I’ve now been writing this blog for well past a year, and I’m still enjoying it. I think the writing is better, for one thing. It’s nice to improve.
I haven’t posted for two weeks, and I think my mind is telling me something. I need a break.
Other complications: My back has worsened dramatically; I now can’t walk, stand, cook, or do dishes for more than five minutes without the pain in my lower back registering eight out of 10. I’ve had a procedure to burn the offending nerves, but it didn’t help. A surgeon has told me that surgery won’t do any good; this is all about arthritis.
There’s another possible thing where they insert wires to shoot electrical impulses to my spine, but I don’t really want to talk about that. It requires a battery implanted in my back.
I had no idea I was going to end up this way. As I was a mediocre lawyer and hated it, my plan was to save a lot of money, quit early, write books, and play tennis and golf.
None of that is going to happen, due to arthritis and lack of book sales. I’ve banged my head against that piece of masonry long enough.
So I’m going to take a little while longer before posting again.
Oh, there’s this thing of the country being completely fucked in four different ways, in descending order: Trump, pandemic, economic disaster, climate change. To paraphrase Binx Bolling in The Moviegoer by Walker Percy, it is beyond my capacity to be edifying.
When I asked Ward Wallace, my office mate at Auburn (see post dated July 19, 2019), what he was doing one weekend, a question that generally doesn’t require much thought, he stared at me blank-faced for a few seconds and then said: “Joge! Ah’m gonna get mah dawg. And mah whiskeh. And mah gun. And Ah’m goin’ down on the rivah!”
That’s what I’m doing, minus the river and the gun. See you in a few days.
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