Flushmeister 2000

Went to see an orthopedist today, the goodly Dr. G...spousal unit was hoping he'd write a 'script for Vicodin...me, only trying to get some relief from an increasingly problematic left shoulder. So, off I go, gimpy arm and all....
After a half hour wait in the examining room deftly completing a crossword in he comes...quick discussion of my orthopedic woes...and then to my utter surprise,

"So, have you given much thought to intellegent toilets? They've really come a long way, technology and all"

say whut?

"You know, the day may come when reaching back to wipe...'not gonna happen. Never too soon to prepare the plumbing...."

say whut?

"Yup....down the road without one of these babies your only hope is to go for the shower..."

say whut?

"Here, look this over" as he hands me a glossy tri-fold brochure on the Flushmeister 2000, with a rent-to-fucking-own option.....and off he lumbers to get the big needle....

Now, I got some problems here, yes. I'm not in 'freaking denial, but I do believe that living as fully in the moment is what's called for to cope...and in THIS moment I am, thankfully, fully capable of wiping my own behind, thank-you.

Seeing my reaction, the good Dr. takes a different tone, and says "look, I'm only trying to get out information that you might find useful, if not today, well, maybe next Thursday"....
"Patients don't always like to hear the truth. Like last week....I got a 500pound whale of man in here 'needs an MRI....but he'll never fit in the machene...so I write him a special admission to the LA Zoo Large Animal Medical Unit....now, no one likes to hear this stuff but....well look me up if you ever need more info on the options"

Which one, the auto-asswipe or large animal MRIs? Sheesh...

So, to cut to the chase...I get a cortisone shot the size of a yardstick in the back of my left shoulder....a new script for physical therapy....and a glossy trifold brochure on the wondrous Flushmeister 2000, with a rent-to-'fucking own option....

And, failure of a spousal unit that I am, 'failed to get a 'script for Vicodin.....
there's still hope...next week I go to the perio-freakin-dontist.....

say 'ahhhhh!
ModemDavid

Up the Down Staircase

Watching a child grow is like watching a flower ever-so-slowly unfurl and grow - and I'm blessed and fortunate to see this process in the growth of my two daughters, a toddler and part-time terrorist and a first grader. As an adult, and as a parent, you watch your kids knowing that much as they love you they cannot possibly know you in a pers0n-to-person way at this stage.....whatever they see you as is to irrevocably clouded by your role as parent, and especially with those of us who put off parenting till we 'found ourselves' -whatever that now means - with 40 or more years difference in age, the temporal distance is very real and extensive - room for a whole 'nuther generation in that gap.
So, its later in life for me to watch the early life of my girls unfold - I'm reminded of the old wooden escalators at Macy's 34th street, which provided endeless hours of cheap thrills and near-death-experiences when we were kids, trying to evade holiday shoppers and store security for the thrill of running up the down escalator.... or just watching the people move up as you are automatically moved down the down side....
On the down side is where I is....not to be morose, but this is chronic, decline sort of stuff -
and as I watch my kids move smiling up the up side I cannot but wish that I could somehow
make it stop....to meet them at the middle, and just stay there, here, with all their grace, beauty,
potential ...(just not the whining...:) and enough of my facilities to be here fully, to have that longed for time when you are young enough and your kids are old enough to really fully encounter each other as fully human beings, not just as a parent or a child.

Still, mercessly, efficiently the escalator moves and snatches me from my reverie....kids moving up, I'm on my way on my way. The words of Frank Zappa, that iconoclast from the last century, come to mind though, a quote from his Studio Tan album, subtitled "The Adventures of Gregory Peccory".........where he brilliantly defines chronologic time as

"eternity and fractional divisions thereof"

What is a fraction of the eternal? Equally eternal, no? So, maybe there's hope - that in that one moment, that fractional division of eternity, where I meet my children, my wife, and all who I encounter on the metaphorical escalators, that in that moment, secreted, are all moments, timeless, wholly, present, now.....

go figure....:)