Landslide...

”Life gets bolder, children get older, I'm getting older, too.....” (Stevie Nicks)

Sometimes, I don't even think about it. Getting older. Other times, it scares the bejeebers out of me. I don't know why. I am smart enough to realize that it is something that I cannot change. And that I have to accept it.

And mostly, I do accept it. Mostly. Well, somewhat. Okay, today I'm not accepting it at all. Why? I have so much I want to do and so little time to do it. So I have to make choices. I don't like making choices. But that's the stuff of life: choices.

I have made lots of choices in my life, some good ones and some not so good. The best part about a bad choice is that I made it, and it was not forced on me. I can live with my bad choices, just not those that others try to make for me.

Okay, this is sounding really serious. And it's not. Sort of. I am just trying to understand some things in my life. For instance, who are those adults over there and why are they calling me “Mom”? My goodness, I just had my babies a few years ago....didn't I?

My kids are the same ages as those children over there, looking at me, out of the pretty silver picture frames. Why does the inscription say “To Grandma”? What happened?

Life happened. Good, bad or indifferent, it happened. It went flying by when I wasn't looking, I guess. Or was I looking? And did some one or some thing fast forward it? Is there a fast forward button in life? Or a pause button? I think I'd rather have a pause button. I would push it every time something wonderful happened.

And then, I could savor it longer.....

Truth is, life is what it is. It happens every day and every night. Days, then weeks, then months, then years fly by. And it's been that way since time began. Who knows how much longer it will last? But then, I don't want to talk about environmental issues, or war and pestilence.

It's my blog and it's my life. And I still wonder where the heck it went. I look through the pictures from “back then” and I marvel at how young I was when I had my children. Sitting on the floor, playing with them, smiling and laughing. Yes, but could I still get up off the floor? By myself?

Of course, I could. Just gimme a minute, okay?

Really, what I am lamenting, I think, is that I don't remember everything. I just assumed that I would always remember the important things. For instance, I always thought I would remember how much each of my children weighed at birth. And now, I remember how much my daughter weighed at birth (you don't forget a nine-pounder), but I can only tell you that one of my boys weighed 7 pounds, 2 ounces, and the other weighed 7 pounds, 5 ounces. I have no idea which one was which.

I think life has become inundated with data; information that must be remembered, catalogued, filed away, and kept. Forever. I guess that has occupied a lot of my time and my capacity to remember things. And really, does it matter what my daughter's third grade teacher's name was? Probably not, in the greater scheme of things.

But heaven help me if I forget my PIN number for the ATM, eh?

Memories....

I found a friend last night on Facebook. I don't know why, but I just typed his name in and clicked on “Search” and there he was. I am glad to say that he is living the life he chose: happy, and content with his lot in life.

It made me think about another person I met a very long time ago. It amazes me, the people I can remember from so long ago. I have had so many patients within my career, but this one was special. And unforgettable, apparently.

I first met him the morning I was to be his Student Nurse. I don't recall the details but, somehow, the patient I was originally assigned to care for was not available. So, he became my patient. I had already heard about him, on the news....

Not many planes crash near downtown Podunk. He was a crop duster and managed to crash with a full load of dusting chemicals in a dirt field not far from Main Street. He had to be extricated from the plane, then washed down thoroughly to remove the chemicals from his skin. Only then could his broken bones be treated.

He was a tall man, about my age, and very outgoing. He loved to talk and he knew how to make people comfortable around him. Within five minutes of walking in his room and introducing myself, we were talking like old friends.

Later in the morning, he rang his call light and I went to see what he needed. He wanted to go to the bathroom. I quickly pulled my “cheat sheet” out of my pocket and yes, he had “bathroom privileges.” After much discussion about the right way to help him, he decided to try to walk with his arm around my shoulders and my arm around his back.

It wasn't the way I was taught to assist patients but, it was how he was willing to do it. And being a new, and student, nurse, I let him have his way. As we stood up, next to the bed, he realized that it wasn't going to work and sat back down, suddenly, on the edge of the bed. Of course, since we had our arms around each other, I sat down suddenly, too.

As if on cue, the door opened and there was my instructor. I turned beet red, partially because she was standing there and mostly because he whispered in my ear: “am I your first pilot?” Whatever the reason, I wanted to crawl in a hole: I was sure that my instructor would make mincemeat out of me at any second.

