Lance Mannion

Wishing you whole bagfuls of leftover metaphorical Reeses!

Lifted from the album, Sunday, October 18, 2020. Posted Saturday morning, October 31.

Ready for Halloween and Thanksgiving! Note the note on the blackboard over on the left: Tantillo’s Farm Market. Sunday, October 18, 2020.

Took this photo on our way out of the farm market the day we caught our pumpkin, a real beaut by the way. A ten poundah! It’s carved and in the window, thanks to Ken Mannion, our house jack-o’lantern artist. We’ve test-fired it. Looks good. Spooky. We gave it a frightened face, in keeping with the mood of this election season. We’ll light it again tonight, even though we’re expecting no trick-or-treaters. At least, we’re hoping for no trick-or-treaters. We’re hoping they all go to the Lions Club’s trick-or-treat drive-thru at the riverside picnic grounds. And, no, not just because I get the whole bag of Reeses to myself. Wiseguy. Just in case, though, we’re putting a bowlful of candy on a table on the front walk. We’ll see what’s leftover at the end of the night. Like I said, I hope it’s every Reeses, Three Musketeers, Milky Way, Hershey bar, and bag of M&Ms. Sad to think about. It’s going to be a perfect night for trick-or-treats. Clear skies, full moon, not too chilly. Thanks for all you’ve done, 2020. At any rate, Happy Halloween from all of us here at the Mannionville Ranch. Whatever the day brings to your doorstep, I hope there’s plenty of Reeses leftover for you, metaphorical and real...

Lance, Mrs M, Ken, and Oliver!

We knew a dog who kept a man

Posted Wednesday morning, August 26, 2020.

Ready to ride!: Art the Wonder Dog in his prime. Cape Cod, July 25, 2010.

Art the Wonder Dog is gone. His heart just gave out on him the other day at the house on the Cape he graciously shared with Uncle Merlin and he fell over and that was it. Uncle Merlin was right there. He was 13 years old. The first people he met after Uncle Merlin picked him up at the puppy farm were us Mannions. The first house he slept in was ours and he seems to have regarded it as one of his real estate holdings. He was a very pragmatical dog. What's yours is mine and what's mine is mine, was his way of thinking, but he was never stingy about it. He loved us and we loved him and we loved having him visit. He had his own bowl and toys and blanket at the Homestead.

Uncle Merlin is heartbroken, naturally. But he says he's not feeling bereft. Art's spirit still fills the house. And Art had a long, healthy, and happy life. Still...

Charles Dickens once wrote that he knew a dog who kept a man. Art kept Uncle Merlin, although Uncle Merlin refuses to admit it. Now, even though Art's spirit is still keeping him company, Uncle Merlin needs some keeping. We can't get to the Cape, but fortunately Uncle Merlin has lots of friends nearby. But if you could keep Uncle Merlin in your thoughts and in your hearts, we'd be much obliged. And Art would demand it.

Another good reason to save the Post Office

Posted Monday morning, Bright Monday, April 13, 2020.

I put in a temporary change of address with the Post Office before we evacuated to the Old Mannion Homestead two weeks ago. I didn’t think to notify the Easter Bunny. But he still found us! I guess he and the Post Office have a working arrangement. Another reason to save the Post Office. I hope he found you or, better yet, what he symbolizes did.

Happy Easter!

Love from the Mannions,

Lance, Mrs M, Ken, and Oliver!

PS. Of course there are jelly beans. They’re at the bottom of the basket. What do you think we are, savages?

Shamrocks in Aisle 9. Shamrocks in Aisle 9

Lifted from the album, Tuesday morning, March 17, 2020. Posted Thursday morning, March 19.

Hannaford’s Supermarket, Plattekill, New York. Tuesday morning, March 17, 2020.

They may be running low on staples and supplies---I forget to check the produce department to see if they had any cabbage---but our local supermarket had shamrock balloons and a manager was going around the store handing out green carnations---while keeping the proper social distance, of course.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day and the luck of the Irish who were able to buy some corned beef for dinner tonight to ye!

