esrosedotblog

FORE

Hal, Dave's college and life friend is here for a couple nights. He is in the golf business and there was a convention across the mountains. If you are into golf, then PS has got to be a destination; so we are getting the fringe benefit of spending time with him while he 'tests' a local course.

It is wierd to see our kids' friends grow up. In a way, our kids never age. They seem the same, year to year, because we see them all along the age-path. Now, when a friend of the same age walks in, it is a bit of a stunner to see that your son's peer has grown up, is a healthy, successful, good looking guy who is flirting with middle age!

This last part is a revelation. If Hal is 39, then how far can Dave be from that same number? Whew. Then one more step. If they are aging, then so am I!! Whew. I hardly ever consider it.

But this is the way I like it: more or less constant ignorance of the process of 'older'; punctuated with occasional reminders of the fact from the real world. This is nice because I can stop and reflect that I am also healthy, successful, good looking and just barely flirting with old age. The feeling from here is that it is OK. I am up for it.

INDISPOSED

I have been working against the odds for about a week. I will spare you the details, but I have been spending more time than usual in sitz baths and worrying about developments 'down there' as Aunt Tillie used to refer to anything indelicate to mention. I have not had any episodes for awhile; maybe not since I had radiation treatment in 1997. Before that, it was a common occurrence, but good health and good sense have more or less prevented recurrence. But, undeniably, there they were.

I treat any illness with a good bit of shyness. I do not embrace the event. I stand back and act coy while the condition develops; hoping, I suppose, that it will flirt then move on. This rarely works. In this case, not at all. So, I began the simple home remedy; sitz baths (in our spa) and witch hazel. No dice. Then I escalated to the reccomended Metamucil to keep the strain out of the process. Not enough. Soon, I was working the OTC approach. Tronolane is good. Not good enough. Finally, I caved. Call Doctor Jim and have him renew the old cortisone ointment prescription. It had lapsed from disuse a couple of years ago.

Why am I burdening myself and you with the details of this? Well, it shows my fundamental unwillingness to accept that I need to take the time and effort to heal myself; to be proactive. And furthermore, shows my unwillingness to use expertise and experience--our Doc for example--to solve a medical problem.

There is another aspect of this; carrying on as though nothing was wrong. When 'it' started I went to the gym on my normal routine. I did have the good sense to skip the bicycle seat when Sunday rolled around. But it took me three days to figure that normal physical stress was not a good idea, particularly as most weight training puts a burden 'down there'. So I took my week or more off. I am still off. Did I mention before that I had skipped my routine ten week gym vacation? It was due a month ago. Well, now I am having it.

So now I am mending and doing pretty good, although yesterday, I skipped the bike again and walked the dog with John in the morning. He had the idea to do an extra half hour and I, of course, agreed. I paid the price later in the day. But this morning everything is back on track to recovery. Oh what the hell; it is hemorrhoids. I don't want you thinking that I have something really awful; particularly anything involved with the 'front side of down there'. That would be too much to take for all of us.

TENSION(contd)

More about this thing with walking Franklin; expectation/reality; whose good dog will he be, his or mine? Franklin LOVES grass. The grass kind not the gettin' high kind. There are days that he will stop to take a taste at any opportunity; a true grass 'jones'. He especially goes for Bermuda Grass--actually a weed here unless it is on a lawn or golf course. He grabs, he chews, all else goes from his mind. It drives me NUTS!

What is this all about? Not reality. The fact is that grass is not bad for dogs. He passes it most days without any trouble. If he does not chew it well, he might get too much of a wad in his tummy. If this happens, there is a simple natural remedy: he throws up. It is not even dramatic. It is almost always outside. Nature does what it must for a wayward pup.

How do I figure in this? Well, somewhere I have adopted an attitude about grass eating. Another thing is that I do not like him to dawdle. I am on a walk here and so is he. We are not to have fun, or worse, EAT!

I get all petulant about it. I jerk his chain (nicely called 'checking') to no avail. I scold. If I keep it up, I will ruin a nice walk and a good time with my buddy. On good days, I will quit in time and sort of apologize; a friendly pat, a walk to where he is and a gentle reminder of our purpose and it is over for both of us. I might actually let him eat the grass and stand still, look around, smell the air, relax and enjoy the process. On bad days, I can be an asshole about it. Fortunately he is forgiving and those times are getting less and less. A dog is a good trainer for the soul.