My thigh feels like it’s on fire this morning and my stomach uneasy. Taking both dogs out was a painful chore. The doctor prescribed another round of steroids that I will pick up today, hoping that it will give me at least a few days of relief like the first batch. I feel like I’m being penalized for all those mornings when I could get moving with relative ease. I even slept on the heating pad last night and reapplied the cold pack on my way out the door, both with minimal effectiveness. Sitting down to write is the only normal part of my mornings these days.
Yesterday, we went to the beach, sitting in the back yard of 32-Gasparillo Island billionaires. We were with friends who shared a fried chicken picnic lunch. It was a great day, but moving in and out of the water was a chore for me. I spent a half-hour on the phone with the doctor, confirming the need for an additional prescription. I’m concerned about the upcoming long drive to Maine and being without my chiropractor for three weeks. Floating in the salty water should have taken the strain off my back and legs, but fighting the current and getting back to my beach chair was exhausting. I stumbled trying to get back on my feet, feeling like a Weeble-Wobble. I’m more than frustrated with this recovery process.
Tonight, we go to the Englewood Moose for dinner and tomorrow evening we celebrate my son’s belated 50th at Pinchers. Monday morning we hit the road in our rental car with an overnight stay in Atlanta. Tuesday we’ll arrive in Indiana. As this Friday morning wears on, I should get back enough flexibility in my leg to go to the gym. Fortunately, the pain slowly subsides as I sit upright and let the cold pack numb my thigh. My wife is headed to the beach again, a luxury thanks to where we live, although I hadn’t been there for six long months until yesterday.
The Olympic Opening Ceremonies are tonight from Paris. I’m, of course, not eligible to participate again due to steroid ingestions these past two weeks, but I wish my fellow Americans good luck. It will be good to have some fresh TV to watch, having caught up on all our current series including The Land of Women, Presumed Innocent, and House of the Dragon. Some of these finales will be put on hold until we get back home in three weeks. See you on the Road!
Getting ready for a long blog blackout. Three weeks without my computer on the road to Maine. The less packing at each stop the better – at least ten different beds along the way – only two Marriott Hotels. Lots of stories to tell when I get back. I’m getting all my home banking squared away in preparation for the journey. It will be at least 3,500 miles of driving, but I’ll return with the glory of having visited all 50 states.
The dogs will go to “Schnauzerville,” their home away from home. However, when my wife goes to visit her daughter in Oakland this November, we’ve decided to divide and conquer. I will stay home, weary of traveling, to take care of the pups. They’ll be disappointed with “Mom” gone. Thankfully, this will be the extent of this year’s holiday travel for both of us since both of her girls will be here in January. Our next adventure will likely be the Florida Keys in February or March. We’ll get our discount tickets for the high-speed ferry in December.
Most everything is booked in the Caribbean next year, after looking into potential Marriott Vacation Club opportunities. We’ll need to get a head start on 2026 for Costa Rica or St. John’s. Next year should be quiet on the travel front, with the priorities being substitute teaching for my wife and a potential part-time job for me. Above all, I need to stay away from medical care! We need to take advantage of all the amenities we have here at Islandwalk, for once. After all, we do live in paradise – there’s no need to travel thousands of miles for sunshine, palm trees, and sandy beaches. I’m prepared for a long staycation, no packing and unpacking, as we think about our 25th anniversary and a potential trip to China.
I’ve just taken my last steroid tablet with mixed results regarding its purpose in relieving my leg pain. There have been moments when I’ve felt like I could conquer the world, followed by cramps and discomfort in my calf muscle. I feel like I’m making progress one hour, followed by despair the next. I will soon have a follow-up with the prescribing physician to determine the next steps. The big question remains: Will there be anger in the withdrawal stages – ‘Roid Rage?
I honestly don’t feel very well – a bit light-headed and achy, but unrelated to my visit to the Urologist yesterday, other than it just added to my seemingly endless medical woes. I’m now trying the drug Finasteride to relieve an enlarged prostrate with the side benefit of keeping my hair from falling out. Fortunately, that’s one problem I’ve never had, but certainly my bladder issues need help, substituting one pill for another.
