- watched a NASCAR race from Richmond last night. The epitome of not much to do last night. The thing that struck me was that in an arena of 122,000 peeps the dudes on the tube had to be the only fucking people wearing a tie and jacket. Now no offense to the roundy round world but WTF dudes your television representation is four guys in suits. I'd have four hillbillies with coke bottles with black funky fluid in their hands and not all the teeth in the mouth. Guys that would drop the fuckword to express their delight in a restart. Beards and bellies if you ask me...
- by the time I leave my recovery I'll have a great hip and need a liver transplant...
- in my life there is great delight in the freedom of the road and fear of the responsible future. I've financially figured I'm good for five years until I'm 72. After that it could be the Panamanian version of the Dunkin Donuts cup on the corner...
- But what a fun five years...
- Every day is Saturday and every night is New Year's Eve in my life now...
- I hate fucking Zuckerberg and Timeline and there I am totally updated...
- I'm so lame
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Randoms in recovery...
Friday, April 27, 2012
Mis amgos, mi proveedors de atención médica...
So I crash back to earth like the Hip Post says and I wind up back in Gilmanton and Alton where I had left over five years ago. The Village Store, mi mejor amigo's farm and mi mejor amigos chica's farm and the lake and Goodtime Farm across the valley. Kind of weird at times but a sweet way to recover watching sunsets around a fire pit or taking steam showers and hanging out with a corgi that I'm training to be part of a payaso act. So far we have mastered the sit and the paw. We are advancing to roll over and some jumping for treats shit.
This isn't about the location, the view, fire pits, the bathroom, or even the dog. It's about two incredible kind and caring peeps in my life who demanded that I stay with them, him before my surgery and her after I'm out of rehab. I spent the pre-op time in a 233 year old farm and spent my second night back in the US in my old bed, the first person to sleep in the room in 62 years. I had to get up at 0620 in the morning to watch the sunrise given that kind of timing. I have some history in this house with an extremely influential Buddhist teacher in my life and being back in it had an underlying reminiscence that brought a smile to my face and in my head. Mi mejor amigo was there to make it all happen, easily and gracefully. I was once told that I lived my life vicariously through mi mejor amigo and now he was mi proveedor. The hot tub in the milk house was welcomed until the hip got too susceptible to the cold in the walk to and from the mh.
I couldn't go back to the Farm after my surgery because of the stairs and that's where KtK came in. She was the adamant one who sent emails about where I had to stay and how it was going to work. One floor, no stairs, dog company, constantly, steam showers, no schedule other than physical therapy and the lady who made this all so easy. My concern was awkwardness, feeling like a squatter, the third person but so far never experienced, through their grace we're like the odd trio, the farmer, the pharma and el sombrero.
I'm making plans to go back to Panama in September to take the next step but have to fill space between now and then. No gig at the bar this summer as they needed someone who could be there at the start of the summer and that wasn't physically me. Mi proveedors came up with some barn painting, my new physical and fiscal therapy and the desire to have me hang until I leave. I may have to take the dog to Panama.
I really wanted to make this post a testimony to my friends for what they have done for me before the trips and after. I realize no matter how much Jameson, Corona in the can and medical grade I do to inspire my writing, I can't express my gratitude for what you have done and the graceful and loving way you have done it.
AJ and Katie I am humbled by the experience...
This isn't about the location, the view, fire pits, the bathroom, or even the dog. It's about two incredible kind and caring peeps in my life who demanded that I stay with them, him before my surgery and her after I'm out of rehab. I spent the pre-op time in a 233 year old farm and spent my second night back in the US in my old bed, the first person to sleep in the room in 62 years. I had to get up at 0620 in the morning to watch the sunrise given that kind of timing. I have some history in this house with an extremely influential Buddhist teacher in my life and being back in it had an underlying reminiscence that brought a smile to my face and in my head. Mi mejor amigo was there to make it all happen, easily and gracefully. I was once told that I lived my life vicariously through mi mejor amigo and now he was mi proveedor. The hot tub in the milk house was welcomed until the hip got too susceptible to the cold in the walk to and from the mh.
