Screwed Again

A few days back I got a CD I ordered in the mail. This was no music club or movie site selection, no. This disc had broken bones, flesh and internal organs, cadaver pieces, titanium screws and fasteners; all inside me! It has  images of my spine before and after surgery as well as a couple cool, before- surgery playable MRI scans. Aside from the break (which the untrained eye won’t notice) the images clearly show the spondylolisthesis.

No, I’m not gonna go into detail to explain that long winded word, but here is a link to some very good info and pictures: http://www.eorthopod.com/content/lumbar-spondylolisthesis

I wanted to post a few pictures so the reader who stumbles here will know my inner-most secrets! I did a post about my leg a long time ago. My lower leg and ankle have titanium and steel, so the spine stuff is more hardware. Anyway, the images are below.

Spine Before Surgery

Spine repair with hardware

 

And So It Is Written

I find writing an excellent outlet to occupy my mind since I am limited in what my body can do while I heal from spine surgery. Lately I decided to work on publishing a children’s book I wrote many years ago. I have more research to do to find companies that accept ‘unsolicited’ manuscripts or to find other, less frustrating methods to get the book in print. But I’ve started in earnest.

Today, being the untrusting cad I am, I submitted my manuscript to the US Copywrite Office electronically. I fear there are too many ways to be cheated of one’s labors, so a little preparation (and thirty-five dollar fee) may help avoid troubles from dishonorable companies. Frankly, I am doubtful any well-known publishing house would print the book at this time without an agent peddling my wares to them. The written page is endangered! 

Increasing electronic communications are stripping away the profitability of hardcopy anything now. Today’s young readers need two things:  a place to sit and a screen big enough to see. Public libraries are now Wi-Fi hot-spots with ever-shrinking material inventory. Book stores are either sadly dying or bolstering their bottom line with gift shops, cafés, Wi-Fi, workshops, readings, and even live entertainment.

If ink were cheap I’d do the publishing myself, but no. The price of ink or toner for printers has been proven harmful to sensible consumers. Often the ink magically disappears just when a ‘new model’ printer becomes available: hocus poke-us. For the price of one toner cartridge I can get a book printed, put together, bound and shipped to me from a local Staples store.

I am of a generation that grew up with printed material and to this day I find it easier to read from a sheet rather than a screen. There are many who prefer printed stuff—I wonder if it is a certain type of personality, perhaps even hard-wired in people like me that makes us more favorable to paper versus monitor. The odd thing: I create writing on computer much easier than on paper. Conveniences such as fully creatable styling, immediate erasability, self word correction, password protection, and global mailing without envelope or postage are just too sensible to ignore. But I must print my important stuff to edit and revise to satisfaction. I hate chopping trees for such things as paper when we can do without, but there are many more dangerous things humans make which destroy our delicate planet.

Anyhow, I am very happy to be moving on this project. I’ve revised this short book many times and edited well over thirty times to express the story in language as clear as could be. The book is a fantasy; with fairies, giants, valiant knights, and magic—of course! It sounds all too typical but it is not–if I thought it was the same old stuff  I’d have recycled every page long ago.

I got the idea for my book while thinking of a time in my childhood when I would catch bugs and other critters, jar ‘em and study or simply amuse myself at their expense. That may seem completely unrelated to a kid’s fantasy book but the story clearly answers the reason why. Inspiration is oft unpredictable—but always welcomed. I have waited too long so I hereby swear: I will be published in something other than the boring pages of the Journal of Analytical Biochemistry.

©2011 Stumpar Scribbles

 

Cutting Costs

I have had many instances when I was sticker-shocked. It seems as years go by that I am much more frequently stunned by costs of everyday items. As my last post on this humble blog was about my back issues and the pains I have gone through to get help, this seems fitting as a follow-up…

 …Friday, March 18^th, Six O’clock AM

 I am stepping through a maze of sterile, soft fluorescent-lit echoing hallways of a hospital to report for spine surgery while J. parks our car. I have an empty bag of a stomach and the dull mid-forties aged eyes of a man denied his morning coffee. I hear my shoes squeaking on polished utilitarian tiles and notice my tell-tale rhythmic limp of compensated steps from chronic lower back pain exacerbated by denied analgesic over the prior night. I hear beeps, whirs, clicks, alarms, rustling uniforms and bed sheets within a depressing mix of high-tech modalities, patient mutterings and staff in the morning’s business begun. And I hear my heart; feel the light throb through my arms and underarms, along my neck to temples and on to the core of what I am synaptically. About one and a half hours later I am unconscious and prepared for surgery.