Love and kisses even if you’re not Irish!

Lance, Mrs M, Ken, and Oliver Mannion!

Happy Hanukkah!

Posted Monday night, December 23, 2019.

Happy Hanukkah!

Love,

Lance, Mrs M, Ken, and Oliver!

Christmas moon

Posted Christmas morning, December 25, 2018.

The view from our window. Seven a.m., Sunday, December 23, 2018. That’s the moon in the center window pane, not the Star of Bethlehem, so I didn’t follow it, just admired it until the sun was fully up.

Regular readers will know why this is one of our saddest and yet most joyful Christmases. One reason it’s joyful is you. Thank you for your concern, help, love, and support. Without you I don’t know if we could have made it through this difficult year. We’re on our way up to my brother Lyle and my sister-in-law A’s place for Christmas dinner. We’ll be missing Pop Mannion, of course, but there will be nearly 30 of us at the table and that’s the reason for the season, as far as I’m concerned. I hope all of you find some loving company today. Be assured, that in spirit, we’re with you, all 30 of us, and you’re with us!

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

With love and thanks, from all of us in Mannionville…

Lance, Mrs M, Ken, and Oliver!

Divided Thanksgivings

Posted Thursday morning, November 22, 2018.

Waiting for pie: Tantillo’s Farm Market and Bakery, Gardiner, New York. Wednesday morning, November 21, 2018.

We live in a divided nation. I know this because the pundits, commentators, analysts, and political journalists keep telling me we do. And I suppose they’re right. We’re divided by race, by class, by regional and sectional differences in economies, cultures, demographics, histories, traditions, local needs, and communal and individual self-interests. The pundits and commentators and analysts and journalists seem to think it’s all “political”, as if politics is a thing in itself and something other than the umbrella word for all the ways people fight and squabble and argue as they improvise their way to forming and maintaining societies that best serve everybody’s spiritual and material well-being. And they---the pundits and commentators and analysts and journalists---seem to think that politics is all differences of opinion, and that the divisions caused by these differences of opinion could be smoothed over and resolved if we’d all just sit down and discuss it.

Of course they would think this. The pundits and commentators and analysts and journalists are intellectuals and academics and their heralds and scribes. All of life is wordplay to them. They believe that the way to solve every problem is to find the best words to describe the problem and then find another set of words that best describes a solution, the solution being tautologically revealed by its expression in the best words.

Like I said, we are divided, and every which way, but I don’t think it’s just by differences of opinion---certainly not ones that can be easily hashed out if we all just sat down and talked it out civilly in conversations whose guidelines are laid out for us by the pundits and commentators and analysts and journalists playing word games. I also wonder how much of what’s called political division is actually family dysfunction.

It’s a question of cause and effect, but there are lots of other things that divide families that aren’t in the op-ed pages’ sense political. “Politics” can cover any number of sins and pathologies: jealousies, grudges, tensions caused by stresses from illness, misfortune, and even good fortune---Ever tried to share a winning lottery ticket? Divvy up an unexpected inheritance?---disagreements, large and small, over how to handle problems, small and large, by people simply being people---personalities clash and there are individuals who were born not to get along with each other or with most people. Arguments may contain words that belong in a political debate but the feelings behind them are personal and intimate and often not understood or recognized by the people whose feelings they are.

By the way, those feelings don’t have to be angry, resentful, and accusatory. They can just as well be affectionate, tender, kindly, humorous, and embracing. It depends on the individuals gathered around the table. If you are lucky enough to belong to a family where the latter situation is the usual case, count your blessings.

I was thinking about this as I was waiting in line at the farm market bakery to pick up the pie we ordered to take up to my brother Larry’s as our contribution to the Thanksgiving feast he and my sister-in-law are hosting. The farm is family owned and run and the bakery counter was manned---girl-ed---by four members of the third generation, high-school age granddaughters of the still-thriving and involved seventy-something owners, a mix of cousins standing shoulder to shoulder at the counter to take customers’ money and fetch the pies and desserts they’d ordered from a storeroom in the back where boxes of waiting baked goods were stacked two, three, and four feet high from the tops of several long tables.

