10.03.2011

Happy Trials . . . . er. . . I mean Trails . . .


One of my favorite movie speeches of all time 
is from the movie City Slickers
  




It's in the scene where a depressed Billy Crystal
is visiting his son's classroom on career day
to talk about his (dead-end) job and he says this:






"Value this time in your life kids, because this is the time in your life when you still have your choices, and it goes by so fast. When you’re a teenager you think you can do anything, and you do. Your twenties are a blur. Your thirties, you raise your family, you make a little money and you think to yourself, “What happened to my twenties?” Your forties, you grow a little pot belly, you grow another chin. The music starts to get too loud. One of your old girlfriends from high school becomes a grandmother. Fifties you have a minor surgery. You’ll call it a procedure, but it’s a surgery. Sixties you have a major surgery, the music is still loud, but it doesn’t matter because you can’t hear it anyway. Seventies, you and the wife retire to Fort Lauderdale, start eating dinner at two o'clock in the afternoon, lunch around ten, breakfast the night before..."






We've laughed at this speech for years,
but like a lot of things related to aging, in some ways it's not so funny anymore?!  Because every time we go out to dinner we look around and say, "Oh -- we're here with the old people."  And then inevitably one of us notices that it is only about 4:30pm, which explains it, and we say,
"Maybe we should just order breakfast."   






And never mind that my dining habits are in line with the 70-year-olds -- somehow now I seem to have skipped the rest of my 40's and zipped into my 50's, and I'm starting to become way too experienced at having "procedures."

Yes, that's what we're going to call it, even though technically I think the hospital is calling it a surgery. Since they did such a brilliant job with my arm, I've decided to give them a crack at fixing my nose, in hopes that I'll be able to breathe again.  I'm not sure exactly when I stopped being able to breathe, but it was sometime in my 30's and . . . I've sorta missed it. 




Unfortunately, they're not going to do anything about the aesthetically-challenged, slightly disproportionate aspects of my nose.  Proud as I am to take after Aunt Lillie, it is not cause for celebration in every area of life and her nose was not the quality I most aspired to.  By about 8th grade, however, it became apparent that it had come along in the same gift bag with many of her good genes, and after a few years of chafing against my misfortune, I made friends with it and now I guess it's just me.




If the surgeon does, however, happen to have an OOPS! moment in which he shaves off an unplanned inch or two, I won't necessarily complain as long as he doesn't make it look WORSE.  (For a person who is already nose-challenged, that fear is perhaps even greater than the one experienced by the artist who lets a surgeon go after her precious left arm.)  


Anyway, that's what's on my agenda tomorrow.  
How about yours? Any root canals scheduled?
  



Anything fun in the works for your week?



If I could, today I think I would figure out how to just jump into this picture 
and ride off into the sunset, maybe rope some cows with Jack Palance...




I've been working on a stitched version in hopes that perhaps it could happen,
but as you can see, I haven't gotten very far yet.


Oh well -- at least I know she can't go without me....




(I think I'll wait to put the face on until after they get done playing with mine tomorrow...)


Happy Monday! 


   

10 comments:

Amelia Poll said...

I know this comes from a movie (can't think of which one, maybe Roxanne) but really, could they come up with a worse name for a nose job? Rhinoplasty? As if the person going in for the procedure isn't already self-conscious about it...

Good luck! Are you getting a deviated septum corrected? That was one if the surgeries that Justin had shortly after we were married. I'll just say it's amazing how much packing the human nose can hold...

susan m hinckley said...

Septoplasty indeed! And a little other work... but you're right, I've always thought the name rhinoplasty was adding insult to injury.

Allie said...

Oh dear Susan....you have all my sympathies - what a funny post, except for the "procedure". Love your new piece...

Judy said...

Here's to breathing better! I'm all for that. I hope the surgeon nose his stuff and that it snot too painful. (Did I really write that?)

luanne said...

I'll just second what Judy said -- can't top that! Hope everything goes well. May this be the grand finale of your medical adventures, at least for awhile!

susan m hinckley said...

hahahah -- I think Judy wins! Thanks, all. I intend to swear of all things medical for awhile and get myself a new hobby. Suggestions?

Leenie said...

Oh, Susan! When do you think the surgeons will figure out how to do those "procedures" without leaving the patient in a heap with a boat load of pills to make the pain go away??? I hope you mend fast and that you get some good drugs to pave the way. Laughing at Judy's comment! I'll second it as well.

Thanks for the quote from City Slickers. No truer words! Problem is we don't think it will happen to us until we are packing for Fort Lauderdale and shopping for a scooter chair. My worst nightmare. I'll shut up now.

VO said...

OOOhhh, how did it go? Are you wearing that little bandage thing that comes on an elastic strap to catch all the goo?

I had that same surgery a little over a year ago (I broke my nose - a tree hit it - funny story, not fun results). Did you get splints or nasty packing?

Thinking of you because I so remember the weeks of discomfort (but wait til you take your first big breath of air!)

susan m hinckley said...

Splints and packing, VO -- do I get any extra sympathy for that? I remember when you broke your nose, actually, and I can tell you that I definitely have increased sympathy for you now! If I can just live until that breath of air . . .

VO said...

You absolutely get extra sympathy for that. OMG. You'll be able to live but it'll be one of the more uncomfortable stages in your life. Made even worse that you CHOOSE to do it.

Truly the sweetest air is that first deep breath you take once they take the splints (and in your case packing) out. But alas, it only lasts a few mins as all the snot and swelling haven't really gone away, it'll take a few more days after the splints come out.

But it's the breath of fresh air that keeps you going!

Mucho humid air for you, easy saline rinses and open airways!

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