My partner took me back to the orthopedic specialist yesterday, and the results of x-rays show the healing of my broken right fibula is progressing well, so that big lunky cast was removed and I am now in a state of:

CAST-LESS-NESS!!!!

Woo-hoo!

I need a cane because I am wobbly yet, as well as to keep people from running over me in their haste to get somewhere faster than me. It hurts a little bit, but it is far better than having that dead weight on which I couldn’t walk dangling from my right knee.

Yippee! I am making progress!

My immediate priorities:

1. Take a BATH! The residual on my leg and ankle is ugly, flaky, messy stuff. It needed to come off and my leg needed to get some air. That bath yesterday felt sooooooooo good!

2. Walk to the degree that I can. I need to begin moving again.

3. Get a HAIR CUT! Arrggghhh… I haven’t been so much of a long-haired hippie freak since I was in high school.

4. Have dinner with the family. (Check… did that last night when one of my nieces picked me up and my nephew took me home. I am still not quite ready to drive my truck or my Harley quite yet.)

5. Visit my lovely aunt. I have missed her terribly!

6. Do whatever I can begin to do for my partner. Cook, clean, have some nookie… (evil grin).

7. Since I am allowed to drive, go with my partner to an empty parking lot and practice. I will work into this slowly. I am dreaming of riding my Harley, but since the ding-dang doctor said I shouldn’t ride my bike for at least another month, I’m not going to fight it right now. I will wait a little while and take driving one step at a time. First in four wheels then on two.

8. Learn how to use a cane properly — holding it on the side opposite the formerly injured leg.

9. Go to physical therapy. Unfortunately, my health plan is a mediocre bureaucracy and their understaffed overworked physical therapy center can’t fit me in until March 29. Meanwhile, I’m doing some stretching exercises at home and walking some more.

10. SLEEP! Yes, yes yes! Actually SLEEP! I have not had one good night’s sleep since I broke my leg because the lunky thing dangling on the end of my right leg made me uncomfortable, enough such that I would wake every half-hour or so. I look forward to one solid and peaceful night of complete through-the-night SLEEP!

Life is short: get some sleep!

Today is St. Patrick’s Day. While I am not Irish, we celebrate this day for another special reason in our family. It was the date when my parents were married 70 years ago. I wasn’t there of course, but my aunts and uncles told me that the wedding was nice. (smile.) Soon thereafter, the kids all came along, all 15 of us over an 18-year period.

My Mom and Dad were always very romantic on their anniversary, and it showed. Dad would put a record of “When Irish Eyes Are Smiling” on the phonograph. He would then dance with my Mom to the tune while she listened to his attempted singing. It really was very sweet, watching them celebrate their very special day.

Us kids would get into the act by making green things. Cupcakes, cards, and even one year we found green dye and dyed our shirts (and ourselves) green. We had green all over the house for weeks following, much to my mothers pretend angst, but amusement was lightly always in her eyes, along with a tear or two.

Mom would make corned beef & cabbage for us to eat while Dad would take my Mom out to dinner. Just them. They would make a night of sharing their anniversary with each other, and without all of us rug-rats tagging along. At first I didn’t like that arrangement, but then I realized that this was their day and we had them the remaining 364 days of the year.

After my father passed away, we were timid about recognizing St. Patrick’s Day, knowing the memories that the day held for my Mom. But she would make the best of it, and enjoy our green things all the more. She would say, “you know, this is a special day and if it weren’t for your father, you wouldn’t be here.” Of course, she was right. We would all give her a card, and prepare a special meal for her with a green-frosted cake and green ice cream (and our green shirts.) We would play her favorite tune, sing along, and smile, thinking of our Dad.

Both of my parents are with each other in Heaven now. I think of them often, but most especially on “their day” — St. Patrick’s Day.

Happy Anniversary, Mom & Dad. We all love you.

Life is short: share happy memories. That is how your loved-ones remain alive, even if they have departed this Earth.

Addendum: Rising early, I got busy in the kitchen and prepared 60 cupcakes tinted with green food coloring and green icing. My ever-resourceful partner found nifty decorative plastic containers that will hold four cupcakes. I wrote a heart-felt message on 15 cards and taped one to each of the 15 containers of sweets. A friend will pick me up today and (shhhh… don’t tell my partner)… she will take me with her to deliver the packages to senior pals who made me casseroles, visited, and called often during my lengthy broken leg recovery period. While I will not be able to get out of the car to deliver the sweets myself (as I still have a huge cast on my leg and can’t walk very well), I will be happy to know that I was able to do something to demonstrate my thanks to my friends who cared for me during my time of need.

Today, March 14, is the date in most of the United States, Canada, and Mexico that we switch to Daylight Saving Time by adjusting our clocks one hour forward. We lose an hour in the process and thus today marks the shortest day of the year (in total hours).

