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The True Downside To Shoulder Surgery At 75…..

Okay guys, it is high time that someone has the courage to discuss the practical side of forcing an old arthritic man to abandon the use of his “master hand” to accommodate shoulder surgery. It is a tragic circumstance, made bearable by the hilarity of life temporarily one handed. Hang on for the truth…

Let’s start with the razor. The next time you shave, give it a go with your off hand. You get extra points if you shave your head. The precise nature of applying a blade to one’s head does not lend itself to reaching the back of your head with a surgically altered left hand without nearly bleeding out. Enter the life saving electric razor, not just any electric razor, but one affectionally named “Pit-Bull”. Unfortunately the Pit-Bull isn’t designed for the face, so next you acquire a nice Braun Shaver. Problem solved.

Next up, take a plastic wrapped quart of milk and try to twist the top off one handed, or a jar of pickles, or an after dinner mint. These tasks led to the creation of profanity. When you are seated at an eating establishment, try not to look chagrined when your wife comes to your side of the table and cuts your steak into bite sized morsels for you. The only solace is when little old folks walk by and tell you about their experience with the gi-normous immobilizing sling you are wearing. I am somewhat handy around the house but using tools, even screwdrivers, is provoking. Try starting a screw with your off hand. These tasks are where profanity was refined.

When I entered Army basic training at Ft. Polk, La. In the late ‘60s, the latrine consisted of a row of stools, situated about a foot apart. There was zero privacy and you soon learned the bowel habits of your comrades. You also learned that not everyone could handle extra fiber in their diet. The sounds that human beings emit are incredible, totally lacking in harmony. It was good training for late in life when basic hygiene becomes a chore. Give that mundane task a spin with your off hand…..it is where profanity was perfected. We have a number of friends, generally world travelers, who rely on the mysterious Bidet to help with this very basic human skill. We acquired one, and at the age of 75 I can report that I have been missing out on a pleasure that is indescribable. A gentle spritzing or industrial grade power washing, you choose. After this basic task is completed you push a button on your blue tooth remote and a gentle breeze gently dries your rear end. The seat and the water is even heated. We’ve come a long way from a bag of corncobs next to a lumber seat in a freezing cold structure in the back yard, believe me.

There you have it. It is never too late to acquire a new skill, or electric razor or toilet seat. I would encourage those needing shoulder surgery on their master arm to carefully consider the ramifications. Life is a sprint to the inevitable return to the helplessness we experienced at birth. Pray for a friend who will tell it like it really is. It is the seemingly mundane that will get you!

Moving Ain’t For The Weak……

I, predictably, am behind on about everything as we enter our third week in our new digs. I should know, having lived a nomadic life since entering this world in an Army hospital in Sendai, Japan nearly 76 years ago. This move, just few miles, would make a hilarious segment on a hoarder’s show. Many friends, knowing I have a broken wing, have offered their help, truth is we’re too embarrassed to accept. You really don’t want your friends to see your crazy.

Sharon is a trooper. There are numerous aspects to moving that require tools, normally my province. Lots of assembling stuff, with instruction written in Chi-English, requiring AI to put together. She is all in, learning to offer Navy quality oaths as she handles this responsibility. The previous owners of this home left it in good shape, however; they did not leave it in Sharon shape. Uh-oh…..

The new compound. Needs a fresh landscaping scheme and we’ll be off and running.

The doctors have threatened to deny all future care if I violate the rules attendant to the shoulder replacement recovery. Truth is, you are going to move your new bionic shoulder even when you use the “good shoulder”, a violation of the code. I am little help, limited to offering supervision (not needed) and advice (also not needed). Another truth, a reverse shoulder replacement is a walk in the park when compared to rotator cuff repair or thumb surgeries. Do not fear this procedure if your shoulder throws ace deuce.

We began this adventure by placing our household in storage, boxing up stuff and placing it, well, in storage. We then moved from storage to the new compound, placing us on the honor roll at the DAV resale store. An example of a failure to plan is our large lawn…..welcomed as I love lawn work. Our terrific Cub Cadet rider is two inches too wide to clear the shed’s over sized door. We are replacing it with a new Cubbie, my Christmas present this year. The deal is cut.