I am not yet willing to tell of my horror in the recovery area and during days spent in hospital. I don’t want to relive it—ever—and I haven’t got the whole scope of what happened yet to report fully. So, now I will skip to the mail delivered yesterday so we can end this tale with my intended topic.

J. had taken me to visit my mom yesterday, to get away from the house I hobble around in as I heal. We intended to go earlier in the day, but I got wrapped up in guitar and we were hours later with our trip there and back. J. swung to the mailbox with the car and we brought the mail in with some needed purchases after our time with mom. Right off, J. noticed the addressed mail for me was from the hospital. The envelopes were opened with much curiosity tainted with the sour-sweet scent of fear anticipating costs I would be paying over the next five or so years. The sum was worse than we’d expected.

• Room Charges: $3,633.00
• Pharmacy: $253.01
• Med/Surgical Supplies: $3,163.50
• Lab: $260.50
• Radiology: $919.00
• Operating Room Services: $8,580.00
• Anesthesia: $2,142.00
• Physical Therapy: $398.00
• Occupational Therapy: $360.00
• Recovery Room: $668.50
• Professional Services: $143.00
• Surgical Implants/Supplies: $34,170.00
• The total bill: $54,690.51

Profession Services, what the hell is that? And the killer on the bill: Surgical Implants/Supplies. I am gonna guess—until I meet with the surgeon and clarify that item Thursday during a follow-up—that the charges are for the surgery itself and not just the borrowed cadaver bone and titanium hardware used in my spinal fusion. If the charges are only for those items, then there will be blood drawn—and not the kind that does anyone any good!

I will only pay a percent of all this once my insurance has paid the bulk; yet, with my income I will be paying this for at least 5 years or more. So, the sticker-shock is here. I am counting on the benefits I reap from this experience to allow me to make more income and pay my debt a bit quicker with a much stronger spine. One needs a good spine to take on years of debt!

©2011 Stumpar Scribbles

 

Breaking Bad

Somewhere long ago–like many of us have done in our wild young days–I hurt myself and didn’t know the extent. I try to think of an individual incident that may pinpoint some exact day of damage but there are way too many ouches to sift through: I’ll never know. It is of no importance now.

Near a decade ago I began breaking down, hurting when doing heavy labor activities. My back was forcing me to ‘act my age’. It was not so difficult to deal with at first: having an ache and taking some over-the-counter stuff to make it go away after a long day of muscling. But it got worse, and worse. Over recent years I could no longer help others out with big lifting & moving jobs, couldn’t do the hard work I was happy to help with, couldn’t climb up or crunch into small areas to fix things where others dared not, couldn’t rough-house the grandkids while visiting…Couldn’t: I hate that word.

I worked toward self-help with sub-standard Primary Care Physicians; got sent to physical therapy (good), got prescribed stronger and stronger medications; was told it was “just arthritis” after one recent doctor took an X-Ray. I did my part but felt the only things I got for trying were steep bills, deep doubts and weak explanations (misdiagnoses) for my back issues. After one complaining session with J., she agreed that my doctor was more Mallard than Medical, and she did me better than I’d ever imagined by simply getting me in as a patient of her Doctor, G. From an X-Ray readout (not seeing the image itself) she diagnosed my back issues and started sending me to accomplished specialists to grasp the scope of my injured back and work toward better health.

Here I am, less than two weeks out from spine surgery to repair and fuse broken vertebrae and worn away discs from trauma long ago. I’ve been told to expect eighty percent pain reduction–that, my friends, was a figure to inspire hope I haven’t had for years. I’m working through recovery, anticipating renewed activities like hiking and more adventurous outdoors activities.  I can expect renewed ability to assist with the heavier-handed jobs I enjoy doing. I already have more tools to keep my back in shape and will soon start physical therapy to insure the money spent on surgery is more an investment than a coin tossed at a patch I’m not willing to earn.

As for the hospital care after surgery, there is a tale of unfathomable pain and woe I will soon tell you.  For now I will end this post with positives I plan to enjoy with this old man’s repaired back.  

©2011 Stumpar Scribbles

 

Gray Day

May of last year, one beautiful spring morn brought a surprise visitor. We figured he had been night-hunting bugs attracted to our outside light and forgot to watch the time. That morning I found a tiny body snoozing on our front deck chair: a Gray Treefrog.

He was a plump little fellow, full-grown; around two inches long. I’d seen some of his kin at a previous house I owned, but they were all greenish. This guy, all in black and gray tones had hunkered down on an off-white mesh chair that he matched in color as best he could.

