My Recovery

Hey everyone, I hope your Summer is starting well. Here's another update on my recovery. The news is all good.

1. My body is getting steadily stronger. I no longer need a walker. I used a cane for a few days but don't need that either. I now walk normally. Still bump into fire hydrants but that's due to the vision thing.

My legs can now also climb stairs so nobody is safe from a visit. :)

2. During the first two months of my hospital stay I had -- in addition to an autoimmune condition (myasthenia gravis) -- something called "ICU delirium." Extremely potent drugs used to sedate me led my brain to create an alternate reality, a world as real to me as this one is for you. Unfortunately  that world was not pleasant: I interpreted ICU medical treatments (I had 9 tubes inserted) as TORTURE by an evil group trying to harm me. I reacted to that baleful threat by ripping IVs out (causing a blood clot in my arm) and fighting male attendants. Ultimately doctors put me in physical restraint and assigned a PCA to watch me 24/7. During one quasi-lucid moment I told Robin I'd forgive her if she let chthonic people kill me.

I mention this ugly episode today to happily report the delusions are gone. I perceive our shared reality the same as you and am back to being the piquant badass I was before. My cognitive ability was tested repeatedly in the hospital; one neurologist said she'd never had anyone score as high (a perfect 100) on their key diagnostic test. Thus, all future expressions coming from me are authentic and not the by-product of hallucinogenic drugs.

3. For the first three months of my hospital stay I had a feeding tube inserted into my belly. It was awful: all nutrition and medicine were delivered through it. (Myasthenia gravis affects swallowing so I couldn't accept anything orally.) I wasn't allowed to eat food during those three months which sucked enormously. You have no idea how important eating is to our emotional health. I watched meal trays get delivered to fellow patients with deep envy. For solace I made lists of ambrosia I wanted to eat in the future. That reminded me of when I was a teenager: I frequently starved myself to qualify for wrestling weight-limit classes. (Everyone wrestled at 10-20 lbs. under their normal weight.)

On May 5th I finally passed the "swallow test" during which you're X-ray-ed swallowing to make sure food goes down the right pipe. Myasthenia gravis was causing me to "aspirate" food into my lungs, a dangerous thing. Yesterday I had the feed-tube removed. Shockingly, during that process I saw the tube is over two feet long. Imagine a tube being pulled out of your belly that's two feet long. A rubber snake was inside me for five months. Geez...

4. Last note: Doctors tried two common medicines on me for myasthenia gravis but both had terrible side-effects. One accelerated my heart so fast it became life-threatening; another caused unstoppable secretions that choked me and prevented sleep. Doctors finally found a treatment that works (Solaris) which is vital because I need treatment for the rest of my life. That third treatment is delivered every two weeks by IV, which can be painful. (I once had five unsuccessful attempts to insert an IV in one hour.) 

Good news: There is a new replacement drug for Solaris called Ultomiris. Ultomiris needs to be injected only once every eight weeks. I just qualified for it by taking six vaccines to prevent deadly side-effects.

Ultomiris is advertised on TV dozens of times every day. You see those ads even if you aren't paying attention. Similarly there are ads for other myasthenia gravis meds so, if you listen, you'll hear those words spoken too. Often we don't see/hear things unless we relate to them, like when you buy a Mazda Miata and suddenly see dozens of them on the road.

A big lesson I learned from the first half of this year is the intensity of pain and discomfort people can experience from serious illness. Sympathize with those poor folks -- whom you may join someday -- because their struggle is our struggle. Nobody is immune from disease and none of us should ignore the suffering of others. Appreciate your good health; don't take it for granted; and open your heart to the less fortunate.

Aloha.

Big Ralph

I visited my dad today on his 95th birthday (National Cemetery, Farmingdale). The experience felt atavistic. I couldn't help but ponder past paths taken by my ancestors.

My dad was born and raised in a war-zone (Germany during WWII). He survived aerial bombing and immigrated to the U.S. in 1952. Immediately joining the U.S. Army he fought in Korea and was naturalized a citizen in exchange for that service. Then he spent 30 years working as a police officer in Lloyd Harbor. He retired as Chief of Police with a generous civil service pension. Four decades of blithe ease in Florida followed. 

