Hi everybody, welcome to the blog where I talk about the present.
Now, sorry about the shock value on the following paragraph, but it has a lot to do with this new medication I’m on.
There’s nothing like a good dump on the floor to start your day. Now, If I have to rush to the bathroom, my health assistant has to lift me up with a lift, put my harness on, stand me up, roll me over to the toilet chair, put me on the chair, and roll me over the toilet. Now, this time, I didn’t make it. I had an accident on the floor. Now, I’m telling you all this because you may have a traumatic brain injury and you may be reading this, and that is to show that it’s OK if things go wrong. You’re messed up. Shit happens (no pun intended). My dog looked at my health aide as if to say, “How come he didn’t get scolded?”
On another note, I got an email from a college buddy. My coach from college is not doing so well. It doesn’t look good. This guy was something else. He was a tough old bastard. I can see him now at the hospital, in his hospital gown, bare ass, running down the road, muttering “fuck this” or something like that with his handkerchief. His workouts were brutal. But he brought me to a high status of running. I became an NCAA runner. I held track records. I ran across the United States with him and a relay team. We were in the Guinness Book of World Records. The guy was a good coach. You know, thinking about it, probably his training contributed to my survival. Under his training, I had to endure a lot of pain and suffering. Basically, he made me a tough old bastard as well. RF
Love, B Nice