Sunday Morning Post, Vol. 3, #39: Oh, Let's Have a Little Fun
Today, we should have fun at the expense of our own grief. The video selection this week is from an episode of "I'm Sorry I'll Read That Again"; a BBC radio sketch show that pre-dated Python by a few years.
There is not much to the video itself: a still shot of the composer/singer Bill Oddie and later Oddie with his Goodie mates: Graeme Garden and Tim Brooke-Taylor. We lost Taylor earlier this year to Covid.
Saturday Evening Post, Vol 3, #38: RIP Graeme Edge
It was with some dismay that my morning newspaper had an announcement that Moody Blues drummer Graeme Edge passed away earlier this week.
Another milepost of our youth gone from our sight. Bummer.
In any case I will post this video which shows his performance off to good effect. I heard a story years ago that the Moodies work was looked upon with such awe that their fans thought the group obviously had the answers to every thing that ailed the world: war, famine, political upheavel, etc. The band responded with this work.
No, they didn't have the answers, but please let them know if you do.
Sunday Morning Post, Vol. 3, #37: End of the Year Health Issues
If you have been following along the last few weeks then you know that I had a bone marrow biopsy last week and three iron infusion sessions lined up for this coming week. Normally, that would be enough to deal with, but now...
I also have edema where a lot of fluid pools on the lower part of the body and exits the body through less than normal means. The fluid makes it way to the skin, forms a bubble/blister, then "poof" bursts and streams down the leg in to one's shoe or slipper. It's not a painful condition, but it is annoying as all hell.
The medical community recommends keeping your lower limbs up as much as possible and to wear compression stockings which are supposed to help improve circulation in the legs. Keeping the limbs up on a chair or stool while working a job at a computer? Not always feasible. And the daily ritual of putting on the compression stockings briefly sends my hypertension through the roof. Bluntly put, it's a bitch of a process.
I would just assume to be healed of this, but all signs point that healing from this condition is slow. In the meantime walking gets more difficult since fluid also accumulates in the prostate resgion.
I suddenly feel like someone has surgically attached a basketball to my crotch. Fortunately I am still able to function in that part of the body. This is good as the cardiologist weighed in with the order to double my Lasix intake. I hope that my increasing number of trips to the toilet every day helps, but that takes time to tell if there is a difference or not.
And time is on every one's mind this weekend as we go through the antiquated, agrarian cultural ritual of turning the clocks back. Yes, they try to put a positive spin on it by telling us you can get another hour's sleep this weekend. Or we can spend that extra hour hoisting one more round at the bar.
Water retention in the nether regions? Low iron in the blood? Trust me: I will be sleeping and not hoisting.
Please forgive me if I posted this song before, but it is hitting home today.
