Murder in the City
This week has seen the last first day of school, at least for a while. This semester looks to have a higher workload than last, so I have to keep ahead of my assignment schedule. Couple that with the practicum requirements, and this is a very busy four months ahead. Plus job-hunting.
I've had to take off some blinders in the last month. Over Christmas, Mom was pretty sick. Slept a lot, and was pretty weak and slow when she was awake. Dad had to use a cane to get around on one of our outings. Dad's had real back problems for a long time, because of an injury when he was in the Air Force in the late '60s. When he was around 30, he had a couple of discs removed from his spinal column, and synthetic replacements implanted. It was about as good a repair as could be managed in the mid-'70s. Dad always pushed himself, and he has a certain stubborn streak when it comes to how he works, so he continued to damage himself over four decades of work. It looks like that's finally caught up with him. An MRI a couple of weeks ago revealed progressive damage to the #3 and #4 lumbar vertebrae. They're exploring options, including possible surgery.
This is a shift in how I have to look at the world. The idea of Dad not driving - and not even able to drive - his trucks is alien to me. We've talked a little about how to handle things, and he's considering hiring a couple of drivers. There's still money to be made in the business, and with the equipment, and he can just handle the brokering and assignments. Which is a better working retirement than climbing on and off trailers at 70 years old, definitely. But it means that our trip to Atlanta last Thanksgiving was very likely the last time I'll sit in the right-hand seat of one of those behemoths and hear the growl of the diesel and its turbochargers whine and see the world from that particular wonderful perspective.
The world moves on. Godsdammit.
I've had to take off some blinders in the last month. Over Christmas, Mom was pretty sick. Slept a lot, and was pretty weak and slow when she was awake. Dad had to use a cane to get around on one of our outings. Dad's had real back problems for a long time, because of an injury when he was in the Air Force in the late '60s. When he was around 30, he had a couple of discs removed from his spinal column, and synthetic replacements implanted. It was about as good a repair as could be managed in the mid-'70s. Dad always pushed himself, and he has a certain stubborn streak when it comes to how he works, so he continued to damage himself over four decades of work. It looks like that's finally caught up with him. An MRI a couple of weeks ago revealed progressive damage to the #3 and #4 lumbar vertebrae. They're exploring options, including possible surgery.
This is a shift in how I have to look at the world. The idea of Dad not driving - and not even able to drive - his trucks is alien to me. We've talked a little about how to handle things, and he's considering hiring a couple of drivers. There's still money to be made in the business, and with the equipment, and he can just handle the brokering and assignments. Which is a better working retirement than climbing on and off trailers at 70 years old, definitely. But it means that our trip to Atlanta last Thanksgiving was very likely the last time I'll sit in the right-hand seat of one of those behemoths and hear the growl of the diesel and its turbochargers whine and see the world from that particular wonderful perspective.
The world moves on. Godsdammit.