Can’t do much today but sit and wait for arm to recover from nerve block, and try to just maintain a reasonably postive frame of mind. Vicodin is remarkable in helping out. But even better helpers are my Catzilla (the black queen) and my Lady (the white pooch). I can savor this moment so much.
I am in for a “manipulation” of my injured adhered shoulder. Adhesive capsulitis. Frozen shoulder. Whatever you want to call it – it is a literal pain in the neck, shoulder, and arm. Can’t do anything anymore.
Got locked in the car over the holidays as all others in party exited (including driver with keys) and I couldn’t reach the door handle which was about 6 inches from my hand. No range of motion. so there I am, just helpless, while they all toddle off to go enter the restaurant. They ask “Where is Linda?” and then I figure they will come back for me. NOT. They assume (wrongly and so oddly) that I must have popped up the street to look at the architecture. Right, with my Dad with a walker, I’m just going to wander off. What makes it worse, the driver comes back to the car to make sure it is locked. I’m sure I’m saved. No. Even though I am there waving my hands inside, I am not noticed. I waited until they had already gone inside to use the cell phone. It is so much an archtypal moment of me and my family. I’m completely invisible as a person in my own right. They depend on me to organize them, take care of planning, moderate problems, decide what to eat for dinner, when to eat it, whether we should all shit separately in different bathrooms simultaneously, or shit sequentially in the same bathroom….
Yes, now I begin to be a bit of a fabulist. But whether I’m happy, sad, tired, hurt, ….
That does not always get noticed. I have been living with 1.10 arms for the last seven months, and no one seems to get it that the reason a lot of things are the way they are as it hurts so goddam much to do nearly everything. Put on my coat. My shoes. Comb my hair. Sweep the floor. Buckle a seat belt – a BIG wincer. Pick up anything weighing more than 8 oz with my left hand.
I don’t want to think about the possibility that all this hooha may not “fix”me at all. Maybe I am permanently injured. What will the clown do? Poor clown. Poor me.
Here I am a potbellied “Charlie” …. playing the part of the overly intellectual professor when the two “Idiots” come in, and I try to teach them about astronomy.
It was part of our 3-scene skit assignment.
How myoho it was that I decided to propose a Buddhist fable as a starting point for our piece, and three other workshop members were also SGI-Nichiren buddhists.
The methodology here is so opposite Per Brahe’s approach to mask work, but more in a direct link to Larry Hunt’s methods. Per makes you work almost psychically with direction from the mask itself…. while the other two workshops were based on a physical approach based on seeking body work, and kinesthetic sense. However, unlike Per’s workshop, the actor always had seen the mask first.