The Paper Boys

Fifth and sixth grades...we paper boys were a serious lot.  After school let out, we met up at the neighborhood paper drops that we were assigned to.  I lived nearby, so I had time to drop the books and the terror off at home before I rode my bicycle the five blocks up a small hill to get to the paper drop.  A handful of other paper boys waited for the gruff truck driver who would hurl our stack of daily newspapers onto the sidewalk.  Most days a few papers got torn or smashed on the sidewalk.  

We didn't shoot the breeze at the drop-off before starting the paper deliveries.  The good aspect of running a paper route--in my case the 'Staten Island Advance,' was that we had cash in our pocket--mostly change--but back then banks would give you the paper coin rollers for free and would exchange your rolls for bills.  At home you were also the 'go-to' guy when someone needed cash to buy milk or a pizza.

Sundays were tough.  Thick, heavy papers.  A truck driver dropped your paper sections at your home.  Customers needed their papers early on Sunday mornings.  A paper boy had to arrange the sections together into one neat paper and get moving.  

Collecting every Friday was challenging.  Most customers were fine, and tips were generous.  A small percentage of customers were cheapskates or had no cash on hand.  'I'll get you next week.'

'Do you have change of a ten or twenty?'  I did.  I was ready for their tricks.

You owe me for two weeks.  'You sure?  I think I paid last week.'  No, I have it written in my book.  The Advance gave us a notebook for the back pocket for us to keep our customer records.  There were a few customers who would pull the window shade open a crack, and see it was the paper boy and hide.

It was a great job.











"The first time you quit is the last time you try."

Neurostimulator Electrodes in the Water Today--First for that

   ALMOST A YEAR


    I bought a new wetsuit and got into the water late this afternoon in Oceanside.  The gizmo implanted in my back to decrease pain should be kicking in for me.  I have two big lumps in my back where stuff is implanted.  In 4 or 5 days I am returning for an adjustment of the Burst electrodes in there.  I need some better settings.

    No chance of actually swimming now.  Limited movement.  I think I'll hang in there...




      "The first time you quit is the last time you try."

The Federal Pain Bureau

At first I began to type the Federal Pain Control Bureau as the title for this post, but then it again struck me that the word 'Control' has no utility as a benchmark or goal in the Federal government's involvement in decreasing the masses' ability to obtain pain relief.  It's sorta' like how all the government's initiatives that are named purportedly to accomplish a goal will actually aim to pursue exactly the opposite of the name of the title.

Example: Drug Epidemic Act
PRETEND OBJECTIVE: This act is intended to decrease the heroin access to any and all addicts.
ACTUAL OBJECTIVE: This act will eliminate pain treatment for all honest, legitimate medically-supervised pain patients and do nothing but blow smoke about heroin law enforcement.

I hope it reads as ridiculous but this fictitious act and my descriptions have a tremendous amount of truth in them.


Just today I spent a few hours being angry again at the Federal Government--specifically the Veterans Administration and its bureaucratic improvements for the veterans' safety----actually read the past few words as the VA's intention to deprive the honest, legitimate veteran of medications that he requires for continued, medically-supervised treatment for his wellbeing.

Wow, I'm still not over my anger--I suppose that I need to call it frustration--to be under control, non-threatening, and politically correct.  I don't want to get referred to anger management.

Next, the VA system had a big problem with refilling an Rx for diarrhea for me recently.  We're not talking pain meds, narcotics, or god-forbid a cough syrup.  A Schedule 5 controlled substance: Lomotil tabs.  The lowest or least controlled category of the DEA's controlled substances and also very unlikely to be abused.  And fully justified by long-standing medical cancer treatment history.

Who knows whether I can obtain diarrhea medicine from the VA.  Regarding swimming, my new neurostimulator implant is still in the 'needs-more-fine tuning' phase.  I hope it will cut the pain.  I had felt two days of hopefulness during my one-week trial, and when I get there I expect to get wet.


"The first time you quit is the last time you try."

Maybe...

After the time delays for pain treatment that are built into the whole experience of the issue, I have had a device implanted in the spine--two long electrodes that run up the column in the fluid, I think.

A controller is sewn into the hip fat--plenty of that--and the battery in there lasts at least 3 years or more.  An external controller that looks like an Apple phone is at hand if needed for adjustment to the CPB--the Central Pain Bureau.

It will be waterproof in a couple of weeks when the tissue heals and I will then be beach-eligible.

Oh, I made up the CPB but don't relax; Big Pain Brother IS after your medicine.

I hope to go into slow-motion swim rehab mode at the Oceanside Harbor--like I did after my neck surgery.  There's a quiet hunk of beach there for kids and old men.


"The first time you quit is the last time you try."

Ten minutes or so in the Oceanside beach today.

I have built up this imaginary psychological wall to keep me out of the water.  It has been preventing me from trying to make progress with my back issues.  Recently my son has been surfing at the same area of the Pier and making strong progress in his aquatic development.  Today, after he surfed early in the morning, I was awake to interrogate him about the conditions.

It struck me that my own aquatic life has passed me by for months and months.  Since I am a step-by-step guy, I dropped $1.50 in the parking meter for one hour of time.  I don't have a good wetsuit anymore so I used this waist-up neoprene jacket.  It was fine.  The water was absolutely light blue and gorgeous--big waves closing out on the south side--solid four-footers.

I'll return tomorrow.  Funny how we just have to break through that invisible barrier we have constructed in our minds.  I didn't go out to any big waves.  My left leg and low back didn't want to hold up my weight--ouch.








"The first time you quit is the last time you try."