The Anti-Bucket List

#3 on My Anti-Bucket List

I didn't tell this story on the blog last night, because I had posted all I thought I had to say about it yesterday on Facebook. But a little distance and a day spent trying to stay out of pain have led me deeper and deeper into the labyrinth until the beast had to be confronted head on.

Late last week, I started to notice a twinge in my lower right back, in the muscle known scientifically as the Internal Abdominal Oblique. It was annoying, but treating it with heat, ice and OTC NSAIDS seemed to be working. Sunday night, I barely registered more than a small twingey reminder or two and I thought I had made it through the worst of it. 

Yesterday morning, I woke up feeling fine and had my shower as usual. I made it back upstairs and sat on the bed to put on my pants. I stood, like I always do, and was instantly struck with pain the likes of which I have never experienced. Honestly. I have had a nasal cauterization and several oral surgeries. I know pain. This was far worse than anything I've ever experienced and I quite literally screamed. If this is half the pain of childbirth, I wouldn't wish it on any woman ever, even my mother!. But it passed quickly and I gingerly made my way downstairs with every intention of going to the Day Job. Once down on ground level, it quickly became apparent that I was in serious trouble. And the idea of folding myself into a car and driving myself for help was patently absurd. 

So, for the fourth time this year, EMTs were called to my house though this time, it was my mother calling them for me. The entire morning was rather surreal and I joked with the EMT's* (who arrived very quickly) - "Well, I can cross this off my bucket list!" They politely laughed and as I was later lying almost flat on my back, dozing and waiting for the drugs the ER nurse had administered to take effect, I realized that an ambulance ride to the hospital should really be on everyone's 'Anti-Bucket List'

I posted a few more things on my Anti-Bucket List and asked my Facebook friends to list theirs. There were quite a few amusing answers and they got me thinking about other things I never need to experience before I die. So here they are:

Uncle P's Anti-Bucket List: (A Work in Progress; Subject to Change at Any Time without Notice)

Ride in an Ambulance
Handcuffed Ride in the Back of a Squad Car
Getting Stabbed in the Shower by a Maniac
Being Bitten By Zombies
Being Trampled in a Stampede
Being Trapped Aboard a Sinking Sealiner
Forced to Watch another High School Production of Grease
Forced to Eat Poutine.
Being Surrounded by Russian Skinheads
Get a Haircut so Bad It Makes Me Cry
Buy a Pair of Crocs
Drink PBR
Associate with Anyone Who Actually Drinks PBR
Give Myself Over to the Cult of The Boy Who Lived.
Wear a Utilikilt
Marry a Woman
Have Gallons of Baked Beans Poured All Over Me
Have Leeches Pulled from My Body (don't click, K!)
Be Struck by Lightning
Be Burned at the Stake
Be Forced to Watch Every Episode of Every 'Real Housewives' Show
Three Words: "Chilled Monkey Brains"

I have a few more, but I realized they are really rather depressing, so I thought it best to leave them out. Luckily, the ER was literally empty at 8:30 AM and I was seen and treated right away. The Attending ER doctor put his finger right on the spot and said "Oh! I can feel it spasm!"  I was given a 10mg Valium (Seriously? Did you not hear me give my height and weight?) and a gluteal injection of a muscle relaxer and two prescriptions, along with instructions to rest with continued heat and ice for three days. This is the end of Day 2 and while I think I feel better, I thought the same last night, as well.

So, are these the kinds of things other people think about while recovering at home, under heavy medication, after a frighteningly intense bout with pain? 

No... It seems right up there with my usual nonsense, if you ask me.

Now I am asking you: What's on your Anti-Bucket List? What thing(s) do you never need to do before you die? 

More, anon.

Prospero

*And no, neither of them were the cuties from last month, though both were pleasant, patient and professional. Everyone in the ER was equally so and what started out as a rather scary experience was quickly getting better. I'm sure it helped that I was the only one in the ER, which undoubtedly facilitated my treatment but it seemed to me this was how they probably handled every patient and I was very impressed.