Gray Treefrog

Plump frog

Frog & pine needles

Cat & Treefrog

J. and I admired him for a spell and I snapped some photos. At that time last year, we still had Severena, a pretty female high-white Maine Coon kitty. She’d been looking out the kitchen window at the breaking day, soaking in the warmth only a spring sun offers. I don’t think she ever noticed the treefrog because he never moved, but she is in one of the photos I’ve shared with you.

When evening set in I took a peek at the chair and our guest had dared to rouse and skedaddle from his man-made daybed. We have never seen one since; perhaps this spring we’ll see one again. J. and I had such joy over that silly little waxy-coated critter. It was the best gray day we’ve ever had.

©2011 Stumpar Scribbles

 

I’m A Yearling

It is amazing how time goes by without notice if we let it. My last post was nearly one year ago! I was brought back here by a recent comment that I didn’t allow to be posted. The comment was nothing bad; just another auto-generated thing by some obscure web entity. I enjoy more ‘personal’ web contacts and comments.

Many changes occurred over the span of time I remained quiet, distant from my blog. Much of  my news is what we all go through so I choose not to bore us to death with any detail. I wonder though, if any of these posts are really worth a damn.

I know that few people have visited my blog–and I don’t care to be world- famous for blogging. I have always selected to write when I wanted rather than try to say something interesting every day. Perhaps I am not a great writer because I don’t find worthy material daily.

Worthy or not, I have some meatier matters to post, and a will to push out stories through this Dell keyboard. I hope you stumble here some day and read something you relate to. I always feel comfort when I find a post has somehow connected with another person. For now I remain inspired enough to post before another year flies by.

Cheers to all from Stumpar

©2011 Stumpar Scribbles

 

Two Wheels and Tippy-Toes

I acquired a few 1970′s motorcycles a while ago. One very complete that I hope to have running this year, needing some tweaks and some better looking parts; another is a project bike that will need quite a few parts to get going, and the third is a parts bike.

The most complete is a CB450, the project bike is a CL450. I’m a bit disappointed that the CB450 has a bad paint-over job, but I have another tank and will get things more true to the colors available for that year. I have little money to spare for my motorcycles, but I am excited about the prospect of having the one bike on the road at some point this year.

I have a contact just down the road who has ample supplies of Honda 450 parts and I found a shop nearby that can do some work to tune the carbs and such. I am fortunate, for the bikes are antiques and the model is rapidly becoming scarce.

If I get to register my CB450 this year, I’ll have it registered as an antique since it is mostly original. I would dearly love to take the bike to a few motorcycle events and to putt-putt around on it. One antique bike show I will attend is at the Owl’s Head Transportation Museum. I’ve gone to that show before and was dazzled by the bikes on display and just as impressed with the motorcycles driven to the event.

Motorcycles are not for everyone. Some are too afraid to try, others are too worried about cars and other traffic that can easily kill a cycler; a clear danger that one must be aware of and accept. Those who do love motorcycles tend to love them for life. I am one of those.

For the enthusiast there are few things like the experience of a motorcycle ride: Sights and sounds, the wind rushing by, warm air in the sun and cool rushes while under tree cover and shade, the rumble of your machine beneath you, scents of cars, tar, trees and flowers, ponds and lakes, fresh cut hay and farm animals–all these things are mostly missed from driving cars.

I’ve had a motorcycle license since 1981 but had only a few motorcycles through the years– and I’ve been without bikes most of that time. I had my share of careless racing at high speeds, and a few nasty accidents that really changed how I operate a bike. I’m no speed demon or foolish daredevil anymore. I simply enjoy the rides.

I bought the CB450′s because I liked the look and sound of the old Hondas since I was a kid. I remember the CB360′s, don’t recall seeing the 450′s and loved the CB 550′s and 550-fours and, of course, all the 750′s. I was ecstatic when I found the 450′s. When I went to pickup my bikes I found that the older motorcycles were taller than all the newer bikes like cruisers so low to the ground. I mounted the bike and found myself on tippy-toes to reach the pavement! I was also surprised that a CB450 weighed over 450 pounds. There is a lot more heavy metal on these antiques than today’s bikes. But that’s no matter to me, for I’m not out to set land speed records.

As much as I love the original bike I am going to modify my motorcycle. I will cut the seat down so I can reach the ground flat-footed. I hope this is the year I can enjoy bopping around the roads; a short antique guy on a little antique bike.

©2010 Stumpar Scribbles

 

The Fun is Done

Over the past month I constructed the trellis of Spanish cedar and teak accents. I had periods of long days, short work days, and days away until it was completed. I delivered it early and the trellis was decorated by my sister for a relative’s wedding. Yesterday I went back and removed the wedding decor to take photos of the finished work.