I couldn't go back to the Farm after my surgery because of the stairs and that's where KtK came in. She was the adamant one who sent emails about where I had to stay and how it was going to work. One floor, no stairs, dog company, constantly, steam showers, no schedule other than physical therapy and the lady who made this all so easy. My concern was awkwardness, feeling like a squatter, the third person but so far never experienced, through their grace we're like the odd trio, the farmer, the pharma and el sombrero.
I'm making plans to go back to Panama in September to take the next step but have to fill space between now and then. No gig at the bar this summer as they needed someone who could be there at the start of the summer and that wasn't physically me. Mi proveedors came up with some barn painting, my new physical and fiscal therapy and the desire to have me hang until I leave. I may have to take the dog to Panama.
I really wanted to make this post a testimony to my friends for what they have done for me before the trips and after. I realize no matter how much Jameson, Corona in the can and medical grade I do to inspire my writing, I can't express my gratitude for what you have done and the graceful and loving way you have done it.
AJ and Katie I am humbled by the experience...
little ants, big ants, scorpians, snakes and the lizard that eats the big ants. An old draft to post because of the irony of it all...
This world today on the road doesn't seem like the place for me bug wise. This trip is all about bugs underneath the fabric of the day to day on the road. I bought very non Buddhist ant and flying little mf 's death spray but fired the can only once and then it was back to zenboi and what is the difference between the fly and the ant Noah or Francis would say? . Sweep them out and the spray stinks, it's aerosol and the can is litter, not that most peeps in the isthmus give that much of a shit about aerosol and litter.
OK so I'm going to spend five months in places where when you turn out the light you know there is a lot of shit going on in the dark. If you are of an age and need to get up in the middle of the night to do whatever old shits do, you know to have a handy light cause it's probably big ants or the lizard that eats the big ants and shits them out by the sink. That comprehension took a week and then it was a quick visual of the lizard screwing behind the refrigerator.
The big ants are just big. They don't seem to do much other than go around and about and I'm pretty sure they are into the grout on the tile by the window. I know it would seem like Don Tomas get a life as there is too much attention payed to the bugs. Insects. One of the reasons I'm not where I'm supposed to be. I can get along with a lot of bugs right now in my life but I'm not going to be putting on a bathroom light to suck all the bugs there while I try to make sure my mosquito net is secure. I can deal with the big ants and I'm keenly aware of the small ants as they will fuck you up. Really teeny little bastards but potent. They bite with big mouths and although that isn't the best part, that's the part you remember and not the itch two hours later. Once you scratch you are doomed. If the size of the ant was all you had to consider that would be sweet but you have the bigger ugly critters like scorpions and snakes. Panama has seven deadly snakes and Costa Rica has a few but you really don't see them. All you usually see is big ass Boas with nasty teeth. I had care for two of them back in the start of the seventies Gilgemesh and Ninma, but I don't remember all those fangs. Scorpions? All I have to say is don't try to hang your laundry out in the dark for the next day and anything outside is best inside out so you don't get a surprise in your pants when you put them on. I've seen a couple on the road and one by the cabina but they don't like a lot of attention. {little did I know as this was originally written a week before the scorpion sting that altered the southern summer!}
My neighbor Rivers told me the story of the army ants and his cabina. They came home one day and the entire inside of the cabina was covered by army ants everywhere. They freaked but our landlord, el Jeffe, said that they eat all the bugs in the interior and they will be gone in a few hours and he was right as Rivers said they watched the whole thing and the army ants marched up into the field behind our cabinas and were gone without a trace in three hours save for some ant shit. You just always hope they aren't coming at night.
Big bugs, little bugs, all sorts of bugs here in the bush that I'm trying to live a peaceful life with. Funny how it all works out. Just sayin, TomO...
OK so I'm going to spend five months in places where when you turn out the light you know there is a lot of shit going on in the dark. If you are of an age and need to get up in the middle of the night to do whatever old shits do, you know to have a handy light cause it's probably big ants or the lizard that eats the big ants and shits them out by the sink. That comprehension took a week and then it was a quick visual of the lizard screwing behind the refrigerator.