The only things that marred my father's life were premature deaths of my mother Barbara Jo (54) and brother Richard (33) in the early 1990s. Those dolorous events shook both of us to the bone. I was so crushed I nearly had heart attacks at the funerals.

I hope all of you have fortunate long lives and avoid tragedy.

P.S., Since returning home from the hospital my body is getting stronger. Daily exercise and out-patient physical therapy are re-building my muscles and endurance. Yay!

Recovery

 After four months in the hospital I finally returned home yesterday. It was a lengthy stay -- the last time I washed my hair Joe Biden was still President.

To celebrate my return I'm adopting "Stayin' Alive" as my new theme song. Sung by the Bee Gees, this hit opened "Saturday Night Fever," a brilliant film that launched John Travolta's career. Check it out.

I still have a lot of rehabilitation work to do. I'm agog to meet the challenge and effloresce. My leg muscles enervated lying in bed and need quotidian exercise. To assist the effort I bought "the Rolls Royce of Walkers" which strengthens your body while also brewing delicious espresso. :)

Do you remember me?

New York

Reading Jimmy Breslin reminds me of the New York of my youth. Back then the city wasn't only dirty and dangerous, it was corrupt. Bribery and patronage were pervasive. In fact public corruption was so entrenched that politicians openly joked about it.

My favorite line is from powerful Brooklyn boss Meade Esposito. Responding to a reporter's question about one patronage scandal Esposito said, "Hey, I didn't go into politics to become a poor man."

Abraham Lincoln

Today is Abraham Lincoln's birthday (1809). He was, of course, our 16th President until assassinated in office in 1865.

I'm not normally a jingoistic man but admit feeling intense pride when visiting the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C. The size of the structure, its humanity strike a deep chord in me. If you've never been there, go. It's viscerally moving.

Eight-score and two years ago Lincoln delivered his famous Gettysburg Address. Its occasion was the dedication of the Gettysburg National Cemetery. The Cemetery is located on the site of a Civil War battleground where many soldiers, from both sides, fought and died.

Written on the back of an envelope during the train ride there, Lincoln's words echo through the ages. Anyone unconvinced of the power of language should read these words. Here's an excerpt from the Address:

"The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated [this ground], far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us — that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion — that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain — that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom — and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the Earth."

Jimmy Breslin

Jimmy Breslin was the best newspaperman of the 20th Century. He achieved fame through trenchant writing and uninvited circumstance. Breslin's prose plumbed and found the emotional truth of events. Despite using simple words his newspaper columns were poetic in the best sense: he presented facts, facts, facts, carefully selecting those which described the heart of a story.

Breslin viewed life from the perspective of the common man. One characteristic column -- which became so famous it's now taught in journalism school -- was Jimmy's report from President John F. Kennedy's funeral. Hundreds of reporters from around the world covered the story conventionally. Not Jimmy. He went to the laborer who made $3 an hour digging the hole for Kennedy's grave. Breslin interviewed the gravedigger and wrote about his perspective. It was genius.

Jimmy Breslin was born in Queens in 1928. He devoted six decades to chronicling New York's power brokers, mobsters, cops, thieves and ordinary citizens. After starting at the Long Island Press (a newspaper I read in my youth) Breslin wrote for the New York Herald Tribune where he met fellow-journalist Tom Wolfe. Tom and Jimmy were as opposite as possible but earned the other's deep respect. Wolfe, a sharp-dressed boulevardier with genteel education and effulgent vocabulary, was a vivid contrast to Jimmy's slovenly appearance. Breslin came from, wrote for and lived among New York's working class. Wolfe saw authenticity in that. After the Herald Tribune folded, Tom and Jimmy joined and wrote for New York magazine. Jimmy later went off to the New York Daily News and after that, to Long Island's newspaper, Newsday.

What attracted Tom and Jimmy to each other was how hard they worked. Both hit the streets, conducted multiple interviews and did the labor necessary to "get the story right." Both prized detail and truth. Both revered journalism as a consecrated mission. Despite coming from radically different backgrounds, both united and walked in the same professional direction. This explains why my appreciation for Tom Wolfe spills over into respect for Jimmy Breslin.

