Monday, November 1, 2010

What scares Pac?

Okay, I had a fun weekend. Turns out the Jumping Bean had to call in sick because he finally caught my sniffly, messy cold from which I've mostly recovered. We stayed home Saturday night and watched scary movies. Well, we watched one move which scared me and then I went to bed with my iPod turned up while JB watched some sort of chainsaw massacre.

Aside from the idea of senseless dismemberment, what scares Pac?

Yes, Baby Jane scares me.

JB joked about my movie choice. Said it reminded him of when he was recovering from his hip replacement surgery and I was forced to do the cooking.

I remembered that too. It was last Halloween. I gave him a buzzer to call me if he needed anything. Unlike Blanche's buzzer, JB's was wireless and sent text messages if I wasn't at home. You know, "Help I've fallen and I cant get up!" (As much as I try to be polite and use proper grammar at all times, my 911 transcript will probably read "YES I fell Einstein, now will you send me some goddamn help already!")

Unlike Jane, I wasn't downstairs forging checks for liquor deliveries. (We have a joint Amex.) And while I couldn't rip the buzzer button out of the wall, I did consider once or twice removing the batteries from the walker I pimped out for him. (Seriously, that thing had handsfree calling, a headlight and remote control of the A/V system, the HVAC system and every light in the house. Not to mention his "OnStar" panic button. The only thing missing was navigation, a cup holder and LED accent lighting, but that was only at JB's insistence of enough already.)

Fast forward to this past March when JB was finally back to work, I looked at that walker which had now become a rack for my laundry. "Time to put you, and your pals 'shower chair' and 'bedside commode' in storage while we try to find you all a good home," I thought. The last thing I expected was for JB to return home from his third trip back on the job unable to walk.

He had been complaining of pain in his groin and knee for months. The surgeon and therapist reassured us it was part of the normal recovery process. Not having a frame of reference for such things and knowing JB's tendency toward hypochondria, I regretfully admit siding with them. Already having extended his sick leave once, JB decided to suck it up and get back to work. But I could tell he was afraid. He was in Dusseldorf when his acetabular implant dislodged.

Fortunately the revision surgery and subsequent therapy couldn't have gone more smoothly. The pimped out walker was back on laundry rack duty only a week later. And JB was back in the kitchen on his first day home. After being briefly reacquainted with hospital food, he wasn't in the mood for further surprises delivered on covered plates.

Found this and more on
OOAK Barbies Blog.
Reflecting on this Halloween, I realize what really frightens me. It's not witches or clowns or hockey-masked maniacs with chainsaws. Rather, I'm afraid of the inevitable to come. Watching my partner, myself, my pets and all my loved ones decline with age. Painfully remembering the last six years of my mother's life. Thinking about my dad in his nursing home. Remembering and missing the best of us who were taken way too soon. Wondering, when the time comes for me to press the panic button, who will be waiting on the other end?

And this All-Hallows morning I'm once again resolved that, while life may be fleeting, I'm not going to just bend over and let Time make me his bitch. Not without an extended, extravagant courtship process where I'll play hard-to-get as long as possible, then demand a pre-nup.


  1. Ah aging... that's why I'm starting a collection of young men to make into a stable in the "exercise room" in the new house. LOL.

  2. Wow, nice Randy! I was thinking more along the lines of watching my cholesterol, but pole dancing with young stable boys sound like a fantastic way to keep fit! Can't wait to see pictures of this exercise room when it's finished. :-)

  3. I agree with you on the aging, but I think it's too scary for most folks, so we distract ourselves with chainsaw-wielding maniacs.