September 29th, 2010

Paul Neyron rose 2

various again on Tuesday

And I'm still commenting on that AfterElton article about a guy coming out as bisexual.  (See previous entry.)  I'm not the only one commenting, either, not by a long shot.  I'd never heard of the man.  As most of you know, I basically just watch German soap operas, and very little American TV.  I had plenty of opinions on bisexuals, of course.  I linked to a post Teddypig did: http://www.teddypig.com/2010/06/bisexuality-pride-prejudice-the-difference-between-identity-sex/

I'm with Teddypig on the "men are pigs" theory.  I said that a lot of men wanted quick and easy sex, that that wasn't limited to any one sexual orientation.  I guess some of the guys who commented on the AfterElton article were upset that the intereviewee said things that in their opinions made bisexual and gay men sound bad.  He could have used the word "choose" better.  I choose.  Someone with a sexual orientation strictly one way or the other does not choose the sex of the person they're attracted to.  Sure, they'll have types, like I have types.  It's still not the same at all.

So the guy said he met a lot of closeted bi and bi-curious types who wanted something on the side.  It sounded rather like men were for sex and women were for dating.  Is that the attitude of a whole lot of bisexual men?  I'd say yes.  I think gay men and lesbians have very valid reasons for being bitter with bisexuals.  We have some reasons to be bitter back, towards the prejudiced people of straight and gay communities.  But if more of us were open and honest, perhaps we'd get more understanding in return.  I agree that much of what he said didn't make bi men sound good at all.  I pretty much have an "it's not mean if it's true" attitude about it, though.

As for Tuesday generally...I did not sleep Monday night.  I have no idea why, as I didn't have any caffeinated drinks at all on Monday.  I think I finally fell asleep around six a.m.  The plumber was supposed to come around ten, and came at ten thirty.  He rang the doorbell.  I threw a housecoat over my nightgown and called, "Coming."  I think I stopped to put on my walking cast, which has six straps to fasten.  He started knocking.  I wheeled over in my wheelchair, yelling, "Coming!" again.  I don't know why the parental units couldn't just leave the door unlocked for a couple of hours.  I asked if he was the man who was doing the tiling, Mr. C.  Mr. P, he replied, and I remembered that it was the plumber's turn to do his thing today.  I was still very groggy.

I was with it enough to ask if he was going to shut off the water.  Probably, he said, and went up to investigate.  The answer was yes.  I asked him to wait until I made a quick trip to wash up, then said that the best thing for me to do when the water was off was to go back to sleep.  He said he'd try to make it fast.  It didn't especially matter, because I went back to sleep for the rest of the day.

I got a sponge bath before Mom got home, and put no-rinse shampoo in my hair.  I got dressed, though I didn't think I was going anywhere.  I didn't bother to put a gauze pad over my incision scar.  It's not as irritated as it was, and I wasn't planning on walking.  Mom had jury duty, and ended up being picked for a jury.  She came home from the county seat a little after five p.m.

I was curious to see what was going on with the tub, so I pulled myself up the stairs to investigate.  All the tile is off the walls, with new drywall/insulation/paper? behind where the new tiles would go.  There were a couple of boards put in across the structure, and I asked if we were getting a handicapped bar in the tub.  That would make my life a lot easier.  One that's slanted, Mom said.  I'm not sure if that will be easier.  There was new piping and a shiny new showerhead, thanks to Mr. P.  Mr. C. and Mr. P. come back tomorrow, Mr. C. for the tiling and Mr. P. for the faucet and taps.  Dad will let them in.

I went back downstairs, figuring that at least I'd gotten my exercise for the day by pulling myself upstairs.  When Dad came home, Mom said that she wanted to go out and have a belated celebration of her birthday.  Dad was tired and cranky, and just wanted to watch the baseball game.  He said he'd go out, but that I should stay behind.  Mom and I countered that we'd go out, and leave him behind.  The three of us ended up going out, though I just had my walker, and not the wheelchair.