When we return from travel, I will need an MRI for my continuing sciatica problems, alongside back-to-back appointments with the cardiologist, urologist, optician, chiropractor, and neurologist. What more could possibly go wrong? It’s been a heart-stoppin’, pill-poppin’, leg-hoppin’, eye-droppin’ medical rollercoaster that I would like to get off. Tylenol, vitamins, baby Aspirin, statins, blood pressure, steroid, prostrate, heartburn, and allergy pill bottles now fill my medicine cabinet. Routine blood pressure checks and three kinds of eye drops keep me busy. At least, I’m not on anti-depressants, even though my entertainment dollars are spent on co-pays. Sadly, too many of us old farts can relate to this retirement regimen!
I still find time to go to the gym, but even that is less satisfying than running used to be. Chair Yoga is only once a week and walking still limited to the treadmill. I ride the bike, but don’t go anywhere. There are fifteen bags of mulch to put down, but I can’t seem to find the strength or energy. I’ve fallen but can’t get up – even sit-ups and push-ups are no longer a habit. I’d be sorry for myself, but too many of my peers are in worst shape. However, I feel every bit like the father of a fifty-year-old! Will ‘Roid Rage be next?
As we head back to Indiana in a week, I’ve prepared this poem for a group of eight media friends celebrating their 70th birthdays:
Six Ad Chicks and Two Dicks
As we enter old age,
We honor six Ad Chicks,
And a couple of sales pimps,
Known as the “Two Dicks.”
We forgot a few,
I have no doubt.
But like so many buys,
Some were just left out.
We party at the Mousetrap,
This family of Media friends.
And will blow out the candles,
Before the evening ends.
England, Kaiser, Albrecht,
Reilly, Flora, and Roman Chicks,
You all don’t look your age,
Warner, Harbin Birthday Dicks.
Septuagenarians unite,
No, I didn’t say SEX.
Back then, it was calls,
Not e-mails and texts.
“The client has needs,”
Numbers to crunch.
Settling our differences,
Over a cocktail lunch.
Agencies and Media,
Never on level ground.
One rounds up,
The other down.
Arbitron ratings,
Were still a thing.
Stuck at our desks,
Ring, phone, ring.
It wasn’t as though,
We could take it along.
Plugged in the wall,
The cord not so long.
The phone was your friend,
Or the nagging enemy.
What’s my share?
Came the desperate plea.
Billboards and print,
Added so many choices,
Does the client prefer,
Pictures or Voices?
Let the Buyer Beware,
And the Seller prepared.
Or those promised spots,
May not get aired.
Your insert or display ad,
Might not be placed.
Then a disgruntled buyer,
Had to be Faced.
Being Queens,
And dealing with Jokers.
It often led,
To heavy smokers.
There once was no cable,
Podcasts or streams.
We all had comp tickets,
To follow our teams.
Events and concerts,
Payola galore.
Trips made the bad buys,
Hard to ignore.
Another powerpoint,
Stacks of Media kits.
But If you agree,
I’ll get you in the Pits.
And in retirement,
There’s no front row seats.
Back Stage passes,
Or fancy suites.
So glad we got together,
Before more of us departs.
And those who couldn’t make it,
Are forever in our hearts.
Happy Birthday to you….
I won’t be eligible for this year’s Olympics again, this time due to steroid use. I doubt that I could hit 70-home runs or break a world record in the 100-meter dash, but I sure feel better. Finally, after months of chiropractic treatment, trying to relieve a pinched sciatica nerve near my spine, I can move again. The doctor hooked me up with an accident injury specialist who prescribed a week’s worth of Methylprednisolone tablets. I’m half-way through the dosage and was able to walk comfortably, at a fast pace, last evening. Even my wife, who typically is two steps ahead, commented that I needed to slow down.
