Of course, getting started here again has been interesting, to say the least. Anyone who's a writer (or artist of any sort) can related that too much time off makes it a little difficult to get motivated to head off in a forward direction.
But what the heck, I'm back.
Several weeks ago, I came so close to cutting my hair short (at least, short for me). The last time I had a major hair cut was for a job I'd landed, back in 1980. I can already hear at least one or two people thinking, Yikes! No need to tell me that was a long dang time ago.
The job I'd landed was working for a local fire department. The department had hired eight of us (if I remember correctly), including two women. (This is where your's truly fits in.) There was only one other department in our county, here on the west coast of Florida, that had a female firefighter; she'd been on the job less than a year.
I had already started off, near the end of 1979, as a volunteer with Pinellas Park Fire Department, shortly after the department had hired a new chief, so I had a somewhat vague idea of what to look forward to.
The department Jane and I were hired on at seemed okay with the length of my hair. I'd start off my shift with my hair in a braid. If we had a fire, and needed to wear our bunker gear, it was no big deal to grab the end of the braid, put said braid on top of my head, put my helmet on, and immediately, no hair showed.
However, when we started at the local fire academy, the then-head of the academy made it clear that I had to have my hair cut above my shirt collar. After all, that was how short the men had to have their hair. While our chief went to bat for me, I still had to get it cut short. Problem was, having it that short, I couldn't braid it and keep all the hair from sticking out from under the helmet.
At that point, I vowed never to cut my hair again, until I was good and ready.
So why was I thinking of cutting it recently? Well...Six weeks ago, I slipped and fell, landing hard on my back. Instant excruciating pain.
Silly me. Once I was able to move, and actually talk (I'd spent several minutes babbling, leaving my sons thinking I'd had a stroke), I got up and decided to take a shower. I was sure I'd simply pulled a few muscles in my back.
An hour or two later, though, when the pain showed no sign of subsiding, I agreed to go to a local free-standing ER to get it checked out. As it turned out, I'd fractured one of my vertibrae! No wonder it hurt!
Several hours later, after a room opened up in the main hospital (several miles away, with an in-house ER), I was transferred by ambulance and taken straight up to the assigned room, where I spent the weekend. While there, I ended up with an MRI lasting about half-an-hour (never a fun thing for someone who's claustrophobic). Fortunately, it turned out okay, still a fracture, but without further complications.
Two days later, I got to come home. But for six weeks, I've been stuck wearing a dang back brace. The first coupld of days, my hair kept getting caught in the brace; it was then that I seriously thought about cutting my hair shoulder-length. I didn't, though, and I'm now glad I didn't.
It's only a few more days until I get another X-ray to see if the back has healed enough to do without the back brace. Siiiiigh...
Also, to throw in some more fun, our two cats are now 15 years old, and starting to really show their age. Karma is showing it a little harder than is sister, Drexie, is. But either way, Karma and Drexie are getting up there.
At one time, Karma had topped off at 12-pounds and change; he's now down to 5.8 pounds, and has the beginnings of kidney issues, while Drexi, who used to be 6-pounds, is a little closer to 7 pounds now. They both seem to sleep more these days. Karma is also showing some signs of slowing down, and not able to jump as well as he used to.
Anyone who has had cats (or dogs, or any other pets) and who've gotten seriously attached to the pets knows how bitter-sweet it can be, watching the decline, knowing it's simply a matter of time when the pets are no longer around. That's what we're looking at with Karma and Drexie. I know we'll all be basket-cases when their time comes. But in the meantime, they'll get all the love, cuddles, and treats we can give them.
One last word: love your family, even the pets.
Karma Kitty
Drexie Calabash
