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Big Print Job

Posted March 9, 2010 – 6:07 am in: Journal, Stillwater

I finished the major revisions to my novel the other day. I’ve been doing the editing on my laptop computer, keeping track of my progress on a pad of paper. I find that written lists are easier to maintain than electronic lists.There’s something intimidating about having a written list of things to do, and the intimidation helps me to attack the list on a regular basis just so I can put checkmarks by each item to show I’m making progress.

Having made my way through the major revision, minor editing is now required to make the words flow better. This requires working my way through the entire story. This, for me, is very difficult using a work processor. I need to have paper for this process because I jot down questions, remarks, and other notes as I go. I can put lines through sentences, cross out paragraphs, and write in the margins.

Knowing I needed to print the entire novel, I changed the format of the Word document from double-spaced lines to single-spaced. This doesn’t help the editing process because it means I’ll have less room to write my notes. It does mean, however, I’ll use a  heck of a lot less paper in the printing process. In fact, the number of pages went from 470 to 264 when I reformatted it to single-spaced.

So I was thinking “green” when I decided to reformat. I was also thinking green when I decided to print on both sides of the paper. With my printer, two-sided printing requires printing first on one side of the sheets, then turning them over to print on the opposite sides. Sounds easy enough, and it would be as long as nothing happens during the printing process to screw things up. Having decided to print on both sides, the number of paper sheets I would use went from 274 to 137. Quite a savings!

The greening of my print job did not work out very well. Several things worked against me. The first was that my printer decided, on several occasions, to pull several sheets through at once. This meant that a couple of pages did not print properly. Once that happens, you need to stop the whole process, figure out what went wrong, and adjust the print job accordingly. In my case, I wasn’t watching the printing process and didn’t know that several pages failed to print. When the printing stopped, I turned the sheets over per the printing instructions and restarted the print job. I checked a few sheets during this part of the printing process and noticed that something was wrong. Pages were in the wrong places. I ended up with, for example, page 101 on one side of a sheet and page 107 on the other side. Not good.

When I realized what had happened, I stopped the print job and tried to salvage the sheets I had already printed. Not only were my page numbers screwed up, but the cartridge was getting low on toner and some of the text had started to dither out. I spent about two hours trying to print my manuscript in an environmentally friendly way and I managed to make an environmental mess out of it.

I ordered a new toner cartridge yesterday. I’ll also have to buy a ream of paper. I’ll probably shred the sheets I wasted yesterday, mainly just to hide the evidence.

Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you just can’t help but muck things up.

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Book Update

Posted March 5, 2010 – 1:03 pm in: Stillwater

I’ve been very busy the past week with some serious editing and rewriting in a portion of my novel. Several years ago, I introduced a new character at the beginning of the book. The new character, and the scene he appeared in, caused me to add an entire chapter. This chapter took the place of the original Chapter 1. I added the new character in order to show action in a baseball game. The character, Crandall Dorsey, became interesting to me and ultimately took on proportions that I had not intended. Crandall (also known as “Crab”) was too good to discard after the first chapter. It wasn’t that he became an integral part of the story, but rather that he was just too interesting not to bring back into the story in later chapters.

My rewriting last week took place in a scene involving a basketball game between Stillwater and Comstock high schools. Stillwater and Comstock exist in my story as towns in Northern Indiana. They are fairly close to one another, but their athletic cultures are quite different. In my new Chapter 1, I had established a reference to Comstock when I mentioned that it was the hometown of Whitey, Crandall Dorsey’s friend and his catcher in the historic baseball game between Stillwater and Deer Lake. In a subsequent chapter, I stated that Dorsey had moved his residence from Stillwater to Comstock as a result of a relationship he had with a young woman in Comstock. I intended to give Dorsey more appearances in the story by having him show up in sporting events. Since he was from Stillwater, it seemed natural to have him play on a Stillwater team.

But I looked at things differently for an instant the other day, and wondered what might happen if Dorsey became a member of the Comstock basketball team instead of Stillwater’s team. So I put him on the Comstock team. This was a great surprise to the Stillwater boys, who had never expected to see Dorsey on a team other than their own. To accomplish the abrupt change in my plot, I had to do some major rewriting of the basketball game between Stillwater and Comstock. The chapter, therefore, is quite a bit longer. But I believe it’s better.