Factor Covid in, which we both have at this point and our resolve is being tested. it is not the killer it once was, but older folks don’t handle it well.

Finally, I am a lousy spectator. Watching a move is far different than participating. It has offered an entirely different perspective, and a deep appreciation for the excesses Americans enjoy. I am frustrated with my inability to contribute to the excitement of setting up a new household and amazed at my farm girl wife’s energy and adaptability. She is getting it done while I sit on my ass howling at the moon……

Following Directions…..

One of the distinct advantages of having a military (Army) and paramilitary (Police) background is the ability to follow direction. When the surgeon opened my shoulder this week, he described what he saw as a “junkyard”, hardware from the previous surgery and supporting structure trashed as a result of the fall. He cleaned this up and installed a nice new titanium joint. I am always impressed by the intellect and training of these angels of mercy.

I am a veteran of numerous surgeries, 12 to be exact, and the detailed instructions one receives are the result of years of experience from health care professionals who exemplify the “care” aspects of this general title. As an example, I was encouraged to begin using a laxative several days ahead of the surgery to stave off the side effects of the strong opiates necessary after such procedures. The PA who works hand in glove with the surgeon, strongly recommended beginning the opiate regimen BEFORE the block wore off. His advice has resulted in a tremendous reduction of the pain typical of shoulder replacements in general. A licensed physical therapist visited the day after surgery, and in no uncertain terms taught us how to place, wear and remove the immobilizer brace necessary to preclude movement as the shoulder heals. Finally, my surgeon sent me home with a prescription for Narcan, a thoughtful gesture especially if there is any chance of an accidental overdose of oxycodone, which increases in older folks who are more prone to confusion with meds.

The kitchen here serves up outstanding table fare

Here is the crux of today’s missive. I am recovering nicely because I can follow directions precisely. I am enjoying a smooth recovery as a result of advice dispensed by the terrific doctors and allied health professionals at the Mercy Orthopedic Hospital south of Springfield, Mo. While I have benefitted from the excellence of the prestigious Cleveland Clinic, the care this past week not only rivals Cleveland, but exceeds it in many cases. The patient/provider ratio is extraordinary and I am exceedingly fortunate to be in their care. Should you find yourself in the care of this hospital, take my heartfelt advice and order the charbroiled steak.

Only in America….

A Broken System….

It was one of those hard hitting snowstorms that Missouri is no stranger to. From experience, I knew that it was not a morning for elective travel, however; Sharon had a routine procedure scheduled and you don’t miss these things less you are prepared for a long wait to be rescheduled. We hit the road and began the trek to the clinic via US-65, which was bumper to bumper, with the road mostly snow and slush covered. I am a proponent of adequate following distances and noted the profusion of brake lights ahead, indicating an event. I slowed down, the jackass behind me did not and punched the back of our car. The conditions contributed to this event, but having his head in rectal seclusion was the primary problem. Now the fun begins.

Our crash was far from deadly, but here is a snapshot of such wrecks in the USA

After checking on him and his 19 YOA “baby momma” (his description), I quickly ascertained the following. He was a 20 year old man, driving a 2019 Nissan Armada, bearing no license plates, and looking like it was a survivor of Hiroshima. It was an “auction car”, still moving but clearly not far from the crusher. He had an operators license, and for this report, we’ll call him Nick. Nick and his baby momma (pregnant) were actually living in the Armada. Nick had a title that was out of assignments, given to him when he purchased the car in July. His chariot was not insured, no sales tax was paid, and he had no address. I explained to him who I was and he was cooperative with a “what me worry” attitude. I thought it best to summon an officer, as Nick needed to be arrested for one of the myriad of violations that he was responsible for.

As you might guess, no officers were available from the Springfield Police or the Highway Patrol, but when free, a Springfield officer would come. We waited an hour, long enough, so I worked the accident myself and walked the report into the Springfield Police Department. I explained to Nick that had I been an officer, I would have sacked him up for a couple of his litany of charges, including a less colorful version of D.W.H.I.A.

