Miles To Go Before We Sleep
12/02/19 07:40
Having dental work is never fun but it is more often than not just necessary. It's also a lot less fun when the work required is more involved than originally planned and it goes downhill from there when your dentist tells you that you need to take it easy for about six weeks after the surgery. Say what?
I'm a week in and I'm doing my best to stay away from steak and tacos per his orders. I'm under strict orders as well not to chew on that side of my mouth lest I dislodge or disrupt the site putting me back at square one.
I'm trying to be a good patient and my follow-ups scheduled every few days are designed to encourage me to stay the course for the duration. On top of it all, I'm not to do any "aggressive" exercising for a period of time. That may prove to be more difficult than eating nothing but humus and cottage cheese for the remaining five weeks.
I won't ride my bike because that qualifies as an unnecessary risk. One fall and it's all over. I asked if I might be able to use the treadmill at yesterday's follow-up and they agreed that as long as I don't run on the treadmill that that should be fine. Did I mention that I don't as a rule eat steak or taco's?
One suggestion or recommendation is that I prepare my food with a blender before consuming. The blender business may be a bridge too far. This is serious stuff, folks. But six weeks takes me into the middle or latter part of March. Winter will for all intents and purposes be over by then. Between now and then we will no doubt have a snow storm or two that may require my involvement using heavy machinery.
Again, had I known how involved this surgery was going to be I might have put it off until such a time where it made more sense to do it. Just such a storm is coming in the next day or two and I've asked Nancy if she wouldn't mind using the snowblower to clear the snow. Evan can lend a hand as well if he's in the mood.
Speaking of the Ev-man, he and I drove to Concord, NH yesterday and then to South Portland, ME where we ultimately delivered paperwork related to his prospective rental unit. He was game for the ride so we got an early start and we were back home by two in the afternoon.
Nancy asked in a text while Evan and I were on the final leg home if I'd met with the person in South Portland that she had been talking to on the phone as of late and I told her that I had not. The receptionist told me that she was going to stick the paperwork in the appropriate mail slot and there was never so much as a suggestion that I might be able to, nor would it be necessary to, meet with Nancy's contact. And now, we wait.
Evan and I chatted quite a bit about what he might need if and when he moves in to his new place. I only say "if" because we're still in the process of providing this and that and there's yet more to be done. His questions were good and to the point. How will I get internet? Will I rent or buy a modem? Can I get by with just a laptop or will I need to buy a desktop at some point?
Will I need the full complement of services from the provider or can I get by with internet only? You will still pick up the bill for my monthly cell service. Right? Oh, and I suppose I can put in my order at Walmart and they can bring it out to the car. Will I have to get out of the car when they bring out my order?
Having arrived in South Portland shortly after 1 in the afternoon, we were immediately struck by the number of seemingly homeless people wandering around. While stopped at one intersection, we counted 4 or 5 vagrants at even and odd intervals around the perimeter of our car and all within a stone's throw away. As we drove deeper and deeper into the bowels of the downtown area it became increasingly desperate and sadly obvious that the city had a serious and metastatic homeless problem.
The population from all appearances seemed young, drug addicted, directionless, and hungry. It is perhaps a by product of the opiate scourge that we hear so much about these days. There is no doubt a mental health component and then there are the disaffected and economically displaced.
There was a homeless shelter within a block of where I parked and while I didn't feel threatened one way or another as I walked around the corner to my destination I did feel an incredible empathy for those whose lives put them in this terrible place. All I could think of was, there but for the grace of God go I (and Evan.)
Having provided the requested references just yesterday, and yes, references still matter, Evan is now waiting for them to contact him with an appointment to see the apartment this week. Everything else has passed muster as far as we know although the final approval has not yet been given. Who knows. He may not like the place once he sees what he's getting in to. He needs to be reminded that it is a step in the right direction. You can't live with your parents forever for chrissakes.
I do want to commend Evan though for lending a hand with the job of clearing the driveway after this latest little snow storm. I can't be sure but I think he may have had a drink or two prior to pitching in and joining the job already in progress. Maybe he needed to gird himself against his demons who might have decided that it was not in his best interest to get involved.
Once he was in command of the snow blower he began to weave erratic patterns in the three to four inches of freshly fallen snow on the driveway. For someone who had never operated the snow blower previously, these patterns may have made sense to him.
It's not how I would have done it but he's not one to listen carefully when I try to tell him something. He learns quickly when he wants to and throws caution to the wind when he doesn't. There is also no right or wrong way to clear a driveway so that needs to be said as well.
I had warned him against operating the snow blower with his bathrobe on but I'm not sure he took my guidance to heart. All of it, in fact, fell on deaf ears. He can wear what he damn well pleases but you typically don't wear things that might get caught up in the machinery when doing what he was doing.