I have about a dozen other issues to deal with before I can say I’m finished. Some are minor, others could turn into sticky messes. I won’t know until I start working through them.

Blogging takes me away from my work on the novel, but it satisfies my need to publish something. Books take a long time to publish if you’re fortunate enough to find a publisher. If you’re not fortunate enough to find a publisher, you end up eating the time you spent on the writing. It’s frustrating but you must look at it as an educational experience.

Now I must figure out how to put Richard Diggins in jeopardy of being ineligible to play basketball for Stillwater. Once I tackle that issue, I can figure out how to deal with Ivan Stetler’s drug addiction.

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My Colonoscopy

Posted February 27, 2010 – 11:12 am in: Journal

I was about 10 years overdue for a colonoscopy when I finally had my first one last Wednesday. Everyone these days has either had colonoscopies or has heard much about them. We’ve been told that they are important procedures that can determine whether someone has, or is prone to, colon cancer. From what I’ve read, they really can be life savers. I procrastinated about as long as my family doctor would let me before finally agreeing to do what so many other Americans have done: allow people I don’t know to put medical devices into my poop chute.

Of course, I spent the day before the procedure starving myself and drinking lots of liquids. Then, at 3 p.m., I took 4 Dulcolax tablets. At 5, I mixed Miralax powder into 64 ounces of Gatorade and drank it up within one hour. I won’t go into detail about what happened after dumping all those explosives into my innards. For those of you who have done this, I am now a member of your elite club. For those of you who haven’t, don’t be afraid. It really wasn’t all that unpleasant, and, in a way, it’s somewhat restorative. When it’s over, you finally know what it’s like to be completely empty. This is an unusual sensation for those of us in the affluent Western World.

At any rate, I got up Wednesday morning, took 4 Amoxicillin pills (this is because I have a leaky heart valve and must avoid infections that might exacerbate the condition), and headed for Lutheran Hospital. Barb was my designated driver. You’re not supposed to drive after a colonoscopy.

At the hospital, I was led to a curtained stall and instructed to disrobe, put my clothes in a bag, put on a gown, and lie down in a bed. I was asked many questions by a very business-like hospital lady. My entire life, including all my good and bad habits, were summarily logged into her checklist. My blood pressure was checked and an IV needle was inserted into my right hand.

One patient was in the procedure room when we arrived and another waited in the stall next to mine. I watched as the first patient was wheeled out of the procedure room and into his stall. I listened to the nurses and aides and doctors pass by my curtained cubbyhole. I heard the colonoscopist (my word – he’s officially called a gastroenterologist) as he talked to the first patient. They discussed the fellow’s innards and symptoms and issues. I wondered what the doctor might find inside me.

In a few minutes, the second patient was wheeled into the procedure room. I waited patiently, watching the ceiling for insects and keeping an eye on Barb as she read the book she had brought along. Having not anticipated a wait of any duration, I had not brought reading material. I had to turn off my BlackBerry, so I couldn’t use that for entertainment. I just lay there, absorbing the ambience of the place and the communion of its occupants.

Eventually, and inevitably, a nurse came to my bed and told me it was time to party. Another nurse put a blanket on me to keep me warm. In fact, the blanket itself was very warm and felt good. My hands and feet had become cold during my wait and I welcomed the heat. Barb blew me a kiss and I was off, pushed and pulled into the procedure room by a friendly young woman.

In the procedure room I was moved into position near some equipment. I was asked to turn over onto my left side and push my butt to the right. I did my best to provide easy accessibility and was told that my efforts were successful. Someone hooked an IV onto the needle in my hand and I was instructed to breathe deeply to help the medication take effect. I believe that I held a conversation with one of the attendants for about 30 seconds before our conversation ended and I lapsed into total unconsciousness. I felt nothing, heard nothing, and sensed nothing during the next half hour or so as the procedure took place.

The procedure actually was twofold. I had a regular colonoscopy and also an upper GI, where a device was put down my esophagus and into my stomach. This was requested by my family doctor because I have a history of heartburn from time to time. My only hope was that a different instrument was used for the upper than was used for the lower. Because I was unconscious, I do not know. I would ask the physician but I’m afraid of the answer.