The big ants are just big. They don't seem to do much other than go around and about and I'm pretty sure they are into the grout on the tile by the window. I know it would seem like Don Tomas get a life as there is too much attention payed to the bugs. Insects. One of the reasons I'm not where I'm supposed to be. I can get along with a lot of bugs right now in my life but I'm not going to be putting on a bathroom light to suck all the bugs there while I try to make sure my mosquito net is secure. I can deal with the big ants and I'm keenly aware of the small ants as they will fuck you up. Really teeny little bastards but potent. They bite with big mouths and although that isn't the best part, that's the part you remember and not the itch two hours later. Once you scratch you are doomed. If the size of the ant was all you had to consider that would be sweet but you have the bigger ugly critters like scorpions and snakes. Panama has seven deadly snakes and Costa Rica has a few but you really don't see them. All you usually see is big ass Boas with nasty teeth. I had care for two of them back in the start of the seventies Gilgemesh and Ninma, but I don't remember all those fangs. Scorpions? All I have to say is don't try to hang your laundry out in the dark for the next day and anything outside is best inside out so you don't get a surprise in your pants when you put them on. I've seen a couple on the road and one by the cabina but they don't like a lot of attention. {little did I know as this was originally written a week before the scorpion sting that altered the southern summer!}
My neighbor Rivers told me the story of the army ants and his cabina. They came home one day and the entire inside of the cabina was covered by army ants everywhere. They freaked but our landlord, el Jeffe, said that they eat all the bugs in the interior and they will be gone in a few hours and he was right as Rivers said they watched the whole thing and the army ants marched up into the field behind our cabinas and were gone without a trace in three hours save for some ant shit. You just always hope they aren't coming at night.
Big bugs, little bugs, all sorts of bugs here in the bush that I'm trying to live a peaceful life with. Funny how it all works out. Just sayin, TomO...
Randoms, Not Reggae Night II...
- why did I spend time researching; testosterone therapy in the aging process and "What kind of STD testing is best for you? There were two different reasons involved one for each although I realize where your mind can go. To alleviate any concern, confusion or snickering among friends the former was about the loss of muscle mass in people as they are in my age. Even active here this summer I can see it happening. Especially when you get a tattoo and it takes two people , one to stretch the skin and the other to ink. The latter because when I go back for the Northern Summer those lucky moments of lust and liquor will require proper certification I'm sure considering my Del Rey days. Hell I might even take out an ad in Spotlight for the last summer in town. Sun wrinkled old pirate on fixed income back in town for the summer. Certification from Offices of Dr. Saulo T. Dominguez, DPM. "Sure we do feet but we test stuff too."...
- Didn't make Reggae Night on another of those next day is gonna be a big day that turns out to be the foot shift snapping on my one day with the quad trying to down from 5-4 and doing the switchback with brakes with Roiboi riding ass seat. Reggae night of course was live band, wicked pissah fire in tha streets and all jammed up with Eurocanagringo chicas and a healthy gathering of the drop dead Ticas {pardon me do you have your govt card please?}. I was resting for the big loop from here to there and up the hill to over there and then down to after there until we got back to here from there so it was an early night and I was home by sunrise...
- I'm probably going to have to decide someday whether I want to live in MZ or Bocas? Great friends and times in both but different worlds. I'll ask my various internal and exterior organs where they want to be...
- I'm probably never going to get this post finished or published, solo estoy diciendo...
Saturday, April 21, 2012
the hip post...
When you do a brief history of my postings {and I would wonder why?} you see a major portion of postings at the end of 2011. Hit Ano Nuevo and it’s a blank. Plenty of notes and thoughts at this end but no jump to sit down to the discipline of writing. Maybe the little blip at the end of the Nicoya Penninsula, Montezuma, kept me too busy once I got into the throes of life there with beaches and bars yo.
When I first got there the Howlers would be a welcome alarm at 0520 and tea and writing was the start of the day. Then MZ got so many 'dias a playas' that it was a long and luxurious time with much for the head and body.
But it started with the Scorpion on Christmas Eve and has evolved into a total hip replacement. Looking at my pictures or profile comments you get the impression that I‘m not living too bad a life in Central America.