Ah, but he had other ideas. He looked at her, smiled a big smile and said: “Good morning, lovely lady, who are you?” As I extricated myself from his arm, he continued to charm my instructor. He did such a good job that it was hours later before I got an “inservice” on proper body mechanics and transferring patients—and she had a physical therapist instruct me...

Since I worked while I was attending nursing school, as a Student Nurse Aide, I had opportunities to see him throughout his stay in the hospital. I worked the PM shift, as an aide, and I always made him milkshakes for a snack, in the evening. We would have a nice chat and then I would be off to help other patients as he visited with his family.

Within a year of that incident, he was in the news again. Another crop dusting plane; another crash. But this time, he wasn't so lucky....

The FAA spokesman said it was highly unusual for the engine to fall out of a plane....

Precious Time....

It's hot again today.....

But then, it IS summer, isn't it? And that's how summer is: hot. I did some chores this morning, before it got too warm, and now I am daydreaming. That's it, just daydreaming. I do that a lot. My mind always wanders off, to interesting places, mostly.

And most of the time, it does come back to me. I like being able to “see” things in my head. Being able to rearrange a room, or pick out a paint color, or imagine the blooms that will come from the seeds I am planting. I love planting seeds, too.

Thinking and planting. They seem to go together. At least, they do to me. Sometimes the seed is planted in my brain and I let my brain run with it. Thoughts are cheap, and much easier to build than in reality. And so, I think, and plant, and build.

In my brain.

Today, I'm covering windows. In my brain, that is. I want to be able to block the hot afternoon sun, then let the sunset in. Close the view to the darkness of night, then let the early morning sun fill the room.

Reality got in there, somehow, too. I measured the windows that I want to cover. The little sticky note, with those measurements, is going in my purse. And then, what is in my brain can direct what happens in real life. Maybe.

Perhaps it isn't so good to be able to imagine things the way I do. Reality has a way of not looking quite as good as the picture in my head. Or maybe I just need to learn to accept reality as my best attempt at recreating my dreams.

Does reality need to imitate my dreams? Probably not. I figure, if I'm going to dream, dream BIG. Reality is a little more expensive and BIG isn't always possible. Like my windows: the plan has been to replace them with dual pane windows, then have wooden blinds made. That's been the plan for oh, about three years.

But first, I need a roof. And then the house has to be painted. But first, it needs to have the plaster repaired. Then paint. And new trees out front. And then a new sprinkler system. And more flowers and shrubs in the front, too.

There's always something that needs to be done, and something else that needs to be done first. Old houses are like that: they need attention. And things need to be fixed. Or replaced. But first, I try to fix what is already there.....and that takes time. Precious time.

Time when I could be daydreaming.....

In Search of Cool....

Some lessons are worth repeating. This one sure was....

I had company Friday and Saturday: Not-so-little Miss Noelle was here, visiting with Grandma. On Saturday, as we were busy doing things, I noticed that I was hot. Really hot. Too warm for someone who was in the house and the thermostat was set at 76.

I went to check on the A/C. The temperature in the hallway? A nice, crisp, cool 91. Ouch. I checked around the house. Nope, none of the floor registers were cool. Usually, when the A/C is running continuously, the floor registers get quite cool.

Not Saturday.

I have had the current A/C unit for a dozen years and, sheepishly, I have to admit that I have never had it serviced. Haven't changed the filter often, either. It's one of those nebulous things that I just haven't thought about.

And why not? I turn on the A/C, set the temperature, and forget it. The house cools down. Or warms up, in the winter time.

Not Saturday.

I got out the phone book. Looked up “air conditioning sales, service, and repair”.....Found a company that looked familiar. At least, their logo looked familiar. I figured out why this morning. But wait, I'm getting ahead of myself.

So, this ad in the Yellow Pages also included the business license of the company and stated “Member, Better Business Bureau.” Works for me. I gave them a call at 7 on Saturday night. Of course, no one answered the phone, so I left a message. I told them that I knew I would not hear from them until Monday, that my A/C was not working at all, and left my phone number.

Fortunately, Noelle was leaving Saturday evening to go spend some time with her other grandparents. They have a pool. And A/C that works. That would be better for Noelle. So she left. Off to swim and be cool.