It will be a miracle if Nick is ever found, or suffer the consequences for his actions. Here we have a man who was driving while unconscious, in a car that bore no semblance to legality with no abode. The Missouri Automobile Association is powerful. They have managed to contribute enough money to the politicians running this state to stave off point of sale sales tax collection, which leads to no titling or registration. The ridiculous excuse offered by the department of revenue that it takes years to develop a data base to begin this obviously needed consideration is unadulterated bullshit. Dealers don’t want to collect sales tax as it constitutes extra work and extra money, thus reducing sales. It does not take years to develop this system…….

It was a weather event, and one would expect delays in getting to accident scenes by responding officers. That being said, I worked in these conditions, and it was rare that some police authority did not respond to a crash. Enough said about that consideration, however a citation or two would at least tease Nick into court.

The ultimate assault on our sensibilities is insurance. This jackass hits me and I get to pay the deductible through my insurance, even with our having uninsured coverage. Our system is broken and provides absolutely no incentive for Nick to do anything other than buy a junker and drive it off with little fear of penalty, with a minimal or no financial outlay.

We contacted a dear friend, who came to the scene and picked up Sharon and she made it to her appointment on time. I worked the wreck and filed a claim and made an appointment for a bid on Miss Sharon’s X-3. In keeping with the Mamdani school of socialism, don’t worry, be happy, I’ll pay for your illegality out of my pocket.

Watch the weather, carry plenty of insurance, and enjoy the disfunctional system we live in. Great isn’t it!

The Origins Of Today’s Domestic Violence…..

I know and have seen things about violence, the result of a long career as a Highway Patrolman. Historically, domestic violence has been with us since Biblical times with a number of references to it in the Bible. I was raised in a military family and spent a year in Vietnam where violence was the order of the day. I am, admittedly, jaded when it comes to the violence we see today. I am also appalled. America has become a very violent part of the industrial world

Kids, back in the day, played cops and robbers, unless you were from Oklahoma, where you played Cowboys and Indians. We had toy guns and relied upon yard tactics to out maneuver one another. It was fun, not graphic, and terribly unsophisticated. Not today. Today, through the incredible tech that is available to us, we can involve ourselves in graphic killing for the sake of killing a multi-faceted sensory experience on a scale not unlike the sophisticated flight training simulators that will leave you shaking as a result of the experience. (Yes, I have sat in a major airline flight simulator and “flown” an airplane through a series of events that are horrifying.)

Next up, we have paintball, a pastime that is all about shooting and “killing” your opponent. We had a similar exercise in the Army, with BB guns and eye protection to simulate reactionary fighting. It was called Tiger Land, and brought the feeling of live fire a little closer. We engage in bloody cage fighting, bare knuckle contests in a confined place, with blood and teeth flying. This is entertainment to some, like the gladiators in Rome, but a ridiculous exercise to me.

Social media is a seething bed of unbridled reference to violence cloaked in the laughable protection of “community standards”. We ignore bullying in young folks to the point of suicide in less emotionally stable children (and adults). Television and our movies make violence a status symbol among the impressionable minds of kids. Vietnam coverage began an era of unprecedented violence brought into our living rooms replete with all the horrors of combat sans the smell of death. The proliferation of road rage today has reached unprecedented levels, teaching our children to curse and threaten other drivers as a normal response to an aggravating circumstance. Today’s attitudes, coupled with the incredible availability of guns, creates a circumstance that makes our streets inherently unsafe. (I am pro gun, but recognize that folks will move quickly to a lethal level as easily today as anytime in our history, conditioned to that response by the facts above.) Our political leadership, in vivid terms is also a cog in the cycle of violence through their assinine display of horrid coping skills.

In summary, America is a seething hotbed of violence, with each new generation growing up with an ever increasing acceptance of violence as a preferred alternative to the peaceful resolution of differences. It is reflected in the news of the day, in living color, with violent crime being beamed into our homes in real time. One of the answers is parenting, where violence is mitigated by the constant reinforcement of a civil response to vexing issues as superior to any form of violence. Breaking this cycle of violence will not be easy, but does involve modeling an appropriate response when confronted by a challenging circumstance. I, in the course of my profession, have employed the use of deadly force on precious few occasions that I might have resolved by shooting the bad actor……the alternative is always better when possible. Violence is always ugly, always.

