I've got to admit it's getting better

A little better all the time (can't get no worse).

Yesterday I managed to do all of my new, easier, strength-building PT ex, took two small walks, ellipticalled for four whole minutes. Plus, Jen, Oni and I watched the amazing season ender of Picard whilst indulging in BRILL take out from Fusion Kitchen. Veggie tempura and dry sautéed string beans MMMMMMMMMMMM!

All this AND I’m in NO bloody pain this morning!

Well, how ‘bout that!?

In last night’s Picard, after an epic display of devastation-avoiding diplomacy, (with a last minute heroic hand from Will Riker and the Federation) Jean Luc died. How? Why? War had been nimbly circumvented so what the cherry jubileed fuck?

 Turns out, and we knew this from a previous ep, our hero had a killer “brain anomaly.” The hell’s that? Essentially, just a vague, lyrical way of saying brain abnormality – some weird-ass bean feature which messes with your ability to function. Hey, I've got those too.

Because this is Star Trek, because this is 2399, because he’s on the synth (think Data – similar to Spock but a synthetic life form) world, moments before Jen Luc croaks, doctor and crew member Jurati, downloads his consciousness, his being, into ….what? A thumb drive? Dunno but at the end of the show, we see him all hale and hearty in a new bod. No, this isn’t like Old Man’s World where you go from a decrepit, ultra feeb, broke-ass 75 year old form to an amped up, super powered 20 year old's carcass (complete with the ability to regenerate lost limbs, oxygen-retaining SmartBlood, and an on-board computer/networking interface, called a BrainPal.)

Nope, Jean Luc is still a zillion years old, he’s got no super powers BUT he’s alive AND shot of that pesky brain anomaly. Fuck man, it’s not Scalzi Land but I’d sure as shit take it.

This is part of why I love science and sci/fi – I like to imagine my existence without neurofibromatosis type 2. I’ve had years where nf2 was in the background. Yes, I’d have my annual exams but, apart from that and slow, incremental hearing loss (and knowledge that complete deafness, etc., etc., could strike at any moment) everything was mostly fine and dandy. Or, as dandy as any person who forgot to be born in a money patch and lacks a sufficiently mainstream society personality, can be.

During those years, I went to concerts, hung out in the live music clubs, threw big, loud parties, had long, meandering convos and a lot of laughs in, seemingly, every bar in Boston and Cambridge. That and I traveled and painted, painted, painted.

I would, of course, LOVE to be nf2 free, to have a skin suit devoid of the crap-ass destruction my brain (and spine) anomalies have visited on me. I’d still be relatively old (62 thenkyewveddymuch). Travel and concerts, right now anyway, would still be impossible (thanks COVID). BUT I’d be able to play my flute again, hear music and Ten’s voice, hike up to and around Nut Island and through the Blue Hills. I could call Daddy and have long surrealistic convos about everything and nada just like we always did, pre-deafening.

No, I’m not having a pity party – RILLY! My flights of fancy were sparked by last night’s fab show. I'm indulging my imagination.

Today is Balance Boosting PT exercise day, I’ll walk some more, elliptical, paint and then, as a pre-pain prophylactic measure, I’ll lay on my heating pad for an hour.

I WILL regain strength, ability and stamina!