I’m still a bit stiff and sore in the morning, sitting on an ice bag as I write this. The pain my hip and leg are not debilitating like previous days. After warming up, I feel great – full of energy – full of steroids. I honestly hope that after the 7-day period, I’m not hooked and that it continues to heal naturally. I had a little trouble working with a doctor whose card reads, Florida Injury?” but the chiropractor, who I do trust, can’t prescribe drugs. I can now comfortably continue the rehab from my open-heart surgery, six months ago without pain.
I have been going to the gym every day, but I’m limited on what I can do. I initially thought that I would simply be replacing the daily runs with long walks. However, I would get cramps and Charlie Horses. Medication changes helped some. I next tried the pool to take the pressure off my back, along with the stationary bike, rowing machine, weight machines, and treadmill where I could hold on to the side rails. Last night, with the support aid of Tally’s dog stroller we walked Fosse. For the first time, I felt like I didn’t need to hold on tight.
My attitude and patience suddenly improved. I spent the day sorting baseball cards and could actually bend over and lift the heavy binders without pain. The question remains: Is it actually healing or just numb from the steroids? Will I be back to normal once the drugs wear off? Or, will I seek the dark back alleys in search of a steroid dealer?
Paydays always make for a beautiful day in the neighborhood. I like it when there’s money coming in instead of out. However, it quickly goes back out to bills with little left over – the current cycle of life. My son’s 50th is quickly coming up and our drive to Maine – more money going out! It’s my brother-in-law’s birthday today but we rarely exchange gifts, but I will see him next week or so as we make our way through Indiana – “Back Home Again.” I’m on a tenderloin quest, with that being my suggestion when I lunch together with my half-siblings, as well, in Columbus, Indiana. It will be the first time that I meet Kristi, who was not present at our initial gathering in Scipio. Four remaining Bannister sisters.
My wife has her tap class today, while I go to the chiropractor for my third visit this week. She’s active and I’m currently not, maybe the result of our 4-plus differences in age? I’m particularly sore first thing in the morning, but still manage to get to the gym. I’m sitting on an ice pack as I write this. I may take it with me on the long drive ahead. Hopefully, I’ll be able to get in some walking on our adventure north, despite the fact that it’s uncomfortable. Treatments don’t seem to be working.
The dogs are headed to the park, as is the morning ritual. Fosse spent the night in “good bed,” rather than the cage. There were no accidents, so it looks like she quickly learned her lesson. She’s a smart dog, but I struggled trying to get her to do her business last night before bedtime. My wife takes her on a long walk – maybe a bit too soon before her last outing. “Ham Time” did not seem to inspire her, as Tally waited impatiently for her reward while her sister continued to doddle. It’s usually the other way around, the slower Tally lollygagging and dillydallying along. Doddle, dillydallying, and lollygagging – three words you don’t see very often in the same paragraph.
Two more chair yoga classes and I’m on my way to Maine, as I continue to struggle with my left leg. I’m getting just as tired of writing about it as limping on it. Yesterday, I made two trips to the chiropractor seeking relief. It loosens up as the day “stretches on” with the worst time being that first outing with the dogs. However, I look across the street at my neighbor leaning on his cane and realize that it could be worse. Everyone has their aches and pains, so mine aren’t unique – just frustrating.
Speaking of pains, our puppy, Fosse, is now a chewing machine. This morning, she went after another TV accessory but settled on destroying a plastic pen. The feisty little thing, three pounds heavier in just the last month, recently tried eating the remote for our living room TV to the extent where I had to replace it. I can’t even set something down for a second within her reach. Plus, her territory has extended to climbing up on my office chair to get at things on my desk. I have to carefully put everything away or she immediately takes possession. Tally went through this stage years ago, and the corners of our coffee table still bear the scars of her teeth. We called her the “Talligator.” Fosse’s new nickname is often now just a string of expletives!
One big positive in my life is eyesight improvement. As my vision continues to get better after cataract surgery a few weeks ago, I may not even need glasses. This was certainly a higher-priced option, but I elected for the standard procedure. At this point, there seems to be very little difference in clarity with or without my spectacles. Next month, with my follow-up exam, I’ll know for sure, but I’m certainly encouraged by the progress. “I can see clearly now,” the tune Johnny Nash used to croon.
