different approach as a last resort before being hacked open to have my control wiring rerouted. I got a chance to see digital versions of my big stack of MRI films today, and was able to see in glorious, interactive high resolution exactly where my nerve is pinched off. My spinal nerve bundle looks like a garden hose, but with a car parked on top of it at the L3-L4 juncture, and just about as useful too. It will take at least two more weeks to get time under the fluoroscope, and I can live with it in the meantime. Since taking it easy is the order of the day, it's off to P-Town next week to try and take my mind off of all the bad stuff. Plus it gets me away from Mayhem Acres where I can't seem to stop doing things around the place in an effort to keep sane. This will also be the first real, true vacation we've had since '07. I might as well make the best of the glacial pace of medical care. When we get back, I hope I'll have some real relief from my latest malady. If not, well, I'll tend to that as it happens. Dwelling on such thoughts harshes my mellow.
greatbear: (picard upset)
Why no postings of a more personal nature lately? Well, in a word or few, I've been mostly a mess. Granted, if I look at it from an outside point of view, it does not seem like much, especially when compared to what others I know have been dealing with. But what really gets to me is pent-up frustration. For example, to keep myself sane and make use of my time awaiting a valid solution to my lower nerves issue, I've been doing little, otherwise time-consuming repairs and upgrades here at Casa de Mayhem. Organizing, tossing out accumulated cruft, fixes, etc. It dawned on me that the pattern of how I undertake these various tasks almost borders on OCD behaviour (spelled with a "u" for Canada Day!). It suits me, as I focus on a class of things, I do them well, and I no longer have to worry about them. The feeling of accomplishment and pride in the results makes me happy. However, it's not been without a few issues.

My problem has been that I experience numbness and spasms in my legs, stemming from a severely pinched nerve in my lower spinal column. It makes walking an occasional bother, but the problem manifests itself when rising from a sitting position or lifting even minor weight a certain way. I will tend to stumble sideways, needing to catch myself. This can sometimes lead to falls, or I drop stuff. Annoying and frustrating for someone who is of an independent (and stubborn) nature. But, when dealing with it in all of it's sporadic, surprising nature and faced with failures of the medical profession to give me some solid relief, I tend to get more than frustrated. A case in point being a couple weeks ago, while trying to finish up a relatively minor trim replacement on my garage doors, I needed to stand on a 2ft stepladder to reach the upper parts around the doors. My legs suddenly answer the call by flaking out and I stumble off the little ladder, sending it one way and me the other. I had enough, I lose it, grab a nearby 5 pound hammer and smash the ladder to smithereens for at least five minutes. There was not a thing wrong with the ladder, it was not even a year old. But something had to give. It was my sanity, of course. The ladder just took the brunt of it.

Tomorrow I get to start the last hope in dealing with this. Surgery seems the only recourse, as the PT, shots to the spine and other stuff did not provide any lasting relief. My worry is that this does not do the trick either, and I end up being like this, in a declining state as well, for the rest of my foreseeable life. I've already lost a huge amount of strength in my legs and back, and it's visible more than ever to boot. I am not used to this, nor do I want to continue like this. I want the old me back. I replaced the ladder, but I have not climbed on it. I'm afraid to. Needless to say, there are things here that need me up on a much higher ladder, and I don't want to risk it. Dropping from a foot or two bruised my ego. From ten feet, it could break something.

Since you made it this far reading my depressing tome, here's something to cheer you back up.

greatbear: (oh squee indeed)
That is, for anyone who has had a dog for a good, long time. Here is a downright wonderful little essay called "Why old dogs are the best dogs." Written by Gene Weingarten from the Warshnin Post (who is one of my favorite columnists when it comes to human interest stories), I think this short essay captures perfectly exactly what it is about dogs when they get older and, as he says, how we all can learn from them. This piece is spot on, and I dare someone to read this copy and not feel at least a little wistful. I know some of you reading this have lost a beloved pet recently (gentle wave @ [livejournal.com profile] dan4behr), and I think this little essay sums things up nicely why we feel close as we do to our pets, and perhaps this might give non-pet-owners some insight on our attachment.

The article is here. Also behind this cut in case the article vanishes. )

For Michael

Jul. 7th, 2009 02:22 pm
greatbear: (Default)
I guess I should broach the much talked about subject these days of Michael Jackson. Even at an early age, I had a fairly sophisticated taste in music, tending towards classical music (I played violin in school and was damn good at it until I gave up in middle school because of the sucky music teacher) and progressive and heavier rock. I still immersed myself in constant music from the radio, and that meant hearing a lot of the Jackson 5 and later on MJ's solo stuff. Here was well produced, catchy pop music that a lot of people felt accessible. Heck, even my Mom used to like some of his stuff. The numbers of the time don't lie, all the way through Thriller his popularity grew worldwide, and the moniker of "The King of Pop" was deserved.