Unfortunately, a persistent and incorrect catchy saying keeps being promoted at this time of year, which is “Change Your Clocks – Change Your Batteries.” It is intended to suggest to people to replace batteries in smoke alarms. This phrase was invented by a certain well-known battery company in order to sell more batteries. It has nothing to do with smoke alarms.

Think about it — we last changed time on 1 November, 2009. That was just 133 days ago. Now they want us to change batteries again? Ummm… don’t the battery companies promote how long-lasting their batteries are?

This phrase is ludicrous. Look, if you have smoke alarms that use batteries, replace the battery once a year. If you have done that within the past 12 months, then you don’t need to do it again unless the alarm emits a chirping sound, which indicates that battery replacement is required.

Don’t fall for marketing hype that has nothing to do with safety.

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Item 2

Spring brings snowmelt, heavy rains, and sometimes flooding. A lot of people die in floods every year — far too many. Were you aware that about 3/4 of people who die in floods in the U.S. are in vehicles, and of that, about 4/5 of the people involved in these flood-related vehicle deaths are men? Compounding this, were you aware that more than half of the vehicles involved in these tragic incidents are SUVs and trucks?

An interesting factoid is that SUVs and trucks, due to their larger size, have larger tires and thus are more buoyant if driven into water than tires of smaller vehicles. Even though smaller vehicles are lighter in weight, the physics of buoyancy indicates that the heavier vehicles will lose contact with road surfaces in fairly shallow water, and can lose control and get swept into deeper water quickly. Four-wheel drive doesn’t help. If you’re floating away, you’re in deep doo-doo!

This “male-drivin’-an-SUV” through floods bravado kills people. The situation actually is called denial. Nonetheless, it’s a bad thing. Be smart. Turn around, don’t drown.

Life is short: be safe!

The house I bought in January and had renovated was completed and ready for rental last week. As I have done with other properties I have renovated for rental, I posted a message in a few strategic places, and within a few days, I received a number of interesting prospects from community heroes — cops, firefighters, and teachers.

I selected several of them to interview, and conducted interviews this week. One applicant didn’t show up for the interview, didn’t call me to explain what happened, and did not return messages. That was strange. Another person had a really difficult, hard-luck story and I felt sorry for his situation. However, his background check indicated that he lied on his application, and wasn’t employed where he said he was. I turned him down. I wanted to help, but if he lied on his rental ap, then his prospect as a good tenant was soured.

I selected a firefighter who is starting out in life with a wife and a three-month-old child. Nice guy, nice family. It’s good when things work out. He and his family will move in at the end of the month. I hope to be up and walking again when he moves, so I can go over and help him move in and feel welcome.

Life is short: support your community heroes!

I am a klutz. Face it… put anything in my way, and I’ll find a way to trip over it. Don’t even do that — just find a way for me to trip over something, like uneven pavement, a throw-rug, a branch on a path in the forest, my partner’s feet… and I will.

People with natural grace don’t get it. They’ve never had to deal with being, well, “klutzy.”

That is how I broke my leg. I tripped over my own legs. Well, it was a little more complicated than that, but nonetheless, someone who has natural grace and balance wouldn’t trip and fall.

When I was younger and my siblings tried to teach me how to dance, all gave up with frustration because I would find a way to trip over my partner’s feet, step on them, or step on myself and fall. Or swing my leg and clunk it against someone or something.

Does wearing boots make me more (or less) klutzy? Not really. I have many instances of tripping while walking barefooted in my bedroom on the way to the bathroom.

Face it, the life of a klutz is one that I lead. I am forever looking out for things over which I may trip, and assiduously avoiding any activity that may require gracefulness. Thank goodness when I ride my Harley, I can be graceful on that in my sweeps and turns as I ride… but doing so does not require walking.

Since I broke my leg, my partner has been so concerned about the possibility of my tripping over anything, he has completely “childproofed” our home. All throw rugs, excess chairs, tables … everything over which I possibly could trip has been moved away from my path of travels within our house. He wants me to heal completely without any other problems.

Regretfully, my crutches got in my way last week when I was using the toilet, and I tripped over the john in an attempt to avoid tripping over my crutches. Face it, I am just a klutz. No other words are available to describe it.

If you are among the most fortunate — that is, if you walk with grace and composure — consider yourself lucky not to be “blessed with the klutzy curse” as I am.

Life is short: walk with grace!

From time to time, I read messages from people who say that they enjoy wearing boots 24/7 — that is, including when they are sleeping. I have been asked if I sleep with my boots on, or have tried it.

I am not interested in boots “that way,” so it never has been something I have tried to do. However, there have been a few times that I have been sooooooo tired that I have fallen asleep fully clothed, boots and all. However, within an hour or two, my booted feet would wake me up. My feet like to breathe, and when they get hot, they prevent me from feeling comfortable enough to sleep. So to answer the question, “do you sleep (or have you slept) with your boots on?” The answer from me is, “no.” It bothers me, keeps me awake, and therefore is not something I would do deliberately.