At a glance, you might have taken the cousins at the counter for quadruplets, They were around the same age, build, and complexion. The family resemblance was immediately noticeable. But what truly marked them as members of the same family were their identical bright smiles and shared airs of energetic cheerfulness.

Behind them was the window into the kitchen where there were more smiles and more cheerfulness as older women, college-aged and twenty-something cousins and middle-aged aunts, worked to add more pies and desserts to the stacks in the back. An uncle was in and out of the kitchen continually, carting pies hot from the oven on a tray with butterfly handles and bicycle grips to the storeroom where the owner and matriarch herself and her blue denim-aproned sister did the boxing.

This has been a very hard year here in Mannionville and for all the Mannions and their friends and relations spread far and wide. Even so, we have an awful lot to be thankful for, and included in that a lot is you.

People keep telling me what a good job I’m doing, holding things together and keeping the ranch going while taking care of Mrs M. I don’t feel like I am. What I feel is lucky.

Every day I find a new way I’ve failed, something else I’ve screwed up or missed or let drop. Every day, all day, I think I won’t make it through until bedtime. Every night I go to bed dreading morning. I keep telling myself that many people have it worse, much worse, and they keep going. But I take that to heart more as admonishment than inspiration. What keeps me going, besides Mrs M’s cheerfulness and bravery and the Mannion guys’ help and pluck, is your kindness, concern, encouragement, generosity, and faith, which you’ve managed to give us despite your all having troubles and problems of your own.

I am thankful to be going to a dinner where the conversation, even the part of it that’s arguments, will be full of affection, kindness, and good humor. But that’s also what I have here, on the blog, on Facebook, and even on Twitter. Families are the people you’re at home with and, as they say, home is where the heart is, and my heart is with all of you. I’m thankful for you and I thank you and wish you, along with Mrs M, Ken, and Oliver a Happy Thanksgiving, with pie as delicious as the mixed berry and apple one we’re bringing to the Mannion family feast and arguments full of affection and good humor and no words provided by the pundits, commentators, analysts, and journalists!

From our haunted house to yours

Posted Wednesday night, October 31, 2018

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Face designed by Mrs M. Carved by Ken Mannion.

Shrieks, screams, boos, evil laughter, and hugs, love, and Hershey kisses (We’re keeping all the Reese’s for ourselves), from all the Mannions…

Lance, Mrs M, Ken, and Oliver!

Mrs M's new view

Mined from the notebooks Wednesday afternoon, June 6, 2018. Posted Monday, June 11.

This is the common room just down the hall from Mrs M’s room in the rehab hospital. It’s going to be my office window for the next four to six weeks.

First things first. Thank you to all of you who have helped us out these last couple of months, and I’m not talking just to those who were able to help us out financially. I mean all of you! Your kindness, concern, encouragement, prayers, and love have kept all us Mannions going. Ken and Oliver join me in giving you our heartfelt thanks. It’s been hard to tell how much Mrs M has been able to take in, but I’ve been passing along your messages and I’m sure at some level she knows how good you’ve been to her and she’s sending you her love and thanks.

I’m sorry haven’t gotten out individual thank you notes yet, but they’re coming. I promise.