I remained unconscious for quite some time after the procedures. Barb told me later that I was snoring loudly when I was wheeled back to the curtained stall. I slept soundly and didn’t awaken when the physician came to give me a report on his findings. Barb could not wake me, so the he explained everything to her. After 45 minutes of sound slumber on my part, Barb patted me on my cheek in an effort to wake me up. I was able, somehow, to get out of the bed and put my clothes on. A nurse came with a wheelchair and I was wheeled out of the building to our car, which Barb had parked in front of the door. I got into the car somehow but don’t remember having done so. Barb asked me if I still wanted to go to Sara’s Restaurant for breakfast. I said yes. If you’re familiar with Sara’s Restaurant, you’ll know it’s not very far from Lutheran Hospital. I was sound asleep once again by the time Barb pulled into Sara’s parking lot. She gave up and drove me home.

Barb got out of the car to take some things into the house. I remained in the car, eyes closed, fumbling with the door lock in a futile effort to get out. Barb returned and helped me exit the car and get into the house. My first real memory of being home is that of eating eggs and toast that Barb prepared for me. It tasted very good. Eating after a colonoscopy is a real pleasure. Being empty is an interesting experience but not one you want to last for very long.

I slept for a few hours and felt good when I finally came to.

Barb told me what the physician had told her. Concerning the upper GI, he saw some inflammation in my upper stomach and he took a small sample of tissue to have tested for infection. He didn’t expect that it was anything serious.

Concerning the colonoscopy, the physician said he would like to see me again in 10 years.

I will count the days.

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Dancing With Dumbbells

Posted February 23, 2010 – 6:40 pm in: Fitness

No, I’m not talking about a day at the office.

I’m talking about an exercise routine last night at the Kachmann Mind Body Institute.

The “heavy” dumbbells in my weekly training sessions are the 15 pounders. They seem real heavy during some exercises and not so very heavy in others. My arms are skinny as well as short, so, proportionally, the 15 pounders look large on me. They feel large, too, when I dance with them.

I performed a nice little routine with them last night when Erin Long had her open training group use them in the first set of the night. Holding one weight in each hand, standing with legs spread, we lunged to the right and bent our knees, transferring the weights from either side of our waists downward, one dumbbell inside our leg near the ankle and one dumbbell to the outside. Twelve lunges to the right, then twelve to the left. Imagine what sort of stretching takes place in the back and legs during this little boogie. I feel the resulting effects right now. Minor discomfort, no pain.

I worked up a sweat before we were halfway through the evening’s session. We did lots of work with the dumbbells and moved them a considerable distance in each routine. Maybe one of these days I’ll graduate to the 20 pounders. I might have to put on some weight to be able to throw those big hogs around.

Another interesting exercise last night was the one-footed push-up. They’re just like regular push-ups except that we were allowed only one foot touching the floor instead of two. I noticed a big difference in the stress put on my arms. I think the small amount of imbalance in the weight distribution makes a disproportionate impact on the arms. By the third repetition, I was struggling.

It seemed very warm in the exercise room. The temperature was 72, which doesn’t sound all that warm but when you’re working hard and burning lots of calories in a short period of time, things get hot pretty fast. Erin turned the temp down a few degrees after she heard some grumbling from her students. She doesn’t really want to torture us.

Perhaps the most unusual exercise (in my own view) was also done with dumbbells. Bending over at the waist, holding the dumbbells at our sides, we pulled them up in front to our shoulders, then let them down to our sides. This was done four times, then we had to bend down low and place one dumbbell in position between our ribs and our quadriceps and hold them there while we, still crouching, went into a swimming pantomime. Forty swimming strokes later, we got back up and did the same things over again. By the second repetition in each set, my quadriceps were on fire. Well, not on fire but pretty damn hot.

All in all, the night’s session was very productive. I felt as if I had done something constructive. The more I sweat and the harder I work, the better I feel afterward. I felt pretty good by the time I got home.

I’m looking forward to biking weather. We’ve had a few days recently that qualified, but I passed them up. I opted instead for workouts on my elliptical trainer. But I need fresh outside air. I get some during my daily walks, but there’s nothing as invigorating as gulping tons of fresh air while peddling your butt off down a country road. Oh boy.

