He's Not My Lover

Who's picking you up today?

 

A gentleman named Don. He's not my lover, just so you know. He's the significant other of a dear friend.

 

Lots of laughing...

 

I've never met him before in my life.

 

More laughing...

 

Dr. Hot Stuff reattached my meniscus this week. Things are going swimmingly. Except crutches. (Read: I hate this. I'm dying. Take me now Lord Jesus.) After decades of the same ol same ol, why hasn't someone invented a very viable alternative? No, I can't use a knee scooter, because, well, it's my knee, non-weight bearing. My first repair, on the opposite knee, I did try a pair of fantastic crutches — the arm rocked as you walked. These babies were absolutely fantastic. The bottom half of the design needs work. The handgrips are anatomically odd. I ended up with tendonitis in both elbows and wrists. Raw arms are better than tendonitis, for sure. But seriously, calling all aspiring inventors, invent new crutches, wealth will befall you, overnight.

 

Don stood patiently while I butt-crawled up the stairs. (When coming off anesthesia, it's best not to attempt crutches on grated steps.) Don also helped me with the set-up of my ice machine, and stood patiently outside my door while my bare hiney made adjustments getting into bed. And then he asked, "Anything else honey?" Not really, he didn't say that, I embellished. But this is a good man to assist his honey's friend, whom he's never met. M and Don are good people.

 

My colleague supplied my freezer with crawfish, chicken gumbo (this was lunch today, the absolute best chicken gumbo I've ever had the pleasure of eating), and some other goodies. I was grateful today to be able to pop gumbo in my microwave and bam, gourmet lunch was ready. Thank you T.

 

I sat on my balcony for an hour or so this evening, soaking up sun, vitamin D, and a better disposition. A new neighbor came down and sat with me. His life is quite the story. I'll tell you more about him sometime. He served in Afghanistan, has shrapnel everywhere on both legs, scars up and down, too-many-to-count-everywhere.

 

This is why kneeling disgusts me, why disrespecting our flag is unacceptable.

 

If only those who hate America served America, maybe this would change their hearts and minds. Who knows?

 

Visiting with this gentleman for a short time certainly improved my self-pity attitude.