Now, the big and important news. Mrs M is not only out of the intensive care unit she’s out of the hospital where she had her surgery. Surgeries. Four of them. She’s still in the hospital just not that hospital. She was discharged from Westchester Medical Center yesterday afternoon (Tuesday, June 5) and moved to Helen Hayes Rehabilitation Hospital. This was always the plan. It just happened about three weeks later than we expected. Mrs M had a very rough time of it after her second brain surgery. Worried the hell out of her doctors for a while. Worried the hell out of me more. I’ll post more details soon but for now the main thing to know is that two more operations later the crisis has passed and she’s ready for the therapy that will get her up on her feet and moving again. I’m putting it mildly. She has to undergo a lot of therapy in order to get back control of her body and to start speaking and thinking like her old self. They’re going to be working her hard. (They’re already working her hard. She’s with her speech therapist now. She worked with a physical therapist and an occupational therapist in the morning.) But the doctors and therapists are fairly confident that she’ll be back to her old self in, well, that will be determined over time. They’re thinking four weeks at least, but six weeks is more likely. Then she’s probably going to have to come back here regularly as an outpatient for a few more months. But it all depends on Mrs M’s strength, determination, and resilience and she’s has plenty of all three.

That’s the big news. The little news is that there are several comfortable, semi-private places for me to set up my computer and write right here on Mrs M’s floor, including the room pictured above. There were none that I found at Westchester Med. Now I’ll be able to do some catching up, which is why what’s going to start appearing here on the blog is a random mix of current news, not so new news, what’s already old news, and ancient history. Make sure you check the dateline on posts so you’ll know why I’m posting about, for instance, a month-old David Brooks column.

Again, thank you again, and thank you all for sticking with the blog. If you’d like to send Mrs M a card she and her speech therapists would much appreciate it---they can use them to help her reorient her focus so she can start reading again. You can send them to my address:

PO Box 1197, New Paltz, New York, 12561.

Mother’s Day Medical Update on my favorite mother

Posted Sunday morning, May 13, 2018.

Happy Mother’s Day!

One of my favorite pictures of my favorite mother with her then little boys: Oliver, age 1 1/2, on Mrs M's lap, and Ken going on 4. Taken on our pals Nance and Al's porch in Fort Wayne, 1997. We were back there on a visit to see their new baby daughter Kate.

Mrs M isn't bouncing back from her second operation the way she seemed to be bouncing back from the first, but she is recovering. Slow but sure. Yesterday she was awake and alert for most of the time I was there. Not much energy to talk yet but lots of smiles. Tomorrow she's having a shunt put in. Another operation but much less serious. They're hoping she can move to rehab at the end of the week. But one day at a time.

Thanks again for all your concern, support, well wishes, and help.

Guys and I are about to head down to the hospital to celebrate Mother's Day with Mrs M. And we are celebrating because we have much to celebrate. Hope you do too!

A note of apology from the Editor

Posted Wednesday morning, May 2, 2018.

You might have noticed that blogging has been less than prolific around here lately. Things have been somewhat hectic at the Mannionville Ranch for the last month and especially for the last couple of weeks. I’ve actually been writing up a storm but mostly while waiting in various doctor’s offices and when stopped off for quick coffee refuels on my way here and there and it’s all gone into my notebooks. I haven’t had the time or the energy to type things into the computer. But I promise to get to it. It’s just going to happen sporadically and without rhyme or reason. Which is why there’s going to be a lot of old news in the posts. Like today’s first post, Rumors of trade wars: Two. I hope you won’t mind and keep checking in to read. I’ll try to keep things lively and current by mixing it up. But it will probably be a week or so before I truly get back on track, because…

We’re checking Mrs M into the hospital today for her surgery tomorrow. It’s going to be a long next few days.

Bad news, but not the worst news

Posted Thursday, April 26, 2018.

Mrs M hard at work and hard at play on Uncle Merlin’s porch on Cape Cod, July 2010.

Good morning family, friends, and fans of Mrs M...

Time for this week’s medical update and the news is not good. It's not the worst news, but it’s definitely not good. Mrs M has been diagnosed with hydrocephalus. That’s otherwise known as water on the brain but it’s more complicated and more serious than that makes it sound. I’ll putting the link to the Mayo Clinic’s page of it below and as you will see, it explains Mrs M’s major symptoms. You’ll also see that it can be caused by a number of things and one of them is a tumor. And that’s what’s happened to Mrs M. She has a brain tumor and is going to have surgery to remove it.

