My expectations for September are low: tomorrow marks the start of an intensive four-week speech therapy course; PT continues; I’ll return to the dentist’s chair for installation of a permanent crown; and the DDS is sending me for exams to confirm I’m as decrepit as my wife and doctors say. In anticipation of all the aggravation and embarrassment this might entail, I wanted to spend this three-day weekend disconnected from just about everything, including the internet.
I’d have to double-check to be sure but I believe that I posted here every day in June, July, and August. That’s mostly been fun and good for my sanity, but other parts of the internet get stressful sometimes, what with the constant amplification of bad and even grotesque news — not to mention the pervasive political stupidity of both social media and the news media. It’s also where I participate in j-pouch and Parkinson’s support groups in various capacities, from informal peer counseling to forum moderation.
To be clear, I’m happy to do it — it’s satisfying, even therapeutic at times, to help others. These days I’m in the unique position of having what’s often the oldest j-pouch in the room, and between that and my unusually early IBD diagnosis there are occasionally questions I can answer that other people can’t. My involvement with PD outreach largely stems from understanding how these groups work and how to approach worried patients and caregivers.
Being there for people when they’re anxious and at their most vulnerable can be taxing sometimes, especially if they latch on to you like Bill Murray to Richard Dreyfuss in What About Bob?, or when a board gets infested by ‘wellness’ gurus peddling quackery and false hope. Even though listening to other people’s stories and concerns is an escape of sorts from my own, I’m glad to have had a few days away from it to rest and read and do stuff with Crankenstein — and to catch some of the US Open.
This morning I’d hoped to sleep in, which wasn’t possible on Saturday or Sunday, but swallowing and coughing problems prevented that. With some time to fill however I pleased, I went searching online for props for a miniature project and found something Basil desperately needed: a tiny can of Eva Gabor’s Synthetic Wig Spray. It’s based on an actual product that I couldn’t find many photos of via Google, but here’s one from an eBay listing:
“May also be used on human hair,” the fine print reads, and I’m going to look for ways to shoehorn that into all kinds of conversations, and even film reviews, from now on, so you might want to gird your loins for that. Time offline? May also be used on human hair. Blue Bell’s Cookie Two Step ice cream, a treat I might have enjoyed for lunch yesterday? May also be used on human hair, though it’s too expensive (and delicious) to waste in such a manner.