He gets extra points for having a coat on over his bathrobe but loses those very same points for wearing mismatched wool gloves. His footwear under the circumstances, where much of the snow had turned to slush near the bottom of the driveway, was sensible and appropriate. Hey, those are my boots!
I'm a week in and I'm doing my best to stay away from steak and tacos per his orders. I'm under strict orders as well not to chew on that side of my mouth lest I dislodge or disrupt the site putting me back at square one.
I'm trying to be a good patient and my follow-ups scheduled every few days are designed to encourage me to stay the course for the duration. On top of it all, I'm not to do any "aggressive" exercising for a period of time. That may prove to be more difficult than eating nothing but humus and cottage cheese for the remaining five weeks.
I won't ride my bike because that qualifies as an unnecessary risk. One fall and it's all over. I asked if I might be able to use the treadmill at yesterday's follow-up and they agreed that as long as I don't run on the treadmill that that should be fine. Did I mention that I don't as a rule eat steak or taco's?
One suggestion or recommendation is that I prepare my food with a blender before consuming. The blender business may be a bridge too far. This is serious stuff, folks. But six weeks takes me into the middle or latter part of March. Winter will for all intents and purposes be over by then. Between now and then we will no doubt have a snow storm or two that may require my involvement using heavy machinery.
Again, had I known how involved this surgery was going to be I might have put it off until such a time where it made more sense to do it. Just such a storm is coming in the next day or two and I've asked Nancy if she wouldn't mind using the snowblower to clear the snow. Evan can lend a hand as well if he's in the mood.
Speaking of the Ev-man, he and I drove to Concord, NH yesterday and then to South Portland, ME where we ultimately delivered paperwork related to his prospective rental unit. He was game for the ride so we got an early start and we were back home by two in the afternoon.
Nancy asked in a text while Evan and I were on the final leg home if I'd met with the person in South Portland that she had been talking to on the phone as of late and I told her that I had not. The receptionist told me that she was going to stick the paperwork in the appropriate mail slot and there was never so much as a suggestion that I might be able to, nor would it be necessary to, meet with Nancy's contact. And now, we wait.
Evan and I chatted quite a bit about what he might need if and when he moves in to his new place. I only say "if" because we're still in the process of providing this and that and there's yet more to be done. His questions were good and to the point. How will I get internet? Will I rent or buy a modem? Can I get by with just a laptop or will I need to buy a desktop at some point?
Will I need the full complement of services from the provider or can I get by with internet only? You will still pick up the bill for my monthly cell service. Right? Oh, and I suppose I can put in my order at Walmart and they can bring it out to the car. Will I have to get out of the car when they bring out my order?
Having arrived in South Portland shortly after 1 in the afternoon, we were immediately struck by the number of seemingly homeless people wandering around. While stopped at one intersection, we counted 4 or 5 vagrants at even and odd intervals around the perimeter of our car and all within a stone's throw away. As we drove deeper and deeper into the bowels of the downtown area it became increasingly desperate and sadly obvious that the city had a serious and metastatic homeless problem.
The population from all appearances seemed young, drug addicted, directionless, and hungry. It is perhaps a by product of the opiate scourge that we hear so much about these days. There is no doubt a mental health component and then there are the disaffected and economically displaced.
There was a homeless shelter within a block of where I parked and while I didn't feel threatened one way or another as I walked around the corner to my destination I did feel an incredible empathy for those whose lives put them in this terrible place. All I could think of was, there but for the grace of God go I (and Evan.)
Having provided the requested references just yesterday, and yes, references still matter, Evan is now waiting for them to contact him with an appointment to see the apartment this week. Everything else has passed muster as far as we know although the final approval has not yet been given. Who knows. He may not like the place once he sees what he's getting in to. He needs to be reminded that it is a step in the right direction. You can't live with your parents forever for chrissakes.
I do want to commend Evan though for lending a hand with the job of clearing the driveway after this latest little snow storm. I can't be sure but I think he may have had a drink or two prior to pitching in and joining the job already in progress. Maybe he needed to gird himself against his demons who might have decided that it was not in his best interest to get involved.
Once he was in command of the snow blower he began to weave erratic patterns in the three to four inches of freshly fallen snow on the driveway. For someone who had never operated the snow blower previously, these patterns may have made sense to him.
It's not how I would have done it but he's not one to listen carefully when I try to tell him something. He learns quickly when he wants to and throws caution to the wind when he doesn't. There is also no right or wrong way to clear a driveway so that needs to be said as well.
I had warned him against operating the snow blower with his bathrobe on but I'm not sure he took my guidance to heart. All of it, in fact, fell on deaf ears. He can wear what he damn well pleases but you typically don't wear things that might get caught up in the machinery when doing what he was doing.
He gets extra points for having a coat on over his bathrobe but loses those very same points for wearing mismatched wool gloves. His footwear under the circumstances, where much of the snow had turned to slush near the bottom of the driveway, was sensible and appropriate. Hey, those are my boots!