"The pain of the mind is worse than the pain of the body" (Syrus)

.....I'm really confused.  I am suffering pain from a sore in my heel at the same time I have pain in my groin. Not just a little pain; but a whole lot of it, and neither problems seem to be getting any better.  Tuesday I go for the oxygen treatment, but as I've said, I don't believe it will do me much good.  Joel wrote that if Rhoda said to do it, then I ought to do it.  Phil B. asks what I have against oxygen.  Both boys appear to be optimistic.  Well, OK; I'm doing it and we will see what happens.  According to me, nothing will happen.  Right now I can't even lift my left leg; someone has to help me.  

.....Ilana will be graduating from high school at the end of June.  I've made air and hotel reservations, but right now it looks as though I'll lose the money involved. If I can't go, Rhoda can stay with Renee, he daughter.  Rhoda does not want me to be alone in the house and wants to get someone to stay with me and help with the things I need.  So, I'm afraid I won't be able to go to New York; it won't work with the condition I am in.  Ruthie thinks I may have "given up"; well I have been pretty close to that--and worse.  I'm willing to try anything now and so tomorrow we are going to the place for the oxygen treatment.  I don't have much faith in it, but I'll give it a try.  They put you in a "tube" and pump in pure oxygen for an hour and a half.  That is supposed to help you to heal faster.  We shall see.

"Make War breed peace" (Timon of Athens)

.....Here's the latest. The sore on my heel is yet to heal.  (Good example of homonyms).  The doctor has recommended something called "Hyperbaric oxygen therapy."  It's a procedure where they put you on a table and wheel you into a contraption and blow in oxygen for a full hour and a half.  It'supposed to make wounds heal faster.                          It's something that I believe will do me no good and I will have wasted all that time breathing pure oxygen.  I fluffed it off, but Rhoda was fiercely adamant about it.  I will spend the hour and a half just thinking.  There will be a tv set, but I don't watch tv in the afternoon.  I could bring a book, but the only book I read now is one that I have written.  Wouldn't it be fun to read about what happened to me in 2007?  At any rate we are trying to get that wound to heal.  It distributes pain.


.....There's nothing really going on these days besides boring stories of my affliction. I was really "down" the other day when I got an email from a student of mine who graduated in 1965. It made my day. 
 I have told anyone and everyone who would listen that you were my favorite and most valued teacher!  I've taken multiple classes in my education career and have had many excellent teachers but none captured my interest and excitement for learning the way you did.  So....after all these years I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
.....  I can't even remember if I was smoking pot that year--or any other year for that matter.  Maybe it was that which made me a teacher like the one she remembers.  I never even suspected that I would become a teacher; I was just a kid from the Bronx who knew nothing.


.....Every year at the end of May comes Memorial Day.  Greeting someone with "Have a happy Memorial Day" just doesn't make it on that day.  It's a time to reflect and to remember those who gave their lives in the service of our country.  Those like the eight boys in my own aircraft who never had the chance to enjoy their grandchildren.  It's a day to honor our soldiers and sailors who were young and who never came back.

"The knight of the doleful countenance." Man of La Mancha

.....An update on my "condition": First of all, I believe that I have neglected to mention the ulcerated sore I have on my left heel.  This sore is painful and doesn't seem to be going anywhere.  I've had to deal with it for five or six weeks now.  So, what with that problem and the problem I"m having with my left leg which produces pain in the pelvis whenever I try to take a step. I feel that I have been in a Royal Battle.  In the least, the pain I have might be alleviated if the Queen knighted me; Sir Baron d'Ross knighted to honor all the Ross clan in Scotland from whence Sir Baron emanated. In addition, Baron was reminded of how his Sopwith Camel plane outdueled the Fokkers.  So what's a little hip fracture compared with that?  Eh?

.....The renovation of our place is complete now and very beautiful.  All the floors are created with wood, except for the master bedroom. RH+ did not want wooden floors in there in case she got up at night and put her feet on the cold wooden floor...so that's where we still have carpeting.  So that the Baroness would not get cold feet in the event she got up at night to go to the bathroom, we still have carpeting in there.  Our pantry has been remodeled and we now have tile on the terrace.  Finally got rid of that awful green covering.  Of course, all of this cost us a pretty penny, and along with the $6000 bill we got from Whitehall, I may really have to go back to a casino where I will be very careful in all my movements.  I refuse to stand by the entrance to the turnpike with a cardboard sign saying, I will work for food.

" I am cabin'd, cribbed, confined" (Shakespeare)

.....I am cabin'd, cribb'd, confined.  What I mean by that statement is that I cannot go anywhere because I can't drive.  It also means that I cant walk.  I have to depend on a scooter to do that.  The doctor says that my hip is completely healed.  When I ask him why I have so much pain, he says that he doesn't know.  So what do I need him for?  The truth is that the pain that I have prevents me from walking.  Rhoda drove me to the clubhouse where I attended the theater arts class.  No one appeared to want to learn how to act.  They started out by saying "a,e,i,o,u."  Then they did tongue twisters, a useless bit of fluff. Finally, everyone had to read a monologue, and that's exactly what they did, they read it. No attention to diction or acting at all.  They simply read their monologues and that became really boring,  So, I left early.

