TaralWayne's avatar

TaralWayne

Taral Wayne
1K Watchers198.9K Page Views1.1K Deviations
1 min read
I just tried to upload some new art, only to discover that there seems no way to organize it as I want it.  Instead, new posts go to a "new" folder, or to "all", but I can no longer organize them into theme folders or a featured folder.  I've searced until I've poked and pressed everything twice, but I cut can't seem to find to add stuff.  Deviant Art hasn't worked quite right for at least a year, and I'm more than a little cheesed off about it.
12Comments
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In

This is about the largest lump of expository writing I’ve done since the stroke.  The second largest bit of writing recently has been  a number of emails sent to and shared by Walt Wentz and Eric Mayer.  In particular I need to thank Walt’s help in preparing and editing my comments for reading.  I warn you in advance that I am still in a very experimental state of my writing – five ago I couldn’t write in any useful fashion at all, and the effort of writing is still highly unsatisfactory.  But as I keep saying … it will get better, and in time I intend publish a fully account of the events beginning with my stroke in early February.

The wait time for my last doctor’s appointment was quite unusual... it wasn't of a real medical nature, either. I was forced to wait for an ophthalmologist who was nearly half an hour late for my appointment, and was late beyond even that, just to open the store! It seems the profession leaves a lot to be desired when it comes to professionalism.  The doctor arrived at least half an hour late for work, and she had another woman ahead of me. But we were both waiting for the store itself to open ... leaving me to wait for another half an hour before the first customer could be served.

However, there were difficulties in delivering my prescription glasses … which means I’ve possibly given up contacts for good. The problem is that they still cause me minor problems at the best of times due to my Myasthenia, and I can’t wear contacts until the problem is resolved. But the neurologist won’t tamper with the status quo until I’ve fully recovered from the stroke, so I won’t be expecting my eyesight to be fully restored for another few months, or a year. After all… I’ll live forever, so I can wait until all the doctors in question are fully satisfied, right?

In the meantime, regular glasses do offer me much better vision
out of doors … or even for the TV screen.

Things keep disappearing on me.

First, I found two pieces of a broken model car that I didn’t even know was broken, and it was weeks before I recognized what those parts were for, and that they belonged to the same model car!  Weirdly, I discovered that separate parts of yet another car under repair vanished in front of my very eyes before I could make the repair! It took a second search the next day before the missing headlight turned up in a closed drawer, behind a box and quite impossible to notice unless a dedicated search had been made.

Similarly, a lens popped out of my new pair of sunglasses, and it was patently impossible to pop it back in.  After 30 or 40 tries, I threw the damn things on the floor – not a bright move to make, admittedly – and the missing lens vanished completely.  No amount of searching turned it up, no matter what. I didn’t see it again for at least two weeks, maybe longer.

Then, abruptly, the lost lens appeared – tucked away where it couldn’t possibly be. But there it was, nearly invisible.

Now, the pirate’s hat from a six-inch figure is missing.  It had fallen over and the hat ought to lie where it was perfectly visible. But of course it is perfectly invisible, wherever it is, and no sign of it can be found. I wonder how long it will take this time for it to reappear from the twelfth dimension?  It didn’t help that the house cleaners provided by my social workers knocked things around like they were in a hockey arena.  My biggest fear is that they mistook a pirate hat as big as a quarter for just some natural piece of trash that any idiot would throw away.

 

The biggest thing on my mind at present is the new toilet... I didn't know I that the building was installing new one, or that I could go to head of the for line of one of the new ones.  But my main man, Winston, told me that I could install one new models in next week. That's the chief advantage of staying friendly with the staff ... I do theym favours and they do me favours, nudge, nudge, wink, wink … such has I get the new toilets before 2018.  It's quite a crapper, too. Although the next model it still an American Standard, the replacement is apparently for poorer tenants, who don’t deserve a toilet the flushes every time, or makes pissing all over the floor unavoidable.   I nor do I have to rinse the crap that sticks to the tiny little bowl, either. I'm as pleased with my new toilet as anything I can think off over that has happened over he last few weeks.  Life has reduced to this, alas… Oh ... any I think I've managed a new quantitative level while writing on FaceBook.  I guess that counts for something too.

 

***

 

Some say you might experience some slight change in attitude or perspective after a stroke – I fear I may have taken up a liking for Robert E. Howard, H. Beam Piper and Jerry Pournelle.  However, taking up objectionable pulp fiction was the least of my worries.

