Little by little, step by step.
I made it all the way to Hideaway Bar from my house yesterday afternoon. The best part of that is I didn’t experience any severe breathing episodes along the way. One technique I’ve been implementing is pursed lips breathing while I walk. I know it works because I tested it with my oximeter (that thing you clip on your finger to measure blood oxygen levels). I started with a reading of 92, engaged the pursed lips technique, and raised the reading to 95 in just a couple of minutes. I used to purse my lips for kissing; now I do it to breathe. Man, old age is a bitch.
I’m still coughing, although not as frequently. The big problem with that is I get an extreme stabbing pain in my left side.
Still, I’m better than I was and not as good as I hope to be soon.
So, the feeding went well. I carry my portable nebulizer with me now when I go out, and I fired it up once at the bar. I cut my visit a little shorter than usual and started making my way back up the highway. As I passed the Annex bar, I spotted Chris and his gal, and they invited me to join them. Chris has been dealing with some health issues, too, so we exchanged stories about our plight, just like a couple of old men. Which I guess we are.
I headed for the trike stand at The Maze next but decided to do a nightcap before I departed. I went into The Green Room, but it was packed, so I moved next door to Wet Spot and secured my regular seat, and was served by my regular waitress. My bar stamina is still not at full capacity, so I headed home at an early, a little before 7:00.
I hadn’t reached my beer capacity as yet, so I grabbed one from the fridge and sat outside on my patio, enjoying the nighttime view. Swan joined me with a glass of wine, and we shared some quality moments together. I was in bed at 8:00. I had a strange and vivid dream that woke me at midnight, and once again, I was beset with sleeplessness.
In keeping with my new custom, I moved into the living room and fired up the television. For some reason, Netflix wouldn’t connect. So, I tried YouTube, and it worked. When I started scrolling the offerings there, one of the first films on the list was Junior Bonner, a movie starring Steve McQueen as an aging rodeo star. The movie has special significance for me because it was filmed in Prescott, Arizona, where I lived from 1978-1983.
Nothing like a stroll down memory land in the wee hours of a sleepless morning. I happened upon a post I wrote in 2015 about some of the connections between the film and my life in Prescott. The most notable being the song “Arizona Morning,” which was featured in the opening credits of the movie. The song was written and performed by Rod Hart, a Prescott musician. I learned to country dance while his band performed in the local bars.
I tend to agree with the summary of reviews for Junior Bonner included in the Wikipedia entry for the movie. It wasn’t as good as I remembered it to be; it didn’t seem to connect the dots or have a lot of meat on the bones. The movie was also a box office flop. I hadn’t really followed the life and career of Steve McQueen, who was never one of my favorite actors, but damn, the man lived a fascinating and varied life. After reading McQueen’s story, I have a lot more respect for his lifetime accomplishments. McQueen died at age 50 of lung disease.
And that’s today’s example of putting insomnia to productive use. Still, I’m hoping to get back to a full night’s sleep soon.
For you pun addicts, here’s today’s fix:
And it is Hash Monday. I’m not even going to attempt doing the trail–I don’t feel ready for a climb. My plan is to try and walk from my house to the On-Home at One Three Resort in Calapadayan, about 4K by my reckoning. It will be all on the highway, which sucks, but hopefully I’ll be good to go next week.
Of all the places I lived in the USA, Prescott was my favorite. Perhaps that is why this song resonates with me so much.
Morning, Arizona morning Almost sets me free Makes me glad to be alive Wondering, why I started wandering Should have stayed right here Underneath the clear blue skies Sadness, changing now to gladness With the rustle of the breeze through the pinyon trees Where I lay In the morning, Arizona morning A place where I can smile And see a hundred miles away The birds are flying high above the morning Singing to the colors of the dawn And in my mind I hear a gentle warning You’ve been a wrangler and a rambler Much too long And a rover. Wishing it was over All my battles won, resting in the sun this way In the morning, Arizona morning Coming home today, wishing I could stay Wishing I could stay.
If you want to see the full movie, here you go:
I guess I’ll give a cautious thumbs-up as your condition seemingly improves. I hope there’ll be clearer signs of improvement soon. Like the ability to walk up a hill.
When I lived in Front Royal, Virginia, that was technically out in the sticks, and it’s where I learned that country folk can be good, decent people despite all the Hollywood horror-movie propaganda about inbred, Bible-thumping rapist-cannibals (see a hilarious subversion of that stereotype in the horror-comedy “Tucker and Dale versus Evil”). But I’m still not a fan of most country music. Fuck all that “honky-tonkin’.”
McQueen died young. Ever see his movie “The Sand Pebbles”?
John, glad to hear the overall trend is in the positive direction.
I had an uncle who told me that every morning, he got together with his buddies for some coffee and an organ recital. Knowing that he didn’t play an instruments, I asked him what was up with that. He said that it was a chance to commiserate with each other about kidneys, liver, lungs, etc. i.e. the various organs. LOL
Anyway, I am sure that some days will seem like two steps forward and one step back (or the converse) but look at where you were a week ago.
Nice dad joke, Brian!
Yep, not 100% yet, but I’ll get there.
Kev, yes, I still have hills to climb. Maybe I’ll try tomorrow.
The West differs from the South, but most country folk are down-to-earth and good neighbors. There are genres within country music, just like with rock-n-roll. I can enjoy some but not all of the country music offerings.
McQueen really did have an amazing life, short though it was. I vaguely recall watching “The Sand Pebbles,” but I’d be hard-pressed to tell you what it was about.