Ladies, Ladies, Ladies

Well the weather is finally warm and the ladies are out in their summer finest. Makes my male heart soar with glee. I saw many lovely women today as I was out and about. I guess I will never grow up--seeing a beautiful woman makes me happy. Gosh, men (me?) are so easy to please. And I am now the proud owner of more calloused hands--yes as I am doing more my hands are returning to their previous callous state. Thanks to last month's post I am no longer self conscious about my hands. I do not try to hide them like I have been doing for decades. I have manly hands and no one as a result pushes me around. Hell, I do not even have handles on my wheelchair--I gave them up long ago. I do not get pushed and I do not get carried. The only person that I will allow push my wheelchair is my son and only when I am faced with an impossible hill--think San Francisco or Seattle waterfront.

As pleased as I am with my hands I am not pleased with my beard. I am getting asked questions not about my beard, snowy white, but rather my hair. Yes, my short hair is now object of questioning. I do not like the question. People want to know if I am dying my hair or asking me why I don't dye my beard. For the record, I am not nor will I ever dye may hair. I am getting old and that fact does not bother me one iota. But I do not like the question about hair dying. In fact a large part of me misses my long hair. Amazingly even my mother misses it too--she thinks the long hair was preferable to my white beard. Go figure. This leads me to ask is it that unusual to see a guy with a white beard and dark hair? Am I breaking some sort of social rule I am unaware of? My post about my calloused hands led to a totally unexpected response. So here i go again: what should I do with my beard? I am tempted to shave it off but am hesitant--growing a beard requires two of looking very scruffy. I do not want to go through that again. I also love the idea of being a paralyzed Santa next Christmas.

Wound Care: The Final Entry

My original wound from last Fall is healed. Yes, my long experience with wound care has come to a halt. My right hip, the large grossly infected hip wound is officially gone. I will have quite the scar to remind me to be exceedingly careful. I am by no means going to simply hop up and resume my old schedule. That will take time and patience. But the life threatening original problem is gone. I am happy in the extreme. I can move my bed out of my living room and into the bedroom. I can put all my furniture back. I can actually relax when sitting. Today is a big day! I did not get here alone however. I had world class help from my family, friends, and the wound care people at Northern Westchester Hospital. The big question now is the future: how to never ever put myself in this position again. I am going to be cautious in the extreme. Going out today and buying the biggest mirror I can find for self examination. But for now it is party time!