Snow was also the least of my worries this year while I was in hospitalized.  By the time I was released from St. Joe’s, most of the year’s load seemed to have mostly melted before I was send home.  We had large loads of it by February, but there was only of a dusting of snow overnight,, and it was gone in early March.  But at least I’ve not had the headache of making roughly one doctor’s appointment every three or four days over the last six weeks.  Otherwise the weather has been ridiculously without snow and
conspicuously warm.

I keep trying to write, improving my skills, but by early evening I tend to grow tired, and that is not a time to be writing.   I tire easily, and sleep a lot.  Sometimes, I don’t seem to do anything but wake, clean, eat, wash, spend a little time catching up with the internet, have dinner and then get to bed.  Even then it seems there isn’t time enough, and I get to bed late!  I watch a movie or something, or spend some time out of doors with Traveling Matt.  I’m getting slowly better with writing, but not well enough without a huge effort, and embarrassing lapses in comprehension – the words begin to swim before my eyes when I tire.  But I will surely improve with time and effort.

 

I retained my drawing skills nearly intact from the start, though with somewhat impaired motor skills.  Although I did some drawing in the hospital, I have done very little once I was home again.  I have relatively little interest … I suspect because I

need new incentives. 

 

In time, I’ll probably have much to more so say about that, as well as writing for fanzines.  Maybe a spell in hospital is a sign that it’s a time for a serious reappraisal.  Have I enjoyed fandom much in the last year or two, or has it been four honeymoons too many?

***

 

Meanwhile, appointments with my doctors drive me insane – I swear that I either see a doctor or some similar task every other day. I'm certainly never short of things to do, it seems, even though I'm never really doing much. Day before yesterday, it was a cardiologist, who kept me waiting for two hours for no good reason, simply to tell me what I already knew.  In fact – I had a stroke two of them – but they couldn’t make up their months whether it was one or two, and whether they had taken several days of observation to determine their original medications had failed – which is what led to the first, and far more serious stroke, barely a week or ten days later.  I’ve had every test in the book since, but in the end there was nothing they could do about it, once I’ve had it, but to tell me what had already happened.

 

I’ve already begun to joke with my social workers that I’ll recuperate on my own

before the therapist can schedule his first secession with me.

Tomorrow I'll see an unnecessary neurologist, who will me that my Myasthenia hasn’t essentially  changed at all.

 

But improvement may be possible.  I haven’t used my contact lenses for a few years because my Myasthenia interferes with my sight.  My medications  mostly eliminate the problem that closes one eye, but not perfectly.  If I the medications were improved, I might be able to get back to my contacts.  However, the neurologist who treated my Myasthenia prefers not to make any changes so soon after a stroke, so she won’t do anything more until Fall at earliest … and so, one more summer of imperfect vision.  What the hell … I have many more to enjoy, don’t I?  I hope so.

 

Enough.  If you’re as sick of listening to me talk about my problems as I am, we should all take a pill to forget it about it.

The biggest excitement in my life lately was taking the bed and mattress apart so that I could reassemble a missing bolt from a few years ago. It didn’t matter at first, but over time it sagged and sagged until the bed was almost bent double, and collapse seemed inevitable. But, by undertaking the operation first thing in the morning, when I was at my freshest, I managed to remove the mattress and springs.  The next step was to bend the frame more or less back into shape.  I had kept the errant bolt into place, and used the ratchet wrench to tighten it up.  Final step was to replace the springs and the mattress.  I felt considerable satisfaction in knowing that I’d likely get another two years of service from the bed after all.  But that sort of satisfaction comes at a cost, so I took it easy after that.

 

I recently scanned an old piece or art illustrating a comment in FaceBook.  It was a story that I 1972 that a began but never finished.  Truthfully, it was hardly begun but I completed the artwork for the illo for some reason.  I probably found I was more interested in drawing the story than writing it.  I don’t think the artwork  was ever even shown, not even in a fanzine. I really need to get back to scanning my ancient artwork before I’m dead … assuming it isn’t all thrown way, leaving nothing but some badly mimeographed pages in old fanzines.

Speaking of the vanishing fanzines, whose numbers once covered entire states, thundering over the prairies as moved from worldcon to worldcon…  I wonder what the outcome of this year’s FAAn awards will be.  Will the changes made this year result an a resurgence of interest, or will the results be disappointingly much the same?  Will I love this year?  Speaking of which, maybe I should.  If I gain enough of the sympathy vote, I may win.