The Struggle To Be An Informed Consumer…..

America is a country of excess. The middle class controls the retail marketplace. The uber wealthy dabble in a strata that mere mortals like us only learn about because slick periodicals publish pictures of their digs. I don’t resent them, with the exception of those who inherent vast sums of money, these folks have earned their station in life as have the shrinking middle class where Sharon and I operate. An interesting concept is that a work ethic will earn rewards over a lifetime, a consideration that idiots like Mamdani, Sanders and AOC have not grasped yet. We work hard for a good life for ourselves and those we choose to help out, but I could give a tinkers damn about folks who have the ability to work but have made an occupation out of treks to the mail box for a government handout while raising hell in the streets. In short, I am opposed to the distribution of my earnings to the jackasses screaming in the streets about the unfairness of our society.

Buried in this rant, is the unbelievable retail world that wraps us in an incredible array of options when considering new stuff we need or want and can afford. We have begun the arduous process of furnishing our latest compound with a careful selection of stuff to replace stuff that Sharon has sold off when we pedaled our last, smaller home. Sharon is an informed consumer whereas I am an uninformed buyer. She can navigate the cyber market as well as brick and mortar retail with ease. I am learning to shop, but have a long way to go. We are in the market for a new dining room table and chairs to replace our last table and chairs that she sold because they were tall, condo style pieces. She is as good at selling as she is at buying stuff. Caveat Emptor is the order of the day as the once thriving American made furniture market is heavily diluted with foreign (and surprisingly high quality in many cases) foreign made products.

Sans the bench, our new dining room. We eschew elegance for bunker strength stuff

I like leather. These two pieces are replacing the old sectional and recliner we sold, the rug….no

I can see the attraction in shopping. There is a dizzying array of stuff to look at in the marketplace and we have the internet to confirm value and variety. Amazon, Mayfair and many other internet outlets proliferate and she can quickly discern value from hype. I ain’t there yet, but am learning. Grab the appropriate issue of Consumer Reports, combine that with practical experience and you elevate the possibility of buying responsibly at a fair price considerably. I am learning that my experience buying fishing equipment, lawn mowers and kayaks can be the foundation to furnishing a home and kitchen. In all honesty, I am Sharon’s cross to carry, a responsibility she handles well. Being an informed consumer is not easy, but is fun!

Falling Well……

Military paratroopers are taught how to fall well. This is the result of trusting a piece of synthetic material to soften the controlled crash that is inevitable when you hop out of a perfectly good aircraft. This technique is called a “PLF” short for “Parachute Landing Fall”. Being somewhat risk adverse and allergic to pain, I opted to be a “leg” or ground bound troop in my military career. In spite of this clever attempt to defeat the laws of nature, paratroopers get hurt, a lot. Airborne troops are accorded a special status among Centurions, and a few extra bucks called “jump pay”. I admire them, but chose to join the fight in a helicopter or ground conveyance. I should have gone airborne, a PLF would have come in handy these days.

Old people should never be in a hurry. We have enough problems remembering things and navigating through life. My contemporaries understand this. When you hurry, bad things happen, like falling and breaking stuff. I was in a hurry back in May of 2022 when I tangled with a dog blanket and dove headfirst, through a door, onto the garage floor earning a relationship with an orthopedic surgeon in Jefferson City to repair a torn rotator cuff. In scenic Tennessee, I was hurrying again to break down our RV and hit the road. A one inch edge on a concrete pad caught my foot and I dove onto the pad, trying to break the fall with my right hand, which is attached to my right arm which is attached to my rebuilt rotator cuff. I knew instantly that I had reversed the work of the surgeon, telling Sharon, rather graphically, I had injured the shoulder again. Yesterday, another pleasant orthopedic surgeon after perusing an ugly MRI, sat down in front of me and began with, “you have two massive, complete tears that are “not repairable”. I suspected such as I have been in constant pain since the event.

The doctor explained that surgery is indicated, something called a “reverse total shoulder replacement”. The reverse part is the ball is implanted into the clavicle and the “socket” into the humerus or upper arm bone. The recovery will run from six months to a year, and if successful, will give me the pain free (or close) use of my arm again, but my hopes of being a Major league hurler are dashed.

