Coot reflection—redux

I seem to come off with a few of my friends (I wish they’d comment on the blog instead of emailing me) as feeling picked on an persecuted on the subject of my teeth.   Irritated a little at my own dumbness but not picked on.   I don’t know how many people have false teeth, but the number must be in the millions (Vancouver, WA where I got mine had four or five full time labs wo when I was getting “mine” a bunch more were getting “theirs”.   Some no doubt are tickled pink but in the millions with “falsies”, I am sure that my experience is pretty universal. 

I just decided to use this blog, in part, to share experiences that are pretty common to coots, that non-coots might find interesting and even entertaining

Since I got home from Vancouver (Camas, actually) I have been up to my ears in coot experiences.   When I went off to the west, I left a back yard in shambles (has a nice privacy fence so I’m the only one who can see that it is in shambles.)  I had a really nice little workshop/studio in which I sculpted puppets, made dolls and generally got my creative urges satisfied.  When I moved here two years ago, my thought was to improve and enlarge the studio.  Since that time I have been “under construction”  with two other “sheds on the property serving mostly as storage space for the router table, scroll saws, band saws, lathe, cut off saw, and boxes of fabric, polymer clay (boy is it like to be a mess by now) and other stuff that had its home in the studio.   I have been at work two to six hours a day most of the time since I got home trying to get things finished and usable.  I came in yesterday after a tiring bit of sealing windows and finishing walls.   Janet turned to me and asked “How are things going)

“I am making progress”, sez I, “ But if I were  paying me by the hour, I’d have had to fire me several days ago”.  I have developed a coot knack of taking longer to do less than I am able to easily admit.

Janet broke her foot just before our trip and she had to go to the orthopedist to get her “boot” removed.  They x rayed  her and removed the book when I , somewhat less than casually mention that my left shoulder, in which pain had been held at bay for fifteen years by 500 milligrams of naproxen had decided to hurt like heck regardless of the naproxen, could he do something for me.  He x-rayed me then, after viewing the pictures said something like”Some time, a long time ago, you had a tear in your rotator cuff, that was not treated.

“Oh, I didn’t know.  Perhaps instead of Naproxen my old doctor (long since passed away>)  should have refereed my to an orthopedist.”

“Well, the fact is that we can’t find any trace of a rotator cuff in there.”  I was a little shocked and asked “What Now"?”

The doctor says, if pain is the main problem, we can probably take care of that with shots (I knew he meant cortisone—obvious jeopardizing my future in Base ball)  or if we need improvement of function we have a procedure called a REVERSE SHOULDER REPLACEMENT”

I opted for the shots and spend most of the day contemplating a reverse shoulder replacement.  In this procedure does your arm go on backwards?   Hmmmmmm?

I actually googled it, and decided that my seventy fi--- er seventy plus year old body doesn’t need all that function.  We now have to go to the cataract surgeon to get Janet’s remaining cataract removed,  and a couple of other appointments that are “coot” typical.

I figure that on this day they are going to pass the health cared bill, which my get some physical help for a couple of my sons, but that I better hurry and get all the doctoring done that I can before these miraculous Medicare Reforms take effect.

Anyway in spite of my complaints, life is good, I have wonderful talented children whom  I love, who love me, grandchildren and great grandchildren who are beautiful and-- - - -Is that my RIGHT shoulder that is starting to ache?????