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Sixth Grade Spelling Bee – Part 1

Posted February 20, 2010 – 8:42 pm in: Journal

I used to be a good speller and was in high demand. I’m still a good speller, but rarely have to exercise the skill these days. It used to be that people would take advantage of a good speller and use that person as a living, breathing, walking dictionary and thesaurus. I never minded serving that purpose, but often thought that some people were using me as a crutch instead of learning to spell the more difficult words themselves. Maybe I hang out with the wrong people of late (or the right ones, depending upon how you look at it), but for some reason no one asks my advice on spelling. In fact, I rarely hear anyone asking anyone else how to spell a word.

Two things could be at work here. First, many people compose written documents on computers and make use of spell checking software. Second, some people either don’t know they’ve misspelled a word or don’t care. I see many documents, especially emails, that contain misspelled words. It’s annoying but I’ve stopped worrying about it. I’m getting close to the point of not even caring any more. I guess the important thing is whether the documents can be understood even with the misspelled words. If they can be understood, then errors in spelling have minimal effect on the actual impact of the document. But I still notice them and think disparaging thoughts about the intelligence of the authors.

As you can see, spelling is a pretty big issue for me. It has been for many years, starting when I was in grade school and had to take spelling tests. I hated to misspell a word. When I did, though, I made sure I didn’t misspell it again. Spelling tests were fun, but after a while they weren’t really very challenging.  In the 6th grade at German Township School, however, I encountered my first exciting spelling test. My teacher challenged the 7th grade class to a spelling bee. The 7th grade class accepted the challenge, and both classes met for battle in one of our classrooms. The students from each grade stood side by side on opposite sides of the room, and the teachers took turns posing the words to the students. I remember being very excited and agitated, spelling each of the words in my head as they were being doled out, one by one, to the contestants. Wondering which word might come my way kept me on my toes the entire time.

I don’t remember how many words I had to spell. I’m not even sure if I had to spell more than one word. But there is one word, and one word only, that I remember spelling. And when I had to spell it, the outcome of the spelling bee hung in the balance. It was a word not commonly heard by 6th graders, but it was a word that we could have been exposed to, had we been paying attention in geography class. In fact, I could spell the word because I had seen it in my geography book. I read somewhere once or twice that good spellers are often able to see words in their minds. I saw the word I had to spell in my mind. When I closed my eyes, I saw the page of the book that contained the word I was asked to spell. The eyes of my mind drifted down the page to where the word was printed.

That word was Honduras.

I eliminated the last 7th grader with that word. Although I was not the last 6th grader standing, I was the lucky one who was in the right place at the right time to put the other class out of the competition. We had more than a couple of good spellers in our class. But my spelling of the word Honduras made my classmates cheer as if I were the absolute last hope of our side. Some of the boys decided to pick me up and carry me around the classroom. I was embarrassed and blushed bright red (as I am still prone to do) as the focus of my classmates’ celebration. I tempered my own celebrity with my understanding that any of my other classmates who were still in the bee could have won it.

I really did enjoy my sudden but brief glimpse of life as a hero. But it wasn’t long before I would be faced with another challenge to my spelling skills. There were other grades in our small school that were aching to challenge the reigning champions of spelling at German Township School. And there were teachers who were experts at prepping their students.

To be continued . . .

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Fitness Update

Posted February 16, 2010 – 9:51 pm in: Fitness

I cannot say that I am fit. I could say I’m more fit than I was, and could also say that I’m less fit than I will be. But I won’t say that. I will say, however, that I feel fairly fit overall.

I know that I’m stronger in certain parts of my body than I was two months ago. My abs, my biceps, my legs, and my back are all more muscled than they were when I started working out at Kachmann Mind Body. When I joined the open training group, it was the first time I was involved in conducted exercise. My conductor, or trainer if you will, is Erin Long. Erin composes the agenda of each workout and demonstrates each exercise before her trainees perform it. I find this form of exercising very efficient and productive. There are few wasted moments during the sessions and we are motivated to participate through Erin’s gentle persistence, our own desire to improve and strengthen our physical beings, and, last but not least, the pressure that peers can exert just by being in the same room.