Fifty years ago New York City was dominated by the "Son of Sam" murders. At the time the City was dirty, derelict and dangerous. I remember walking in Times Square during the 1970s sensing palpable peril. New York's atmosphere was accurately captured by Martin Scorsese in his classic film, "Taxi Driver."

David Berkowitz, who called himself "Son of Sam", was a serial killer. He murdered for no reason. His victims were women with long brown hair (and sometimes their boyfriends, if present). "Sam" was intelligent but insane. For two years everyone in New York was arrantly fixated and afraid of Sam. The randomness of his killing left everyone feeling vulnerable. Thousands of women cut their hair short or dyed it bright colors, desperately trying to avoid being shot. Wig stores reported selling out their entire inventories.

Breslin's paper, the New York Daily News, covered the story extensively and relentlessly. Since Jimmy was their best reporter everyone turned to his daily column for updates on the police investigation.

After the killings started Sam sent a handwritten letter to the police. He then sent another letter directly to Breslin in which offered admiration for Jimmy's coverage of the story. The Daily News gave that letter to the police who verified its authenticity from a fingerprint. The paper published the murderer's letter along with a reply to him from Breslin. 

Experts believed Sam wanted public recognition for his crimes and that's why he contacted Jimmy. Breslin's response was to tell the killer that the only safe option was to turn himself in, either to Jimmy personally or to the police. Breslin told Sam he could call Jimmy at the newspaper since "[t]he only people I don’t answer are bill collectors."

This issue of the Daily News sold the most copies in the newspaper's history.

The killings continued. After a lucky break (discovery of an incriminating parking ticket) police solved the case and arrested Sam. He pled guilty to numerous murders and spent every day since then in prison. (He's still alive.) Breslin died in 2017 at age 88.

Jimmy Breslin wrote literally thousands of newspaper columns. Some have been collected in books. Breslin just received his first biography which I highly recommend ("Jimmy Breslin: The Man Who Told the Truth," by Richard Esposito). He was also the subject of an Emmy-winning documentary ("Breslin and Hamill: Deadline Artists" [HBO/MAX, 2018]).

Few of us leave marks as indelible as this writer. Looking back at his work is inspiring.

Capybara Fever

Humans are weird. They ignore most nature but fetishize some cuddly animals. Like the capybara, a giant rodent.

The capybara is both a rodent and a mammal. They are gentle creatures despite their large size and odd shape. They can grow to over 200 lbs. They are also semi-aquatic which is why they have webs on their furry paws.

Capybaras have huge fan-bases on (human) social media. The New Yorker just printed an amusing paean to the capybara by a famous writer. He describes visiting zoos to see some and a long trek to South America to see more. In Japan there are "capybara cafes" where, for money, you can drink coffee with a capybara while it chews on carrots. The cafes have lines out the door.

The magazine author describes another odd thing. In Florida -- of course -- an animal sanctuary has capybaras. For $35, they will write any message on edible paper ("Happy Birthday, Gunther!") and feed it to the animals. Patrons get to watch their message being eaten on video. The sanctuary calls these "Capygrams."

Weird.

Chinese/Lunar New Year

Today is the Chinese/Lunar New Year! One of the most important holidays in Asia it inaugurates the new "Year of the Snake." So stop absent-mindedly writing "Year of the Dragon" on your checks. :)

New Year festivals have many traditions, my favorite of which is to eat dumplings. They're a symbol of health and prosperity; plus they taste good. There are several exceptional dumpling restaurants on Long Island; the best is near me in Syosset. Their dumplings explode with bold flavor and sumptuous warmth.

For the first time, schools are closed throughout New York State today in honor of this holiday. It's customary for adults to give younger adults and children "red envelopes" containing money. If you want one from me you'll have to wear something red and show some interest in foreign culture. 

May everything you wish come true!

Spicy Felafel Pocket

I stop at Starbucks as reward for walking a mile and enjoy several of their offerin. Like the "Americano" (espresso and hot water) and "Impossible Breakfast Sandwich." Eager to expand my favorites I leapt at a chance to try two new options, one a sandwich (good!), the other a drink (not for me).