Alas, not so at my house. It was >90 in the house for most of the night. But cooler in the early morning, dawn hours. What a relief. I did the supper dishes from Saturday night and some laundry. Then had a lovely thought: no one is coming today to fix the A/C, the temperature is supposed to be in the triple digits again, and there's plenty of gas in the car.

Bingo! Let's go for a drive.

Not just anywhere, either. Somewhere cool. Somewhere cool and beautiful and fun. Well, of course, that meant a trip to Morro Bay. In the car and out of town by 11. Off on an adventure. Off in search of cooler weather.

Podunk is only about two and a half hours from Morro Bay. And it was sunny and cool. Much cooler than Podunk. Stayed long enough to have not one, but two meals of fish and chips, with clam chowder. Then topped the day off with a ringside seat to watch the most beautiful scene in the world: sunset, over the ocean. It was unbelievably breathtaking. And cool.

This morning, I called the A/C repair place. The gentleman I spoke to was just getting ready to call me. He wanted to know if he could come by this morning. Of course, I said yes.

It turns out that the company logo looked familiar for a reason: it is the same family that has an appliance repair business, and the same logo, and they have repaired my dryer for me, in the past. The owner's sister is my neighbor directly across the street. The A/C guys were over there last week: she needs a whole new A/C unit. Ugh.

Not me! I had a couple of hoses that were clogged—and got cleaned out, and some insulating duct tape that needed to be replaced. It wasn't the compressor, or the motor, or anything expensive. They could have told me it was, and I wouldn't have known the difference. But I know these people, and they don't do business that way. They fix things. Honestly.

And it's 76 degrees in my house right now! Oh, and the lesson? Take care of things and they'll take care of you.....

Post Script: File this under "This Could Only Happen to Me!" This afternoon, at 4:20, the power went out. It was off for an hour and a half, at the hottest time of the day. Thank goodness the A/C got fixed this morning: it was fairly cool in the house and now, an hour later, it is 76 degrees again!

Fruit Loops...

So, just to make your day: the generation gap is alive and well. I thought you might like to know.

Of course, I have a reason for saying that. La Belle Noelle, Princess of Quite a Lot, is spending the weekend with Grandma. So far, we've had a lovely time. Mostly playing but hey, that's okay, too.

We went to the grocery store this morning. Bought everything we need for the weekend: Fruit Loops, potato chips, and stuff to make ice cream. We're going to make “cookies and cream” ice cream by following the recipe for vanilla ice cream, then adding chopped Oreos to the mix for the last five minutes.

I think it is very important to eat healthy, nutritious meals, don't you? As far as Noelle is concerned, we have three of the food groups covered: dairy products, Fruit Loops and Oreos. I think I'll make sure she takes a daily vitamin today and tomorrow and hope for the best.

We also went shopping for “accessories” this morning. There is a store in the mall that she loves to look in, and found several things she thought she had to have. I asked her to wait and look at Penney's, since I had to go there, too. She agreed.

And then, an “aha” moment for her: Grandma did NOT buy her everything she wanted. I explained that I cannot spend that much money on her when it is not Christmas, not her birthday, and she didn't do anything to earn the money.

Apparently, that got her thinking.... She did choose a couple of items, which I did buy for her, but she had to choose, and she had to put several things back that she really, really wanted....I wouldn't buy them. If you know me, you know how hard it was for me to deny her anything.

But I did....

And so, she thought about what I said. “You didn't earn the money...” must have stuck in her head. Just a little while ago, she came to me with a proposition: she would do some chores around the house and I could give her some money for her efforts. Okay, fair enough.

And then, the generation gap reared its ugly head. She offered to clean the kitchen counter, dust the family room, and fold clothes. She wanted $25.00 for her efforts. Uh, NO, I don't think so. I tried telling her about the state workers who have had their pay reduced to minimum wage. I got a blank look...

In my head, I'm adding up all the money I have spent today.....No way is twenty minutes' worth of fussing around the house worth what I have spent already. So I stood firm. No. No $25.00 for work I do for free. For myself.

She has now been working for an hour and 10 minutes. The last chore was to use the Swiffer Sweeper on all the wood floors. This is a big house, so that was a big job. She also watered the container garden and swept the kitchen floor....