Now...the tumor itself is not what most concerns the neurosurgeons. She has a team of them. Two excellent doctors, one of whom specializes in removing tumors. From what they can see from her “films”---she’s had a CT scan and an MRI---they think the tumor is an old one, possibly one that’s been there for years. So not fast growing. Possibly not growing at all. And probably not malignant. They won’t know for sure until they take it out and biopsy it. So they don’t sound too worried about it. (Worried of course but not too worried.) Their main concern at the moment is dealing with the hydrocephalus and they both seem confident that removing the tumor will take care of that. Still brain surgery is scary and we’re scared, of course. But Mrs M is being very brave and even cheerful about it. Just knowing what’s wrong with her and that it can be fixed has boosted her morale a good deal. She’s still weak and tired and doesn’t have much energy but those are some of the symptoms so she feels more in charge of herself, if you know what I mean. Also being in the hands of some excellent doctors---not just these two but Dr P and her psychiatrist and counselor (she’s still suffering from severe depression, which probably isn’t caused by either the tumor or the hydrocephalus although both can be making it more severe) and the ophthalmologist that surgeons had her see to check the pressure on her nerves, as well as the neurologist she saw along the way, has already had a healing effect.

The surgery is tentatively scheduled for Thursday, May 3. I’ll be posting lots of updates before then and of course while she’s in the hospital. I’ll have another update later today with more details. But I wanted to let you all know what’s happening as soon as I could, after we told our families.

Like I said, she’s in good spirits and has been more active and engaged. She’s even getting some of her appetite back. I no longer have to bribe her with breakfast to get her to leave the house, although she just expects it. She doesn’t exactly demand it but it’s clear getting her to the diner is part of my job description now.

That’s all for now. Like I said, more details to follow.

Here's the Mayo Clinic link:

https://www.mayoclinic.org/…/h…/symptoms-causes/syc-20373604

Update on Mrs M

Posted Monday afternoon, March 5, 2019.

Hello folks. Thanks again for your concern for Mrs M. I wish I had good news to report. But then I don't have any more worse news. She continues to be unwell and is pretty much confined to bed. She has an appointment with a specialist on Thursday. I don't expect to have answers. It's the beginning of what I expect to be a long process of figuring out what's wrong and how to treat it. But it's a beginning.

I'll keep you posted. Meanwhile your prayers and encouragement are much appreciated by me and the the Mannion guys as well as Mrs M.

If you think of it and want to send her a card, you can send it to my post office box: PO Box 1197, New Paltz, NY 12561.

Ken Mannion's terrific reading list

Posted Saturday morning, January 27, 2018. Adapted from the Twitter Feed, January 24, 2018.

One of the authors whose books Ken Mannion 's American Social and Cultural History class will be working on this semester: “Studs Terkel in 1992 taking a bus home after working on his show at WFMT radio in Chicago.” Photo by Chris Walker/Chicago Tribune via AP via the New York Times.

For those of you who haven’t heard Ken Mannion’s good news. His tuition’s paid and he’s registered for his spring classes!

His first class meets this afternoon (Wednesday.) It’s called American Social and Cultural History: 1877-Present, and it has a great reading list. I’m jealous! It includes Studs Terkel’s The Good War. Isn’t that great? A whole new generation reading Studs’ stuff.

There are also books by David Halberstam---The Fifties---and John Steinbeck. The Steinbeck I’m ashamed to admit I hadn’t heard of let alone read. The Harvest Gypsies.

Then there’s A Tree Grows in Brooklyn and, weirdly, some Mickey Spillane.

Yep. Mickey Spillane. The professor’s a woman too. Go figure.

Several other books I don’t recognize but look interesting.

So Ken’s got a lot of reading ahead, which is fine with him. He loves to read.

His other class is Medieval Society. That meets tomorrow. Only one textbook for that one, but the course sounds fascinating, and the professor is supposed to be one of the best in the history department.

