The Tourist
Banned
As many of you know, my wife will be going into surgery in about one week. Yes, it's a serious matter, but not life threatening, and she's actually joyous about regaining her full measure of health.
I thought about that as I left the gym this afternoon. In many ways, you never appreciate something until it's gone.
I'm 58 years old. I had 20/20 vision until I was 46. Even now I just need reading glasses--all of my pistols wear iron sights. I use a lighted loupe to sharpen only because I want to see every crevice.
I have more muscle mass now than when I was in my twenties. My lung power and stamina is easily three times that of guys half my age. My lungs displace over six liters. I don't smoke. My doc says my blood numbers would peg my age in the thirties.
(And thanks to Trileptol, my insanity is in check--mostly.)
I heal like Wolverine, my skin is still supple, and I have only one liver spot on my left hand.
Granted, I have that "barrel shape" of most Harley riders, but I'm pretty good at denying myself to lose weight. But then, I just don't want to, I'm an American male.
Now, I never sought out this condition. I received some good genes. I quit smoking over thirty years ago. I lift every day. Yeah, I get banged up. Like most bikers I have a wide spectrum of unusual bone breaks. In a car wreck I once broke C2 in half and C5 into three separate pieces.
I don't get ill much, though. I had pneumonia once.
But as I've watched my wife trapse from GP doctor, to coronary specialist, to endocrinologist, a trip through radio-x-ray diagnoses, and now to a surgeon, I have come to realize that she has seen more doctors and ill health in a few weeks than I have seen in my entire life.
I told her that if there was such a procedure, she could have half of my thyroid. She laughed, and said she'd stick with drug replacment therapy.
(She actually said, "No thanks. I have no desire to start driving a bike, wising off to punks, chrome plating everything and chasing slutty women...")
When you sit down to your turkey dinner, and see your family healthy and vital and pain-free, please consider it a blessing. Remember that simple events and the speedy passage of time can erode that valuable commodity. Say a prayer for favors already received.
And if you think about it, remember my wife in the upcoming weeks. Oh, she'll be in a warm flannel shirt, a cast-off old Harley T-shirt, a thread-bare blanket, two warm bichons and a half-eaten bag of M&Ms. Sure, that's where she usually is, but this time we dodged a bullet.
I thought about that as I left the gym this afternoon. In many ways, you never appreciate something until it's gone.
I'm 58 years old. I had 20/20 vision until I was 46. Even now I just need reading glasses--all of my pistols wear iron sights. I use a lighted loupe to sharpen only because I want to see every crevice.
I have more muscle mass now than when I was in my twenties. My lung power and stamina is easily three times that of guys half my age. My lungs displace over six liters. I don't smoke. My doc says my blood numbers would peg my age in the thirties.
(And thanks to Trileptol, my insanity is in check--mostly.)
I heal like Wolverine, my skin is still supple, and I have only one liver spot on my left hand.
Granted, I have that "barrel shape" of most Harley riders, but I'm pretty good at denying myself to lose weight. But then, I just don't want to, I'm an American male.
Now, I never sought out this condition. I received some good genes. I quit smoking over thirty years ago. I lift every day. Yeah, I get banged up. Like most bikers I have a wide spectrum of unusual bone breaks. In a car wreck I once broke C2 in half and C5 into three separate pieces.
I don't get ill much, though. I had pneumonia once.
But as I've watched my wife trapse from GP doctor, to coronary specialist, to endocrinologist, a trip through radio-x-ray diagnoses, and now to a surgeon, I have come to realize that she has seen more doctors and ill health in a few weeks than I have seen in my entire life.
I told her that if there was such a procedure, she could have half of my thyroid. She laughed, and said she'd stick with drug replacment therapy.
(She actually said, "No thanks. I have no desire to start driving a bike, wising off to punks, chrome plating everything and chasing slutty women...")
When you sit down to your turkey dinner, and see your family healthy and vital and pain-free, please consider it a blessing. Remember that simple events and the speedy passage of time can erode that valuable commodity. Say a prayer for favors already received.
And if you think about it, remember my wife in the upcoming weeks. Oh, she'll be in a warm flannel shirt, a cast-off old Harley T-shirt, a thread-bare blanket, two warm bichons and a half-eaten bag of M&Ms. Sure, that's where she usually is, but this time we dodged a bullet.
