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I'm told it's attributed to William Shakespeare and his play KING HENRY V, although I can't seem to find any such reference; which, in of itself, is not so surprising as I'm certain there are many of you here who have in all likelihood forgotten more Shakespeare than I ever probably knew.
Alas, that is not what this is all about; or rather this is:
I must apologize.
To everyone here.
The exigencies of time and place; to wit, a shifting paradigm within my home these past few weeks dictated that I have had neither the time, nor the energy, nor the focus, to fulfill upon promises made here in another thread, this notwithstanding my undertaking to do so.
Recent days have seen my having to make application for relief of surety on a bond taken on behalf of my ward, Ryan, a troubled 18-year old youth brought into my home some months ago, who now, however ill-advisedly, is on the run, with a warrant taken for his arrest.
These circumstances led to a collapse of new, and suitable, housing for a close friend and associate, Philip, who has been residing in my home for the past number of years, himself recovering from his own personal disaster and ill-health, and whom had intended the move for a two-fold purpose, namely his own independence and additionally, to make room for the return home of my eldest son, Alan.
This coupled, the last 10 days or so, with a renewed round of visits with sundry specialist doctors of mine, and their attendant EEGs, MRIs, Ultra Sounds, Stress and Lab tests, and their distressing news that all is not well in the land of "Warren"; I, therefore have not really been up to snuff lately.
That is not to say all is doom and gloom either. The problem with Ryan will eventually resolve itself. Philip will continue to reside in my home. A programme of moderate exercise (something I should have been doing all along, but never seemed to have time for), should (hopefully) take care of the need for further surgery to treat a failed dual herniae operation last spring (and should have been done some 40-years or more ago); and dietary changes quite possibly relieving concerns the "quacks" apparently have with regard to my potentially sustaining a second, and likely this time, fatal, myocardial infarction.
The second of the medical issues is not what troubles me as much as the first. I have no desire to go under the knife again. Or ever, for you see, I'm allergic to just about every known anaesthesia, which requires that I must undertake all but the most life threatening of surgeries, without the numbing benefits of an anaesthetic. This in of itself should not be a problem for me, as I have what is deemed to be an inordinately high pain threshold, and accounts for why I probably survived the first myocardial infarction, as I didn't go into shock which is usually what kills you, not the infarc. After the first "cut", I barely knew that they were tinkering around down there; throughout the entire procedure the doctors and I, and other operating room personnel, including a stand-by anaesthesiologist, enjoyed vigorous dialogue and heated debate on a wide variety of topics. It's just that, while the doctors tell me the repairs undertaken the first time to correct the herniae were in fact quite successful, with both unclosed channels through the abdominal wall into my scrotum sealed, and sundry other "fixes" undertaken, it would appear that my peritoneal lining, through which they made two incisions to effect the repairs, is very weak, with one of these incisions now having "stretched" giving rise to my current problems with the operation. The "fix" for this would be another operation, and the use of a "mesh" to re-enforce the peritoneum. It's not the operation I'm concerned with; but, rather the inevitable "curly-toes" moments that occur in it's aftermath, and during the period of recovery in the days following, each and every time I should have to cough. Alan, who saw me through the first operation a year ago April, tells me I looked as though I had just seen a ghost the first few times I coughed. He doesn't know the half of it. Trust me folks when I tell you, a myocardial infarction is a piece of cake in comparison.
I will persevere. I will get better, and so will my home environment, and with stability, my energy and my drive will again awaken.
Warren C. E. Austin
Toronto, Canada
[Updated on: Fri, 08 May 2009 01:25]
"... comme recherché qu'un délice callipygian"
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Good luck, Warren. You're a good man and seem to be facing a sea of troubles. If I could help, I would but as it is the best I can do is wish you well and be of good heart.
Let us know when you are well again.
Love,
Anthony
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Thank you.
I have corrected the quote in my header. The key word appears to have been "unto" rather than "into"; something I should have known regardless of my being a student of Shakespeare, or not. Mrs. Robertson, my English Literature (and Grammar as would have it) teacher all those many years ago definitely would not be amused with me.
My ward Ryan, in due course, will be apprehended, with him now facing several additional charges, each considerably far more serious than those which originally placed him in my care. Nonetheless, I will be there for him once a brief incarceration hopefully brings about a major attitudinal adjustment. My biggest problem in dealing with Ryan will not be Ryan himself, but rather his mother (and has been this past little while) who is consumed with her own daemons (largely alcohol and drug fueled "spousal" abuse) and whom by transference has made these problems Ryan's own. Ryan is a street-smart youth, a necessity brought on by his continually watching his mother get the crap beaten out of her by one common-law spouse after another, and her (and his) attendant having to decamp whatever live-in situation she may have developed every 30- to 60-days well on nigh to the past 7-years or so.
It had been my expectation (and the Court's) that stability, his own room (and the requisite privacy this entails) coupled with the routine and discipline required in a cöoperative partnership such as prevails in my home, would each engender in him a sense of "belonging", and allow him for the first time to simply be the teenager that he is, and afford him the opportunity to grow into adulthood according to his own agenda and not that of others. Unfortunately, this was not to be, or at least not this time; his mother appears to have won round one; but, not the battle.
The herniae, well, I don't think that moderate exercise is going to cut it; but, then what do I know, so I'll do as the quacks advise, and exercise ... I have already, with a four hour stint, twice weekly at the local food bank, shifting sundry cartons of foodstuffs, and whatnot, and all that entails. This couple with a brisk mile or so walk daily should work a treat ... or maybe not; but one thing is a definite cert; I'll be a svelter, new me, and frankly this is not before it's time. I have been carrying around surplus baggage for far too long (not that I'm decidedly overweight or anything, just rotund ... didn't they used to call that portly?); nevertheless, this is got to be good for alleviating my quacks' heart-healthy concerns if nothing else.
Oops ... look at the time will you ... got to run. The food bank beckon's.
Warren C. E. Austin
Toronto, Canada
"... comme recherché qu'un délice callipygian"
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Thank you Anthony. See the "post" that follows for more.
Warren C. E. Austin
Toronto, Canada
"... comme recherché qu'un délice callipygian"
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Macky
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Really getting into it |
Location: USA
Registered: November 2008
Messages: 973
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Warren, For all your current hardships, your posts read like poetry. The news is bad, but the prose is a delight to read.
It's at times like these that I wish I had a wee bit of faith so that I could say that I'll pray for you, but I lost my faith some time ago. However, a good friend of mine says he "sends good thoughts" so I will say that too. I send you my good thoughts. Who knows, maybe there are vibrations emenating from my thoughts that will travel through yet undiscovered dimensions and ease your pain. That is a very agreeable thought for me. There must be something like that, because you have made me feel very good this morning, by relating all of your good deeds. Its almost like having faith again. Peace, love and hugs. Macky
Behold, how good and how pleasant it is
For brothers to dwell together in unity!
Ps 133:1 NASB
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