The Six Dollar Man

Yes. I know it’s disgusting … but also interesting, don’t you think? This is the exterior view where a piece of titanium surgical mesh is poking through the skin over the bridge of my nose. It’s not as painful as it looks … except when it is.

Mo’ Betta Surgery

Looks like I’m headed back to the University of Miami Hospital to get some of the bone graft work they did on my forehead back in 2012 redone. The titanium surgical mesh has come adrift, probably due to some osteoradionecrosis, and needs to be removed and possibly replaced.

Osteoradionecrosis is a gradual death of bone tissue caused by radiation treatments. Doesn’t always happen. Doesn’t usually happen this late in the game, but my case has been an unusual one from the beginning. I am lucky to still be walking around and making trouble for people, so I try not to grouse too much.

In any event the surgeons are going to have to peel off my face once again to get at the affected areas. Fortunately they won’t be chiseling away any cancer this time around, but it’s still not shaping up to be a lot of fun for yours truly. Surgery will probably be in January. I now have appointments in November to get another opinion, discuss options, and schedule the procedure. Continue reading

Five Reasons to Love Louise Linton

The New Poster Girl for White Privilege

Louise Linton DeplanesHoly Cow! Steve Mnuchin’s new Mrs. hashtags her entire wardrobe as she gets off an Air Force plane. Then, when the social media universe takes exception, she unloads in a snarky ‘bless-her-heart-but-ain’t-she-cute’ rant against a young mother of three for not being privileged enough to pay more in taxes than most people make in a year. She is so deliciously out of touch with reality that I am making her my new fantasy girlfriend. (Apologies to Kelly Rippa. It was bound to happen sometime, Sweetie.) Continue reading

Death and the Law of Attraction

Deathbed Regrets?

 

I wonder if my mother blames herself for using the last seconds of her life to shoot a skunk-eye at a hapless volunteer because he interrupted us. I also wonder if she blames me for attracting the interruption.

I’ve been interrupted so many times in my life that I’ve begun to believe that it must somehow be my fault. I don’t know if Mom shared my view on this, but she never in her life hesitated to take me to task for whatever she thought I had done wrong. It was not in her nature to allow flawed behavior to go unmentioned or uncorrected. Continue reading

Predicting the Debate

Clinton Vs. Trump

USA Flag

A Circus Not Likely to Change Anything . . .

I made a conscious decision before I released Cuppa to abstain from political discussions while I flogged the book. I didn’t want to risk putting off any potential readers by offending their political sensibilities. It seems not to have made any difference in sales of the book, but it has made me a nervous wreck while the Trump juggernaut of ignorance and incivility gathers steam. The unthinkable prospect of an orange presidency is now upon us with most polls showing Trump and Clinton in a dead heat on the eve of the first presidential debate. Continue reading

Pratfalls in the Divine Comedy

Oil painting, Court Jester, Keying Up

KEYING UP – a court jester fortifies his wit with a little brandy – Oil painting by William Merritt Chase – 1875

Regrets – I Had None

When I was a young man, I told my mother that I had no regrets—that everything I had done or failed to do to that point only added to the sum total of me, which sum, in my opinion, seemed to be tallying up just fine. It turns out though, 40 some years later, that I had already accumulated many regrets by then. I just didn’t know it yet.

Now that I’m washed up on the shores of an uncertain dotage, ill-provisioned and with dim prospects, all those early and unseen regrets are coming due like markers to a loan-shark.

Now, I understand perfectly all the places where I went wrong. I know where I didn’t apply myself as I ought, when I skated or took the path of least resistance or effort, where I caved to idle self-indulgence, and where I wasted monumental effort on things that were bound never to pay dividends. I knew what I was doing when I did it, and I understood there would be consequences. Continue reading