Ten years ago I was writing several blogs on various subjects - F1 motor racing, Music, Classic Cars, Great Romances and, most crushingly, a personal journal that included my thoughts on America, memories of England and Africa, opinion, humour, writing and anything else that occurred. It all became too much (I was attempting to update the journal every day) and I collapsed, exhausted and thoroughly disillusioned in the end.
So this blog is indeed a Toe in the Water, a place to document my thoughts in and on WdC but with a determination not to get sucked into the blog whirlpool ever again. Here's hoping.
I like your analogy and everyone's comments. I don't take pills but my confidence in traveling is wavering. 46 countries and 200 places? You would think...
Many pills I take every day since I had serious Stroke, but one pill went down the wrong way every day. So, I asked the doctor for another one pill that goes down the right way, and now my pills go down the right way every day.
I find it disturbing when for some dumb reason I stop to analyze something that's been so automatic and then become unsure of how to proceed correctly. If I hadn't thought about it there would be no problem!
Ugh... I went through a phase as a kid where I struggled with swallowing. Meals took twice as long for a while. I still cringe sometimes at the prospect of eating fried chicken. And pills? Forget it
Yesterday I had a look at the X-rays of my operation on the hip. I was expecting something like the surgeon’s description of the procedure - “You were lucky. Although it was fractured, the pieces didn’t move and it was just a matter of holding them together with a plate and a screw.” That sounded to me like a very minor thing indeed and the tiny wound resulting from their access point seemed to confirm it.
So I was amazed at the size of the thing holding everything together. It was like a very sturdy chunk of metal in the shape of an L, one end drilled into the ball joint with a huge screw, the other connected by two smaller screws to the femur. How they managed to get that lot through the tiny access wound I can’t imagine. But the fact is, they did.
And everything has healed up satisfactorily and the contraption works very well. They do indeed work wonders these days.
All of which is to proclaim the realisation that came to me: I can never have another MRI with that thing inside me! Might as well look on the bright side.
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