I've got some surgery coming up real soon and I'm a little nervous about it. It is not really major surgery, but several minor ones rolled into one visit. With any luck, my lower legs will be fixed and I can enjoy walking again. Also, my left shoulder will be fixed and I can enjoy moving it again. If he (my surgeon) decides to do (repair the Carpal Tunnel Syndrome) my left wrist , I should be able to play the guitar for longer than 30 minutes at a time with no pain.
All of the above should/will improve the quality of my life tremendously. Might even improve my mood.
What I'm nervous about is nothing specific. It is just a vague sense of unease about the whole affair. It's going to be done on an outpatient basis, but they will be putting me under anesthesia. So I'll be unable to breathe on my own for a while, but I will be unconscious and I think that's probably a good thing. Because he will be cutting into me in several different places and it's good that I won't be seeing or, more importantly, feeling that.
So what's to worry?
I worry that my chart might get mixed up with someone else's and maybe I'll lose a leg or something. I'm worried that maybe it won't work and I'll be even more messed up than I was before. I'm worried about not having any degree of control over myself and my immediate surroundings. I'm worried about basically being dead there on the table for a while and totally at the mercy of complete strangers. I know in my mind that none of the above is likely to happen or to be a bad thing, but still...
I've had surgery before with this same surgeon. I have no doubt but that he will do a fine job. He always has.
So I shouldn't worry. Right? Right. Yeah...
I'll let you know how it turns out after the 27th of this month.
Thoughts?
Pax,
Nelson
I just read a reminder article from ZDNet news (picked up from from Reuters) about yet another malicious attack on the unsuspecting computer public. This one involves the Adobe Portable Document Format. You can read more about that here and here (and lots of other places, I'm sure), if you wish. You can get the latest version of Acrobat Reader® containing the update from Adobe.
Dammit.
Maybe I'm naive or something, but I sure do wish people would quit trying to mess up other people's computers. I don't understand the impulse that drives people to be malicious towards each other. I've tried to understand it, I really have. But I can't.
I know: "Why can't we all just get along?" (This quotation, by the way, is mistakenly attributed to Rodney King. However, what he really said, in the wake of the 1992 Los Angeles riots, was "People, I just want to say, you know, can we all get along?" The closest I've found so far is from the movie Mars Attacks. Funny movie, but I digress.)
Can anyone explain to me why we're so damn mean to each other? I feel sad every time I think about it. If we were truly nice to each other, wouldn't this be a better world?
Any thoughts?
Sometimes, it's good to just start typing and see what happens. Today, I washed a few dishes, futzed around on the computer (a lot), Spent a little time with my son and an even smaller amount of time with my dear, very tolerant wife (who is pregnant with our second child). I wanted to spend more time with each, but I did not.
I have no job. I have no desire for a job (not true). I have no immediate need for a job (growing less true daily) and I have no real qualifications outside what I was doing with **** (not entirely true). The ability (ies) I supposedly posses are drawn up short by other disabilities. I want to play my guitar (and banjo) and get better at it. I cannot play longer than an hour, sometimes hour and a half, without pain and numbness in my left hand. I want to write more, but I have a hard time getting started and organizing my thoughts. I want to get closer to people, but I have a need to be alone much of the time. And I'm lonely during some of that time, but resent company. I want to get into better physical shape. I can't walk or (as I found out [to my embarrassment] this weekend) dance. I can ride a bike and I can swim, so I'm glad of that.
Some impediments I cannot remove. The personal and physical which seem to grow in number with each passing week, I can do little to reverse. Those external impediments to progress which I can remove seem to reveal other impediments dependent upon others, dependent upon still more until, in thinking of all this, I become stagnant.
I'm now trying to think of a word similar to stagnant which conveys a slightly different, yet more accurate meaning. Instead of leaving it alone and checking it later after my thoughts have all run their course, I'm checking on line to see if there is a Plugin Thesaurus for OpenOffice Writer (the word processor program I'm using to type this whatever-it-is). I can't find one, but I do find mention of the fact that there is one somewhere within the program. Turns out, there's one in here after all: I just had to hunt a little further. Unfortunately, a better, more accurate word eluded me whilst using the built in Thesaurus so I'm going to have to think some more.