Sorry - Monsters Are Still Real, Kids.

Faneuil Hall - Boston, Massachusetts.

So... Yesterday, another insane person (or persons) perpetrated another horrific crime against innocent people, this time against those who were attending and/or participating in the Boston Marathon.  I needed a day to process yet another horrific event before I could comment on it. And here's what I think.

The first time I ever went to Boston, I was working for a facility which housed mentally and physically disabled people. It was what I thought I wanted to do with my life right out of school. The 'school' really turned out to be a place where rich people dumped off the children of whom they were ashamed, but that's another story for another time. 

Anyway, a client was going home for the Holidays and I and another 'Houseparent' were asked to accompany him on the short flight to Boston. We flew in in the early morning morning, dropped the client off with his family and had nine hours to explore and play before flying home again. We shopped at Faneuil Hall; we walked all around downtown and ended up in a seafood place because the young lady I was with (i have no memory of her name) wanted chowder. I hate clam chowder and I have no idea what I ate - probably a fried platter. But I liked the city's vibe and wanted to go back.

In college, my friends Terry and Marly and I drove up to visit our friend Brian at his grandparents' once state-of-the-art mid-century home in Amherst. The next day we went into Boston and I am proud to say that my 20-something self did pretty good navigating the insanity that is Boston traffic. There was also an infamous 'research' trip to Salem (we were doing The Crucible and we left on Thursday, the 12th, after Mary called my new job, weeping and saying she was my sister and that Grandmom had died, so I could leave early*) which is very close to Boston. Of course, my dear K has family ties to the area, and I've been there on more than one occasion with her. It's a good town, filled with college students; teachers and professors and businesses of every kind, just like any major city. There are good neighborhoods and bad ones; fun things to do and lame things to do; history, art, theatre; shopping; great bars - Boston has always meant a very good time, every time I've been there.

So please bear with me when I say that I can't imagine the horror, the pain and the suffering inflicted on people who were, up until that moment, also experiencing Boston as a very good time. The fear and confusion must have been so intense. And so much pain (both physical and emotional). Horrible!

And for what? As of this writing, we still don't know who or why. Of course, the why almost doesn't matter. Did 'God' tell someone to do this to advance a political agenda? Or did a dog claiming to be God tell someone to do this so someone will finally acknowledge his pathetic existence? Was a spurned lover out to kill an ex who was running in the marathon or in the crowd? Maybe an angry, disqualified runner from the past wanted to exact his revenge. It doesn't matter.

What matters are the people killed and maimed; people whose lives have been irrevocably and horribly changed. And whether this was the act of an organized group of religious fanatics or of a loner writing a manifesto in a woodshed, it was ultimately an act of madness. When we were children, our parents did their best to convince us that there are no monsters under the bed or in the closet or hiding behind the coats on the coat-rack. "Monsters aren't real," they told us. But they lied. While there may be no green-skinned bogey-men with fangs and claws waiting to rend us to pieces, there are other monsters who never fail to prove their existence. In schools, malls, movie theaters and major sporting events; on trains and in office buildings; in the air and on the the ground; the monsters keep shouting "I am here! I am to be feared! I am a Monster!" 

Here's the thing: Don't fear the monster. He doesn't deserve your fear. Find the monster and punish him, so other monsters may think twice. I know there are far more good people in the world than bad, just as there are more beautiful things than ugly things. There's great art and literature and philanthropists and scientists who are working to sure disease and end suffering. There are dew-covered spiderwebs spilling prismatic rainbows in the morning sun and exotically plumed birds wading in warm swamps; romantic sunsets; sparkling beaches; fields of wildflowers... you get the idea. And we all should be able to take time to revel in the good things about life, without worrying if a bomb is sitting in that trashcan on the corner or if the guy sitting next to me at the AMC24 has gun under his unseasonal coat. 

