The sound of one hand typing.

I had surgery on my right shoulder last Friday. All went well. The doctor said this shoulder was not as severe as the left one was. I had to stay in recovery longer this time because the morphine wasn’t working and they had to use something else. It felt like my shoulder was trying to explode. So I was well juiced when I left the out patient clinic to go home.

All I did all weekend was sleep, eat, and pee. My pills were on a 4-hour schedule and I would usually sleep about 3 ½ hours in between. The doctor prescribed two types of pain pills for me. The red ones, better known as the big guns, and the white ones – wimpy enough that I could take 2 every 4 hours instead of 1 like the big guns. I could pretty well tell when it was time to take pills by the pain level of the shoulder. I’m spending most of my time in the recliner and it is working well. The tricky part is that the chair is made for right-handers and I can’t use my right arm. Of course, with 2 people we can coordinate reclining and sitting up. But there are times when it would be nice to be able to get in and out of the recliner without help. So I’ve developed entry and exit techniques that may not be pretty to watch but do get me in and out without using or stressing my right arm.

I am, to borrow a term from my mother, “loopy” and at times more than just a little from the medication. On Saturday I would fall asleep without notice. I was eating pasta Penny made for me and when I drifted off I dropped my fork onto the plate thus waking me up. I guess that’s the way people fall asleep while driving. I usually don’t doze off without a conscious decision to do so. Then on Sunday eve I fell asleep hard. When I awoke the sun was rising and Penny was asking me what I wanted to eat. She suggested some left over pasta. I thought that was a strange breakfast so I asked for cereal. That’s what I normally ate for breakfast. She pointed out to me that it was Sunday evening not Monday. I know I’m going to be reminded of this “lovingly” at future family gatherings.
I still don’t know if that small lizard I saw run across the den floor was real or not. Brie didn’t chase it but did go sniff under the furniture it ran under. And yes, I’m even hearing voices. They are not telling me what to do, just echoing certain names, or comments about what is going on. Why do I keep hearing Diana DeGarmo’s name? I think I have truly achieved that semi-torpid state I always joke about.

The real proof of the shape my mind was in was the E-mail I thought I sent to Christy. I realized when I sent it that I capitalized the whole word “DAD”, but hey -it was typed one-handed! I got Christy a Sports Illustrated subscription and twice a week an on-line sports update is mailed to me. I forward it to Christy, usually with a little note. So that’s what I did. The next day I get an E-Mail back RE: Sports Illustrated saying “WHO IS THIS????” Here is what I sent:
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Subject: Fwd: SI Extra: All Eyes on the PGA
Date: 8/20/2006 3:24:17 P.M. Central Daylight Time
From: BARCMIT
Reply To:
To: cgc.ecommerce@cox.com



Well, im back to typing wit one hand.
I hope tour dw went well.

Love Uou,DAD
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I don’t know who cgc.ecommerce is; I also didn’t realize I made so many typos.


Another major effect of the drugs is on dreams. The strong pills produced scary dreams. They faded quickly once I woke up just leaving the scared feeling. Three bits of dreams I do remember were: being on patrol with a platoon in Vietnam, being involved in a terrorist attack, and trying to hide from something very resourceful and extremely evil. The weaker pills provide dreams full of vivid color and extreme detail. One scene I remember had a cast for some Broadway show all decked out in bright white costumes. The stage setting was like a fountain in a park and all the trees and shrubs were deep greens that contrasted with the white. The only reason I think I remember this part of the dream is that as it faded I noted a small girl dressed like a pioneer and there in front of her was a white chicken. For some reason I was impressed that they even had a white chicken in the cast. So this is where I should start talking like my Hippie brethren, like, far out man!

So, here it is Wednesday now and I think my right arm is recovering faster than my left arm did. I’m not taking any of the strong pain killer so the dreams are not scary. In fact I can’t remember any dreams today. The voices have all gone away – I’m going to miss them! So I’m returning to the old Paul again. But deep inside me, man, I, a, find myself kinda digging those old VW busses. They are so cool man! I think I’m gonna let my hair grow while my arm gets better. I saw this cool hair band that I can use to keep it outta my face. Then when I can drive again me and my woman will pack up all our Hendrix, Joplin, Jefferson Airplane and Dylan and Joni Mitchell tapes and head out to Haight-Ashbury in San Fransico to celebrate the 40th Anniversary of the Summer of Love. Hell, man, we even have a war we can protest! Oh man, can you dig that? It will be so cool! Wow! Now I’ve got something to look forward to after my recovery. That’s far out,man, hey- I feelin kinda mellow now. Are there any more sugar cubes?