Why am I writing this? To illicit sympathy, no. To reveal my tendencies to leave my feet unexpectedly, no. Rather, I am offering “boughten learning” as my old Sergeant described as the best learning. For the love of God, guard against falls diligently. It’s physics folks. Mass in motion expends energy coming to a stop, that energy will play hell with folks who are gradually fossilizing. If you are right handed, try shaving left handed, or cutting a steak one handed, or showering one handed, or taking care of other bodily functions with your off hand. It ain’t pretty. Falls happen quickly and unexpectedly, as in the case of a dear friend’s father who got caught up in his daughters train walking her to the marriage alter, did the dance of death trying not to fall and was saved by a man in the front row who jumped up and caught him before he crashed into a pew. (it was me that caught him…..).

Be careful….please. Our ranks are thinning, please do not check out in a fall, or break something important.

Home, Sweet Home….

Our self described elimination tour has come to an end. We made an honest effort to consider other states for our last stand, spending time in west coast locales, fertile northwestern farm country as well as the gorgeous western mountains. We had no problem eliminating blue managed states, a shame as several enjoy normalcy in their outstate locales in spite of being governed by idiots. Sharon and I have spent considerable time in the southeastern US, my childhood home turf, but they have failed to sway us , given our preference for four distinct seasons. Without belaboring the point we have returned to Missouri where we both have a considerable investment in terms of public service and our circle of friends. If this isn’t enough, we are home to the Chiefs, Cardinals, Royals and now……Buc-ees!

Specifically, we have purchased a home in the southwestern edge of Springfield in Battlefield. This home checked a lot of boxes, a big 3 car garage and in-ground pool being among our wants. Our new castle is bigger than our last, beautifully landscaped on another spacious corner lot. We have a penchant for all brick and a large rear patio for our outside kitchen and lolling about in the early mornings with coffee and the dog. Soon enough a new Lab, to be named Malachi or Kai for short will be joining us. We gave other Missouri towns and communities a hard look but our support system in Southwest Missouri brought us home.

Our new compound, inviting our landscaping strategies

Sunday, I am undergoing a MRI to assess the damage to my already re-built right shoulder in another fall, tripping over a concrete pad edge in Tennessee. Obviously, I have not mastered a reliable fall technique, complicated by the brittleness of age. A surgeon is on for a consult Thursday, and barring a near miracle, I’ll soon be under the knife again. We have not abandoned the RV lifestyle, just delaying it a bit. Our recent adventure identified several locations that were appealing making them destination locations for later trips. Exploring is in our DNA.

Enjoy what looks to be a terrific fall, with the color parade just getting going. Evenings are cooling down and mornings are delightful, inviting coffee around the fire pit. Be safe and enjoy our blessings, especially in Missouri, home sweet home.

A Break From The Road…..

The first phase of our elimination tour is in the books. We are currently paused in Tennessee, near Sevierville, at the foot of the Smokies, a tourist Mecca. We will be back in Missouri next week after a breathtaking swing through Oklahoma, Northern Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, Utah, Oregon, Washington State, Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, South Dakota, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan, Indiana, , Ohio, Pennsylvania, West Virginia, and Kentucky, before our sojourn in Tennessee. To date we have travelled 11,077 miles. This jaunt has taken six months allowing us a fair measure of the regions across the west and northern plains. It has been challenging and rewarding, as we have met many folks and been exposed to the regional difference in people and geography.

We were camped next to a Veteran’s Cemetery in Kentucky, among my brothers and sisters who answered the call

We will be in Missouri for a month, catching up on medical appointments and to look at several properties we have identified as possible final camps. America is a magnificent country, but nothing thus far has blunted our zeal for Missouri. Weather extremes have played a big part in evaluating out of state home sites but the real kicker has been the wonderful attitude and practicality of Missourians. In fairness, we plan to winter in the southern and southeastern part of America, regions we have some experience with. What, in general terms, have we learned?

