Author: DOuG pRATt

The Peasants Are Revolting

I stopped watching “The Simpsons” after the third season, mostly because I was extremely busy, not only working but also being a new father. Now I’m an old father, and retired, so I’ve been recording “The Simpsons” on the TiVo OtA DVR. Now that I’m recuperating from surgery, I’ve started watching the episodes. The 28th (!) season opener puts the yellow-skinned denizens of Springfieldland in a fanciful medieval feudal society. Maybe it’s supposed to be a parody of “Game of Thrones,” but I don’t know because I don’t watch it.

Anyway, while watching the Simpsons I was reminded of a BBC historical documentary series I had seen maybe ten years ago, created and presented by Monty Python alumnus Terry Jones. I was hoping it’s on YouTube, and here it is.

https://youtu.be/qMrvE2CwRsQ

Sadly, Jones now suffers from a form of dementia that has robbed him of the ability to communicate, so we don’t know if he retains any of his cleverness and wit. By chance, just a week ago Michael Palin had this update on his old chum’s condition. Palin and Jones had worked together years before “Monty Python’s Flying Circus.” Most notably in what was ostensibly a children’s show, but it became one of the precursors to Python. The delightful series “Do Not Adjust Your Set,” which also featured the wacky and wonderful Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band.

“Alexa, Where’s the Nearest Chinese Laundry?”

Thankfully, I have had only two bouts of lower back trouble. The first time was almost ten years ago, as posted here. What got me moving again were a couple of Percocets. I was amazed at the immediate relief the drug provided, but it made me feel terribly sick. One tablet would have been enough, and I later commented to my primary care physician that I couldn’t imagine becoming addicted. He replied, “You’re not a 15-year-old with a football injury. They have a very different reaction. It makes them feel great.”

So here we are, once again struggling with opium as a nation and a society, centuries after the first crisis. My buddy Denro sent a link with a brief history from the Smithsonian.

“It’s a poor town now-a-days that has not a Chinese laundry,” a white opium-smoker said in 1883, “and nearly every one of these has its layout” – an opium pipe and accessories.

So far, post-op I’m doing all right with Tylenol and Celebrex. I have a prescription for an opiate painkiller, but do not anticipate having it filled. By the way, my original post regarding back pain turned out to be wrong. The problem was a simple muscle spasm, and taking a muscle relaxant would have been just as effective as the Percocet. After the second time my lower back gave me trouble, a physical therapist told me the best preventive measure is doing push-ups, and he was right.

Scalpel on the Scalp

Waking up from general anesthesia yesterday, I was tempted to yell, “My leg! Oh my God, what have you done? Where is my leg??” But my voice was so weak, and my throat sore from the breathing tube, I could barely manage a whisper, sparing the post-op nursing staff from my sick joke.

What a long day. Having had nothing to eat or drink after midnight, long before I was put under at 5 PM I had a “dehydration hangover,” because a hangover was exactly what it felt like.

The picture is from the plastic surgeon’s Facebook page. He said it took 90 minutes to close the wound in my scalp from the melanoma removal last week that was done by a dermatologist. Not entirely coincidentally, the two doctors attended Harvard Medical School together.

Before the surgery I was given a choice of procedures. A skin graft or something called a “flap.” The surgeon explained that the latter is more difficult and takes twice as long to do, but the outcome is better. If I were ten years older, or had been a smoker, he wouldn’t offer it, because it requires a healthy blood supply. So a flap it was.

My head now looks like a mess of stitched-together raw hamburger, covered by a transparent adhesive bandage. But it’s better than the open wound was. The surgeon showed me a picture that was taken last week by the dermatologist, after removing the cancer and before the inch-thick bandage was applied. If I had seen it then, I would have yelled, “My head! Oh God, what have you done to my head??” The opening was huge, and incredibly deep! I had no idea the scalp is so thick. Anyway, thanks to seeing how horrible the injury was, I knew I’d made the right decision against a skin graft.

All I can do now is rest and heal. I have two pain med prescriptions, one narcotic one not. But I won’t need them, because it doesn’t hurt very much after taking a single 500 mg extra-strength Tylenol. Before I cover up my head with my new hat, here’s how it looks.