Memoir of a Rural Sisyphus-Redux
For several years, I kept a diary of my inauguration into the Denman Community. This column, recently renamed Memoir of a Rural Sisyphus-Redux, will
extract a few of my observations from a dozen or more years ago and share them. Hopefully, they will have some modern times currency.
July 25, 2007
As I write, I have returned from Willo Walker, my acupuncturist. I have a needle in my ankle and one in my ear. I am wearing a healing patch on my knee. I also have pills, salves, ointments, homemade regimens of hot and cold torture, my Dr Ho kit ( Dr. Ho offers an almost acceptable mini-electrocution therapy), and more. Jimmy (a community member no longer with us) mentioned this morning that my knee was quite swollen. In addition to his eyeball diagnosis and suggested cures, he said, “Getting old isn’t for sissies.”
Too bad I am a sissy. It’s not looking good.
August 10, 2007
I resist the diary if only because I am demolished by hip and knee pain and, really, why would anybody want to hear about my decrepit decline. I don’t even want to hear about it. I can barely discuss this shooting ache, this lingering torment with Willo, or my GP. If I am not interested in my decline, why would anyone else be?
Willo is convinced I need surgery on my torn meniscus. I think this is correct. I am on a waitlist to see an orthopedic surgeon. Two, actually. An acquaintance has suggested I should go the private route. I say no, I have my principles. I will not jump the queue. Especially because of my crappy knee and hip, but also because, if I am anything, I am a socialist. Okay. A social democrat. Splitting hairs…I will go kicking and screaming (well, screaming in pain for sure but my kicking capacity is inhibited these days by my wonky knee) to the grave before I will pay hard cash for something that the state is prepared to provide.
October 12, 2007
The Valdy and Gary Fjellgaard concert is tonight. Fake beer and real wine on the deck at 3:30 this afternoon. A fantastic fall day. Damn knee still hurts.
I have a cinnamon concoction from Willo.
I relish the occasional therapeutic brew.
Some great folk music!
That’s it. Pain or not, I cannot, will not resist the concert tonight.