I'm offering no solutions - that's for smarter folks than I to sort out. Of course, without bad things; without pain and suffering; we wouldn't be able to appreciate joy and pleasure, would we? Be glad for every day you wake up. Stop taking things so seriously. Smile.  Let the monsters know we're on to them and that we have no intention of letting them win.

Call me "Pollyana." Call me a cock-eyed optimist. Call me (gasp!) a Liberal. I really think Lennon and McCartney had it right:

Oh - I also think we really need to overhaul the mental heath care system in this country, ASAP. After Reagan dismantled it in the 80's, it's about time we overhauled and reinstituted comprehensive mental health care for those who may pose a danger to society.

More, anon.
Prospero

*Another trip worthy of it's own post.

Another Friend Lost

My Friend, Chris

I took my time in college, attending several schools; starting out full-time and ending part-time (mostly because I couldn't afford to do so any other way). One of the advantages of taking my time was that I got to do and learn from lots of great theatre and lots of great directors and acting coaches. The other was that I got to meet and make friends with a whole lot of people, many of whom I still know and love to this day.

One of those people was my friend Chris, seen to your right in a rather blurry photo taken by our mutual friend Marly while on a trip we took to Salem, MA to do 'research' for a production of Arthur Miller's The Crucible. Chris lived close to campus and we had many parties at his house. We also went on lots of adventures together. 

One of those adventures was a Spring Break road trip to Florida, which probably deserves a post of its own one day. Myself, Chris, our friend Rich and his future wife Dawn all headed down I-95 in car I rented (because I was only one old enough to do so). We took turns driving and I remember waking up around 3 AM somewhere in the Carolinas, as Chris was driving. I glanced at the speedometer - the needle was pressed as far right as it would go. I simply shrugged and went back to sleep, knowing that someone who had once been pulled over for speeding on the Autobahn was at the helm and we would be fine. There's a ton more to tell about that trip, but again - that's for another post.

As much as Chris had a reputation among our clique for being for being a madman, he was sweet and kind and gentle and often very, very funny. A talented carpenter (his father was a cabinet maker) and an often reluctant actor, Chris was known to have a bit of a temper and once infamously and very completely destroyed a beautiful art deco set he'd built for a production of Dinner at Eight after a dispute with the director (the show had closed). We all knew who'd done the deed, though none of us told, even though the incident made the local papers.

Many years passed and while some of us were still in touch, it wasn't until the advent of Facebook that we all reunited (as much as folks can on Facebook). It was last fall when Chris joined Facebook and we were all glad he had done so. 

Then news came in January that Chris had gone missing. Suffering from bi-polar disease, Chris was visiting his sister who noticed he wasn't himself and set out to take him to a local hospital for treatment. She went to get her coat and upon her return found him gone. Scent dogs traced him to a footbridge on the Delaware-Raritan Canal. While Chris was an avid outdoorsman and knew how to survive in harsh conditions, the situation didn't look good. Although we were scattered all over the country, our mutual friends expressed concern and worry. This past Sunday, a family canoeing the canal stumbled across a body which was identified by a driver's license as Chris. Local police are speculating that he committed suicide, though there is no hard evidence to support that theory.

It doesn't matter to me how or why Chris passed, only that he did. And that my life is all the better for having spent time with him. And I can only hope that his was better for having spent time with me and our mutual friends. While I and our friends mourn his loss, we can all celebrate the many wonderful; hilarious; joyous; confounding and exciting times we shared together. I only hope he is finally at peace.

Tonight, at 10 PM Eastern, our mutual friends raised a glass in Chris' memory and posted photos of ourselves doing so on a private Facebook page dedicated to him. I can imagine him smiling at the thought. 

Here's the thing: None of knows how long we'll be here. Take the time to tell the ones you love that you love them. Do so often and sincerely. Savor the joyous moments of your life because they are truly few and far-between. Spend as much time pursuing the joyous moments as you can. Spend even more time pursuing time with friends and family. Be kind to everyone you meet - you never know who'll be part of your life for all of it, or just some of it. Laugh as often as you can. Love as much as you can. Share your joy, but never gloat about it. Slow down. Live the life you want to live and make no apologies to those who disagree with that life. Take time to remember everyone who touches your life, no matter how briefly.

