Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Peace on Earth, good will toward men...

...and women, of course. Unfortunately, I had to keep the women out of it when talking to my father this evening. It was in response to a question about what I want when it comes to family. I had to repeat several times, "Peace on Earth and good will toward men...including my family." By the time my father understood the words, he couldn't connect with the meaning. And so I explained that I want my family without it exploding with drama at every turn. This prompted to him to ask what was wrong with that very idea, to which I said, "Forget it, Dad...It's not something we should go into now." I then pushed the conversation back toward his recovery, which is slow, with no estimate as to when he'll be released from the hospital.

Why was I discussing the family thing with Dad? Because we now have a guest reader to my blog: Stu. (Everyone wave to Stu. (Hey, hey, hey! I see you flipping him the bird, Siege. Stop that.) (And Becky, if you don't put down that pitchfork, I'm gonna force a Xanax down your throat.)) I know he's reading this blog because he said as much when he wrote to me on Facebook. It opened with an agreement about my thoughts on Barry...and then moved on to harangue me about my recent "childish temper" remark. G-d bless short, selective memories, eh?

No, I'm not going to censor my blog posts because my brother is reading them. This is my major tool for keeping my friends in the loop of my life. Big, twisting, nauseating loops. He can always stop reading if he doesn't want to see events as I see them. One could easily point a finger at me for events of the past, saying that my perspective is tainted because I was smack in the middle of it...but then I look and see that I didn't fail to report the less than friendly message I left his wife. I also admitted to being extremely upset when I wrote about it, and how I was being vindictive. In other words, I remained as open and honest as I could possibly be given the circumstances.

The irony of the whole move to TN going bad is that I was offered a place to live, rent-free, and those guys got the money Stu was seeking. Go figure.

This is not a rant. I'm not actually upset anymore about all of that nonsense. It's in the past, and things ultimately worked out for the better. I'm now living with a woman who loves me just the way I am, and demands that I simply be myself. (Oh, I have it so rough.) The thing is that I have no idea what Stu wants. It's very nice that he wrote to me about the situation with our father. It's nice that he's trying to coordinate a visit to Dad with me.

But what appears on the surface is not what I'm seeing in his messages. Not when it comes on the heels of me commenting that he's the executor of Dad's will. For all the good will he's trying to put forth, I get more of a sense that he's trying to be the alpha male. The message I see...? "That's right. I'm the executor of Dad's will. And if you don't play by my rules, I'll screw you over when Dad's gone." I admit that I can become quite paranoid about such things, and perhaps I'm imagining that message. Unfortunately, there's nothing to the contrary. Thus, I'm left wondering what it is that Stu really wants.

Perhaps it's peace on Earth and good will toward men? I wouldn't know it, because his first note has the words, "...how dare you say that I have a 'childish temper?'" Kind of made it easy, really, when he screamed into the phone and hung up on me, leaving me with nowhere to live.

BUT ENOUGH OF THIS! I have medical news, and it's good.

I saw the special specialist today, and my foot is looking better with each removal of the cast. The swelling is down. It's not red. It doesn't feel as hot as it did. And the results of that irradiated white blood cell test were actually fairly normal. The only thing really earning a separate sentence was, "There is also bladder activity noted." (Guess it wasn't my uterus after all.) After that, there was some discussion of the foot and the possibility of cellulitis, but that's just a note about the swelling, and not the possibility of infection.

Now about the cast...As noted a couple of posts ago, the color of my cast has been something of a discussion amongst those in my life. My podiatrist was looking forward to seeing a green cast, while Becky wants to see me in hot pink. Thus, as we were trying to wake ourselves up with morning coffee, I made a deal with Becky. The plan was to go with green, but if they were out, I'd get the pink. I made her promise that she wouldn't try to influence anyone during the color decision. That's when my luck kicked in, and...Well, guess who has a hot pink cast now. Becky is absolutely giddy with the whole thing, and when I showed it to my neighbors this evening, the mom offered to have her two daughters come by and draw pretty flowers and butterflies on the cast.

Every woman I know is out to get me killed, apparently.

And so it goes. Every two weeks is a visit to the special specialist, and each visit holds the hope of getting molded for a brace. When that's denied, I know it'll be another four weeks of casting, as is the case right now.

Oh...speaking of the brace, I asked what seemed to be an intelligent question during today's visit. If we're bracing one foot, does that mean the other foot should also end up with a brace? The answer is apparently a no. A brace could damage the unaffected foot, while it the affected foot has already had the damage done to it. No need to force a health foot into a brace to bend it in ways it doesn't need to go just yet.

And that's all I have. But before I go...

Stu, if you're reading this, then you need to start being open and honest with me. I'm not playing the drama game anymore. I have enough on my plate, trying to keep my right foot where it is. You want to leave something in the past...? Then don't bring it up. Because when you do, it brings back memories of you shouting like a child not getting his way and then hanging up on me. Instead, try the adult thing and open with an apology, not a speech.

Be well, all, and DFTBA.

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