She offered to “rearrange” the stuff on the bathroom counter and make it look better. I said no: I wouldn't be able to find things after she leaves. She offered to dust the inside of the car. I said no: it's in the triple digits outside, and even more inside the car. I don't need for her to get sick.

Ah, she's straightening up the family room now, putting all the Wii stuff away. By the time she's through, it will have been an hour and a half, almost, that she's been working. I will split the difference with her and give her ten dollars.

Ten dollars for the opportunity to learn one of life's important lessons: nothing's free....

A Special Birthday...

In a world of hopes, and a world of dreams, it reigns supreme: it is the Magic Kingdom. The stuff of dreams. Imagination turned loose. The Happiest Place on Earth.

Happy 55th birthday, Disneyland!

It plays a part in the wonderful memories of childhood. In fact, having lived in California all my life, Disneyland is intertwined with lots of memories, for me. Many of the family stories include Disneyland.

Of course, there was the first time, shortly after the park opened. There were special activities for newspaper folks and their families. Since my father was a newspaperman, we were included. I don't remember much about that visit except being flabbergasted that such a wonderful place existed.

What I do remember is riding around the perimeter of the park, on the train, with Walt Disney. Lots of people were taking our pictures and I got to sit right next to him. I was way too young to know what a photo op was.

I don't remember too many trips back to Disneyland after that, as a child. I think my parents were mildly amused by the whole thing but, getting in free was probably the draw. No more free tickets were forthcoming, as I remember.

What I do remember is E Tickets. Do you remember them? Even now, all these years later, you will still hear someone make a joke about needing an E Ticket to do something. Younger folks just look blank when that happens, too.

I do remember taking my young children there many times. They loved Bear Country. I have pictures of cute little toddler boys wearing Bear Country necklaces and climbing the trees in the park. In fact, I think the younger one was unwilling to go to bed that night unless he could wear his Bear Country bear around his neck.

Thinking about my son, Matthew, in Disneyland when he was still in diapers, reminds me of what should have been his first trip to the Magic Kingdom. My husband and I were the leaders of the Junior High School Youth Group at our church. For an entire school year, the kids did various things to raise money for a trip to Disneyland.

I made enough cookies to feed the entire population of California, and we sold them every Sunday morning, after church. We had a car wash, or two, too. The culmination of our fund raising attempts was a fried chicken dinner, held in the early spring.

A hundred people paid their money to come support us and eat fried chicken. It was the first—and last—time I cooked supper for a hundred people. By myself. It wasn't planned that way: the other parents who were going to help me had to back out at the last minute.

It was April. I was due in the first part of June. He was born on a Thursday, at the end of May, and the youth group went to Disneyland two days later, on Saturday. Not me: I was still in the hospital. My husband and two older children went without me. Oh well....

There have been lots of other trips to Disneyland since then. And every time we go, as we walk through the parking lot, to the entrance gates, my heart starts to pound and my stomach is full of butterflies. Excitement. Pure and simple: excitement. It never goes away, regardless of how many times I go there.

Probably my favorite time was the year that my daughter was in the high school marching band. They were invited to march in the daily Christmas Parade on Main Street. It was early in December and the weather was beautiful. The park was nearly empty except for the bands, their parents and other family members. There was no waiting in line to get on the rides. It was great.

Another of my favorite times was taking my first grandchild to Disneyland. In order to get him to go in the car, we had to “lie” to him. He was quite enamored of garbage trucks at the time, so we told him we were going to go see the garbage trucks.

He was quite disappointed at first, but he warmed up to the idea when Goofy gave him a hug. Phew.

I haven't been to Disneyland now for quite a while. I know that it has changed a lot, and so have I. There are new rides, new attractions, and a much younger “younger generation” than there was back then. Yes, I'm older, and possibly wiser, but in my heart of hearts, I'm still that little girl, riding on the train....

Loving the Magic Kingdom!

Recipe for Life...

In an attempt to entertain myself this morning, I decided to copy recipes. Throughout my adult life, I have always had a recipe file, with 3 X 5 recipe cards, to use as I cook. Copying recipes out of magazines and newspapers has always been a pleasant pastime for me...

And so, out came the stack of recipes I have torn out of magazines. Out came the recipe box and blank recipe cards. And I sat down....supposedly, to write out recipes.

But something happened. I went on a trip. You see, I actually have three recipe card boxes. Two have the recipes I use most, and the third one was my mother's, and it is stuffed full.....of stuff. And that's the box that I took out....

