AW COME ON!!!
My comment about Wibberely playing on the linoleum, that was just a harmless little joke! OK?
Even Earl thought it was funny!
Yeah, I had mentioned that I used to play the guitar, but I can't anymore because back in July 2001 my left wrist was fractured.
If you look closely at my photo in my avatar, you'll notice the black band I have around my left wrist. It's a support strap I wear to protect my wrist when I go out.
OK, I had never mentioned this before.
YOU ALL WANT KNOW HOW MY LEFT WRIST GOT FRACTURED???
This is just another example of something that was taken away from me.
Back in 2001, I was living in a 2 bed room apartment. I had a room mate, a guy who was about 5 years older than I was.
We had moved down from Las Cruces New Mexico down to El Paso Texas back in 1996. I once owned a large 3 bedroom mobile home 14 x 64 feet and to help with my financial situation I rented out one of my bed rooms, and he paid me $120 dollars per month for rent on the room.
Then we decided that Las Cruces was a kind of dead end town and that El Paso might have more to offer us. Well, I couldn't afford to move the mobile home down, so I sold it and we rented an apartment instead.
OK, back in March of 1997, my room mate had a stroke, couldn't work anymore, and I helped him to apply for disability and a few months later, he started getting his SSI checks. I fought like Hell to help him to get his disability checks.
After his first stroke, he had gone through personality changes and started bossing me a round, and I was trying to help him through his recovery from his stroke.
Then, back in 2001, he had his second stroke, suffered severe memory loss, and became paranoid and delusional. I desperately needed to get some help to take care of him. I couldn't do it by myself anymore.
OK, he had one of his girl friends staying with us, but she was no help, and my room mate became even more paranoid, and he even thought that I wanted to put the make on her.
I had no interest in her what-so-ever. She was in her 30s but she was retarded with the mind of a child.
The reason why my room mate had his second stroke was because his doctor prescribed Viagra so he could "get it up" when he had any women friends come over. The doctor had to be an idiot, because if I were a doctor, I would not prescribe Viagra to someone who has high blood pressure, and who had already had one stroke. NO WAY!
Anyway, he became more and more bossy, and became a real tyrant, and I couldn't get any help to deal with the situation. He needed some kind of professional home care, I just couldn't do it myself anymore.
Then one night, we got into an argument over my use of the computer on the Internet.
At the time, I only had dial-up, so we had made an agreement that I would not go on line during the day-light hours, but that I would wait until 9:00 PM in the evening before going on line.
The rent on the apartment, the electric bill, and the phone bill, all the bills were in my name, and I paid the bills and he was suppose to help with the rent.
But he had forgotten our original agreement, so one night, back in July 8,2001, he came into my bedroom, and demanded that I go off-line and shut down my computer. I tried to remind him of our original agreement that after 9:00 PM I could go on line, that the night time hours were mine to use the computer.
I would be listening to Art Bell on the radio from 11:00 PM to 3:00 AM and going to his web site. It was a rather interesting talk show about unusual topics, about UFOs and stuff like that.
But that one evening, my room mate wanted me to turn off my radio and shut down my computer. I was in my own room, minding my own business while he was in his own room getting laid by his retarded girl friend.
His retarded girl friend was a real trouble maker, she actually liked stirring up trouble between me and my room mate.
So, we go into an argument.
He went back to his bed room, and then, came back into my room with a machete!
He started swinging his machete and struck me on my right arm, then my left knee, and then he fractured my left wrist.
I grabbed the phone to dial 911, and he started hacking at the phone line, but then I remembered, my computer was still on line so I couldn't dial out anyway, and it's hard to log off when somebody is swinging a machete at you!
I was really frightened, so I started leaving the apartment and as I was going out the door into the hallway, he struck me on the back of my head.
Our apartment was upstairs in a 2 story building. I went down the stairs, out the front door and headed for a pay phone on the corner, leaving a trail of blood behind me along the hallway, the stairs, and along the sidewalk to the pay phone at the corner.
I dialed 911, and about 5 minutes later, an ambulance, a fire truck, and two police cars arrived. As I was being strapped into the gurney and being lifted into the ambulance I could see a police officer going into the building with a shot gun, and I was taken to the hospital.
There, I was put under for surgery and woke up almost 2 hours later, with my left arm in a cast. I was in a lot of pain because I had a stainless steel pin in my left wrist. I also had stitches in the back of my head, on my right arm, and some on just above my left knee. I was in the hospital for three days, and my ex-room-mate was hauled off to the slammer for 9 months.
When I came home, I was unable to take care of myself. A friend of mine, who is also a therapist, suggested that I stay at Santa Teresa New Mexico until I could take care of myself again. It was a psychiatric facility and I needed to be there because I was severely depressed and having anxiety attacks. It was a nice place, and they took good care of me.
I was there at Santa Teresa for three weeks and on the day that they took me home, we stopped at the hospital to have the cast removed and the steel pin taken out. Since I was no longer in so much pain, I was able to take care of myself again.
Anyway . . . . .
Me, and my ex-room-ate, we went our separate ways. After 9 months, he was released from the slammer, and sometimes I would see him on the bus or downtown. Sometimes he would try to apologize to me, but by then it was too late.
Then back in February of 2005, I got a phone call from a mutual acquaintance in Las Cruces, that my ex-room-mate had his third stroke. I went to see him at the hospital where he was staying. He never regained consciousness, and he died a month later in March of 2005.
He was 5 years older than I was, and he was 59 years old when he died on March 2005, about three months before his 60th birthday.
I'm now 59 years old, and despite my obesity, I don't have high blood pressure, and my cholesterol levels are actually lower than normal. That's because I take better care of myself. Most of my relatives were fat, yet they lived into their 80s
Yeah, after we went our separate ways I had my freedom. I could go on line anytime I felt like with my computer. I was free from that tyrant!
You know, after my room-mate had his first and then his second stroke, and he started getting more and more bossy and acting like a tyrant, I should have either walked out on him, or made him move out and find his own place to live.
But I didn't. I felt obligated to take care of him through his recovery from his stroke. I couldn't abandon him! He had been unable to take care of himself, and I can't abandon somebody in that condition.
Yeah, I allowed him to take advantage of me.
THAT'S BECAUSE I'M A CHUMP! I'M A STUPID CHUMP!
It took something like getting my left wrist fractured by a machete to cause us to go our separate ways, and after that, I finally had my own personal freedom again.
But my left wrist is all cripple up now. When my arms was in the cast, I could not sign any papers with my signature. I had to sign with an "X" like a moron while a witness would also sign. After the cast was removed, I could sign my name again, but that's all I can do with my left hand.
I can't do much writing, except to sign my name. I'm just glad I can type on a keyboard, but I can't write anymore except to sign my name, and my hand writing really sucks now.
I can't play the guitar anymore, and I would like to go back to working on oil paintings, but my left wrist is so fucked up, I can't go back to oil paintings. I would like to go back to building radio controlled flying model planes but I can't do any detailed work with my left hand.
I'm left handed, and my left hand is all fucked up!
SO, I CAN'T DO SHIT ANYMORE!!!
It's just more stuff taken away from me.
I'm damn lucky I can feed myself, bathe myself, and type on a keyboard (mostly with my right hand) but aside from that, I can't do shit!
But worst of all, I can't play the guitar anymore!
So, I guess that all I can do is play on the linoleum!