A shared breakfast feast in Sevierville, Tn. a wonderful timber framed establishment

A Tennessee dry goods store established by a native son doctor

RV travel is refreshing, challenging and great fun. Sharon has been the navigator and logistics officer and has consistently delivered great routes, parks and side visits. This is a major undertaking, not to be taken lightly. If your unit is much longer than 30’, you will miss out on some terrific camp possibilities although there is a proliferation of up scale parks being developed including the terrific park we are currently in, having been open for two weeks! We have yet to be too cold or too hot, as our unit has performed exceedingly well with a few minor issues but nothing particularly challenging. We have become adept at both establishing camp and breaking down. We have travelled many secondary routes with only a few “wagon trails” but we marvel at the reliability of the modern trailer given the occasional stretches of poor road. We travel at a consistent 60-65 MPH, easier on the trailer, the driver and passenger. Sharon handles her share of wheel time and is completely able to set up and break down the trailer. She has mastered all of the systems, not surprising given her farm background. She is an outstanding first officer.

Cirrus, the Ram has been flawless. I am a maintenance oriented guy and we have kept up precisely with oil changes and tire rotations and truck as well as RV washes. We enjoy ramp presence, brought about by being appearance oriented. Road meals are expensive as are up scale parks being developed. We have handled minor medical issues at Urgent Cares and Wal-Mart has supplied most of our in house foods as well as Rx requirements, flawlessly. You do not need an expansive wardrobe in this lifestyle, nor do you NEED a big Class A motor coach. We subscribed to Star Link, making television super easy and greatly facilitating our ability to keep up with the world.

When we explain our circumstances to folks, they marvel at our freedom and talk about our experience as a dream for their future. We are not finished as we will be back out in short order but are looking forward to having sticks and bricks to back us up. We watch the real estate market carefully with an emphasis on Missouri. We are looking forward to a home, pool and a new family member in the form of our next Lab who will be named Malachi or “Kai” for short. It is easy to see how folks sell out and live, permanently, on the road. As much fun as we have had, we are still enamored with the American dream of permanent home ownership. We intend, health permitting to have our cake and eat it too! To that end, I tripped yesterday and tumbled onto a stamped concrete pad, requiring stitches in the palm of my hand and a return to the surgeons for a likely re-tear of the right rotator cuff. Haste at our age is obviously counter productive. Soon I will detail our favorite stops so far… until then, have a great week.

A chagrined, clumsy, old man soaking before sutures

Our current location in Sevierville, Tn.

Hair……

This morning, while waiting for the sunrise to break down our RV for a journey south, my mind drifted toward the topic of hair….and it’s ability to mess with your psyche. The days of arising, showering and arranging ones coiffure are long past me. I knew it was coming, I watched dad’s hairline run from his brow early on. When it comes to hair styles, probably as much a result of my early life as an Army brat as anything, I prefer a neat hairstyle. I have worn flat-tops, middle parts and side parts, with no particular preference for any of them, mostly dictated by the circumstances at hand.

While on this trip, I made one last attempt at a grow out, with the same dismal results as the last attempt. What little hair I still have grows much like an ill kept, drought suffering garden…some here, some there but all thin and irregular. Back to the razor, or “Pit Bull’ an electric shaver for hair challenged folks. I have acquiesced to Sharon’s wishes and did manage a decent, short, snow white beard that she trims with precision. Men, in particular, understand the contempt that hair has for our gender. Nothing on the pate, but a constant fight with nose, ear and eyebrow growth less you look like Ichabod Crane on a bad day.

There is a caveat to a shaved head. At least every other day you must shave your “monks crown” the strip that continues to produce on the sides of your head. Looks has never been my strong suit, and I have graduated into the jeans, and cargo lifestyle, topped with sweat shirts or pullovers, with Hoka’s to take care of abused feet. I am also not offended by dog hair having raised 5 Labs over the years. They, if you aren’t aware, are hair producers on a grand scale. Hair doesn’t bother me…..unless it shows up in something I am trying to eat, in which case it destroys my appetite instantly.

As a final note, politicians mostly seem to have great hair, or a penchant for massive comb overs. I strongly suspect a lot of what we see is acrylic stuff precisely centered on their challenged pates. On the other hand, I am in good company these days, a short beard and slick dome, and have no political future. Time to fire up Cirrus and tug the Taz M’Haul down the road.

Have a great week!

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