No Light At The End Of The Tunnel

I had surgery on my right foot exactly four weeks ago tomorrow. I am not saying it was a mistake to have the surgery done but I am not seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. There is still a tremendous amount of pain, I am basically homebound, and a deep depression is starting to set in. The simplest things that you always take for granted are now things that seem like the impossible dream. Something as simple as getting in your car and driving down to the grocery store whenever you need something I cannot do. I have to have someone take me. Walking my dog has become a Herculean task that takes every bit of my strength and energy. Taking a shower requires a two hour rest period and a thirty minute nap after I get out.

My "friends" list is dwindling by the day. Don't et me wrong, my friends are flung all over the globe and I do not expect a visit or anything from each and everyone but a text message to check on me once in a while would be nice. I have not heard from several people that I considered close friends since the day before my surgery. Some of these people I heard from every day. I can't really blame them. Sometimes life gets in the way and not everything goes as planned. I hope they are alright and I hope they are safe. I realize that in my condition I cannot help them but I am always here to listen.

Steve Gets A Job

I got one of those phone calls the other afternoon that everyone dreads getting. This phone call was not bad news but for me, it was bad enough. Steve broke down and got a job. A real, honest to goodness, his name is on the schedule, legitimate paying job. The bad news for me is that he got a job with the company I work for, working the same shift, that I do. I am out because of foot surgery and as soon as Steve told me the news, I implored him not to tell anyone he knew me.

I did give Steve credit for getting the job on his own and I told him I was proud of him then I turned around and immediately started a pool as to how long he would last. I generously gave him a month. That is how much faith I had in him. Most everyone else in the pool gave him less than a week and there were a few that had it down to hours instead of days or weeks. That is what friends do for each other.

The Karma Of The Drunkenman Dinners

The other night at work I found myself stocking that delicacy of the single man also known to Steve as his dinner and to his friends as the "drunkenman dinners." Those dinners are the frozen microwave meals that Steve used to dress up with hot sauce and a 12 pack chaser that was "Hmmm, hmmmm bitch!" delicious. It was an ironic twist to a messed up summer for me. I could not help but laugh at this karmatic punch to the balls that had been delivered to me via a frozen turkey and dressing dinner with a small slab of chocolate cake.

I recognized most of the dinners because they had taken up space in my freezer at some point and time during mine and Steve's coexistence and they look as bad while you are stocking them as they do when they are staring at you from the freezer. Steve had so many of those things in my freezer that all that was left in there when he move was a single toaster strudel. I should have bought one of the drunkenman dinners in honor of Steve but I knew that I wasn't going to be eating it. No amount of hot sauce or beer could dress those up enough.

The Wrath Of The Red Head

During the course of the eleven months of Steve being my roommate, I discovered that Steve was afraid of many things- bees, spiders, work, a shower- but the thing that Steve was most afraid of was my friend and landlord's wife, Lucy. Steve was susceptible to the power of suggestion and a mutual friend of ours convinced Steve that Lucy had a red head's temper and would fly off the handle at the drop of the hat. They even went so far as to tell him that her wrath had been directed at Steve a couple of times for things he had done. Steve was bound and determined that he was going to stay on Lucy's good side. I knew that the story of Lucy's temper to not be true but I played along because the story helped keep Steve somewhat in line.

Oliver and Lucy paid us a visit one weekend and Steve was paranoid the entire time Oliver and his family were here. They arrived late one Friday night and one of Oliver's children needed to use the bathroom and Steve came running down the driveway, threw open the door and said, "I have to clean the bathroom!" I did not know what was going on because I had never seen Steve clean anything much less the bathroom. I watched in amusement as Steve cleaned his bathroom as well as anyone could in two minutes.

Steve spent the entire weekend avoiding Lucy and Oliver (also to my amusement) and I am reminded of the song by the Kinks, "Destroyer." There is a line in the song that says "Paranoia, the destroyer." I could not even begin to make a list of all of the things he was paranoid about.

Life Interrupted

There are certain times that occur during life where your life is interrupted for a while. Most of the time, it is just for a short period of time. There are others when it is for a much longer frame of time. There is nothing that you can do about these interruptions. You just have to adapt to the changes and move forward.

I am getting ready to face one of those "life interrupted" events. I know what it will be like going in but I do not know what it is going to be like coming out the other side. It is the not knowing the bothers me the most. That and having to put my complete trust in someone that I do not really know. The surgery I am facing is very extensive with multiple facets and it can best be compared to lining up dominos. They all have to be lined up just right in order for the "trick" to work. It may be up to a year before I know if the trick worked like it was supposed to. The pain will have to be navigated like a riverboat going down the Mississippi but pain is something I have dealt with.

When I have one of these "life interrupted" events, I always have these plans to write the next great American novel but all seem to be able to do is write in my journal that no one gets to read or bang out a few blogs that no one reads anyway. This time around I have to do things differently. This may be a life altering event that completely changes my life and I have to be prepared for that. I also have to look at this as an opportunity to do things I have always wanted to do. This is my opportunity to right years worth of wrongs. It is up to me to make the best of this opportunity.

Steve The Hunter

Steve always had a variety of weapons lying around the house and with Steve being an alcoholic, I was never quite comfortable with this. He kept a loaded pistol in the desk drawer, a loaded 12 gauge shotgun behind his bedroom door, and his crossbow with a sight on it was always ready to be fired. I felt like I had a liquored up version of Elmer Fudd as my roommate.

I came home one day and Steve was sitting out on front porch smoking a cigarette and he had the crossbow leaned up against the door. I looked at him and I asked "Well, is it duck season or rabbit season?" He didn't catch the Looney Tunes reference. His answer was "I am going to shoot that dog that has been getting into the garbage." One of the neighbor's dog's was raiding the garbage on a nightly basis.

When Steve drank, he was annoying as hell but he usually kept the stupidity to a minimum. I said "Steve, you are not going to shoot the dog. It is not the dog's fault the owner is an inconsiderate idiot." He ended up putting the crossbow up. I don't think Elmer Fudd ever needed a babysitter.

The Great Explorer

There were times when Steve worried me and aggravated the hell out of me at the same time. He went through this outdoorsman phase that really aggravated me. One of the things I did to help myself relax after a stressful day on the job was to come home and take Molly for a long walk through the woods and down to the creek. It was also a quite, peaceful walk and one that Molly and I looked forward to.

One day I came home and leashed Molly up and headed down the trail through the woods and I had almost made it to the creek when I happened to turn around and there stands Steve with his dog Mandy on a leash. He had staggered down the trail and was standing there huffing and puffing like he was drawing his last breath. Drinking 16 hours a day did not exactly put you in good physical condition.

He looks at me with his bloodshot eyes and said "We thought we would join you." Mandy was looking at me with such a look of hope on her face, I could not be mad at her. My first thought was, "That's great. Who the hell is going to help him back up the hill?" I already knew that answer and the largest part of me wanted to leave his ass down there.

Molly and I finished our walk and headed back up the hill. I told Steve I would be back in a few minutes to check on him. I took Molly back to the house and against my better judgement, I went back and checked on Steve. He had made it about ten feet further up the hill in 15 minutes before he had to stop and smoke another cigarette. If it wasn't for the fact I thought he might burn the woods down, I would have left him. I took Mandy from him and at least took her back to the house.

I went back down there for the third damn time and I had visions of me kicking Steve in the ass every time we took a step up the hill. "What" kick in the ass, "did you think", another kick in the ass, "you were doing?" and another kick in the ass. Dare to dream.