There is a wealth of knowledge in my neighborhood. Retired accountants, bankers, lawyers, brokers, and doctors – men and women. I learn something new every day or benefit from their expertise when they assist the HOA on contract negotiations. They might help save money on insurance, zoning, or investments, for example, to keep our annual costs down. I often wish I had skills like this, but my media background doesn’t necessarily apply. What do I have to offer?
Sadly, my chief interest and wealth of knowledge these days seems to be baseball cards, for what it’s worth. It’s like going full circle back to childhood and skipping all those years of doing business. In the back of my mind is the hope that I uncover something valuable, but maybe all that matters is that it makes me happy. I keep thinking of my childhood neighbor, who hit me square in the forehead with a rock, requiring stitches. He was a little older and had an impressive assortment of baseball cards and enviable knowledge. As he and his mother came to see me in bed after the accident, they brought me a box of unopened baseball cards as an apology. I’m sure it was the mother’s idea! It took all the pain away and made me want another hit in the head. The baseball cards are long gone but the scar is still there.
Baseball cards tell a story and finding them like a treasure hunt. I have about ten massive binders of them, carefully organized by team and player. All of them are valuable to me, regardless of condition or worth. They bring back memories and inspire me to learn more about the history of the game. I have several neighbors that feel the same way. I spent yesterday afternoon with one of them, who made it his business. For many years, he was a distributor for Topps, the major brand in baseball cards that has bought out everyone else. They are currently capitalizing on the current resurgence of the hobby, that also extends to all other sports, video games, celebrities, and even Disney.
He eventually established his own trading card business, having recently sold it, but keeping an active role while in his 80’s. I wanted to drool when he showed me a recent shipment of classic cards that he bought for resale. We’re headed to a local card show today, but just to look, and not as an exhibitor, as is his norm. He’s off to the National Sports Card Convention in Cleveland next week. I wish I had the mad money to attend and participate, but I continue to get satisfaction on a smaller scale, by hanging with neighbors like this. No different than when I was a kid.
If I had an extra quarter growing up, I’d hop on my bike and head to the nearby grocery store to buy five packs of cards (5-cents each). All was right in the world, as I’d sit on the curb and open them like a Christmas package. Back then, they also contained a flat, pink, slab of bubble gum, so the scent became associated with the cards, as I’d begin to organize them once I got back home, sometimes putting together All-Star teams. Then, we’d get out the Whiffle ball and bat to play Home Run Derby as our favorite player. I’d imagine myself as Mickey Mantle, until I found a new hero, Sherm Lollar. These days, I’d be Kyle Schwarber or Shohei Ohtani at the plate.
I’ve been striking out a lot recently while participating in what they call “Card Breaks,” sharing the cost of buying several boxes and paying to keep the cards of the team of your choice. I’m not willing to invest in the higher-priced Dodgers or Yankees, so I tend to stick with the lower-priced White Sox or Cubs. Naturally, all the more desirable autograph and relic cards never seem to come my way. I prefer the random draws, but luck is never in my favor, so I’m still stuck with the less desirables, but content with the Hope.
I am a self-proclaimed Medical Marvel, having earned this distinction after undergoing both heart and cataract surgery, plus being treated for sciatica by my chiropractor, all within the last six-months. What else can go wrong? Combine that with my damaged vocal cords and hearing loss and I have the makings of a Buddhist proverb: Hear no Evil, speak no Evil, see no Evil. Yet, evil is all around us, just watch the news. Chaos, murder, theft, rape, fraud and so on…..I’m lucky to be alive, but I don’t necessarily like the world in which I live. At least, it hasn’t hit close to home.
Even though I’m a pessimist, I do try to see things from a humorous perspective. It’s not always easy when I’m plagued with aches and pains. Just ask my wife, who I “barked” at first thing this morning out of frustration. Plus, the large dark sunglasses that I’m wearing take the brightness out of the day. They are so big on my face that they make me look like a giant fly, something out of a Marvel comic or film – Super Fly, Medical Marvel!
