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Header Photo: Just an average hike on an average day in Red Canyon Country.



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Thursday, September 3, 2015

Idling Along


It's like the Wizard of Oz in reverse, as if plucked from the canyon bosom of Lovely Oz by some twister and thrust on to the tedious, featureless plains of Kansas. Behold, our vertiginous mountain surround lies hidden behind a dreary pall of clouds that hover just above city limits.


Still on Injured Reserve and not having mustered a single exercise endorphin in over three weeks, I'm feeling about as hopeless/helpless as Jonah in the belly of the whale, all wrapped up in emotional seaweed, darkness, and gloom. Just like my old '69 SS Camero with solid lifters and a full race Cam, I run smoother at redline than "idle." I'm getting all carbon-ed up on idle for crying out loud, and without a regular endorphin fix my wretched mindset is but a launchpad for missiles of negativity. Endorphin withdrawal is hell. Somebody break out the Methadone.

So yeah, only three weeks into an eight week sentence of "lift no more than 10 pounds, walk only level surfaces (like that's possible in Ouray), don't cough, sneeze, blow your nose or push when you poop," I'm carbon-ed up and fending off rust. 

I'm so tired of this "straight jacket" that I could almost spit in the face of the Great and Powerful Oz. I say "almost" because I learned last year that, as marionettes, insulting the Puppet-Master only get one's "strings" clipped. That, and now this, has me calling into question the very existence of a Great and Power Oz. If one does exist, surely He is a charlatan. So now I become the Box Elder atheist, cause this modern day Job doesn't have the balls to risk pissing off the Big Guy behind the Curtain, especially after last year's Hell-on-earth (two surgeries followed by internal bleeding followed by another surgery to fix that, followed by another Oz Damned hernia on the other side and subsequent surgery from which I am now recouping). Recall Job's best friend, after seeing his torment, said, "Oh brother, just curse the Great and Powerful Oz and die."    

I learned from recent trail and error that 9:00 am is too early to start drinking. So I decide to brave the weather for a morning walk on the River Trail. Can't hardly do myself any harm walking a level trail of pea gravel (note to self: Don't wear open-toed sandals again). I opened the door and was greeted by a gust of cool, damp, pine-scented air. A swirl of Box Elder leaves rustled in the driveway. WTF, Ms Autumn? It's barely September. But you know, Box Elders are the Barney Fife's of trees, always the first to turn yellow and surrender leaves well before winter's first frost. Cowards. Anyway, it lent an autumnal augur to the scene—perhaps the beginning of the end of summer—which only served to further aggravate my foul disposition because I treasure our brief mountain summers with their numbered days scarce as gold

I carefully baby-step my way down our precipitous, washed out driveway. Clouds maintain their defiant slump to the upper reaches of town—obliterating mountains which, in my mind, are pretty much the only thing that distinguishes Colorado from Kansas. That and the stench of stockyard feed lots. Safely down I cross over to the River Trail and set off boldly in search of a promiscuous endorphin or two. It begins to rain, as in cats and dogs.   

Since the top 10 activities on my priority list seem to be off limits, I now have time to catch up on some of those mundane tasks down further down, you know, things like: Dust behind TV; Clip toenails; Get quotes from competitors on car insurance; Read AARP article on "Sex after Seventy!"; Re-Revise Last Will and Testament (I keep flip flopping on cremation… it seems so final). Also, given the past year, I'm mulling over whether or not to add the "Do Not Resuscitate" clause to my Medical Directive. I already added the "Unplug Me if I'm in a Coma and likely to wake up a Vegetable" one, last year, right after the blood clots/internal bleeding fiasco. 

Oz damn it. If there's one thing worse than getting old, grey, and wrinkled beyond recognition, it's getting old, grey, wrinkled, and incapacitated beyond mobility. If I can't move—and by "move" I mean do those activities that bring meaning, joy, and satisfaction to my life—I'm not so sure I want to be around anymore. Especially now, that I'm finding out what it's like. 

Reluctantly idling along in The Land of Oz,
Mark































11 comments:

  1. ��. That's a sunflower emoticon in case blogger doesn't like it... I tried posting a photo of a beautiful Kansas sunset here for you but had no success. Granted we are flat but we do have a couple other things besides the steak factories! That said, I'm so sorry you're caged up with your recuperation again and hope this time does the trick for you! After having our motorhome spend the last two years in its' storage building because of one issue or another with Hubs or myself let me just say we can feel your pain! Here's to happier trails for all of us!!!

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  2. Wow, you are vocalizing how I'd probably feel in your shoes. This sucks and I wish you the mental fortitude to deal with it.

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  3. Thanks for sharing your misery. Seriously. What you are going through - and conveying so eloquently - is a reminder to never take for granted relative good health and precious mobility.

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  4. On the positive side, you only have 5 weeks of R&R to go;-)

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  5. Ahhh ye poor suffering bastard. I feel your pain. In addition to your list of restrictions, we also have requirements for no water in the ear canal for 6 weeks, no sniffling and no sex. Recuperation is just beyond boring, especially when the rains return to this area.

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  6. So, why not tells us how your really feel about all this being still and careful stuff:) Haha!! Hang in there and to the dust behind the TV!

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  7. Have no fear, your newest friends you've never met are heading your way. The Bounder is literally packed. We head out from the High Desert of So Cal tomorrow. We'll be in Ridgway S.P. on Tuesday. We'll send you an email.

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  8. I feel your pain.....for the six months Joe had chemo, we did nothing!

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    1. Which reminds me that it could indeed be worse. Thank you :)
      Mark

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  9. SOOOO ready for my quick fix on fun and entertainment - pull up chair to computor!! HEH-- what the ----- this is my fun buddy Mark-- ???? seriously I feel a little of your pain--- well I did at one time--- but right now it is all run- bike- tennis work out at health club- etc etc-- but I know I am looking in your mirror-- this week I see past the second of my 2 hernia surgeries----heh next door couple leave nice washer and dryer in driveway-- cannot fit on their trailer when they move-- HEH no problem just throw that washer in my pt cruiser and put on craigs list - no problem- come back and get dryer-- thank God they did not leave freezer etc== yes - i am cruising-- heh they sold in a day!! where will this end-- I think your last post says it all-- Never been over night in hospital-- should i be making reservations?? hang in there Mark! Walden Creek RV steve

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  10. Beautiful just Beautiful
    May your travels be on the wings of God’s Angels
    Till next time
    Cyndi & Budhi
    OUR BLOG: http://newbeginningswiththebudhis.blogspot.com/
    OUR YOUTUBE: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCRcN6tAgp25EryngtCSX7wQ

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