I won’t go into last night’s session in detail, except to say that Erin sprang some interesting new exercises on us that were challenging for one and all. I told my brother about it later in the evening when he phoned me. I mentioned all the new exercises and he questioned why we keep doing different exercises rather than trying to get better and stronger by doing repetitive exercises to build up certain muscles. I told him that I had read something somewhere about “muscle confusion.” The basic concept of muscle confusion is that you should do lots of different exercises in order to generate continuing growth and strengthening of all muscles instead of doing repetitive exercises using the same muscles over and over to generate bulging muscles in specific places. I’m no expert on this subject, so I could be all wrong. At any rate, I think most trainers mix exercises up to accomplish something like muscle confusion. If anyone reading this can explain this better, come on. There’s a comment button below this post.

I do know that I have some muscle discomfort for a few days after each training session. I take this to mean that I have used and pushed muscles to do something they are not prepared for. I like this concept and I think it keeps me attending the training sessions. That, and Erin’s expertise.

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Casaburo Salad without Scab

Posted February 12, 2010 – 10:59 pm in: Journal

I had my usual Friday night Casa salad at Casa Mare this evening and did not find my head scab in it as I had predicted a few days ago. The salad disappeared before my very eyes, but the scab is still in residence on my scalp, biding its time and waiting for the right moment to eject itself into who knows what or onto who knows who and cause me some major embarrassment.

The entré consisted of the Penne con Salsiccia E Pepperoni. I ordered this spicy, which means it is riddled with bits and pieces of peppers that seem to be akin to jalapeno. It was so good I could have eaten it all but left a goodly portion so as not to be identified as a glutton.

All this was after I had lunch at Bob’s Restaurant in Woodburn. The first course there was a dish of Bob’s homemade coleslaw. It was the very best coleslaw I have ever eaten, and that is no exaggeration. I could have consumed an entire plate of the stuff. The cabbage was fresh and the sauce was tart and sweet, and the combination is addictive. For the main course, I ordered one of the daily specials – Shepherd’s Pie. It came out in a haphazardly assembled blob that took up most of the surface of the plate it was served on. This was a meal for a real man. It contained mashed potatoes, tons of ground meat, corn, and cheese. I ate it all and considered licking the plate as a grand finale. Bob makes nice food and pretty darn good coffee.

Following the timeline I have already standardized on, I wish now to relate this morning’s breakfast choice. I ate a very large bowl of hot oatmeal spiced with black pepper only and, as a side, one toasted Kroger sourdough muffin covered with Olivio, all washed down with a large glass of water. I make pretty good coffee too.

I spent most of the day outside in the cold crisp air, trudging up and down driveways covered with snow and climbing in and out of a large pickup truck. That sort of day always makes me hungry.

Right now, after dinner, I’m feeling just a little drowsy.

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Fitness Update

Posted February 9, 2010 – 8:27 pm in: Fitness

I know you’re all dying to hear how much pain and suffering I’m undergoing this week. So here’s the skinny. Compared to Tuesday of last week, I’m feeling pretty good. My butt is now almost pain free. I can crawl out of bed without yelping and grasping the headboard for support. My head wound is healing nicely after my dermatologist subjected my skull and therefore my brain to a dose of cryogenics. The scab will probably let go and fall off into a Casaburo salad this weekend.

So, all in all, things are looking up. I just have a few minor discomforts, although I can tell some of them are of such a nature that they could become major after one more night’s sleep. As long as I have that headboard to clutch, I’ll be OK.

I attended The Real Erin Long‘s Open Training session last night at Kachmann Mind Body Institute, as I have done Monday evenings for the past few months. Erin whipped a rigorous regimen on us. Several of the exercises were really difficult, especially for the only old man in the class. Among other tricky maneuvers, we used a stepper as a platform to launch a backward lunge to the floor followed by a return to the stepper and a high kick. Do this a dozen times with each leg and try to keep from falling down and breaking your arse. This was a challenge for someone who has difficulty standing on one foot more than three seconds at a stretch. By the third set, however, I had mastered the basics and was moving along pretty well until Erin pointed out that I wasn’t bending my knee during the lunge. I wasn’t bending my knee in the lunge because doing so would cause me to fall on my arse. You just have to know your limits.