Ken’s excited and extremely grateful to all of you who helped with his tuition. His parents are too. Ken’s sending out thank you notes to folks he knows personally. I’m taking care of the rest. May take me a while to get back to all of you because there are so many of you, but I will get back to you. In the meantime, heartfelt thanks to all of you who donated and to all of you who expressed your concern and support for Ken and to all of you who read the blog.

I’m one lucky blogger!

A note of thanks

Posted Monday morning, January 8, 2018.

I've started sending out individual thank you notes, but I wanted all of you who helped out with our emergency fundraiser to know how grateful we are for your kindness and generosity.

I'll be posting the details of our bad news soon, after we tell our families. Straits are still dire and are going to stay that way for a while. I haven't yet figured out how to navigate them, but rest assured we're all healthy and all together, so we have that to be thankful for. And we have all of you. Thanks again for your love and kindness!

One of the very few points on which the GOP and I agree

Posted Sunday morning, November 19, 2017.

Got an email the other day from the Nation headed "Republicans in Congress think you're an idiot" and my first thought was "Who told them?”

A letter to my Congressman, written from the doctor’s office

Adapted from the Twitter feed, Thursday morning, March 9, 2019. Posted Wednesday evening, March 22.

Hon. John Faso
19th Congressional District New York
1616 Longworth HOB
Washington, DC 20515

Dear Congressman Faso,

Constituent here. I'm writing from my doctor's office. I'm here with my wife who's having a blood test.

She's been having a number of health problems and our doctor ordered some blood work.

He also wants her to have some gastro-intestinal tests. Those are coming up in a couple of weeks.

Since we're here, I made an appointment for my regular diabetes checkup. I come in every few months for one of those.

Next month I'm seeing the ophthalmologist for my annual exam, also diabetes related. Making sure it's not damaging my eyes.

Last week I was at the orthopedic surgeon's for a follow up to the back surgery I had last summer. He's says I'm doing well, thanks.

The diabetes and my back problem---stenosis in three vertebrae.---are pre-existing conditions, by the way. So is my high blood pressure. We changed insurance companies in January. The new insurance company covers them. No questions asked.  I didn’t have to join any high-risk pools.

You see what I'm getting at? We have a lot of medical expenses. Fortunately our private insurance covers almost all of it. The co-pays aren’t cheap but they’re not crushing.

If we didn't have good insurance, we wouldn't be able to afford any of this. So here's my question.

What do you and your GOP colleagues expect people with similar medical problems whose health insurance you’re taking away to do?

Not have the tests they need to find out if something's seriously wrong? Go blind from unchecked diabetes? Live out their lives with crippling back pain and degenerating spines? Keel over from strokes and drop dead in their tracks from heart attacks?

Asking for a friend...and our neighbors...and our fellow residents of your Congressional district...and our fellow Americans...and our fellow human beings.

Lance Mannion

Ulster County

Medical Alert

Posted Thursday evening, January 5, 2017.

I've decided I'm sick. Know how I could tell? I was thinking about heading over to B&N for some coffee but talked myself out of it because it seemed like too much of hassle.

Not exactly the Cratchits here

Saturday night, December 24, 2016.

Well, plan was we'd be down at Mother Blonde's cottage for Christmas eve, having dinner with her and Mrs M's brother and sister and their families. But Mrs M has the flu. She's buried under the covers in bed. So we're stuck here for tonight. Maybe tomorrow too. But no fear! Tonight I whipped up dinner for the Mannion guys and me. A whole turkey breast from the supermarket deli and sides from various cans, boxes, bags, and jars---mashed potatoes, stuffing, mixed vegetables, and cranberries. Turned out pretty good. For dessert we have apple pie. Store bought but it looks delicious.

Tomorrow afternoon, if Mrs M still isn't up for traveling, we're going to see Rogue One and then having dinner at Perkins.

A merry enough Christmas, all things considered. Hope yours is at least as merry! And Happy Hanukkah too!