It’s been a good cover I guess, as the sting turned into an infection that needed antibiotics, diuretics and pain management and trust me it was por dolor no por jajaja. I also developed a limp which was a response to the swollen foot. For a shortwhile both legs were swollen and I not only had kankles I had grandma calves. Ruling out all other possibilities like gout, congestive heart failure etc. pointed back to the poor little bug that got stepped on and retaliated. Thank you Santa if I couldn't have my fucking pony when I was little why not a scorpion now?
Pain got to be the single focus. I was now aware of physical discomfort all of the awake times { I say awake instead of conscious as there were times when there was one but not the other} and anytime at night that I rolled on my right side or if I had to get up and pee{it happens }. I have always faced pain before by getting the biggest and baddest pain killers available and for a lot less pain than lives in my life now. It was warranted then and not abused {taken according to instructions except an occasional extra pink one} but a maintainense addiction to serious opiates had developed. It maintained my pain threshold and allowed me to be a lot more physical in life, alive but dependent on that freedom as well.
I came to Central America to live without pain medication that had a fifteen year presence in my life. I had to deal with my arthritic pain with a different mental approach and seek natural ways to treat the pain physically. I was comfortable approaching the mental aspect as I had started the weaning process before I left the States. I knew living in the Third World medical and pharmacutical availability was going to be an issue. I had made contact last year with someone who knew of a nele in the San Blas Islands who was an expert with the use of plants and woods of the bush. A nele is a spirit centered person, a shaman, who would connect with the spirits and understands the language of the plants and trees of the bush. Like the ayahuasqueros in the Amazon who drank ayahuasca to communicate with the bush, the neles use their knowledge to both treat common illnesses and communicate with the spirits. The nele I went to see was a 70 year old albino woman that I paid to spend time with and possibly find a bush medicine that would ameliorate my arthritic back pain but not be an addicting solution. Maybe some bark extract or flower would do the same as oxycontin or the usual menu of opiates and that was the major reason for the trip to see the nele. I know what you are thinking, that I'm also looking for the Panamanian version of ayahuasca and partaking of the local hallucenogenic. Nope, not the case. The nele asked the same thing but I was sincerely looking for something that would work for pain relief as well as learning about the Kuna Yala ethnobotanical pharmocopia. I told her I would like to explore the bush in her knowledge path. She said the ayahuasca has a sister in the Panamanian bush but I would have to come back again for more experiences. So that will be the first 7-10 days when I get back in September. I learned a lot from her and liked her quiet cranky style. She showed me some pretty cool survival plants, plants that would stem the flow of blood, ease my menstrual cramps, make me shit and arouse my "interest" as she said. But no big solution to the pain thing. She said to just trust the spirits and wear the amulet bracelets she put on my wrist and leave them til they fall off. Ask the spirits for patience and ask the spirits for relief. I'm working on it.
Her milk white skin and copper tinged hair made her stand out in the village of typiclly dark skinned indigenous peeps. I was told that the Guna Yala have the highest rate of albinism in the world. The Kuna people call them, "the children of the moon" and they are considered spiritually special. In the U.S. the rate of albinism is 1-30-40K. The indigineous people who make up the branches of the Guna Yala in the San Blass region have a rate of 1-165! Funny thing is that she was the only moonchild I met.
The scorpion's sting finally took it's toll as my ability to deal with the pain was almost gone.
I did finally get bilateral shots of the hips and the recent worst fear scenerio was being played out. Radiology was never a discipline I studied but I have read enough films related to cardiac surgery or my broken body to understand. Like an orthopod I’m looking at the functional left and defining the ball of the hip and how it is set in the socket. Then I look at the right and I could have been an idiot in Radiology to not recognize the hip issue. The next day I’m in front of one of the internationally certified ortho surgeons in Panama and uno doctore que hable ingles. He put the shots up on the viewer and then just said “ you have a totally destroyed right hip and you need a total hip replacement.” Made me feel a little better when he gave me credit for being brave and walking around for 10 weeks with varying pain levels and then saying “Stupido!” for walking around for 10 weeks and not gettig x-rays 8 weeks earlier in San Jose.