Another challenging exercise, at least for me, was the one that looks like the Dolphin position, where you place yourself face down on the floor, on your elbows and on your toes, back parallel to the floor. Push yourself forward on your elbows till you can’t go forward anymore, then push yourself back. This sounds easy, even when I say it. But do it 20 times x 3 and see how you feel. I felt pretty weak and puny.

———

I just returned to this after having dinner. Homemade enchiladas, homemade very hot salsa, fresh avocado. Pretty darn good stuff.

My next post might be an update on my novel. Lots of things have happened to George since I last reported, including the loss of the love of his life. He will recover, however, when Louise Lightfoot enters the stage.

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Skin Scare

Posted February 6, 2010 – 8:30 am in: Journal

I’ve had a patch of stuff on my scalp for several months. It seemed to be related to a minor problem I’ve had over the years with overactive oil production.

The patch was noticeable by touch, and over the weeks I could trace its progress with my fingers. It felt as if it were expanding a bit, making its way down the left side of my head. No pain, no discomfort. Just knowing it was there made me search it out and check its status. I never bothered to look at it.

Finally, last Saturday, I asked Barb to check it out. Seeing my scalp was nothing new for her, since my expanding bald spot has been observable for many years. But the spot I wanted her to look at was in an area still covered with a reasonably thick carpet of hair. She knew nothing about what had been going on because I had failed to mention anything about it. With no pain and no real discomfort, there really wasn’t much to talk about.

I pointed to the place on my head where she should look. She brushed my hair aside and gasped.

“Oh my God!” she said. “What is that?”

Of course, I had no idea.

“What does it look like?” I responded.

“It’s dark and pretty big. What did you do?”

I hadn’t really done anything, except just touch it from time to time and imagine what it might look like. In my mind, it was just a patch of scaly scalp.

“You should look at it yourself,” she said.

So I did. I took her hand mirror and, standing in front of the bathroom mirror, I was quickly able to find it.

“Holy cow!” I said. I had no idea . . .

That was on Saturday. By Monday morning, I had diagnosed myself with melanoma. I had spent some time web surfing for photos and descriptions of skin stuff, and the photos that seemed to keep popping up were those of cancerous growths that were difficult, if not impossible, to cure. Needless to say, thinking about having to deal with something like melanoma puts one in an certain frame of mind. It’s not only the impact it might have on one’s longevity, but also the thought of having to go through all sorts of tests and therapies and surgeries.

On Monday, I called a dermatologist and made an appointment for Tuesday morning. I was surprised to get in so soon. Perhaps dermatologists have lost customers due to the recession. Many of his customers must see him for cosmetic purposes. Cosmetics naturally take on less significance in one’s life when one is struggling to pay bills and keep food on the table.

At any rate, I arrived at the doctor’s office at 9 a.m. on Tuesday. I had not visited him since he had moved his office into a building next to the Aboite Branch of the library on Coventry Lane. Nice place, I thought, as I sat patiently and waited to get the bad news. I don’t know why, but each time I visit his office, no matter where it is, I always find myself speculating about the complaints of the other patients. I have never seen anyone with obvious symptoms like a major rash on the face or bandaged hands. It just makes me realize that many skin problems are hidden, like the stuff on my head. Skin problems in hidden places often remain undiagnosed. That can be dangerous.

Within a few minutes, and after I had speculated on the conditions of several women sitting in the waiting room, a young woman came out from the inner sanctum and took me to an examination room. She asked me some questions, typed my responses into a laptop computer, and told me the doctor would see me shortly. I waited and did some speculating about what might transpire. I figured the doctor would put on a magnifying device and carefully search through the patch for telltale signs of something with a Latin name I probably wouldn’t be able to pronounce. Using some sort of scalpel or tweezers, he would snatch up a piece of the stuff and send it somewhere for a biopsy.

The young woman was right. The doctor arrived just a few minutes after she had walked out. He brought along a young fellow who I assumed was a trainee.

“What’s going on today?” the doctor asked.

“I have a patch on my head right here,” I said, pointing to the exact location.

He touched my head and moved the hair aside.

“Oh yeah,” he said, his nose about six inches from my left cheek. “That’s a big one. Yes, that’s a nice one.”

“It is?”

“Yes, it’s a real beaut.”

I thought for a second that he thought I knew what it was. I quickly dispelled any notion of that.