The "Spicy Felafel Pocket" is tasty with nice flavor and medium heat. My only complaint is its small size. I need two of them to be sated. The sandwich is described as "vegan-friendly" which means it waves at vegetarians when they walk by. :)

The new drink is "Cortado." It's espresso (50%) and steamed milk (dairy/oat) (50%). Despite being served in a small cup (8 oz.) the Cortado packs a powerful punch of caffeine: it contains THREE shots of espresso. (My Americano has only one shot.) After drinking the deceptively potent Cortado my heart raced all day like a rabbit on speed.

As we bikers say, YMMV (your mileage may vary).

The Value of Libraries

Public libraries help many of us. My local library, threatened with budget cuts, is inviting patrons to share stories of library experiences to illustrate their value. I answered the call with a paean to my library. It confirmed the piece will be included in its next publication.

Here's a copy of that short essay:

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = X

For six decades the South Huntington Public Library has been an invaluable source of education, entertainment and companionship. Moreover, at pivotal moments in my life the library played a critical role in providing assistance unavailable elsewhere. I am deeply grateful for public libraries; they are effulgent institutions in our society.

When I was young (8-10 years old) I knew I was different from other children. Different in a fundamental way but which was not well-known. There was no public discussion of my situation and adults I questioned conceded confusion. So I turned to my local library which had a shelf full of books on the subject. After reading every book on that shelf I had a better understanding of who I am, of the existence of others sharing my condition, and of the then-current state of scientific knowledge.

My parents were immigrants and our family was working class. We had no money for luxuries like books so I learned to ask to be taken to the local library where I could explore its wide range of publications. The diversity of magazines alone astonished me and opened doors in my mind. Art! Adventure! Archaeology! And those were just the "A"s! I consumed books voraciously and was the only child on our block whose mother complained I read too much. "Put down that book and go outdoors!"

I continued patronizing the library throughout my adulthood. During a 42-year career as a litigation attorney I frequently researched law at the public library and investigated facts in its reference publications. 

Last year I turned 65 and was stricken by a sudden attack of glaucoma; it destroyed 80% of my eyesight. Coping with unexpected vision-loss I again looked to my local library -- and found help. Now facing two obstacles (visual impairment and inability to drive) I use an e-reader. I discovered reading on a Kindle is easier for me than taking in a printed book due to the electronic device's capacity for adjusting brightness and word-size. Plus the Libby program enables me to borrow e-books without having to travel physical distance. That matters now.

Finally, I've attended several musical concerts at the South Huntington Public Library since losing vision. These events enrich my life. The comfortable library setting, friendly patrons and accommodating library staff enable me to enjoy live music close to home. 

No social institution has done more to benefit me than the local public library.

Logical Deduction

It's possible to deduce conclusions by observing facts. For example, you can tell which of my neighbors tipped the garbage men for Christmas and which did not.

After the holidays I noticed something: at some homes (like ours) garbage men empty our cans and carefully return them to the driveway with lids neatly on top. At other homes cans are tossed pell-mell down the street with lids strewn in every direction.

Garbage men may not be educated but they're not dumb. And they know how to communicate.

My Pet Rock

I just commented on a friend's post (about the recent craze for Stanley cups) and thought you  might enjoy hearing a piece of my past. You are probably too young to remember this. Here's what I wrote:

In the history of commercial idiocy I plead guilty to spending real money ($4, back when they meant something) to buy a "Pet Rock" in 1975. It was an ordinary rock, like one you'd find on the ground, packaged in a cardboard box with air holes in it for "ventilation." What made the purchase sensible was an included brochure on "How To Care For Your Pet Rock," a funny piece of satire. In my defense I was a high school senior with an eccentric outlook on life. 

The guy who sold pet rocks became a millionaire from the idea.

More info: link and a second link 

Janus/January

Did you know that January is named for the Roman god Janus? 

Two thousand years ago Julius Caesar established the modern calendar and chose the first month of the year to be "the Month of Janus." The reason for this is because Janus, always depicted with two faces, represents transition: the end of an old year and beginning of a new one. Janus's two faces display his ability to view both the past and the future.

The last motorcycle I bought was named Janus. It was custom-built by a small company in Indiana. When my eyes went bad I gave away my two BMW motorcycles but clung to my first and last bikes (Kawasaki Vulcan and Janus Halcyon). I retained these motorcycles for sentimental reasons and hope to display them in a future private museum

You'll note from the picture below that the gas-cap on the motorcycle shows the two faces of Janus. Happy January!