Static: I become static. I have so many possibilities that I might choose, I am frozen in a moment not of time but of indecision. Dead in the water. I am unable to choose a starting point and as a result unable to accomplish anything. This has been a repeating pattern (with few exceptions) for my whole life.
So what can I do? I'm seemingly self-screwed and zipped up tight. A-quiver with indecision, stand (or sit) I.
The trick (and it doesn't always work) is for me to go find something different to do. Instead of wasting life worrying about where to start, a particular job, go find another one to work on, one that I can begin with no difficulty. If I can't finish it in one sitting, that's OK: I still have the other thing which may not be so insurmountable this time when I try it. However, I've got to come back and finish what I started eventually. When I finally finish one of the tasks I've begun, there's that all-too-brief feeling of satisfaction which gives way to the depression of being done and having to find something else to do. Yeah, I get that, too. I have not answer for that one yet, other than having something at hand to begin. And sometimes that won't work either.
Turns out, I can't help this behavior: it's the way I'm wired. I am one of a small percentage of the population who suffers from Attention Deficit Disorder or ADD. I did not know this prior to a year ago. I learned about it through counseling with a therapist. The behavior, will very likely not change, but since I'm aware of the condition, living with it is may be a little bit easier.
Why should you care? Good question. Maybe you recognize some of these behaviors in other people you know who, at first glance, seem to be lazy and aimless. Maybe not. Maybe you recognize them in yourself. Maybe not.
If so, cut that person (or yourself) a little slack. If you feel like you know them well enough, tell them about ADD. Maybe they'll check up on it: maybe they won't.
There's also a variation on this theme: AD/HD – Attention Deficit/ Hyperactivity Disorder. I don't suffer from the hyperactivity part.
I seem to have lost the point here of the posting. So that's a good time to stop.
Anyway, if you want, you can find out more about ADD AD/HD. This website will give you a lot more information and, hopefully, understanding.
Thoughts?
Pax,
Nelson
Patience is a relative term, especially when it comes to relatives. What works for some, may not be enough for others.
For the longest kind of time, I felt it was my duty to exhibit patience when dealing with my father. Although we began to get along better in his latter years, he always knew how to push my buttons. We clashed on a very basic level and I'm still not sure why. We had a rocky relationship from a (my) very early age which carried on into adulthood. I found the best way to deal with him was avoidance. I know that sounds horrible but it is true and it was effective. So that was the way I chose to deal with my father for most of the time. I think this may have suited him as well, although I do know he loved me, too. It's just that when we got in the same room together, more often than not, tempers would flair and we'd each get angry and... You get the idea. We lived in the same city and my out of town sister saw him probably more often than I did. Please don't miss understand: I loved my father and I still love his memory. There were many good memories I have from growing up and I'm starting to remember more of them. That's a good thing. I wish he was still here to talk things over with. I miss him terribly still: even after more than a year. I expect I will always miss him and my mother (she died in 2001).
Patience. Was it a good strategy in my Dad's case? I think so. It allowed us to be civil and share some good times in his later life.
Now I find my stores of patience drawn upon once again: with my son. He is three and will hopefully be four someday. Until you have experienced it firsthand, there is no way to describe the emotional turmoil that a three year old can generate. Suffice it to say, it's awesome at times. He can go from a perfectly affable, happy little boy to full blown temper tantrum demon (also an awesome sight at times) in the blink of an eye. Similarly, he can go back to his own sweet self almost as fast, sometimes. It is frikkin' amazing.
He's young and is still trying out emotions to see how they feel (and how they might benefit him). It's what he should be doing.
We (His Mommy and I) both dislike the whiny periods. Enough said on that.
I am keenly aware of how my relationship with my father affected me and my life. I'm in therapy once a week partly because of it. I do NOT want my relationship with my son to be the same and I'm striving to not become my own father. I'm hoping that since I'm aware of the potential, I can guide us in a different direction. Maybe our path will not be so rocky. I pray that will be so.
"I swear there ain't no heaven and I pray there ain't no hell.
But I'll never know by livin', only my dyin' will tell."
Blood Sweat and Tears 'And When I Die'
That opens a whole other can of worms. Maybe in a later post, someday, I'll get into that question. Not today, however.
I'll leave you with one more quotation from that song:
"And when I die, and when I'm gone
there'll be, one child born, in this world
to carry on, to carry on."
Thoughts?
Pax,
Nelson