Chronicle of My Recovery

Adapted from my Twitter and Facebook feeds and mined from the notebooks. September 14, 2016.

On Wednesday morning, July 27, I went into the hospital for long-needed surgery on my back. The operation appears to have done what I needed it to do, put me back on my feet, but the recovery’s taking a little longer than I expected.

July 27. 7:38 P.M. Apparently I'm alive folks!

July 28. 7:54 A.M. I haven't had coffee it 36 hours! Just ordered a whole pot from the hospital cafe. They say it'll take 45 minutes. That's inhuman!

July 28. 11:00 A.M. Physical therapist came by. Had me take a walk around the hospital floor. Did three laps. Spent the whole time talking about his junior high school age son’s golf game. Apparently the kid’s a phenom.

July 29. 3:42 a.m. The night nurses hate me.

July 29. 8:30 a.m. I'm such a goddamn big baby!

July 29. 7:54 P.M. Feeling much more upbeat tonight. Seems the last person to get the news I was having major surgery was me. Apparently what happened last night was I forgot where I was and tried to make a break for it. But I had a good day and have been up and walking around and they'll probably send me home tomorrow.

The nurses did tape this over my bed though.

 

July 30. 7:38 A.M. Hey, what's going on here? I'm still in the hospital!

July 30. 2:00 P.M. Cheryl, the day nurse is great. Cheerful, friendly, interested, concerned, encouraging, although her favorite words of encouragement are, “It’s going to get worse before it gets better.”

July 31. 10:50 A.M. Today's medical update: Most important thing, Mrs M showed up early bearing coffee, so clearly she's not holding this invalid thing against me.

Next: I may be sprung today but it's more likely going to be tomorrow because there's equipment that needs to be in place at home beforehand and it probably can't be delivered until tomorrow.

Finally: I still hurt but I'm definitely on the mend. I'm getting around. In fact, I feel best when I'm up and walking, so the danger is I'll wear myself out doing laps around the floor. Have to learn to pace myself.

July 31. 5:23 P.M. HOME! I'm home! Hospital kicked me out late this afternoon. And it's all legal and everything! No one's coming after me to drag me back! So we're celebrating tonight with pie!

August 1. 8:12 A.M. Hey! Where are the nurses to make a fuss over me? Why hasn't room service sent up my coffee yet? It's almost like I'm not in the hospital anymore!

August 2. Valium now or Valium in an hour?

August 3. Today's interesting medical fact: you aren't in a condition to drive when you're doped up on percocet and valium. Somebody should have warned me ahead of time so I could have made plans.

August 4. Today's planned two steps on the road to recovery: beginning the switch from Percocet to Tylenol and...shaving!

August 5. Beautiful morning here. How is it by you? Been out for a walk yet? I have. Yup. All the way up to the corner and back. Mrs M could hardly keep up. Gonna do it again in a little while. If I get up to speed, I might just keep walking until I reach Cape Cod.

August 6. 8:26 P.M. Well, today was just no darn fun.

August 7. 1:02 P.M. The Mannion guys and Mrs M have gone off to the movies. I don't mind being left behind. Sitting for two hours in the theater would probably be torture. So I'm here alone and ready to party! Of course, shape I'm in, a party means taking a Valium and a four hour nap. But still...wild man!

August 7. 10:27 P.M. Going through my Twitter and Facebook timelines and liking just about every post. I think this is because there's simply lots going on out there to like and not because I overdid it on the painkillers.

August 8. 9:48 A.M. Took a walk all by myself just now. Just me and my walker all the way up to the corner and back. Felt like a real hero. Now I feel like a nap.

August 10. 9:13 A.M. Just got back from dropping Mrs M off at the bus depot. Later, I'll be taking Oliver to work. Yep. I can drive. I've quit taking the Percocet and Valium so if a cop stops me I'll pass the drug tests. So I'm mobile! Where should I go?

August 12. 8:26 A.M. First extended drive. 45 minute round trip taking Oliver up to work and...A bear! A bear! We saw a bear in the road!