Now that I can put some weight on that leg, I can balance much better and "walk" much further.  Hopping on one foot took a lot more energy.  I got into [local Italian restaurant] without much trouble.  I decided to try something different, and had shrimp and pasta with pesto sauce.  I grew a couple of little basil plants this year, but they never made it into bigger pots, and aren't enough to make anything with.  I stayed in the car when Mom and Dad went in to the library, then went with them when they went to the grocery store.  Dad was pulling into a space a little way up a row while Mom and I were asking why he hadn't just let me out at the cut-out in the sidewalk.  Highly annoyed, he drove back over to the cut-out, saying that there was no reason I couldn't walk across the parking lot.  Mom got my walker out of the trunk, and we went in to find the scooters.

It wasn't an extensive shopping trip -- just a milk, bread and eggs sort of thing.  I am still enjoying riding in the scooters, although the oblivious people who stop right in front of me remain somewhat annoying.  I had to make a big circle around a display to get around a woman talking on her cell phone.  Dad said I should have honked the scooter's horn.  I said that that was obnoxious, that I hated when little old ladies did that.  I took the scooter out to the car, and Mom drove it back into the store.

Mom and Dad watched the remainder of the ballgame, which the Phillies ended up losing.  I went back to the computer.  I still have a couple of days of Alles was zahlt to catch up on, and today's episode of Verbotene Liebe.  First, though, I want to do formatting checks and spelling and grammar checks on Sarah's book, and read through it again.  Her grammar looked very good on my first read-through, and it's a sweet story.  The characters were very vivid.  I really liked the good-natured bigger guy. 

Paul Neyron rose 2

Wednesday so far

Tile guys here to put in tiles around the bathtub.  Dad let them in.  I heard noises now and then -- talking, singing, whistling, but pretty much stayed asleep until Mom gave me a wake-up call.  I took my sponge bath (and was very grateful the water wasn't shut off), dressed, and ate brunch.  I opened the door between garage and house to see that the tile folks had stuff all in and around the garage, and their van open just about where the paratransit bus would come.  I said to the tile guy out there that the paratransit bus would be coming between 2:15 and 2:30.  He looked at his watch and said they'd back the van up then.  It was 2:00 at that point.

I maneuvered the wheelchair around all the pails and cords and equipment and whatever in the garage and driveway to sit outside the garage at 2:15.  I saw the paratransit bus come, continue down the street onto another street, then heard it turn around.  I got myself in the wheelchair, pulling along the walker, down to near the bottom of the driveway, and it's a steep driveway.  The paratransit bus came around up the other street, and went into a cul-de-sac that's another street yet.  When he eventually came out of that cul-de-sac, I waved frantically.  He saw me, and asked what the house number was.  "[House number]," I said, pointing to the number on the mailbox.

"I didn't see that at all," he said.  He pulled me backwards over the steep bump from the bottom of the driveway to the gutter, holding the wheelchair so I was nearly horizontal and clinging to the armrests.  I got to physical therapy at 2:50, when I'd had a 2:45 appointment, so it wasn't that bad, just nerve-wracking.

It was relatively quiet at physical therapy -- a few patients there, but two therapists and the assistant.  The physical therapist said I should get Vitamin E cream and rub it into my scar a couple of times a day.  I'm supposed to do little circles with my thumb to try to loosen up the scar and get it so it will be more flexible.

Mom got home before I did, and called to see if I wanted a ride home.  It was 4:30 by that point, so I said I'd just wait for my 4:45 pick-up.  The paratransit bus came at about 4:50 or 4:55, which wasn't bad.

Aunt A. called.  She wanted to talk to Mom or Dad.  She told Mom that the cancer had spread to her lungs, and that she didn't want more chemotherapy or radiation.  Apparently chemo or radiation might drag it out for six more months.  In A's opinion, it would just reduce her quality of life that much more, and she'd rather just go peacefully.  Mom cried a lot.  I think I'm just numb at this point.  Aunt A. is planning on coming to Grandma S.'s birthday, so we'll see her then, and I'd like to go up to northern New Jersey to visit her as we can.  She was trying to wait to tell us until after the birthday party, but decided she'd better call.