Hard to believe that seven years have passed since I promised that I'd be posting my thoughts and fears once again.  A buddy of mine tells me that I should stop bugging them (note the gender-neutral pronoun) with my hallucination and post them on the web.  How about a blog, they said?  So, here I am.  This may or may not be interesting.  However, I'm going to try and have fun.

After five serious spinal surgeries, a gym mishap, and years of physical, occupational, and speech therapy maybe this sort of activity will perk me up a bit.  The physical therapists have spent the most time with me.  Usually, they're lots of fun:  I get to stand on one foot, climb and descend stairs, splash around in the pool and practice heel kicking my tush.  Sometimes, the PTs overdo it, maybe trying to shut me up.  If so, they're good.  Several times I've ended a session incapable of more than a couple of consecutive steps.  Sigh.  I find myself gasping about how I'm "just fine.  Please let me sit for a bit."  Doing so is like pouring gas on a fire.  Anxious women of all ages circle my precarious perch (maybe wondering if alliteration signals a geezer's death rattle?) After a while I get my bearings, stagger to the SUV in the parking lot, and make my way home.

The occupational therapists are also cool.  Spending a morning learning to make Ramen Soup with an OT and her assistant carefully taking notes can be sobering.  More fun, was the test of balance and cognition which requires me to stand on one foot while sorting knives, forks, and spoons into the appropriate slots.  My protestations that I couldn't do that even when I had all my marbles didn't even draw a grin.  Some very sober girls.  It's possible that they exaggerate the importance of Ramen Soups.

Last is the speech therapist.  She had a pile of poorly photocopied worksheets from the 1960s with all sorts of puzzles, animals, flowers, airplanes, cars, etc.  Not being able to tell shit from shortcake (thanks to my boyhood mentor, the late Orville H.) I set those aside.  We then spent our sessions talking about her terrible boyfriend.  I commiserated about dating as single women were such clingy bitches.  She had no sense of humor.  She didn't cry, but her affect stiffened.  She had this enormous tote bag that she at least twice left in my room requiring her to return.  I hope that her sessions with me helped her love life.

My blogging thus far is fairly wordy, maybe pointless.  However, I see the thread(s) and will work to make them more obvious, or maybe abandon them in future blogs.  I'm contemplating a post about a 101 year-old Aqua flex lady was the Lincoln School (Cedar Falls) nurse in the early 1960s.  She remembers me and it's not good.  Good night.