I had incredable service at the hospital in Bocas the moment I walked into the session de urgencia. At $2.95 you get a doctor. $15.00 buys you bilateral pics and technician time. A final $2.95 for a MD consult and an injection of cortisone and lidocaine. All for less than $25. Another reason to love Panama.
Long back story but radical change in what’s going to happen in the short term of my life being forced off the road. Trust me not the end of the world but an immediate adjustment, a lot of quick planning and emergency exit stage left. Out of Panama, find a surgeon, call the bar and tell them you won't be available until June which means no gig which means try to find a gig, find another place in Bocas and figure out what is going back with me this time. Trying to go with the flow and be flexible with my expectations.
Do we hit a time when our flexability slows or is more difficult? I’m not talking about being able to bend over and lick your heels. I’m talking turning on a dime and getting shit together to make quick and correct decisions. This kind of shit would have made me a mad man and definitely un-Buddhist 10 years ago with a younger familia and a different attitude, but now it’s just the simple truth to deal with the need to remove my right hip and resurface the socket pocket. I think if you lose the ability to accept change you will not do well living on the road.
When I first got there the Howlers would be a welcome alarm at 0520 and tea and writing was the start of the day. Then MZ got so many 'dias a playas' that it was a long and luxurious time with much for the head and body.
But it started with the Scorpion on Christmas Eve and has evolved into a total hip replacement. Looking at my pictures or profile comments you get the impression that I‘m not living too bad a life in Central America.
It’s been a good cover I guess, as the sting turned into an infection that needed antibiotics, diuretics and pain management and trust me it was por dolor no por jajaja. I also developed a limp which was a response to the swollen foot. For a shortwhile both legs were swollen and I not only had kankles I had grandma calves. Ruling out all other possibilities like gout, congestive heart failure etc. pointed back to the poor little bug that got stepped on and retaliated. Thank you Santa if I couldn't have my fucking pony when I was little why not a scorpion now?
Pain got to be the single focus. I was now aware of physical discomfort all of the awake times { I say awake instead of conscious as there were times when there was one but not the other} and anytime at night that I rolled on my right side or if I had to get up and pee{it happens }. I have always faced pain before by getting the biggest and baddest pain killers available and for a lot less pain than lives in my life now. It was warranted then and not abused {taken according to instructions except an occasional extra pink one} but a maintainense addiction to serious opiates had developed. It maintained my pain threshold and allowed me to be a lot more physical in life, alive but dependent on that freedom as well.
I came to Central America to live without pain medication that had a fifteen year presence in my life. I had to deal with my arthritic pain with a different mental approach and seek natural ways to treat the pain physically. I was comfortable approaching the mental aspect as I had started the weaning process before I left the States. I knew living in the Third World medical and pharmacutical availability was going to be an issue. I had made contact last year with someone who knew of a nele in the San Blas Islands who was an expert with the use of plants and woods of the bush. A nele is a spirit centered person, a shaman, who would connect with the spirits and understands the language of the plants and trees of the bush. Like the ayahuasqueros in the Amazon who drank ayahuasca to communicate with the bush, the neles use their knowledge to both treat common illnesses and communicate with the spirits. The nele I went to see was a 70 year old albino woman that I paid to spend time with and possibly find a bush medicine that would ameliorate my arthritic back pain but not be an addicting solution. Maybe some bark extract or flower would do the same as oxycontin or the usual menu of opiates and that was the major reason for the trip to see the nele. I know what you are thinking, that I'm also looking for the Panamanian version of ayahuasca and partaking of the local hallucenogenic. Nope, not the case. The nele asked the same thing but I was sincerely looking for something that would work for pain relief as well as learning about the Kuna Yala ethnobotanical pharmocopia. I told her I would like to explore the bush in her knowledge path. She said the ayahuasca has a sister in the Panamanian bush but I would have to come back again for more experiences. So that will be the first 7-10 days when I get back in September. I learned a lot from her and liked her quiet cranky style. She showed me some pretty cool survival plants, plants that would stem the flow of blood, ease my menstrual cramps, make me shit and arouse my "interest" as she said. But no big solution to the pain thing. She said to just trust the spirits and wear the amulet bracelets she put on my wrist and leave them til they fall off. Ask the spirits for patience and ask the spirits for relief. I'm working on it.
