GLORY BE! Incredible display of Canada geese on Blakeburn Lagoon

This is the first video I've posted on my channel since HALLOWEEN. Some sort of a record. I just did it on impulse, and so it would NOT be controversial in any way. I even worried about how I slurred on "flock", thinking the algorithm would hear another word. It's mysterious, because I cannot believe I did not post anything in four months. 

I decided not to edit it, just get it up there to see if I could still post. Strangely enough, that "warning" notice isn't there any more, and the format for the studio is different now. I have probably a few hundred of videos, most of which I probably won't post, but I sure won't run out either.

So, does this balance out the way I feel now? We'll see. So far it has seemed like 3 steps forward, four steps back. The progress I've made can be easily undone. It will be a while 'til I am able to actually get out and birdwatch, so this will have to do.

Bogey and Bette and uphill days

 

Bogey and Bette. Like faithful friends, they just keep coming around. 

I spent a Jesusly long time, weeks, practically fastened to a chair, laid out like I was in a sarcophagus of heated blankets and squashy pillows. And I watched movies, and movies, and movies, until I was right sick of it. Even my favorites on Turner Classics wore thin after a while, or just weren't as great as I used to think.

It's only now I'm crawling out into the light, more or less, with plenty of backsteps. My newly-reorganized digestive works are still trying to make the adjustment, but I was glad to see I don't need to see the doc until March 6. I want to blow the whole  thing off, as she is glib and superficial and self-interested enough to let me do just that. NEXT!!!

I have never been sick before, at least not like this, and it was an ordeal greater than anything I have endured (up to now). I believe, though no one ever spelled it out for me, that I nearly died twice. The hospitalization of 2 days went on, and on, and on, for nearly 2 weeks. It's one long surreal nightmare, but I am slowly putting distance between myself and the horrors. The mental recovery has been the worst. Slowly, bit by painful bit, I am getting my life back, but it is anything but a straight line.

And I will admit, or just state, that I've been using THC oil judiciously, and it IS actually stimulating my appetite. I lost a good 8 pounds after returning home, and though I'm not exactly a bag of bones, it's weird for me how I have had to reverse everything I've ever done (or thought of doing) with food

All my  life, and I mean ALL my life, I have counted calories and felt stabs of guilt if I indulged too much in anything. Now I must flip this on its head  and INCREASE my calories, or I will end up sicker, weaker, and more prone to further medical collapse. I can't afford this, but I cannot tell you how impossible it is to eat anything at all when you are either nauseated, or just have zero appetite. All the way through this, there has been a great deal of finger-wagging because "you're not eating!". From nurses, from doctors, even from my family. But the greyish-green plastic trays of steamed slop  they call food often made me literally retch, and that's without even tasting it. Prison food would be better.

I wasn't going to go back there. But a scar is a scar. I suppose if I have another one of these, it will likely kill me, or leave me so disabled and dwindled that I won't want t live any more.

Had it not been for the visits from my delightful grandkids, I would have succumbed to despair. I know this, because I was suicidal for weeks. I just was, often leading to MUCH more and more brisk finger-wagging: "How can you do this to your family?" - meaning, MY loss wouldn't really matter too much anyway. Or it sure seems that way. 

I don't think anyone reads this blog any more, but I do it for me, and so that I can look up things I posted years ago. And the comments, which I do get, are always on really old ones. I won't try to figure out how they found them, or why.

So I have to get on with my day, which is (very) gradually approaching my old  life, the one I love so much, basically because it is MINE and no one dares to take it away.

This song helped me through the worst experience of my life.

Black rider, black rider, you've been living too hard
Been up all night, have to stay on your guard
The path that you're walking, too narrow to walk
Every step of the way, another stumbling block
The road that you're on, same road that you know
Just not the same as it was a minute ago

Black rider, black rider, you've seen it all
You've seen the great world and you've seen the small
You fell into the fire and you're eating the flame
Better seal up your lips if you wanna stay in the game
Be reasonable, mister, be honest, be fair
Let all of your earthly thoughts be a prayer

Black rider, black rider, all dressed in black
I'm walking away, you try to make me look back
My heart is at rest, I'd like to keep it that way
I don't wanna fight, at least not today
Go home to your wife, stop visiting mine
One of these days, I'll forget to be kind

Black rider, black rider, tell me when, tell me how
If there ever was a time, then let it be now
Let me go through, open the door
My soul is distressed, my mind is at war
Don't hug me, don't flatter me, don't turn on the charm
I'll take a sword and hack off your arm

Black rider, black rider, hold it right there
The size of your cock will get you nowhere
I'll suffer in silence, I'll not make a sound
Maybe I'll take the high moral ground
Some enchanted evening, I'll sing you a song
Black rider, black rider, you've been on the job too long

Leon Theremin playing his own instrument

Thoughts for the day! 

I promise (sort of) that I will get back to posting when I can. The surgery was utterly brutal and went so wrong, a 2-day hospital say stretched to nearly 2 weeks. It has been a long haul, and will probably be longer.

Meanwhile, there's this!