I found recipes written by my mother, in her special handwriting. And by my paternal grandmother, too. I found a ticket stub for a Little League fundraiser drawing: a microwave oven! The drawing was on June 23, 1978. My mother didn't win....

There was a note, a poem, from our next door neighbor, Millie:

”St. Theresa's Bookmark:

Let nothing trouble thee,
Let nothing affright thee,
All things are passing,
God never changes;
Patience obtains everything,
Nothing is wanting to him who possesses God,
God alone suffices.

Our prayers are with you – Millie”

I have no idea when she wrote it, or what she was referring to, but I know that my mother had the first of her bouts with cancer back in the seventies, so maybe that was it.

There was a business card from a painting contractor. Addresses for companies that sell replacement sterling silver flatware, my brother's bank account number (he was in college, at Berkeley), and a scorecard from the American Contract Bridge League session that my mother attended in 1972.

And lots of recipes, scribbled on the backs of other things, or notepaper found in drawers, for all sorts of wonderful things. My mother always wrote down who gave her the recipe, too, as in Rosemary's Cheese Dish. All sorts of recipes, from Apple Crisp to Zucchini Pie.

Something was stuck in the front of the recipe box; I had to work at it to get it out. It was my father's business card from forty years ago. It has a couple of spots on it that look suspiciously like splattered sauce of some sort. I am sure my mother used it as a bookmark in a cookbook.

She didn't realize that someday, it would be a treasure....as is everything else in the box.

Bon appetit!

Once, Twice, Three Times a Lady...

I first met her about 4 or 5 years ago. She was subdued, but friendly, when we were introduced. I was visiting Tommy and she didn't know who I was, so she stayed very close to his side during my whole visit.

She didn't say much, but she didn't take her eyes off me for very long, either. I read her attitude as being protective of him, not jealous of me. She didn't seem to mind that we talked for a long time, or that I was in her home.

She is very pretty. Tall, blonde, athletic and very, very smart. She has very good manners and doesn't forget them very often. Tommy only has to tell her once, usually, and she does what she is asked to do. That's pretty good, I think, considering how much energy she has and how curious she is about everything in her life.

She has been schooled in the appropriate behaviors for specific situations. She knows her place and she tends to it diligently. She approaches her “lot in life” with enthusiasm and grace. She loves unabashedly and is fiercely protective of those she loves.

She has taught me many lessons. In fact, she taught me, on that first visit, or maybe on the second, where the cookies are and how to tell if she wants one. Well, that part was easy: she always wants a cookie. From that visit on, she knew that cookies would be served every time I came to see Tommy.

Her name is Lady, and she is......a lady. A yellow labrador retriever, too, but mostly, a lady.

The last time I saw her was in January of this year. Tommy gave me a ride to the airport, to catch a flight to Chicago and she went along for the ride. She loves to ride in the truck. It doesn't matter what she is doing, or what she might have planned, she will always drop what she is doing in order to go for a ride in the truck.

Just the other day, Tommy posted her picture on Facebook. It seems that she has been ill. And now, the results are back from the veterinarian and it isn't good. She can't be cured....

And so, Tommy wrote this quote on his Facebook wall:

"When despair grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great Heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives wit...h forethought of grief. I lie in the presence of still water. Above me I feel the day-blind stars waiting for their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am FREE".

God loaned her to me, a beautiful gift I cherish. We are going to live and love for as long as she has.

It's a chance we take, having pets and treating them like people. This beautiful creature, named Lady, has been a mainstay in my friend's life for many years. Through the good times and the bad times, and there were some very bad times, she has been there for him. At his side. Ready to defend him with her life. And even more ready to make him smile and laugh with her precious antics.

So many of us have taken that chance, more than once even, and given our hearts to a pet. Or several pets. In turn, they give us comfort, and company, and an ear to listen. They stay with us when others abandon us. They show their love and loyalty in every glance at us. They ask for nothing in return except their due: some food, some shelter, and an occasional treat....

And when they leave us, the heavens open and the rain pours down. It fills our eyes and runs down our cheeks. Sometimes, it causes us to convulse with the pain of losing such a dear, devoted friend and companion. But then, the sun comes out again and all that's left is the joy in our hearts. And smiles, as we think about the good times.

