Going gray

I saw my urologist last week, but let's forget the kidney stones and real with the real issue.

When did you get so old, she said. Your hair is so gray. Later, she said she thought I was dying my hair to look like George Clooney.

I'd write her off as a quack except I have been noticing how gray my hair is, too. Ugh.

I am a Sally Jewell man

I do my best not to get political here. BUT

I don't think it is political to say I am firmly in the tank for Interior Secretary Sally Jewell.

I met her today, and she is impressive and personable, probably like all politicians.

What won me over, though, was that when we were chatting, she squatted down to look me in the eye. No just bending over or looking down.

It was the best!

My sister has a rotten night

I have had worse nights than last night -- none springs to mind -- but I am sure they exist.

I woke up at 3 and did not have to go to the bathroom, but I thought to myself, well, I better use the urinal just in case. This seems to be code telling my bladder that it reallyreallyREALLY has to go.

I would have been fine, but I fumbled putting on my glasses. They fell on my chest. So I tried to use the urinal without seeing clearly. The first clue I missed was the warm rush in my hand. Then I felt it all over, including my chest where my useless glasses were. I managed to call my sister but also called Mom and Dad because I was being delicate with the phone since my hand was wet.

My sister helped me change and put towels all over my bed, then left. I lay there and cried after she left. What a horrid failure, I thought. But it got worse.

About 4:30, I woke up and decided to shower because the towels were no longer keeping me dry. I got to the bathroom, and my bladder did its reallyreallyREALLY thing again and I peed on the floor and my wheelchair cushion. I managed to get in my shower chair and thought I'd be able to go from there on my own. Right.

My glasses fell off again and I could not find them, so I found my sunglasses and put them on -- I had taken my clothes off for the shower so was wearing nothing but the shades. Then I listed off the wet wheelchair cushion. It quickly fell out of my hands into the shower stall, at which point I figured I better call my sister.

But I could not find my phone. I had to call her from the house phone, so I had to wheel over in my nakedness and sunglasses to that phone. Once again, she came and fixed everything. Then she asked if I wanted her to stay downstairs while I showered. No, I assured her.

I am an idiot.

I fell getting out of my shower chair and had to call her again. And again she came and helped with everything.

I am worried the whole Matt Trott experience is too much for her.

I told her this, and she said let's put you out on the street, see if someone picks you up.

I just hate all this.

Suck it up

When I first told work about my kidney stone, to a person they said take it easy, get better.

When I started teleworking as I recovered, several folks told me to not overdo it and get better, to not push it.

They didn't really get that my only problem was a need to be near the toilet.

But the larger  issue was that people wanted me to trust my body, which is a lying sack o' crap.

If I only did what my body wanted, I'd never get up.

I, and I imagine most folks with disabilities, have to push ourselves.

That's one reason I found myself in the car going to Richmond yesterday to celebrate the graduations of two nieces and a nephew. It is usually two hours each way, and my rule of thumb is I need to stay longer than the time in the car to make it worth my while. This would not meet that rule but you can't always listen to how you feel.

Traffic was miserable so we turned around and it still took four plus hours to get home.

But I survived.

Indestructible

The various parts of my body are so F-----G pathetic.

Take my bladder, for instance (Please, take it. Thank you, Henny Youngman). I don't have t o go to the bathroom, but I go anyway. I am fine heading to the bathroom. I get in the stall, and all of a sudden, I have to go like no one's business.

And it doesn't help that my idiot fingers are fumbling with my pants buttons and zipper or that my stupid legs are wobbling as I try to stand or transfer.

But in good news, I believe that all these flawed parts have combined in something similar to the Three Stooges Syndrome to make me indestructible.

I say this because I fell as I was transferring back to my chair on one of the no-accident visits to the bathroom today. SMACK onto the tile floor. My forehead hit with a bounce, I saw stars, then was fine. No blood, no pain.

As I said: Indestructible.

Of course, I did have to peek under the stall door to get someone to come help me up.