“OK, but what is it?” I asked. I was confused. Anything that looked like the thing on my scalp should provoke shock and awe in almost anyone seeing it.

Everybody knows that skin can become inflicted with all sorts of stuff. Some of the stuff is merely annoying, like warts, freckles, pimples, and moles. Some of these, like pimples, will go away eventually. Others, like warts and moles, need incentives to depart. Still others, like freckles, are probably better ignored or just covered with creams that mask them. Other stuff, like rashes, can come on suddenly and leave just as suddenly, or can hang on stubbornly and make one’s life miserable. It’s the stuff we don’t recognize that’s the most troubling. The thing on my scalp is unlike anything I had ever seen, on my skin or on anyone else’s. For that reason, I was sure it was something very bad.

“Sebhorreic keratosis,” was the doctor’s reply.

“Oh,” I said. “So what is that?”

“It is not malignant. It won’t become malignant. It’s something that develops on the skin and that can be a nuisance but it’s not harmful. We can remove it surgically, but you’d probably have a scar and would lose some hair. I’ll just freeze it. That should take care of it, at least for a while. If it returns, come back and I’ll freeze it again.”

“What causes such a thing?” I asked.

“Thank your parents. This stuff is hereditary.”

The doctor brought out a bottle of liquid nitrogen. Without hesitation, he attacked my seborrheic keratosis and nearly froze my brain in the process. I’ve had a wart frozen before, but until you’ve had a patch of seborrheic keratosis frozen on your head you just don’t understand how thrilling the freezing process can be. I wondered if my skull would shatter under the intense cold blast. I swear he pressed that button for a full minute. He actually started a countdown during the last 10 seconds.

By the time I walked out of the office, my eyes were watering and I had a nice lump on my head. I was in better spirits even though I was in pain. I stopped worrying about skin cancer and started thinking about some stuff I had to take care of at work. It’s amazing how quickly our focus can be redirected.

Monkeys and apes might be farther back along the evolution chain, but they are more advanced in one way. Their mutual grooming practices undoubtedly uncover stuff in their coats that shouldn’t be there. I don’t know if monkeys get seborrheic keratosis, but I do know they can host all sorts of critters that are savored by their groomers. We humans would be better off if we spent some time with a spouse or a partner or even just a friend, checking scalps and other areas hidden from sight for bugs and worms and signs of skin afflictions. I know it seems a little weird, but it might save a lot of medical bills or even some lives.

The swelling on my head has diminished and I expect that in a day or so the patch on my scalp will start falling off. If nothing else, I am smarter now than I was a few days ago. I know what seborrheic keratosis is, and I know that I am genetically prone to it. I also know that I will be more curious in the future about what might be lurking in my hidden places.

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Sore Buns

Posted February 2, 2010 – 9:12 pm in: Fitness

Man is my butt sore. Both cheeks. Distributed discomfort in my derriere. Positive pain in my posterior. Shock and awe in my . . . Well, you get the point. I am seated, but painfully so. Once down, I dread standing up because I know what to expect. MORE PAIN.

I’m not complaining, mind you. Just reporting facts. The fact is, MY BUTT HURTS.

I think I know what caused it.

I participated in an exercise last night that involved doing leg thrusts, then, while holding a heavy dumbbell in the hand opposite the leg being thrusted, reaching forward with that hand toward the foot of the thrusted leg and passing the dumbbell across the ankle to the outside. Then return to standing position. Do this 12 times with each leg, 3 sets. Your butt will be sore too.

We did another exercise that involved sitting on the floor and holding a weight in our laps. Rotating our torsos in a circular fashion and using our butts as a pivot created even more stress for my already stressed rump. My bum is a bit on the bony side, and when I was pivoting on it, it felt like my tail bone and hip bone were trying to grind their way out of their container. Luckily, they are still in place, but the container is a bit worse for the wear.

It will take a few days for my rear to recover. In the meantime, I think I’ll just take a few more sips of this glass of Layer Cake Shiraz and dream of the days when my butt only ached when I’d get on my bike for the first time on the first springlike day at the tail end of winter and ride until dark. I’d get out of bed the next morning and hobble around for a few hours till the pain and stiffness were gone. Then I’d be back on the bike and the pain would not return.

Now the trouble is not that the pain returns, but that it just doesn’t want to go away.

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