As I sit here crippled.

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I keep think about my situation. I know my body works. I can rise out of bed, I can make a little bit to eat and pour something to drink. My mind works in that I can manipulate a faucet to wash my face and hands. I can do simple mechanical operations such as brushing my teeth, cooking, and cleaning (though that last, in part due to masculine... something... I do poorly and more infrequently than I should like, only knowing the difference due to having had women in my life who have done much better at it). And more, I can read obscure texts with some reasonable level of understanding. G.K. Chesterton is probably not the first book I would hand a newly minted, even fully developed reader. And the bible, though I would encourage even children to read it, I would expect little more than that the bible would stretch every fiber of their ability to even understand the merest basics of what the words mean very generally.

Okay, so I am suggesting that I have a decent mind, a functional body, some ability to act toward long standing health, grooming, and standard goals. So, why I cannot simply pack things into a vehicle and drive them to a storage shed, or sort the storage shed, or even leave my door, I do not know. For the last two or three days, that is simply how it has been. Something is wrong. I do not know what it is. And yet, if someone called, and said, "Let us go shooting, or to coffee, or... [fill in the blank].", I would agree, ruminate and then shower over an half hour to an hour period, and be on my way. In an emergency (unless it involves myself) or time sensitive things, I can actually be showered, shaved (in my shaving season), teeth brushed (if they have not been already), dressed, and out the door in under 10 minutes. Although, too, if that happens too often I begin avoiding the phone or knock on the door, so it is not a perfect cure.

Now, what brings this all to mind is not my situation, actually, but the situation my brother now finds himself in. He recently needed emergency back surgery. He loaded airplanes in the service for 20 years and hurt his back severely doing so. Though I suspect high school wrestling played a part in that. Back then, maybe still, they would starve themselves, or even go without water for a day or two before the pre-match weigh-in. That has to be damaging to the body of non-mature males. Though too, the long hours and hard work he did was no boon to his skeletal structure either. He was a hard worker from the day he popped out of the womb. He did not whine, complain, or slack. He was the type that, handed an impossible job, would do the miraculous at great personal cost. Bless him for it, he is the type this nation was built upon.

He will most likely be upgraded from 50% to 100% V.A. disability, and probably end up receiving SSD as well. However, and he will find out soon enough, money is nothing when one cannot get out of bed on any particular day. At least for him, people can point to an easy to understand problem and have sympathy. It is not ghosts or ghouls that haunt his life, but a bad back. Though, in truth, that means little either. People eschew, and rightly to a degree, sickness or ill health of any kind. Those who have problems are a weak link. Most people, whether they recognize it or not, are quite tribal. Weak links need not apply. As well, in a less God fearing more supperstitious nation, disability is often subconsciously feared to be contagious. He will learn this. Society has little use for the weak or broken.

I had to ask myself if I had any pleasure in his condition. No, not that such a notion was sitting out on a shelf and easy for me to see or to lay my hands on it. I simply wanted to... sweep the baffles to be sure. You see, we are no longer friends, one might say we are no longer brothers. I did look, and deeply. What I found is that I have no such pleasure at his pain, thankfully. I have no spite in me. If I have something, it is only that he might now learn to understand what my situation is like, though too I would have more hoped that the situation was temporary for him. I honestly would not wish this on an enemy, and a fallen away brother is not an enemy by a long shot. He is merely one more of the many who used to be in my life and no longer exists for me, or with me, or however one might put it.

There is much I could say to him. I think my first suggestion would be to listen to the doctors, take their suggestions and do some homework, and find out mechanically (in his case) how far he can push things. Then, from that maximum, back off a good bit and find out what he can do practically in a sustainable manner and try to hold to that. Doctors are a starting point but they are theory. He needs to take theory and make that practical, personally. I would also suggest pushing a little farther once in a while to test the limits, softly but surely, once he has become stable and has stability down pat. Next I would suggest he find hobbies, crafts, and possibly work which can fill both good and bad times. If he likes to fish, which he does, as an example, then by all means go fishing when he is up to it. When he is not up to it, learn to craft lures. Get a collection of lure parts, paints, glues, and hooks and use that to satisfy his fishing urge when his back does not let him manually partake of the sport. But no one hobby, craft, or such will fill all his time. And, money (even as decent as that is) is a lot shorter than time. Slowly building up several crafts and interests will help him a great deal. And, if he can work at all, even as a welcome man at Wal-Mart, it would add a little bit of money, keep him on some kind of schedule, and get him groomed, dressed, and out of the house occassionally, and around people. The one problem with working is that he may truly only be fit for low level work and yet that may cost him more than he could possibly earn. That is how it is in my case, or to my knowledge thus far. And I would highly disuade anyone from working under the table for a few nickels to risk a truly needed standard of living income.

Being around people is something I miss and something that missing has hurt me. I am sort of socially retarded at this point. I am not sure how to interact and quite self-conscious or conversely completely unaware of the lines people are trying to draw and popular decorum. I fly blind when in groups, which adds to the stress of being among people. Most people are used to being social, if for no other reason than from the requirements to feed themselves through work, so as to keep private things private, to maintain certain shields, and to pick up cues as to when a topic is considered out of bounds. Though, how much of that is typically male, I am never sure either. Still, I would highly recommend he at least find other men with whom to laugh, debate, fish, golf, or simply watch sports. Though I would recommend against groups and associations which drink regularly or as a part of every encounter. Alcohol, though a fine substance for occasional cheer, enhancing some days, or as salve for a particularly bad day, is not something someone with a lot of time should be entertaining too regularly. Worse yet is creating associations based first on alcohol. Too much time and relatively easy money do not mix well with occasional use.

Though, part of my failure to associate more freely has to do with a past I cannot completely recall, or recall in a fractured and ugly way which may be too much for others to deal with, and some secret parts of my life which either might leak out and dissolve friendships or which might leak out and hurt those friends I have. Friendships are not trivial things. My ghosts are toxic to all, more so in the conservative settings I choose to live. Then again, I found it to be worse in "liberal" places, so who knows. I do know I must take care in developing friendships. Associations are by far the wiser path for me. I would guess most disabled do not have the depth of stigma that I carry, so my advice is generally good.

Of course, the man will not even shake my hand. So, any advice I might offer is less than useless to him. Perhaps it will find some other man or woman who might find use for it. In any case, I am able to put it out of my mind. I did this earlier, but not to this level. Perhaps I only mentioned that it was on my mind. Now I am done with it. What else is there for a cripple to do on an off day? Clearing the mind so that when the body works again, it will work without these mental catches. No, that is not even true. But cleaning the mind and caring for mental worries is something good and useful to do on these days. I will always have other psychic catches whether my body does my will or not. And, actually, gladly. I like to ponder.

Have a great day!