 

Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In

This is about the largest lump of expository writing I’ve done since the stroke.  The second largest bit of writing recently has been  a number of emails sent to and shared by Walt Wentz and Eric Mayer.  In particular I need to thank Walt’s help in preparing and editing my comments for reading.  I warn you in advance that I am still in a very experimental state of my writing – five ago I couldn’t write in any useful fashion at all, and the effort of writing is still highly unsatisfactory.  But as I keep saying … it will get better, and in time I intend publish a fully account of the events beginning with my stroke in early February.

The wait time for my last doctor’s appointment was quite unusual... it wasn't of a real medical nature, either. I was forced to wait for an ophthalmologist who was nearly half an hour late for my appointment, and was late beyond even that, just to open the store! It seems the profession leaves a lot to be desired when it comes to professionalism.  The doctor arrived at least half an hour late for work, and she had another woman ahead of me. But we were both waiting for the store itself to open ... leaving me to wait for another half an hour before the first customer could be served.

However, there were difficulties in delivering my prescription glasses … which means I’ve possibly given up contacts for good. The problem is that they still cause me minor problems at the best of times due to my Myasthenia, and I can’t wear contacts until the problem is resolved. But the neurologist won’t tamper with the status quo until I’ve fully recovered from the stroke, so I won’t be expecting my eyesight to be fully restored for another few months, or a year. After all… I’ll live forever, so I can wait until all the doctors in question are fully satisfied, right?

In the meantime, regular glasses do offer me much better vision
out of doors … or even for the TV screen.

Things keep disappearing on me.

First, I found two pieces of a broken model car that I didn’t even know was broken, and it was weeks before I recognized what those parts were for, and that they belonged to the same model car!  Weirdly, I discovered that separate parts of yet another car under repair vanished in front of my very eyes before I could make the repair! It took a second search the next day before the missing headlight turned up in a closed drawer, behind a box and quite impossible to notice unless a dedicated search had been made.

Similarly, a lens popped out of my new pair of sunglasses, and it was patently impossible to pop it back in.  After 30 or 40 tries, I threw the damn things on the floor – not a bright move to make, admittedly – and the missing lens vanished completely.  No amount of searching turned it up, no matter what. I didn’t see it again for at least two weeks, maybe longer.

Then, abruptly, the lost lens appeared – tucked away where it couldn’t possibly be. But there it was, nearly invisible.

Now, the pirate’s hat from a six-inch figure is missing.  It had fallen over and the hat ought to lie where it was perfectly visible. But of course it is perfectly invisible, wherever it is, and no sign of it can be found. I wonder how long it will take this time for it to reappear from the twelfth dimension?  It didn’t help that the house cleaners provided by my social workers knocked things around like they were in a hockey arena.  My biggest fear is that they mistook a pirate hat as big as a quarter for just some natural piece of trash that any idiot would throw away.

 

The biggest thing on my mind at present is the new toilet... I didn't know I that the building was installing new one, or that I could go to head of the for line of one of the new ones.  But my main man, Winston, told me that I could install one new models in next week. That's the chief advantage of staying friendly with the staff ... I do theym favours and they do me favours, nudge, nudge, wink, wink … such has I get the new toilets before 2018.  It's quite a crapper, too. Although the next model it still an American Standard, the replacement is apparently for poorer tenants, who don’t deserve a toilet the flushes every time, or makes pissing all over the floor unavoidable.   I nor do I have to rinse the crap that sticks to the tiny little bowl, either. I'm as pleased with my new toilet as anything I can think off over that has happened over he last few weeks.  Life has reduced to this, alas… Oh ... any I think I've managed a new quantitative level while writing on FaceBook.  I guess that counts for something too.

 

***

 

Some say you might experience some slight change in attitude or perspective after a stroke – I fear I may have taken up a liking for Robert E. Howard, H. Beam Piper and Jerry Pournelle.  However, taking up objectionable pulp fiction was the least of my worries.

Snow was also the least of my worries this year while I was in hospitalized.  By the time I was released from St. Joe’s, most of the year’s load seemed to have mostly melted before I was send home.  We had large loads of it by February, but there was only of a dusting of snow overnight,, and it was gone in early March.  But at least I’ve not had the headache of making roughly one doctor’s appointment every three or four days over the last six weeks.  Otherwise the weather has been ridiculously without snow and
conspicuously warm.