That is one reason why I am not sleeping well with the cast on my leg. It’s big, clunky, and uncomfortable. I can’t sleep very well with it, because as I may try to roll over, the cast doesn’t turn so it wakes me up. My leg gets hot, even though the cast is open at the toes and isn’t so tightly fitted that it can’t exchange air around the top. The cast feels much like a boot would feel on my leg, except for my inability to flex my ankle (of course!).

Anyway, having this cast on 24/7 for so long further convinces me that there’s no way I would want to try to wear boots 24/7. No way. I can’t wait to get rid of this damn cast! March 19 can’t come soon enough!

Life is short: be castless if you can, and thus well-booted!

What I feared has proven to be true, and that is that being forced to remain seated in a chair while my broken leg recovers without getting any exercise whatsoever has resulted in my gaining some weight.

Actually, I haven’t gained very much — five pounds — but it’s all in the worst place: my abdomen. Further, I think my muscles in my right leg (the wounded one) have atrophied a little, so I probably have less weight in my right leg than usual, and even more in my abdomen.

I surfed the web for some information about what to do, including searching for some exercises that I can do without requiring standing or balance. There were a few, mostly related to sit-ups, which I’ve not been able to do well since Mr. Tucker forced me to do them in grade school. I’ll try, but it ain’t gonna happen if the ol’ body doesn’t want it to.

While on the same website, I reviewed suggested lists of things to have in my diet and things to avoid. Of course, having lots of calcium is important for bone healing. I like to drink milk… but oh no, other stuff on the list is reversed. That is, the things they suggest that I eat “in plentiful amounts” are just the things that give me diarrhea.

Sh*t… literally. It’s like they looked on my list of what I can’t eat, and wrote it all down: soy flour, collard greens, bok choi, broccoli, carrots, pumpkin, sweet potatoes (yams). Salmon and sardines? Nope…. Tofu? Ya gotta be kiddin’! Fruits and nuts — nope. Beans and chickpeas — you could hear me fart ’round the world. Tomato salsa… nope. Grapefruit… well, I probably could eat grapefruit, but I can’t stand the taste.

I’m sure this is good-for-me stuff, but if it will make me crap all the time and feel bloated and miserable, those things aren’t going to work, regardless of the healing qualities they have. I’ll just take a multivitamin + mineral supplement.

Then the things they say to avoid: milk other than skim (skim milk tastes so awful; I would rather drink water.) Red meats — well, if I can’t eat vegetables or fish high in protein, how else will I get protein? Hot dogs and hamburgers — well, we agree there; I’m not eating them. Sugar, caffeine, and soft drinks? Believe it or not, I limit myself to one Coke Zero a day, and that’s it. No coffee, no chocolate, no other sweets. I have been good!

I have been counting calories, and my daily caloric intake has averaged about 1,400, which for a man my age and size, is about 2/3 of daily average. But I know I am not burning it off.

So up on the crutches, and walk around and around on a circuit of the dining room – living room – family room – foyer – kitchen – (and repeat).

I just can’t wait until I can do this without those darned crutches and on my own two booted feet.

Life is short: watch your weight!

I am trying to regain some of what I always enjoyed doing: cooking in my kitchen. My partner saw some cooking show on TV, and against my better judgment, I offered to make him the dish. It was a fairly easy recipe to make a pasta sauce consisting of cooked onion, garlic, tomatoes, and sausage.

I spent an hour making this dish. I spent a good deal of the time sitting on our kitchen island, which has sorta become my new “home.” But I also had to stand like a flamingo with my broken leg bent at the knee and raised in the air while at the stove stirring the meal. By the time the food was ready, I was very tired and sore.

My partner got our drinks ready, and poured milk for me. What I can never understand is that he only fills my glass half-way. It is not like I can get up and refill it. Oh well, I accept what I am offered.

Unfortunately, I could barely eat any of what I had prepared. I cannot eat tomatoes, onion, or garlic. I like onion and garlic as flavors, but I cannot eat these vegetables, even after they were slowly simmered. They make me very sick to my stomach and then give me the trots the next day.

However, my partner was enjoying what I prepared so much that I smiled and picked out the sausage and rigatoni that was on my plate and ate that. What was important to me is that he was happy, as he has been working so hard to care for me since I broke my leg.

I looked out the window and saw deer at the bird feeder, so I told my partner about our unwanted visitors. He went outside to chase them away, and while he was gone, I emptied the tomatoes and onions from my plate onto his. I also had time to hobble sideways to the refrigerator and get myself some more milk. When he returned after chasing the deer and resumed his seat at the table, he kept shoveling it down, and did not notice what I had done.