Unfortunetly Rhoda is tied down having to care for me.  She refuses to leave me alone in the house, so we bought one of those alarm mechanisms that you hang around your neck or on your wrist, so that if you fall down, you press the button and soon the medics show up.  And that's the situation here.  What is exciting is the change our apartment has undergone.  The carpet in the living room and den was pulled up and wood replaced them.  In fact wood had been installed in every room except in the master bedroom and the two bathrooms.  It's a different look and I have to get used to it. I have a different look, also, and I have to get used to it.  I cant walk and I have scorpions in my brain; this too shall pass and perhaps too late.

"...if only we could wear jewels;as symbols of pain rather than wealth."

.....I know it's been a few days since I posted this blog, but I'm certain that my loyal readers will understand the reason--I've been battling the pain that accompanies my hip surgery and the sore I have on my left heel that brings up the pain level whenever something touches it.  Far be it for me to complain; it does no good.  I told the doctor about it, but his answer was that everything has healed.  When I asked why the pain now, his reply was that he didn't know.  If the doctor has no answer why complain?

.....At the moment, I am fairly immobile; assigned to a walker or a scooter.  With the scooter in the house, I fail to understand the formula for avoiding bumping into walls.  I am grateful that a license is not a requirement for scooter driving. Nor can you get pulled over for DUI; I occasionally imbibe a beer.  One event here involves my wearing a necklace at the bottom of which contains a button. If you fall and hurt yourself and can't get up, you press the button and all hell breaks loose!  The police are alerted and the medics arrive with full siren blasting even unto the parking lot so that neighbors are alerted and thus lured away from the television.  I agreed to wear this alarm button for Rhoda's sake; she says she'd feel much better about me being alone.  The button is hung around my neck with a string--which is a cheap way to be wearing a necklace.  Next time I go to a flea market, I'll get a chain of gold.  Not real gold, of course; it' $1500 an ounce!  And maybe I'll have that button engraved with the symbol of a lion, the representation of Columbia U.  If I am forced to wear an alarm button around my neck, at least it will have some class. 

".....there shall be no more crying...neither shall there be any more pain." (The Bible)

.....Well, I took my oxycodone and it doesn't appear to be doing much good.  I still have pain emanating from a sore just behind my left heel. It's the size of a dime. Whenever it comes into contact with anything--like a thumb or the floor, you can hear my hollerin' from here to Tripoli.  I hope it does them some good; at least more than it does me.  Then, of course, there's the problem with the hip surgery.  It's been two months now since then and I still have pain in the pelvis when I try to use the walker.  Today we have an appointment at the wound center, and perhaps they have some solutions to these problems.  I don't intend to spend the rest of my life in pain.  Actually, I have no idea how I will spend the rest of my life.  Perhaps one of my former students has a plan--or Phil or Ruth or Emry or Anonymous or Ellin, or anyone else who reads this journal.  It might be that 10 aspirin is the answer to my affliction and can alleviate my sufferance.  I don't believe that I deserve this torment, but who can say that anyone deserves anything?  

.....I can now understand when a student comes in, confronts me, and claims that his essay does not deserve a C-.  That's a pretty flunky grade and he insists that his paper rates a C.  Well, that seems to solve the torment he experiences but what about me?  I think the paper deserves an F or something worse, and I tell him so--and I tell him to go home and rework it.  That solves the problem for both of us.  He gets another chance and I'm off the hook.

.....Just got back from the wound care center and the doctor thinks the sore looks infected, so he has the nurse x-ray it and has me give blood.  I have no idea what these two procedures will prove.  And not only that, but he prescribes an anti-biotic pill after which I have to drink 8 ounces of water and continue to drink water throughout the day!  Problem is, I'm not a water drinker, and if I do what is prescribed, I'll have to remain by the bathroom door.

"...to cease upon the midnight with no pain." (Keats)

.....Robert Browning wrote, "...Grow old along with me; the best is yet to be." Well, I'm not too sure about that;in fact, if my current situation is "the best" then I am opposed to it. Shakespeare complains in 'The Comedy of Errors' "By misfortunes was my life prolonged to tell sad stories of my own mishaps." And this comment appears to contradict Mr.Browning. And considering my own current existence, I can offer a sad story of how I broke a hip for the second time in my life, and my own careless ineptitude is causing me unrelenting pain. Not just tickling pain; that is,Homeric pain. Now, so what can I do about this?  Not very much. I use the scooter to get around most places in this house. The renovation is very nearly complete--wooden floors everywhere except in the main bedroom. Makes it easier to scoot. Where the scooter can't get to, I resort to a walker, which I use with pain in the pelvis.  So, that's the situation. I plan to write Mr. Browning an email and if this is "...the best that's yet to be" and is already arrived it is a huge disappointment.