I did another long walk last night with the support of the dog buggy after staying away from the gym after yesterday’s eye surgery for the first time since our Portland trip, weeks ago. As my vision continues to improve, it’s now just a matter of applying numerous drops during the course of the day. I slept last night with the eye shield, but other than that, there’s been little discomfort. I’m currently waiting for another repairman to take a look at our refrigerator. It seems to be a compressor issue that thankfully is covered under the warranty. Warranties have been a savior with our new home, although it’s discouraging to see new things break down after just a few years – not like the old days when appliances lasted forever. This is the second time we’ve had work done on our Kitchen Aid fridge. Similarly, air conditioning continues to be another worry in this hot Florida conditions that are hard on skin, cars, roofs, pavers, lawns, landscaping, and appliances, not to mention budgets. All these worries keep my blood pressure up.
We’re headed to dinner, and probably drinks, with our Indy friends tonight, while they vacation in the area over the next couple weeks. We’ll also see them soon on our drive through Indianapolis on the way to New York and Maine. We have reservations at a new restaurant at the Sunseeker Resort in Punta Gorda, about an hour or so away. Although I will need them for the glare on the drive down, I’ll leave my Super Fly glasses in the car while we reunite.
I had cataract surgery on my left and final eye – glad there only two. It’s an inconvenient drive up to the Sarasota medical center, so we were reluctantly up at 5:30, before Tally and Fosse began to even stir. It was so early, my brain failed to solve the daily Wordle puzzle that hadn’t probably happened in well over a year of routine solutions. The site used to tally my lengthy streaks, but that eventually required a subscription, so I’ve opted to just keep track of the rare failures rather than the usual failures. I had the AUNT but my three first-letter guesses of V, T, and D were incorrect.
We all slept well last night after an evening walk together, an activity that I haven’t been able to do of late with the cramping in my legs. We tried a different approach last night, resurrecting the dog carriage that used to haul an aging Tinker. I remember our day strolling through Butchart Gardens in Vancouver, Canada on the fourth of July a few years ago. Tinker was the “doggy darling” in her carriage and Tally looked longingly at jumping in with her. Later in the day, as all of us grew tired, they were both being pushed by me back to our hotel. Tally hasn’t ridden in there since, stored in our garage after Tinker passed.
Fosse and my wife have been walking every night, while Tinker and I typically stay home. Last eve was the exception after deciding to join in the parade, putting the old lady in the stroller, while pushing helped provide some support for my sore back. I can’t yet comfortably walk on my own unless I can hold on to the side rails of the treadmill or lean on shopping cart and in this case the buggy. It’s just enough to ease the pressure on my sciatica nerve. I suppose I could bring out Sky Walker for an encore, but from my perspective that would be a big step backwards in my recovery. The buggy is a good disguise, protecting my old age pride.
Yesterday, I also looked into a work-from-home opportunity with the Resy restaurant reservation system. I was approached by a reputable recruiter from a respected Marketing agency, but there are a lot of elements that scream of a scan. For example, they only pay in cryptocurrency, that requires setting up a digital wallet. I would have to deposit a small amount of money into the account to set it up, allowing them to deposit my earnings. It would be easy, convenient work but seems too good to be true. It was better than supplying my social security number directly to Resy. I may take the gamble, though leery, especially after falling near-victim to the recent Marriott Vacation Club rent impersonator.
I hope to bring out the princess carriage for our next evening walk. Tally seemed to enjoy the attention, instead of waiting impatiently by the front door for Tally to return with my wife or not getting up at all. The distance is a bit far for her to negotiate on 14-year-old legs. I do let her out a few times along the way to do her business and wrestle with her sister, who could go on forever like the Energizer Bunny. I also like the fact that I can hold on and steady myself along the way, while treating her to the evening breezes as her Carriage Chauffeur.