August 13. 12 P.M. I was a goddamn superhero yesterday. And I'm paying for it today. So I think I've earned the right be a goddamn big baby for the rest of the afternoon.

August 13. 7:20 P.M. Laughter isn't the best medicine. Percocet is. But laughter's a close second, followed by pizza. Which is why tonight is Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt and pizza night here in Mannionville!

August 15.  8:58 A.M. All right. This recovery business has gone on long enough. The operation was two and a half weeks ago. I've been home from the hospital for two weeks. It's time for me to be all better and to get back to work busting broncos and fighting crime.

August 15. 10:43 P.M. Side-effect of Percocet they don't warn you about: an uncontrollable urge to whistle. I've been whistling "Don't Fence Me In" non-stop for the last half hour. My family hates me.

August 16. 12:30 P.M. This morning I was at the surgeon's for my first post-op follow up. Folks there were pleased with my progress. But to help the healing I was fitted with a "bone growth stimulator." I'm not sure how it works but the way it was explained to me sounded very scientific.

It *sounded* scientific but how would I know? For all I understood it, they might have been outfitting me with a magic wand.

At any rate, I'm supposed to belt the thing on and wear it for two hours every day. And, said the tech, at the end of six weeks...PRESTO!

All better.

My response to this news was a stoical, "SIX MORE WEEKS? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?"

I don't think I'm very good at this stoicism thing.

August 19. 9:00 A.M. Took a walk along the riverfront this morning and saw a Trump voter suffering from real economic anxiety.

August 20. The Mannion guys have been taking real good care of me, leading to the question, Who’s carrying who these days?

August 21. 10:19 P.M. Ok. I need to be all better in the morning so that's what I'm going to be. No more malingering.

August 24. 8:45 P.M. Being a good patient and wearing my bone growth stimulator which requires me to sit still for 2 hrs doing nothing. So basically it's like being sent for an adult time-out.

August 29. 10:07 A.M. Sears sent me an email this morning asking if I need help with my "appliance repair." They mean fixing our washing machine which I bought a new part for from them just before I went into the hospital. I do need the help. It's just a matter of putting in the part but I can't do that myself because of the bending, lifting, and twisting involved. And I was warned by my doctor. NO BLT! (That's bending, lifting, and twisting. You probably figured that out.) But if this morning's an indication, I'll be able to do it.

YARD WORK!

I DID YARD WORK!

Nothing heavy. Just some weeding and hedge trimming. Very little BLT. But I was on my feet and out moving about for a good 20 minutes with a minimum of pain and without collapsing.

I would still be at it, in fact, if it wasn't so hot and humid.

So, thanks anyway, Sears, but I think I got this.

September 9. 12:44 P.M. Ok, I think I’ve milked this recovery business for all the pity and attention it’s worth. When my surgeon and set things up back in May, he warned me that the recovery could take up to six weeks and I laughed a cavalier’s laugh. Two, maybe three weeks tops, I promised myself. It’s now been six weeks and two days. So I must be recovered. And actually I am feeling much better. But I’m also tired of feeling sorry for myself. And I’m feeling guilty about it too. It’s not just that I am feeling better enough that any complaints I still have sound to me like whining. And it’s not just that as we’ve been so sadly reminded by Father Blonde’s death that there are worse things or that I know there are people who’ve gone through more intensive surgeries and suffered longer and more difficult recoveries or that there are even more people with illnesses and conditions that no surgery can fix. While I was in the hospital, the daughter of some friends of ours, a little girl fifteen months old, went into the hospital too. She was being treated for leukemia. She’s now down in New York City at Sloan-Kettering undergoing a second round of treatment. Reports are she’s bearing it all with cheerfulness and patience. She’s a little heroine and an inspiration and object lesson to whiny and self-pitying adults like me to shut up.

September 14. 10:30 A.M. Back at B&N for the first time in the seven weeks since the surgery and my favorite barista remembered my Membership number!

Chewie, we're home!