Her milk white skin and copper tinged hair made her stand out in the village of typiclly dark skinned indigenous peeps. I was told that the Guna Yala have the highest rate of albinism in the world. The Kuna people call them, "the children of the moon" and they are considered spiritually special. In the U.S. the rate of albinism is 1-30-40K. The indigineous people who make up the branches of the Guna Yala in the San Blass region have a rate of 1-165! Funny thing is that she was the only moonchild I met.
The scorpion's sting finally took it's toll as my ability to deal with the pain was almost gone.
I did finally get bilateral shots of the hips and the recent worst fear scenerio was being played out. Radiology was never a discipline I studied but I have read enough films related to cardiac surgery or my broken body to understand. Like an orthopod I’m looking at the functional left and defining the ball of the hip and how it is set in the socket. Then I look at the right and I could have been an idiot in Radiology to not recognize the hip issue. The next day I’m in front of one of the internationally certified ortho surgeons in Panama and uno doctore que hable ingles. He put the shots up on the viewer and then just said “ you have a totally destroyed right hip and you need a total hip replacement.” Made me feel a little better when he gave me credit for being brave and walking around for 10 weeks with varying pain levels and then saying “Stupido!” for walking around for 10 weeks and not gettig x-rays 8 weeks earlier in San Jose.
I had incredable service at the hospital in Bocas the moment I walked into the session de urgencia. At $2.95 you get a doctor. $15.00 buys you bilateral pics and technician time. A final $2.95 for a MD consult and an injection of cortisone and lidocaine. All for less than $25. Another reason to love Panama.
Long back story but radical change in what’s going to happen in the short term of my life being forced off the road. Trust me not the end of the world but an immediate adjustment, a lot of quick planning and emergency exit stage left. Out of Panama, find a surgeon, call the bar and tell them you won't be available until June which means no gig which means try to find a gig, find another place in Bocas and figure out what is going back with me this time. Trying to go with the flow and be flexible with my expectations.
Do we hit a time when our flexability slows or is more difficult? I’m not talking about being able to bend over and lick your heels. I’m talking turning on a dime and getting shit together to make quick and correct decisions. This kind of shit would have made me a mad man and definitely un-Buddhist 10 years ago with a younger familia and a different attitude, but now it’s just the simple truth to deal with the need to remove my right hip and resurface the socket pocket. I think if you lose the ability to accept change you will not do well living on the road.
I left Bocas and flew back to Boston to get in front of an orthopedic surgeon recommended by a long time business friend. I could have had one of the best in the world if I wanted to wait four months til he had an opening but there was fat chance of that happening given the pain issue previously mentioned. It became a choice of the best guy in the shortest period of time and it worked out well. The ortho operating suite is a pretty violent place with sawing and hammering and cutting off the hip at the femur from the notes; "attention was then turned to the femur, which was opened with a cookie cutter "{WTF?}. Later, "the stem was impacted into place, the head impacted into place and the hip was reduced." Later in his report and my favorite part of medical gibberish, "Three drill holes were made in the posterior aspect of the greater trochanter reattaching the external rotator posterior capsular complex with an enhanced posterior capsular repair." Quite a mouthful of gibberish.
Four days in the hospital three of them on a morphine pump then a week in rehab {read nursing home} on oxycodone and then on to my friend Katie's house until I'm fully recovered with oxycodone as needed for pain. It all sounds like a recipe for a fall back to the old way of dealing with the pain in my body but I still hear the nele's voice, " Ask the spirits for patience ask the spirits for relief." I do and I'm OK. Solo estoy diciendo. TmyO...
Four days in the hospital three of them on a morphine pump then a week in rehab {read nursing home} on oxycodone and then on to my friend Katie's house until I'm fully recovered with oxycodone as needed for pain. It all sounds like a recipe for a fall back to the old way of dealing with the pain in my body but I still hear the nele's voice, " Ask the spirits for patience ask the spirits for relief." I do and I'm OK. Solo estoy diciendo. TmyO...
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