Another Week, Another Surgery

 The title suggests that I'm walking on banana peels, but this time it's just a simple, "look-see" called a 'veinogram' to check the veins in my legs for narrowing or blockages. It's done in-house by my cardiologist and we should be home in time for dinner. 

He is obviously taking no chances with my health.  I like that in a doctor.

I just saw him last week and I'm fine. My numbers are good, but he took the opportunity to offer some encouragement for me to sit further back from my plate.  I took the suggestion seriously and I'm happy to say I've already lost 10 pounds since last week.

The only thing I can't seem to get fixed is my vision.  I never know if it will be a good day or not-so-good day vision-wise until I'm up and about for an hour or so.  To be safe, I still don't drive.  And if I have to go to my grave without ever driving again, so be it.  I'll play on my big screen computer until I can't see it and then wait for "The End."  

Meanwhile, I will keep trying to cook things I don't know how to cook, or maybe paint something I can't see.  I wish I had learned to play the guitar or piano.  But if I can't make music, I can sure listen to it.  Some would consider me lucky to be able to do that...

The Loss of Another Good Friend

One of the saddest parts of growing old is that you are still alive while your family, friends, and salient people in your life pass on before you.  While some may consider it a blessing, others may consider it a sort of curse, or perhaps a God-Given opportunity to get your life together for when you too will come to your end.  

I just lost another good friend - Joe Tom Trunzler.  This is the link to his obituary:  Obituary

But no matter how sweet the words, obituaries only tell a small part of a person's life.  There are both fun and painful moments, mixed into a collection of fear and confusion, love and hate, loss and betrayal, and experiences that cannot be hidden away, never to raise their ugly head.

I knew Joe to be a friend before all else.  We even joked about being 'cousins,' in spite of at least ten generations of people separating us from our latest common ancestors.  At the same time, being 'cousins' gave us a reason to be even closer friends.

The last time I saw Joe, he was a patient in a nursing home.  His fragility was obvious, and there was  little talk between us.  But he knew I was there.  And that's all that matters now.

Goodby Joe.