People who become famous in relatively benign ways such as music, movies, writing, etc. tend to handle their fame in many ways. Some burn out early. Some freak and take their lives. Others deal wonderfully through their lives and downplay their fame for a greater good. And some tend to exaggerate odd behavior and if not brought back to a generalized reality they will head off into a world of crazy-go-nuts. This is where MJ ended up. The reasons have been all put forth time and time again. Abusive father. No childhood. Vitaligo. Blackmail. Etc. With all that static no one will ever know the truth. And MJ surrounded himself with lots of enablers that can also foot at least part of the blame.

All in all, I will simply separate the man's life from the man's career. His musical legacy will be around till the end of time. What he's done in his private life essentially is of no concern anymore except in an academic sense. Unfortunately, people will keep dredging up the latter as long as there's a buck to be made from it, and those busybodies who have nothing of interest in their own lives will be there to poke their noses in as usual.

Turning this completely around, upon hearing of Gary Glitter's sexual pecadillos with children and subsequent airtight conviction thereof, I was not-so-secretly hoping that this would finally rid the music and sports world of that horrid "Rock and Roll Pt. 2" song once and for all. And it did so for a while. Now it's back as strong as ever. People have limited memory capacity when it comes to things like this. The product will always tend to separate from it's creator. This is what will always be the case with Michael Jackson and his career of hits, his stage and screen personality and his legacy. The music industry will profit from his work, and the tabloid industry will profit from his life, the latter living parasitically on conjecture, lies and very little truth. As long as there is a market for either of these, it will thrive. History will remember the music most.
greatbear: (tgs weirded out)
Real life is not like the comics pages.

Or is it?

Often called the "funnies". the comics section is a standard fixture in almost every newspaper, and all over the web as well. But it's misleading to dismiss comics as simple humorous sketches. Comics, after all, got their early start as political satire. You could provide social commentary and political criticism much easier in a 'drawing' than you could as an editorial piece. Sometimes the difference between the two was a jail sentence. Or worse.

These days, the comic pages contain everything from insipid humor to biting social commentary. You can often tell a newspaper's editorial slant by the roster of comics it carries. A right-wing rag is more likely to carry "Mark Trail" rather than "Doonesbury". "Zippy the Pinhead" is more likely found in more liberal, intellectual-leaning outlets (and is still going to be greeted with collective 'WTFs' on many occasions).

Among the the majority of comedy in the comics there are bits of tragedy. You'll tend to find it mostly in serial strips, where a set of established characters go about their lives much as we do every day. Serialized strips such as soap opera-like "Apartment 3-G" and "Rex Morgan, M.D." tend to be ponderous, dragged out and impersonal. But some strips involve a close-up view of the lives their character's lives. And two of these strips recently dealt with issues that hit close to home for me.

The first one, "For Better or For Worse", is one of my all-time favorite strips. Revolving around a family named Patterson, the strip's story lines and character aging follows a slightly accelerated realtime line. Readers have been treated to watching the kids grow up, newborns brought into the family and many story arcs that deal with current issues, growing pains, major and minor triumphs and tragedies, and social commentary. Peripheral characters brought in discussions of gay rights, developmental disabilities and even sexual assault. Some of the characters in the strip are based on real-life friends of the artist/author. There is even a less-than-six-degrees relationship of some of those inspirations to people here on LJ (I cannot remember specifics except it involves Canadians. lol).

The most recent storyline involves the 'grandfather' in the strip having a relapse of a stroke that occurred earlier in the year. Never one to shy away from including anything that does not happen in the real world, author Lynn Johnston has the strip as of this writing with Grandpa Jim back in the hospital and everyone unsure of his future.

The second, and more unlikely place I'd find tragedy is in the strip "Funky Winkerbean". What first started off in 1972 as a strip that followed the antics of a bunch of kids in school, the comic has moved it's characters up in age in sudden, decade-plus increments. I had not been too close a reader of the strip until recently, when I discovered one of the characters named Lisa was having a battle with breast cancer. The first story arc had Lisa discovering her cancer and going through treatments and eventual remission. Lately, though, it was found that the hospital had accidently switched her records with another patient, and what was thought to be remission had instead found to have the cancer spreading. Lisa decides to stop treatments and let the disease take it's course. Lisa is shown in subsequent strips declining, a gaunt face and weakening body. She succumbs to her disease today. The artist/writer, Tom Batiuk, tells readers that once this story arc is finished, he will once again lurch the timeframe of the strip forward by about ten years. Lisa's story has been made into a book, the sales of the book benefitting "Lisa’s Legacy Fund for Cancer Research and Education". At the end of Lisa's second story segment, another book will be published with the proceeds going to the fund.

Now, some people are not used to or like seeing such realistic, painful realities in their 'funny pages'. While so much of the Funky Winkerbean strips of late hit me very hard since losing Mom to cancer last year, I applaud writers like Johnston and Batiuk for imbuing their works with realities. They remind people of the good times and bad times, ups and downs, tragedies and truimphs that are a part of daily life. And with their deft handling of situations, they give us hope in bad times, help us cope with things that bring us down, and celebrate life in all it's greatness. Yeah, it sounds cliche, but for those who see others going through life in three panels a day, it gives perspective of our lives in living color realtime.

