Self-Inflicted Disability

Yes that is me in July 4, 1994  jumping for joy in the middle of Broadway, Times Square.  

I have now seen 2 months go by and yet to throw my leg over the top tube. I watch the days of Summer come and go, my time to ride-sweat-reflect as I spin down the road.  Simply, I am injured and this will require much patience and "breathing".  I now know what it is to be like in a crazy City that moves quickly around you almost like a whirling vortex.  "YES, I am sorry I have to take one step at a time on the Subway Entrance and Exit!"  "YES, I am sorry I require more time to walk anywhere with my "Chester" like stride."  I need to take it easy New York City and I need to get to work using the Public transportation.  My 'New York minute' is 20 or more depending on the distance and percentage of grade.

It all began with a simple collision with the Subway Turnstile at the 2nd AVE & 72nd Street Station.  I was thinking about work and wrapping my head around riding 100 miles in Texas on a sponsored group ride.  I thought I had swiped my Metro Card to pay the fare, but NOT!!!  BAM! my right thigh took most of the impact.  OWWWWW! that is going to be sore for a while I said.  A week later it was so swollen from hip to knee, my thigh looked like a huge sausage.  It was painful and immediately made my daily routine to a level of REALLY challenged.  Imagine not being able to bend your leg so you can put your pants on or a sock.  Not to mention sitting comfortably, always with a leg straight and elevated.  Getting in and out of the shower was tough, due to the fact that we have a tub.  And I thought recovery from open heart surgery was a challenge--it was but this comparabile with a real photo finish.

I have a hematoma in my right thigh and I take Coumadin for the artificial heart valve.  Imagine if, in the night someone inserted a hard boiled egg in your thigh between muscle layers.  Not to much fun, let me tell ya.  It took almost a month before I could bend my leg to a (guessing) 75 degree angle.  I thought I was on the mend and then it happened.

July 1st brought hope and then July 2nd  immediately back to "square one" with more PAIN and more swelling.  I know pain from the open heart, but this was something new and not fun.  It was very much like my leg was going to explode from the pressure within.  I almost went to the Emergency Room twice, but I did not want to wait for hours in that "meat locker"; very cold in that place.  I gutted it out.  I am now thinking to myself, this is going to take a LONG time to heal so just accept it.

It is now almost the end of July and I am getting better each day with small gains.  I don't think about riding my bike so much as just being able to walk and sit normally.  Then I can stretch and do some jogging-start out slowly, listen to my body.  Eventually I should be back throwing my leg over the top tube spinning away.  I am sure that day will come and I project mid September, but I am not going to rush.

June 7th I embraced the concept of me turning 60 years of age.  Now I need to embrace this new thing----self-inflicted disability.  I have a good understanding the challenges of those who navigate life with impairments and I have a new respect for those individuals.  I also know what it is like to be older and not able to keep up with those younger or more mobile.  I have now joined the "herd of turtles" I refer to when I am with those who move slowly.  My world is not a fast pace right now in New York City.  I might not fit in at this time, but I will catch up with you.  "I will ride within myself", as we say in cycling.  And hopefully soon I will be able to leap for joy in Times Square again.

By the way, I still have that shirt and shorts.  It pays to buy quality things.

Our Bi-yearly Ritual

Immortalized the House on South Pleasant in the play "The Clown Who Ran Away"

I was supposed to post this last year but, well-I did not.  This one is for William B. and Joe, my comrade and guardian in the Summers of our youth.  Enjoy!

It's been a long time and I think this summer I will try to write and post more.  After reading Kathleen

Choe's and Emmy Potter's Blogs (love them) I am inspired and feeling motivated.

The passing of time is huge in life.  Recently I was occupying my mind while painting the front porch deck, with memories of Summers past when my Brother and I had to paint the house on Pleasant Street.  We both painted that house so many times that every nook, cranny and detail was engrained in our mind.  We had to get our chores done before the afternoon sun and any baseball could be played in the backyard.  Dad usually wanted to paint that house every other year.  He painted at nights, before and after dinner, doing the windows and doors.  Dad was a real skilled artist with that angled-sash brush.  He said that painting Windows was relaxing.  Joe (my older brother) and I did the remaining parts on the house sometimes perched high above the ground on that aluminum extension ladder.  That ladder was a key purchase as we also used it to put up the exterior Christmas lights.  That house had some real tricky spots line the triangular detail above the bedrooms and third floor.  There was only about 2 feet of slightly pitched surface to sit and paint the wall and soffit-one hand on the facing and shingles and the other holding the brush.  We rigged our cans with a coat hanger bent around the handle to hook it on the gutter.  It was like a High Wire Circus act.  Both of us were glad

when that was painted.  YIKES!

We worked in the mornings when it was cooler and played baseball after lunch until we were called home for supper.  We never got compensation for our efforts-we knew that it was awesome that we got 3 meals a day, a wonderful house to live and an awesome family that was so supportive.  There were inserections, like the time Dad chose oil based paint one summer and it was a hot one.  We could hardly get that paint on the house before the darn stuff became pudding.  We added more mineral spirits to keep it viscous; I am sure it that made  the formula of the paint weaker and made it more likely to peel and bubble in the hot Missouri sun.

It was a bi-yearly ritual that I will never forget or regret, as it truly taught me the zen of painting a house.  Which flows into my work as a Set Designer.

#hydrate but not too much mineral spirits.