Lady, I'm glad I have had the chance to know you....and see your smile.

Post Script: I heard from Tommy last night. Lady is going to So. California to have surgery. The vet is going to remove the tumor that is impinging on her airway. It won't save her life but it will make her last days more comfortable. Tommy wanted to know if it was okay with me for him to share what I wrote with his family.....of course, Tommy. I wrote it from my heart, for you and for Lady.

Images....

Most of us, having reached this age, have many images in our heads. Some good ones, and some bad ones, I'm sure. It doesn't always take a camera to burn an image in our heads. And hearts.

In this age of digital cameras, the times when we are taking pictures are more frequent. Whether with a fancy digital camera, a simple one, or our cell phones.....the opportunities are limitless. As my son says, the best camera is the one you have with you when you need to take pictures.

This morning, I am thinking of an image that was burned in my brain a decade ago. I am not surprised that I thought about it, either. I went to sleep last night listening to my two boys giggling. They were playing games on the Wii and having a good time.

Even though the family room is at the other end of the house, I could still hear them. It made me happy to have laughter in the house. And kids. There is something about a houseful of kids that makes me smile.

Sometimes, it's harder to smile: a lamp in the family room took a dive last night, the victim of an overzealous golf swing. Or tennis racket swing. Or something with a swing to it. The bulb was broken and the metal piece that holds the lamp harp was bent. But it's fixed now. And the tennis star got to vacuum up the lightbulb bits....

So, this morning, after playing Wii for several hours late last night, the boys are still in bed. As promised, I am letting them sleep in but I am not being particularly quiet. If what I am doing wakes them up, so be it.

I am smiling now, as I think about the image in my head. First, you have to realize that both these boys are taller than I am now. And I am pretty tall. Both of them are turning into handsome young men with lower voices and muscular frames.

But they weren't always that way. Baby pudge has given away to lean, athletic bodies, that's true. But they will always be grandma's babies. That's very true, too.

And the image in my head? It was more than ten years ago, when they were much younger. I can still see them, as if it happened yesterday. The older boy, Dylan, standing in the front bathroom, wearing only his tighty whiteys, combing his younger cousin's hair. Aidan was also wearing nothing but tighty whiteys, and standing perfectly still so his cousin could groom him.

There was just something enchanting about the whole thing. Two little guys, freshly showered and clean after a day's activities, taking care of each other. In their own way. Helping each other, being there for each other. Doing something simple like combing the other's hair.

Not only is the image in my head a sweet one, it is typical of those two. The older one has finished high school and started college. The younger one is just about to start high school. Even with that age difference, which won't matter at all in a few years, they are close. They value each other. They have shared history. They are cousins....

And Grandma loves them dearly.

Battle Lost....

Well, it finally happened. The pain in my back won. When I couldn't even stand upright this morning, I knew I had lost the battle.

The battle of wills. Mine wasn't strong enough and the pain won. I was really, really hoping that, if I ignored it long enough, it would just go away on its own. No such luck.

Oh, I didn't ignore it completely. I couldn't. Any wrong move sent daggers of pain shooting up my back. What wrong moves? I don't know. I have never known what would upset my back until I did it. And by then, it was too late.

On a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being the worst pain I have ever experienced, the “daggers” are at least a 20. That's not the answer I wanted. I want my pain to be 0. I haven't been able to achieve a 0 in over a month.

You would think, as a professional nurse, I would know exactly what to do to keep my pain at bay. And truly, I do know. I need to quit doing what it is that makes my back hurt in the first place, then let it rest, and do what I can to prevent it from happening again.

Easier said than done. You see, it is my job that keeps exacerbating my daggers of pain. Every time I end up bent over a normal bed, trying to do patient care, I re-injure my back. If I am doing extensive wound care, for 45 minutes or more, it gets even worse.

This morning, I knew I had to stop ignoring the obvious and get some help. That seems so logical and prudent, why was it so hard to do? Pollyanna here kept thinking that the pain would subside, with rest, and life would return to normal.

And now I have to accept reality: normal has changed. I am not as young as I used to be and nursing is a strenuous career, both mentally and physically. Can I keep doing what I have been doing until I retire? We'll see. It will depend on how I do with rest, then physical therapy, and then working again.

In the meantime, I just took a pain pill and I need to go lie down.