Fogbow

Whatever4 wrote: ↑Mon Jun 12, 2023 4:40 pm What’s “reverse shoulder replacement surgery?”

That's where they pull both your arms off, switch 'em around, and plug 'em back in.

Cooool!

Or, there's a somewhat more improbable description.

Foggy wrote: ↑Tue Jun 13, 2023 11:25 am

Whatever4 wrote: ↑Mon Jun 12, 2023 4:40 pm What’s “reverse shoulder replacement surgery?”

That's where they pull both your arms off, switch 'em around, and plug 'em back in.

It sounds to me like they take your new shoulder out and put the old one back. But IANAD.

Well, they already did one on my right shoulder, and it doesn't really look reversed, but I'm not a doctor either, so I'm just taking their word for it.

And my right arm works so much better than my left. I can't wait to get the other one done (in 9 days, but nobody's counting).

Oh, Orly…

Foggy wrote: ↑Tue Jun 13, 2023 11:25 am

Whatever4 wrote: ↑Mon Jun 12, 2023 4:40 pm What’s “reverse shoulder replacement surgery?”

That's where they pull both your arms off, switch 'em around, and plug 'em back in.

So youse can pat yerself on the back?

Foggy wrote: ↑Tue Jun 13, 2023 12:58 pm Or, there's a somewhat more improbable description.

Total sense, actually.

Double posted, 'cuz I want a copy here



I'm thinking about war and warriors lately, because of my dad, who was steered into the Naval Academy by his father the battleship captain and rear admiral, and his mother the daughter of an Army general. In the Academy, there were various different things you could major in, but there's really only one real academic major, and that's Warrior Training (not an official major, but you know what I mean). You go there, they try to turn you into a warrior. Especially in 1945, remember he joined before the end of WWII.

But when you look up the word "warrior" in the dictionary, do not expect to see a photo of my dad. I simply can't think of him as a warrior - he avoids confrontation like it was covered in lime jello! He's a pussycat, is what he is.

But wait a minnit. He freakin' graduated second from the top of his class academically, at a time when the Naval Academy was one of the hardest schools in the country to get into (if you got in, you wouldn't be drafted into the Army). And he's in the Sports Hall of Fame for fencing, I saw it myself last Xmastime.

Fencing is sword fighting (Road Scholar knows a ton about it), and swordfighting is a warrior sport. Although my dad only did fencing because he was so skinny, if he turned sideways he wasn't even there anymore, so nobody could stick him with a sword. He graduated 6 foot 2 inches tall and he weighed 135 lbs. That's not a tyop, one hundred and thirty five pounds. He was underweight even on today's BMI charts. My mom could beat him at tennis. Almost ruined the honeymoon, is the family history I was taught.

But she's not in the US Naval Academy Sports Hall of Fame, so neener neener, mom.

OK, maybe he is some kind of warrior. Quiet warrior. Pussycat warrior. Confrontation Avoidance Warrior.

Hell, I don't know. I just love the dude. He's my favorite dad.

Cool!

We'll be on the road to Bathysphere or wherever it is by 8:30 on this glorious September morn.

Covfefe. Moar covfefe.

Hi to Admiral Dad!

He says Hi to my favorite Arkansanian.

Arkansawnian?

I believe it's Arkansan.

Tiredretiredlawyer wrote: ↑Sun Sep 03, 2023 10:35 am Hi to Admiral Dad!

That sounds like a sitcom.

Admiral Dad, formerly in charge of a fleet, now lives with his son/daughter and grandchildren, and comedy ensues as he drives the adult child bonkers with trying to run the house like a ship, the grandchildren don't understand what an admiral does or why they should be impressed, and he doesn't understand anything they do or say.

Totally original, like most of teevee.

pipistrelle wrote: ↑Sun Sep 03, 2023 3:11 pm

Tiredretiredlawyer wrote: ↑Sun Sep 03, 2023 10:35 am Hi to Admiral Dad!

That sounds like a sitcom.

