Mayhap you've read my short essay, Reflections of a Repentant Stroke Victim, mayhap not. All things considered, pretty funny scheit. This Friday, October 21, 2011, exactly two days hence, I shall mark the one year anniversary of waking up to falling on my face, trying valiently, but vainly, to chat up the handsome ambulance attendant, staring up at the lights in the emergency room at Good Sam, politely nodding at the clearly indifferent doctor who asked me about a DNR order, wiggling my left thumb the next morning and coining what would be, for a while, my personal mantra, "One New Trick Every Day", having my urinary appendage directed by others than myself, the portable peepee purse with its brilliant condom catheter, tormenting the lovely nurses in rehab for two weeks, working with a very handsome speech therapist, who turned out to be the partner of a softball buddy, meeting a lovely German family with whom I could practice the wonderful language I'd learned in Xavier High School, eating diabetic-death-dealing dietary fodder, personally prepared and provided by the evil dragon woman troll, having my driver's liscense suspened by DMEFFINGV,coming home in a wheelchair, having my twin nephews name my jacked up left arm Bob, as they climbed into my wheelchair, smacking me in the face with Bob, because, they smilingly explained, I couldn't defend myself, then, once out of said wheelchair, running into me full tilt to see if they could topple their uncle, nearly setting fire to myself in the kitchen as I tried to stand up, out of the wheelchair, and cook breakfast only two days after returning home, forgetting to remove the damned snuggie thing, thereby having it rest a while on the burner before flaming up slightly, learning to wash my own balls again simply because having my wonderful sister-in-law continue to do it had rendered us both weak and spasmed from giggling, working on simply walking, with a walker, then a cane, then neither, getting back into the kitchen so as to exert my mad baking skills once again, particularly enjoying baking dates with the loveliest niece evah, then with the young bros, making loads of cakes, breads and doughs, selling and sharing such, going to the kids' softball, baseball, soccer, and soon basketball games, all the while working out in my head, heart and soul, exactly what it means to be fully alive. Still!
This Friday, in classic Warren tradition, the fam plans to observe this anniversary by coming to my house, where I, at the request of Elijah, shall prepare my legendary, classic Peanut Butter Chicken, and the kids shall make and bring dessert. The after dinner plan will see them festively festooning the walker, much as they have my Christmas tree for many years. I will have not only the pleasure of their company, I shall also once again proudly don the Halloween golden pimp hat they brought to me in rehab. The One Year Anniversary Stroke Party!
Sum, ergo sum! Adhuc! Nondum!!! And, it does NOT mean I am not dumb. Although...
Ich bin, deshalb, ich bin! Noch!!!