This was one of Chris' favorite songs, and while it isn't exactly a 'happy' song, it's one all of his friends will always remember him by:

I truly hope that Chris' pain has receded, even while his family's and friends' is peaking.

More, anon.
Prospero

Genetics, Pain, Sinusitis and a Possible Remedy

I have full sympathy for anyone who suffers from chronic pain. Genetics have left Uncle P with several chronic conditions, the worst of which is chronic sinusitis. A sinus headache can put me down for an entire day or more, as it did today.

After downing some medication and using a nasal spray along with a saline spray to relieve congestion, I slept most of the day and still felt awful until about an hour or so ago when the pressure, pain and congestion finally started to break up. Those of you who suffer from this condition know exactly what I'm talking about. I don't get migraines, but totally understand how light and sound make the experience worse.

I have probably spent several thousand dollars over the years on products designed to relieve this condition (if one more person suggests that I use the completely ineffective Neti Pot, I will punch them in the nose) and I have learned that nothing but sleep, decongestants and anti-inflammitories do any good at all. One doctor I saw suggested surgery, while two others warned against it. An ENT (Ear-Nose-Throat) specialist once told me that "...a 'sinus scraping' will only add to your misery."

I am plagued by a sinus headache at least once a month and any time there is a seasonal aberration, I am hit by one like the one that put me down today. Today's 20+ difference in temperature and a surprising increase in barometric pressure add up to a "perfect storm" and send my sensitive sinuses into full attack mode.

I hope none of you suffer from the kinds of sinus issues I have. If you do, my heart goes out to you. I literally feel your pain. I may take this Scottish lady's advice, if I can find the stuff:

If I find the ingredients and they work, I'll let you know.

More, anon
Prospero

Does My Broken Toe Trump the New Pee-Wee?

Wha' Happened?

A gentle summer rain is falling as I write this post. I can't think of anything more antithetical to what I am about to share tonight.

While I won't admit to actually being lazy, I will say that on occasion, I am wont to leave things where they don't necessarily belong. Especially shoes. My shoes often end up staying wherever it is that I take them off. That's mostly because I hate wearing shoes. I would rather be barefoot (despite the ugliness that is - are? - my feet). So when I took off my shoes last night. I left them in the living room, at the end of the coffee table where I usually sit to watch TV. This morning, after giving Skye his daily fresh water, I stubbed my left pinkie toe against one of those shoes, cursing and nearly crying from the pain. 

Uncle P - we've all stubbed our toes. It hurts. WTF?

Nothing ever hurt like this. Mind you, I have had  dislocated fingers; broken collar bones; splinters which required surgery and dental surgery from hell.* None of them have come close to this kind of pain. It actually radiates up into my ankle. And while I know there is very little that can be done for such an injury, the very angry dark purple bruise that has developed at the base of my toe is just another indicator of the self-inflicted injury for which I have no excuse but my own laziness. I'd posat a picture of the bruised and swollen digit, but would rather spare you the (literally) ugly details.

Of course, that pain in no way measures up to the humiliation recently suffered by one of my personal hero actors, Fred Willard (pictured above). What a segue.

I've been a fan of Willard's since the days of the bizarro soap opera, "Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman." Willard went on to co-host the spin-off "Fernwood Tonight" as well as appearing in most of Christopher Guest's improvised comedies (Waiting for Guffman; Best in Show and A Mighty Wind) along with appearances on "Roseanne;" "Raising Hope;" "Modern Family: and countless other films and TV shows.