I’m guessing I had about 120 hours of work into this piece, but it could be a lot more. I need to pick-up a log book to get an accurate work hour compilation on upcoming projects. For this trellis, the hours involved didn’t matter–it was a present for family. The photos on this posting show the work I did–I enjoyed it and I like how it looks. The fun is done. I have more pressing projects around the home to do for now before I can go play with wood again.

©2009 Stumpar Scribbles

 

Money Trellis

 

 

Sun in progress

I have been busy on my latest wood project for a couple to be wed early October. They are family–I am happy for them and look forward to a fun celebration. Knowing I have little money to spare they asked that I make them a trellis to be used during the ceremony then for their yard outdoors. This will be their wedding present. It took me some time before I saved the money to buy the wood, and I was getting very anxious to get started on the project. J. ended up rescuing me with her money. It’s a wonderful gift from my sweet loving woman for me and for the bride and groom!  The wood I selected is Spanish cedar, for it should last outdoors for years. It wasn’t a cheap buy.

Cat with branches

As soon as I had the wood I was rattling final designs in my head to finish my vision for the piece and soon got to work. I made good progress to create basic frames of the two sides. I chose to carve out rectangular holes to receive the horizontal braces for better strength. I’m using polyurethane glue; that should keep out moisture and keep pieces in place over time (I hope). I quickly got to the artsy stuff I wanted to do and found I needed my ailing band saw.

I have an old Sears’ band saw; a very common model. What I need to fix it is a new pulley. When I went on Sears web site to order the part I found I could not buy it without buying a service guy to come and install it. Boo, shame on Sears. For the price I would pay to buy the pulley and required installation, I figured I could buy another used band saw of the same model. I was right. I found one on Craig’s list, paid $100 bucks and I was up and running with my old one as a spare band saw in the garage (more ‘junk’ out there–just what we need).

Heron Drawn

Anyhow, with the band saw back in my arsenal I have been a busy wood-chucker, creating a unique trellis with a heron, cat, cattails and branches instead of the boring old lattice stuff everyone uses. I have much more to go: a hummingbird sipping from a flower; the sun and moon are yet to be carved and mounted; more branches and all the cattails have to be done and glued on; teak plugs and designs are to be inlaid on the front posts where the screws are, etc.

Heron and plants

I have photos attached of my work in progress. I’ve needed to purchase other things to progress with this trellis, such as a 3/8″ plug cutter and more glue. So this ‘inexpensive’ gift is, in reality, over half a grand in expenses for me and J–and the time I will have spent on it over this month would be quite a bill if I were paid hourly. I hope they like it and I really hope it lasts–’cause for that kinda money I could have got lots of cool store-bought gifts for them. Who needs a money tree when they have a money trellis?

©2009 Stumpar Scribbles

 

Ma Cherie

J. has raised Maine Coon cats for years so we see many kittens grow and go. She selects kittens to keep once in awhile to try improving her beautiful cat breed. She retired a breeding male and kept a male and female kitten he sired: Machiavelli and Ma Cherie. Mac has grown big; a fine, heavy, laid-back personality that pet owners love in Maine Coons. Cherie is smaller, but has gained weight while maturing. Both have more growing yet.

Mac has a place downstairs with the breeding males–he learned quickly that he was a full male so we had to sequester him from the females he constantly tried to mate as a youngster. Cherie is a gentle soul; not as strong in personality as other intact females so she tends to run from stronger females now and then. But she has a very special character: she bonded with me.

Cherie as a Kitten

I have owned cats as pets most of my life. Most were typical cats who want attention only when they want it; some were very people-friendly and hung around wanting my lap and to be patted. Cherie’s affection goes beyond all I’ve experienced. She always wants me around, looks for me if I’m in the other room and squeaks a delicate, desperate-sounding cry for me if I’m behind a closed door. She runs up from another room and squeaks at my feet for me to pick her up.

Cherie lives for me. In my arms she is content, safe. She rubs against my face and looks up with fulfilled eyes. I hold my arms crossed like a Genie and she lays there purring and watching the surroundings as I walk about the house. She’ll act stronger if she is on my lap on the couch in order to keep other kitties from invading her cherished space on my body. She will sleep on me: under my chin or atop my head in bed. Her fur is silky soft and the warmth on my neck is like a soothing bedtime massage. I absolutely adore her as she does me.

Cherie grown

This bond with Cherie is very rare. Who knows what she thinks, but I am grateful to be her daddy. At this moment I am in the office with the door closed; Goofy-toof is behind me on the floor and my dear little kitty Cherie is calling for me outside the door. I often call her Queaky because her call is so squeak-like. She’s my baby, and no father could be more doting.

©2009 Stumpar Scribbles