SOMETHING TO ADDRESS

Outside of whining about my bad knees from time to time, 

I steer clear of discussing personal health here. 

This’ll be an exception:

 

 

 

So I took the little red rooster (my Royal Enfield) on a delightful ride Tuesday – 60 miles through foothills, redwoods and vineyards. Green hillsides dotted with poppies; deep forests smelling of moist, rich duff; dry roads perfect for a little sightseeing; fresh air.

 

     Then about 2:00 AM on Wednesday, then again at 4:00, then again, in the awake-hours-morning a couple of times, I had another spate of those – for lack of a better term – arrythmias. Felt like a constricted something-er-other (or, at least there was some real pushing going on) and a little light-headedness or dizziness and, after three to five minutes of reclined rest, back to normal – until some next one comes along. 

     I’ll experience these being distributed through a few hours once every 10 to 12 weeks, then nothing. After each little event there are only shadows of the incident but, it’s always in the back of my thinking. 

 

Speaking of that thinking, I got to thinking how unfortunate it would be should one of these occur while riding at sixty-five-plus miles per hour on US 101 or out on some back road with no cell service. So, today, I began thinking about marketing the bikes: Both that sweet little 411cc Enfield which I absolutely adore, and the more substantial and visceral 850cc Moto Guzzi traveling companion. 

     Before I got too deep into that hole, I decided to do a bit more research. Hell! The Church of the Open Road was built upon sharing motorcycle adventures, wasn’t it? 

     As it turns out, when it comes to things cardio, of the seven or eight do-s and don’t-s listed with a number of reputable sites like the Mayo Clinic and the Cleveland Clinic, and as elucidated by my Kaiser doc, I seem to be doing okay with all but two: eating enough fresh fruit and vegetables and keeping it to only one or two drinks. As much as I have declared I’m going to cut way down on the wine, whiskey and song – okay, maybe not the song –  lately, I’ve been plowing through the better part of a whole bottle of cabernet or zin or some nice red blend every evening. EEE-Yikes! 

     Enough already!

Either that stops, I’ve decided, or I sell the bikes. 

     Big test on the horizon: Shortly, Candi will be out of the house playing bunco. (I wonder if Joe Friday or Bill Gannon will show up.) I have a small beef filet and baked potato – and some veges, dang it! – on tap for myself. A nice Cab is being eyeballed. Can I hold myself to one or two glasses?

© 2025

Church of the Open Road Press

ESSAY ON THAT WHICH IS NOT A LADDER

THAT WHICH SEPARATES MAN FROM THE LESSER FORMS is his ability to take common items in his environment and creatively utilize them as tools.

This, teacher-wife attempted, Tuesday afternoon, employing a student desk in her classroom as a ladder in order to reach the far, high corner of a bulletin board. Children off to PE, she reasoned, this would be an okay time to break the rule. At least that’s what she reported to the paramedics. Personally, I’da come up with a better story.

Catastrophic results were miraculously avoided. Fire personnel checked her out as I arrived at school. She was refusing to be tied to a backboard and a young man was gently probing her neck and back to assess tactilely for fractures, swelling or other signs of out-of-jointedness. There were none. The gurney came with an adjustable section, one that could be tilted up for the comfort of the passenger. Thus reclined, she enjoyed the fourteen-hundred-dollar, five-minute transit run to Kaiser.


PEOPLE SPEND A LOT OF TIME and energy bitching about health care. Kaiser (and, more than likely, most health care facilities) gets a black eye more often because, quite naturally, patient and family expectations exceed reason rather than for anything Kaiser personnel do or do not do. On this Tuesday afternoon, the ER was pretty quiet – not at all like the moments several years ago – also a Tuesday, as I recall – when I visited with chest pains while the older person in an open-curtained room down the way succumbed to a fatal coronary. “Better get next of kin in here,” someone said, as compressions were ceased and that curtain was drawn. I thought: I don’t know how these people muster the strength to show up every day.

No, yesterday’s emergency was only an emergency because it was necessary to ensure no structural damage occurred as teacher-wife cascaded to the floor of her classroom. X-rays proved such. Yesterday’s care was excellent: more than 90% of the folks in the world might expect under such or any circumstance. “Call if you need anything,” attending Dr. Lee said, extending a warm hand upon her discharge. Then he winked and assured us: “It’ll hurt more tomorrow than it does today.” Thanks, Doc.

PROPHESY FULFILLED: Today she rests at home, lying covered by a blanket on the davenport in the front room, taking prescription strength Motrin and rubbing a concerned and attentive black lab-mix’s ears. Both the drug and the dog (Edward) share equally in pain relief therapy. Bruised and scraped more than her backside – she has a doozey of a strawberry across her back – is her ego. “This can’t be a workers’ comp claim,” she claims – and she’d shake her head if it didn’t hurt so damned much – “it was my own stupid fault.”

I make it a practice never to disagree with my beloved. There is no point is starting now, when she’s so down and out. Besides, tomorrow will be a better day – the following day even more so. The injury was blessedly minor when the consequences rightfully could have been pretty dire.

Lesson learned.

Note:  The drawing herein represents an example used by former area schools assistant superintendent for incoming staff at “boot camp,” and does not depict the actual situation in this story.  But it’s a cute picture and it makes its point.

© 2012
Church of the Open Road Press