Yesterday, Willard was arrested at a Hollywood "adult movie theater" for doing what most men do at "adult movie theaters." Really? This is how the LAPD spends their time, looking for 70 + year-old guys whacking off in porno theaters? Let's forget about all the gang violence and heavy drug trafficking that goes on in L.A. No, we're going  to arrest guys who have their peens out in a darkened porn theater.  Truth be told though, if any comedic actor from this era was going to arrested for this kind of thing, I would have placed money on Martin Mull. Still, Willard now has something in common with Paul Reubens, though I doubt it will have the same effect on his career.

*Which instilled my dentaphobia (?) and requires a post of its own, someday.

More, anon.
Prospero

Ouch! (Not for the Squeamish)

Q, don't look!

My dear, sweet Q has issues with eye problems. Our mutual friends and I are always on the lookout for movies where people's eyes are gouged out, stabbed or otherwise injured, so we can warn her in advance. As far as I know, eye injuries are the only thing about which she is squeamish. Which is why I am so glad she didn't get a good look at Uncle P's right eye, last night.

Sometime during last night's rehearsal for Die Mommie Die!, something got into my eye and trapped under my contact lens, causing a rather nasty abrasion to my cornea. I drove home with K, tears and snot pouring down my face, feeling as though pins were being jabbed into the upper part of my eye the entire way. By the time I dropped her off, I just wanted to get home and remove my contacts. By the time I got home, my eye looked about ten times worse than the picture above and it was all I could to pry it open and take out my lenses. I rinsed with saline, applied a cold compress and repeated until I went to bed. Which also explains why I didn't post last night. I was just in too much pain.

I awoke this morning to a slightly less swollen, though totally crusted shut (gross, I know) eye. I washed it with warm water, followed by another cold compress, called the day job to say I'd be late and went back to bed for another two hours. 

Thankfully, eyes heal rather quickly. The pain has gone and the swelling is substantially reduced, though it still feels a bit "goocky." I wore my glasses to work today, prompting several co-workers to ask "Are those new?" I'll probably wear them again tomorrow, just in case. 

Now that I have grossed all of you out, I'll ask, "And how was your day?"

More, anon.
Prospero

Harry Potter and the Fountain of Youth

After last night's winter rant, I awoke to horrific back spasms (caused by digging out my car) and consequently spent most of the day sleeping under medication. Naturally, I didn't sign on to the Net until about an hour ago.

So, it wasn't until my daily visit to Towleroad* that I finally saw all those Superbowl commercials that everyone goes crazy for, and while I think the Doritos commercials were all pretty hilarious, I'm still pissed at CBS for running the Focus on Family ad. But that's not the point of this particular post.

No, this post is about the ad that most caught my attention. It was for Universal Studios Orlando Theme Park and their newest attraction "The Wizarding World of Harry Potter."

Now, I'm not particularly a Harry Potter fan. I read the first book on a flight from Philly to Tampa (with time to start the Stephen King I was reading at the time) and wasn't all that impressed. The first two or so movies were fun, but I haven't really seen an entire Harry Potter movie since. However, Uncle Prospero is a HUGE Theme Park fan. I always have been. Church carnivals, State Fairs, old-fashioned amusement parks and modern Theme Parks -- I just can't resist 'em. The food, the rides, the general atmosphere of having a good time. And the best Theme Park in the world (IMHO) is Universal Studios Florida, because it combines my two favorite things in the world; movies and thrill-rides.

The park has undergone some changes since I first went back in 1994. The King Kong ride is gone and "The Simpsons Ride" has replaced Back to the Future. The Alfred Hitchcock Experience (one of my favorite original attractions) made way for Twister, a very fun tornado simulator (which I actually hoped would be a rollercoaster). Most significantly, Universal expanded the park, adding Islands of Adventure in 1999. The first five "Islands" were "Jurassic Park;" "Toon Lagoon;" "Marvel Island;" "The Lost Continent" and "Seuss Landing." The day we went to Islands of Adventure, it poured and not all the attractions were running properly ("Spider-Man" in particular), but we still managed to have to a good time. Of course, 11 years later and my sister is still a coaster-wuss and my brother-in-law has vertigo, so they don't do Universal anymore. I'll just have to convince one of my Potter-fan friends to come down with me this spring... OK - maybe I can get through the storm that is projected to add another 18 to 24 inches of snow to what we already have here in Philly tomorrow night. As they used to say in the old commercials, "Calgon, take me away..."


