If I’d known it had to last this long, I would’ve taken better care of it.
(or reflections of a man faced with his own mortality)
Every now and then I pull up a picture of me in my young and vital days. Oddly many of these involve me wearing some strange green garb, surround by similarly aged and arrayed contemporaries.
In a couple of months I turn sixty-one. The young, athletic man who used to bound up and down off and in and out of an M60A1 tank with all the speed of a monkey with a firecracker up his ass? That guy? Well, now he is now reduced to hobbling. Well, okay, walking, but with a decidedly obvious effort to favor a leg.
I’m out of service today due to soft tissue pain associated with my right knee. Strangely, it’s my LEFT knee that hurts in such an continuous and aggravating manner when I drive for more than an hour or so.
The pain has increased past the point where it is manageable with over the counter anti-inflammatories and pain meds, so tomorrow is a scheduled trip to the doctor. Being a person who investigates and and troubleshoots systems for a living, I am betting this involved a little prodding and poking, then a referral for imaging, a neat technical term for MRI and X-ray.
I’m hoping for a stronger round of anti-inflammatory stuff and some pain-killers to let me sleep a whole night. And trying to train Miss Kitty to drape her fourteen pounds over the back of that knee as a kind of hairy, organic heating pad.
UPDATE: Just a little list:
Both ankles, chronically sprained from a 1970 motorcycle accident. Totalled a Harley.
Shoulder problems, started when I caught the receiver of an M-85 machine-gun tossed out the back of a deuce and a half.
Knees, just too many miles, and for the last decade or so, overload.
Blood pressure. that’s the age and weight thing again.
Cholesterol, blame it on genetics and a predilection for rich fatty meats. Cajun, you know.




