Melanoma, the Spanish Dance

It's been two and a half months now since I had a melanoma removed from my left leg just above the ankle. June 15th was the fatal day, and since then I've had wound care nurses coming twice a day to redress that hole in my leg. I imagine that these nurses were ordered by the surgeon. The strange thing is that they also have to wrap up the wound on my right leg that I sustained on the car that Robin rented. You have to be nimble to get into one of those things, Rhoda said, and I'm far from nimble. So now I go around somewhat like a guy out of one of those old Civil War pictures with bandages around both legs that stick out like a sore thumb, and I'm sorry that I had to use an old analogy to describe my appearance. In the first few weeks after the surgery I had unbearable pain. I was ready to slit my wrists or throat whichever would have been faster. However, I remembered that if Rhoda was to get an income from the VA I had to live until February, 2010. That would be the month that provided the ten years I had to live since I was rated 100% "service connected disability". If I didn't live those ten years, Rhoda would not be eligible for that income which at the moment is about $1100 per month. So, slitting my wrists would not be financially the right move. The pain is almost all gone by now, and won't I be the happy camper when that event occurs. Even so, my mobility will be limited unless I get a lift put on the back of my car that would hold my scooter. When that happens I'll be able to go most anywhere. Right now, I'm in the mood to write something...anything...and so this blog. With my cane, which Bobby bought or stole for me, I can walk a little way, and so yesterday I drove to the Coconut Casino where I deposited a few dollars which I'll never see again. I don't know of anyone who has won any money in the Florida casinos. From now on I'm going to stay at the 2 cent slot machines and spend a few hours and dollars there.