Question of the day to my dear readers: Should the 'comics' deal with such real-life topics such as this? Or should they remain 'funnies'?
greatbear: (headsmash)
It seems as though the new truck deal has fallen through. It's been over a week with no return calls, and each time I have called I get the same "we're at the mercy of another dealer" nonsense. I've never encountered a car dealer so unwilling to make an easy sale. Tomorrow I am going there to collect my deposit check, register my dissatisfaction with staff and management as loudly as I can proclaim near as many potential customers as I can and be done with it.

The past week has been one from Hell and I am at my wit's end as a result. At the rate things are going I am either going to need therapy or a nice tall bridge to jump from.
greatbear: (mini me)
It's full of curves, switchbacks and blind corners. Elevations changes. Walls of solid rock and precipitous, unguarded dropoffs. 318 turns in eleven and a half miles. Exhilirating, fun, scenic and very dangerous.

It's that time again. Time to slay the Dragon. Tomorrow morning I once again join a growing contingent of Mini Cooper owners for a long weekend of fun, eating, driving and all things MINI. Over 800 people and over 500 cars will be in attendance. This event has gotten HUGE. I hope to get some good driving time in, be able to catch up with good friends and hopefully have a great time.

How ironic, however, that this event, this road, has come to symbolize my life in the past three years. My first trip in '04 took place at the time between Mom's cancer treatments and the surgery that would happen the day after my return. This was also during the time I was out of work on disability. Much uncertainty clouded my time there, but with encouragement from Mom, the welcoming of new friends and my first time in many months being able to unwind a bit. It was therapy for me. Mom felt better for it too, as she was able to see me be 'myself' once again. The following year was a turnaround, as Mom insisted on accompanying me. We both had a great time, and things were looking up so much for the both of us. Then last year, with renewed uncertainty of Mom's health rearing it's ugly head during my trip, it was that weekend while I was away that she received the bad news from her doctors.

Of course, she assured me that everything was okay, so as to not spoil my time. The day after returning home was when she broke the news to me. We had less than two months together after that.

Is it this road that holds such uncertainty behind every blind curve? Or is it my life? It's both, really. And I intend to take them both at full throttle as much as possible. If something unspeakable should happen, at least I was having fun when it happens.


What awaits beyond the curve...
greatbear: (blackness)
I havent had much of a mind towards any meaningful updates to this blog-like mess in recent days. Too many disconnected thoughts, ennui, anger, disgust and outright hatred of political figures and current events, distractions... pick one, pick 'em all, they are not only keeping me from doing anything here, but also making me live a shuttered, insular, almost hermit-like existence lately. While the recent jaunt to NYC was a nice (and needed) little excursion, it was mostly just a shaft of light shining down into a grey, quiet life I've been leading. Like a focused spotlight on a darkened stage, I just stood in it for a while till it eventually extinguished and I went back to my usual routines. Such has been the norm for a while.

I have a great deal to be thankful for and happy about, don't get me wrong. I just tend to keep those things close to me. For some reason though, I am letting things mostly outside of my control get to me. This country, this world is a mess, and there is no sign of it improving. I am sick to death of politics, and I'd like to simply ignore it all if it weren't for the fact that it involves and is directed at me and my friends most of the time. I am angry about corporate power grabs that increase every day and cost me money and take away my rights. I harber a particularly bileful brand of ire for religion and how it has become nothing more than a mental illness and is keeping people ignorant, manipulatable and in constant fear. Right now, the only thing keeping me from exploding and taking it out on some other human is my being able to get away from it all and temper my occasional rage.

I feel fortunate that I have more friends now than at any other time in my life. I also find that a lot of these friends are under similar pressures in some ways. I am also frustrated that many of them are either unaware of some of the issues causing problems, or worse, choose to ignore them. I help where I can, and am glad when it's appreciated.

I guess part of my 'problem' is caused by my empathic nature. I care about people. My empathy, however, is countered by the feeling that people are the sum of their actions. To me, if someone's existence centers around, say, taking advantage of or harming others, that person is disposable. I will feel no pain whatsoever if such an individual gets his 'just desserts', or worse. It's an odd mental space to be in.

I've got to find a means to take this negative energy and somehow use it in a positive way. The gym is an option, but to be honest, the ones around here seem to be filled with self important types looking to socialize. I have to find an old-fashioned powerlifting gym that scares away the 'socialites'.

My own entries into my blog have pissed me off to the point of not completing them. The "Music And Your Rights" series I have been continuing has reached a point of such absurdity in regards to what the 'media companies' are trying to accomplish (and, unfortunately, succeeding) that I don't even want to see the words I have written. Greed knows no boundaries anymore, and I feel trying to let people know the 'deal' is falling on deaf ears.

My blog will continue to exist, but at this point I am not sure in what form. Mostly it is just a gateway into my friends list right now, which is where I spend my time with it. You'll see comments from me, but not much in the way of my own entries until I sort out things in my life.

Profile

greatbear: (Default)
Phil

December 2016

S M T W T F S
    123
45678910
11121314151617
18192021222324
25262728293031

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jun. 30th, 2025 08:28 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios