It’ll Come to Me in General

Well. Four days ago I ripped my right latissimus dorsi. Imagine taking a sheet of paper and ripping it in half. That sound is exactly the pain. Synesthesia much?

I have ripped that muscle three times in this lifetime. And every time I know exactly what happened. Problem is you have to basically stop moving to allow it to heal. I did the better part of three days laying on a heating pad. I already know what my Doc would say: “Yep tore your lat, Stop using your right arm and here is a big fucking bag of painkillers.”

I have gotten disillusioned with the medical profession in my old age. When I break fingers or toes I don’t even go to the doc anymore. Sit in a waiting room for an hour then be told “not much we can do.” Fuck it, I can tape my own fingers and toes together without the drive and the wait and the co-pay.

Tonight I stretched, getting ready for work. Then realized if they put me in sporting goods or pets I was going to rip it again, then I would be out for a month or two.

I seriously need to read up on nutrition and yoga and something. Twice a month I have been injured, arguably workplace injuries. I have a feeling I am doing something wrong on the nutrition front. Or it could just be I am just getting old.
I got a series of notes from Jessica Rabbit. That perked me up a bit, but I’ll not be leaning in again.
Come on life, surprise me!

My 60th birthday is on the 6th of August.

I have abruptly decided I am going to go sky diving.
In the Army and Navy I practiced parachute landing falls. Parasailed into Pensacola Bay.
That was somewhat comical. You stood in full flight gear on a floating platform, a boat pulled you up under the parachute. At about 200’ the instructor gave a “chop” signal, and you were supposed to simultaneously slap your forearms in the levers holding you to the boat. I slapped forward and only one released, so there I was being pulled through the sky, sideways.

The boat was slowing down, so I was falling, being dragged sideways until I managed to get the other latch unlocked. Training being what it is I knew exactly what to do, inflated my LPU, pushed up my visor, took off my gloves and shoved them into my survival vest, released the raft from the seat pan and released the Koch fittings ten feet before I hit the water.
Even with an inflated LPU you sink about 20 feet down into the water. I am an experienced swimmer, but that was a fucking experience. I was 26. It would probably kill me today.
I have been IM chatting with a shipmate from my first crew, my first cruise. He is a Captain with United.

We have been regaling each other with stupid monkey tricks.

I was reminded how the whole military thing started.

Right out of high school I went to two summers at Army bases.

ROTC Advanced was a Special Operations feeder program. I shot everything in the US inventory. Nothing like grabbing that VADS Cadillac pulling the trigger and a hundred rounds of 20mm goes downrange and shreds a truck.

Rapelling, ziplining, weighted marches. Five am seven days a week working out.
I’ve done some shit, been a few places.

Probably a good thing the Special Ops plan didn’t work out. I would have been a Major when Desert Storm came around.