Admiral Dad, formerly in charge of a fleet, now lives with his son/daughter and grandchildren, and comedy ensues as he drives the adult child bonkers with trying to run the house like a ship, the grandchildren don't understand what an admiral does or why they should be impressed, and he doesn't understand anything they do or say.

Totally original, like most of teevee.

I’d watch that!

Maybenaut wrote: ↑Sun Sep 03, 2023 6:08 pm

pipistrelle wrote: ↑Sun Sep 03, 2023 3:11 pm

Tiredretiredlawyer wrote: ↑Sun Sep 03, 2023 10:35 am Hi to Admiral Dad!

That sounds like a sitcom.

Admiral Dad, formerly in charge of a fleet, now lives with his son/daughter and grandchildren, and comedy ensues as he drives the adult child bonkers with trying to run the house like a ship, the grandchildren don't understand what an admiral does or why they should be impressed, and he doesn't understand anything they do or say.

Totally original, like most of teevee.

I’d watch that!

See if you can find out who's streaming "Major Dad" with Gerald McRainey and you pretty much can, if I remember the show right.

Yeah, but this would be Navy. With lots of Navy in jokes:

Kid: Admiral Grandpa, Can I go across the street to Melissa’s?

Adm GP: You need to submit a chit up the chain of command.

Kid: What’s a chit?

Working trip this time around, I'll be AFK until Thursday. My dad is moving into Assisted Living, and he needs serious assistance doing it.

Foggy wrote: ↑Sun Sep 03, 2023 8:19 pm Working trip this time around, I'll be AFK until Thursday. My dad is moving into Assisted Living, and he needs serious assistance doing it.

I hope things work out.

Maybenaut wrote: ↑Sun Sep 03, 2023 6:57 pm Kid: What’s a chit?

I don't have time for that chit.

It's tough, but the plain fact is, his damn legs don't work anymore, even though he's sharp as hell mentally.

Last night we took him out to dinner. None of my siblings do that. It's really hard, getting him from the motorized chair (the Zoomer) into the car. He can sorta stand up, and he can sorta twist his body and manages somehow to fall into the car seat, or into the Zoomer seat. But when he stands up, he can't move his feet. At all.

It's a horrible thing. We took him to dinner, that's all. And it was a bloody scary nightmare, getting him in and out of the car.

Nice dinner, tho. The place is called Not Your Average Joe's and we're Joestans.


Anyway, he can't walk, even with a rolleter or whatever they call it for support. He simply can't walk, and so he can't use this apartment anymore without paying enormous amounts of money for aides to get him out of bed, into the loo, I won't go there, but he just can't live here any more.

So we have to sell it. It's been a part of my life since 2007. This is the last time ol' Wifehorn and I will be able to stay in the apartment, we will be in hotels when we visit. It's the end of an era, and to be honest, the beginning of the last stage of my father's life.

The damned sisters (I have two evil sisters) have done a great job of looting all the furniture and everything in his apartment. They have done a minimal job of getting him set up in the new crib. I'll write more about it mañana.

So ol' Wifehorn did an incredible job of going through all his clothes and sorting, organizing, and discarding the stuff that needed discard.

That's a critically important thing. He has the clothes he needs, and nothing else. She made him throw out a bunch of stuff. Trust me when I say, none of his children have ever said, "You just can't wear that anymore. You have to get rid of it." I can't even imagine telling my dad what he can wear and what he can't.

But she dived in after four hours in the car yesterday, and that's done.

My idiot sisters (I also have two idiot brothers, one is a pathologist in New Hampshire, and the other is a software engineer for HP in Oregon) were so helpful getting my dad set up in his new place, they didn't give him a bookshelf. At all. We talked.

"Dad, don't you want at least one bookshelf? Are you going to stop reading books?"

"Well, they told me I don't spend enough time online and I don't use the intartoobz so good."

"No, Dad, you're 95 fucking years old, you were born in 1928, and it's okay to read a book."

"Well, there isn't enough room for a bookshelf in the new place."



Today I'm gonna make room for a bookshelf in his room. I can't even imagine a life without books. Ack.

Bless you, Johannes Gutenberg.

You’re a good son. And Wifehorn is a gift from above.

We’ve been there - it’s rough.