.....Since the arrival of old age along with accompanying medication is inexorable, let's get on with something else. Osama Bin Ladin, for example. Listening to some newscasters is becoming very confusing because they, themselves, are confused; they can't get the idea that 'Osama' is the terrorist and 'Obama' is the President. I am also confused by the fact that Navy Seals were employed for this mission to outsource this guy in an operation that was totally land based. And no one asked me where this guy could be hiding out. Took them nine years? Do these security men think that a millionaire would be hiding out in a cave!! Would you? No. Just like him, I'd build a beautiful hotel ringed with barbed wire, and I'd sleep with a different wife in a king sized bed every night while reading Playboy and all about Hugh Hefner and is baby wife.  Well, it's time for my oxycodone. 

Home? Give me a break. (I hate that word!)

Ah, So this is home? Everything here is maxed out complicated.  Tom, the genius constructionist; the man whose great, great grandfather,Michael Angelo must be the artist who supplied Tom's genes.  Tom is a true artist; he comes and goes as he sees fit--like a butterfly.  While Tom is flooring the apartment with wood, Rhoda is catering to my every need--and I do have a few of them.  Her genes certainly must come from Florence De Nightingale, so gifted is she as a caregiver.  She sees that my sox get on my feet, as needed; she lines up my medication from Sunday to Sunday, and I must have about 30 different pills of various shapes and colors.  When I take them at various times in the day, I haven't got a clue as to what they are supposed to cure in my aged body.  I am amazed that she knows which pill goes on which day and at which time.  I am a man who is blessed with two different walkers and a scooter.  I cannot manage to walker around Tom's machinations, so I use the scooter to get me through them more speedily.   Rhoda is truly exhausted--but I don't know what to do about it, except to do as much as possible for myself so as to take the burden from her.  

.....Well, now it has been decided that I wear an "Alert" button on my wrist and a lock box on the door.  The button will summon the emergency guys if something should happen to me while she's away, and the lock box will contain a combination lock to the door so that they won't have too use an axe to get into the apartment.  Whoopee.  Now I have to have someone holding my hand whenever I make a move.  So, I imagine all of this is good for Rhoda as well as it might be for me. The time may come when I can go back to using a cane.  Being home now is a lot better than being in Whitehall--the rehab facility.  Even the name "Whitehall" sounds Dickensian.  The first time someone came around to take my blood it was five in the morning.  I was awakened from a sound sleep.  I asked the nurse why 5am and she said "...it was on her schedule".  I told her to remove it from her schedule and come around 8am from then on.   And that was what was done.   

.....Then, strangely, an ANA came around at 4am and asked if I wanted a shower!  I asked her if she showered at that ungodly hour for waterworks.  I told her never again to bother me for showering at that Dickensonian hour!  And that was done.  I had to correct every ungodly procedure so that it served my benefit--not theirs.  After seven weeks, I managed to escape that institution and continued my rehab at home.  

This is adding insult to injuries...(Moore)

Good evening my dear friends, as you can surmise  by the disjointed colors of the text--I too am disjointed.  I went on holiday aboard the Oasis, a ship containing 5000 passengers, and I was the one who fell and broke his hip in four places.  What are the odds of that eventful hubris?  I was on a stool by a slot machine and I slipped while discharging myself, but only my hip was "discharged"!  I do hope that all my readers will return to this blog and receive some joy from this colorful text.  The first thing I saw in this rehab institution was a behemoth surging out of the mist who looked somewhat like the letter "B" (capitalized) Also this dreadnought (described in Job 40:15-24) was rather dark--end somewhat like the Dove chocolate ice cream pop.  I soon discovered that this colossus was of the female persuasion and one who spoke creole mingled with checkerboard English for which she seemed proud.  She greeted me with this strange unintelligible musical Caribbean language a word of which I could not comprehend.  She however continued to check out my vitals, after which I was assigned to a cell--pardon, a room.  I had a dear friend who was also roomed and I asked that I be quartered with him--and so I was.  And we both derived some cheer from the arrangement until he was discharged.  After he left I transfered to a solo room.  I did not care to speak to anyone under the dire circumstances.  I believe someone out there can imagine my mood of distress...and like Janus...relief .


.....After thinking about the letter B looking like someone who could get a job at Hooters or the Miami Dolphin's cheerleading squad I wondered how humans could communicate with the alphabet that existed a millennium ago and how they might be able to write this column.  The letter "A" could stand for a tent; the letter "b" could represent a pregnant woman; the letter "I" could stand for a skinny rabbi; and the letter "Y" could stand for a rosebush with one thorn. Thus my blog would read "Hey, be careful of those roses, there's a skinny rabbi wedding a pregnant woman in that tent."  

.....The food was vile, (not at the "wedding" in the tent")but I was fortunate enough to see a small "cafe" in the main lobby.  And so I existed on hot dogs with mustard and onions most of the time with a root beer float for dessert. When I had breakfast in my room I had the nurse trained to bring me a Maxwell House coffee bag, two Sweet & Lows, a dairy creamer, and two mallomars.


Well, there really is no place like home.