And two quick things before I say "goodnight."

One: If you have to ask what Harry Potter has to do with The Fountain of Youth, I suggest you go back to elementary school history and geography for the answer.

Two: In an amazing (to me, anyway) feat of timing, Yours Truly actually scooped *Towleroad, which posted weatherman Jim Kosek's on-air melt-down a full day after I did. I suddenly feel like a real-life blogger...

More, anon.
Prospero

Oh, the Horror...

I am sure that Synvisc is a wonderful product. I have noticed that my symptoms (i.e. knee pain) have been reduced in the past few days, but I'm not sure if that's because of my weekly injections, or because of the gorgeous weather we've been having here in southeastern Pennsylvania for the past few days.

Today was my last of three injections, all of them inserted under my patella and each of them more painful than the previous one. Today's was particularly excruciating. My osteopath told me that he was giving me this last shot where the arthritis was the worst. It was all I could do to keep from kicking him in the face as he administered the shot. I came home and promptly went to sleep for two and a half hours. I'm not sure if that's because I was tired, or because of the two hefty swigs of Southern Comfort I swallowed on top of the Xanex I took before going to my appointment.

In any case, I will continue to keep you updated as to the treatment's efficacy in the coming weeks. I am hoping the shots will allow me to get back on my treadmill and lose even more weight in my struggle to get healthy and attractive again.

Back to movies, theatre and nonsense soon.
More, anon.
Prospero

On Pain

Pain is both universal and subjective. What may be excruciating for you, may be a walk in the park for me. Conversely, what may seem like nothing to me might make you cry just thinking about it.

While still in my 30's I was diagnosed with degenerative osteoarthritis in my right knee. It wasn't awful. I thought maybe I had sprained or over-extended it. It was occasionally annoying, but certainly manageabe. Over the years, it has progressed into someting that is always annoying and more and more often, unmanagebly painful. Genetics, age and years of dance-realted abuse in Musical theatre all were taking thier toll. Little over a year ago, I saw my GP about it, who prescribed an NSAID which provided much relief. But this past spring, I noticed I was having some stomach issues, a common side-effect of long-term NSAID use. I stopped taking it and went to my GP again, who gave me a topical version of the drug I had been taking orally. I might as well have used Pond's Cold Cream for all the good it did. A third scrip (for naproxin) failed, as did a fourth (for the generic version of Ultram - which was as effective as St. Joseph's Baby Aspirin).

So, I broke down and used Health Advocate (one of the many terrific bennies provided by my full-time employer) and found an orthopedist who prescribed both physical therapy and Synvisc injections. Today, was my first of three shots.

Now, I've had some painful injuries in my day. Cuts; sprains; dislocations, etc. I had three root canals done on the same tooth (a long story) as well as several oral surgeries (all related to a childhood injury). In 1994, I had a nosebleed so bad that an ER doctor had to cauterize it with a ball of molten silver-nitrate, Two years ago, I had a procedure in which a camera was shoved up inside me to take pictures of my bladder (oh, the horror!). None of these impressively scary procedures can compare with the pain I experienced in a rather pleasant treatment room at the hands of a very pleasant orthopedist.

Please understand, I always have been and always will be a baby when it comes to three things: the dentist, the phlebotomist and any kind of injection. Several friends gave me tips on how to deal. "Pinch your arm," one friend posted on facebook. "Blow bubbles" my 'work spouse' said. "Just look away," was the prep nurse's advise. None of them worked and none of them could have prepared me for the most intense 5 seconds of white-hot pain I have ever experienced. It literally took my breath away. Now I know why women have babies.

And I have to go back for 2 more. This stuff better work.

More, anon.

Prospero