Soon thereafter, my stomach began to turn. I hobbled to the drawer where we keep OTC remedies, and took an antacid. My partner then handed me his plate and asked for another helping. I gladly served him.

He said, “don’t you want any more?” I said, “no, I have had enough.” I sat with him and finished my milk. I starved the rest of the night, but seeing the smile on his face was worth it.

Have you ever prepared a meal for someone else and they loved it but you did not?

Life is short: show those you love that you love them.

While I am feeling better and getting stronger every day, nonetheless, I still have a broken leg. It exhausts me to walk with crutches. Last night, I made home-made spaghetti, meatballs, and baked a loaf of Italian bread. The cleanup was tiring, because (as I say to my partner), “I used ever pot and pan in the kitchen” so there was a lot of cleanup to do, while standing like a flamingo on one leg at the sink.

My partner has been very protective of me, insisting on me not going out anywhere since he is afraid that I could fall, or become tired and … fall. He is so afraid of my falling that he has clamped a very tight lid on my ideas for doing anything out of the house. He wasn’t all that happy that my brother kidnapped me to take me to dinner at my sister’s house. But my family can impose their will sometimes.

What I didn’t tell my partner is that on Thursday, a friend picked me up and took me to a critical meeting with the top legislative official in our county. It was the only time this official was available, and we needed to plead our case with her before the upcoming brutal county budget battles. My friend dropped me off in front of the county office building. While she drove around back to park, I entered through the handicapped entrance and waited for her in the lower lobby. Helpful county employees held the door for me. I made it to the meeting and back home without a problem, and without much walking. I was tired, but not wiped out.

I thought, though, that I shouldn’t mention to my partner that I went to the meeting. He would not be happy about it. However, I was feeling guilty about not telling him, and I don’t lie to him. Sometimes, though, I delay when I will speak with him about certain matters to a time when I know he will be most receptive.

Yesterday afternoon, my partner and I were talking about the family dinner on Friday night, how much I enjoyed it, and seemed to do well in getting there and back. He said, “you did great for your first real trip out since your accident (not counting visits to the doctor).” It was then that I said, “um… well, it was the second trip.” I told him about my previous day’s excursion.

He just rolled his eyes and said, “well, I’m glad you were okay, but tell me about these things, alright?” He did not become angry, as I thought he might, but he was displeased. We had a talk about it, and I told him that as far as I knew, my next trip out would be when he takes me back to the doctor’s office in two weeks.

I looked forward and really don’t have anything that I have to do out of the house until the next doctor’s visit anyway. But it sure felt nice to get out….

Life is short: don’t keep secrets.

Late yesterday afternoon, my partner left to go to the grocery store, and I was fiddling around on the computer. I would have liked to have gone to the store with him, but I cannot walk yet due to my broken leg, so I had to stay home.

The doorbell rang. I hobbled over and let my older brother in. He chatted a bit about the weather, his kids, and stuff, but it was unusual for this particular brother to come visit, especially at this time of day. I came out and asked him, “what’s up?”

He said, “I never could keep anything from you. Just accept the fact that we’re kidnapping you!”

What?

“Yep, we are taking you to R’s house for our usual Friday family dinner. You haven’t been there in over a month. It’s time. We miss you.”

I was concerned that my partner would come home and be upset that I wasn’t there. My partner doesn’t have or use a cell phone, so I had no way to reach him.

My brother had that all figured out. “Don’t worry about your partner, he knows all about it. He will meet us there.”

Whaaatttt? My partner has avoided these family dinners for years. The noise, the people, the clatter, the kids running around. It all drives him crazy. When did they speak with him? I never heard him on the phone. (My partner seldom uses the phone at all, and never takes personal calls at his office.)

Well, no matter. My life at the moment was out of my immediate control. I locked up the house and carefully hobbled through the garage out to my brother’s van. He and his son helped me to get into it, very gently.

When we pulled up at my sister’s house, a bunch of the family all came out. They almost carried me inside. They helped me to a recliner in my sister’s family room. My partner was right there, and had a seat next to me. They waited on me hand-and-foot.

It was so wonderful to see everyone again. My sister prepared a great meal, even choosing items that were both low in calories and within the limits of what I can eat. That isn’t easy to do when you’re feeding 40 people. I was feeling so much better. My partner even enjoyed the event.

All too soon, it was time to go. I was getting tired, despite how energized I was feeling. My family helped me get into my partner’s car. My partner had to keep reassuring them that he wouldn’t need help to get me into the house. We have managed to do that when he has taken me out for doctor’s appointments.

How sweet. I cherish my lovely family. I have indeed missed them. It was great to be back among the living, even for a little while.

Life is short: show those you love that you love them. My family sure did.

PS: I should have figured it out, but the family used email to plan this with my partner. That’s why I didn’t hear any phone conversation.