I keep trying to write, improving my skills, but by early evening I tend to grow tired, and that is not a time to be writing.   I tire easily, and sleep a lot.  Sometimes, I don’t seem to do anything but wake, clean, eat, wash, spend a little time catching up with the internet, have dinner and then get to bed.  Even then it seems there isn’t time enough, and I get to bed late!  I watch a movie or something, or spend some time out of doors with Traveling Matt.  I’m getting slowly better with writing, but not well enough without a huge effort, and embarrassing lapses in comprehension – the words begin to swim before my eyes when I tire.  But I will surely improve with time and effort.

 

I retained my drawing skills nearly intact from the start, though with somewhat impaired motor skills.  Although I did some drawing in the hospital, I have done very little once I was home again.  I have relatively little interest … I suspect because I

need new incentives. 

 

In time, I’ll probably have much to more so say about that, as well as writing for fanzines.  Maybe a spell in hospital is a sign that it’s a time for a serious reappraisal.  Have I enjoyed fandom much in the last year or two, or has it been four honeymoons too many?

***

 

Meanwhile, appointments with my doctors drive me insane – I swear that I either see a doctor or some similar task every other day. I'm certainly never short of things to do, it seems, even though I'm never really doing much. Day before yesterday, it was a cardiologist, who kept me waiting for two hours for no good reason, simply to tell me what I already knew.  In fact – I had a stroke two of them – but they couldn’t make up their months whether it was one or two, and whether they had taken several days of observation to determine their original medications had failed – which is what led to the first, and far more serious stroke, barely a week or ten days later.  I’ve had every test in the book since, but in the end there was nothing they could do about it, once I’ve had it, but to tell me what had already happened.

 

I’ve already begun to joke with my social workers that I’ll recuperate on my own

before the therapist can schedule his first secession with me.

Tomorrow I'll see an unnecessary neurologist, who will me that my Myasthenia hasn’t essentially  changed at all.

 

But improvement may be possible.  I haven’t used my contact lenses for a few years because my Myasthenia interferes with my sight.  My medications  mostly eliminate the problem that closes one eye, but not perfectly.  If I the medications were improved, I might be able to get back to my contacts.  However, the neurologist who treated my Myasthenia prefers not to make any changes so soon after a stroke, so she won’t do anything more until Fall at earliest … and so, one more summer of imperfect vision.  What the hell … I have many more to enjoy, don’t I?  I hope so.

 

Enough.  If you’re as sick of listening to me talk about my problems as I am, we should all take a pill to forget it about it.

The biggest excitement in my life lately was taking the bed and mattress apart so that I could reassemble a missing bolt from a few years ago. It didn’t matter at first, but over time it sagged and sagged until the bed was almost bent double, and collapse seemed inevitable. But, by undertaking the operation first thing in the morning, when I was at my freshest, I managed to remove the mattress and springs.  The next step was to bend the frame more or less back into shape.  I had kept the errant bolt into place, and used the ratchet wrench to tighten it up.  Final step was to replace the springs and the mattress.  I felt considerable satisfaction in knowing that I’d likely get another two years of service from the bed after all.  But that sort of satisfaction comes at a cost, so I took it easy after that.

 

I recently scanned an old piece or art illustrating a comment in FaceBook.  It was a story that I 1972 that a began but never finished.  Truthfully, it was hardly begun but I completed the artwork for the illo for some reason.  I probably found I was more interested in drawing the story than writing it.  I don’t think the artwork  was ever even shown, not even in a fanzine. I really need to get back to scanning my ancient artwork before I’m dead … assuming it isn’t all thrown way, leaving nothing but some badly mimeographed pages in old fanzines.

Speaking of the vanishing fanzines, whose numbers once covered entire states, thundering over the prairies as moved from worldcon to worldcon…  I wonder what the outcome of this year’s FAAn awards will be.  Will the changes made this year result an a resurgence of interest, or will the results be disappointingly much the same?  Will I love this year?  Speaking of which, maybe I should.  If I gain enough of the sympathy vote, I may win.

Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
3 min read

I Have Only One Reality (21 Mar 17)

I've been making good progress, literally daily, but there is only so much good spin from a recovering from a serious stroke, as I did between late Jan. and early Feb.  I recorded a mild stroke that I had recovered almost most entire from.   But I was too soon was back in hospital for an even longer, and more serious, which left be with an assortment of abilities and disabilities that were as shocking as they were strange.  I would draw as well has ever, however, but not type or and write.  I was able to read as fashion, but I kept forgetting the overall picture.  According to witnesses I was able to get around -- indeed, drove to the hospital with Traveling Matt -- but was only technically literate at the time.

I spent another 10 or 12 weeks in hospital, this time, with multiple CAD scans and MRI, as well a ECGs, and it took a while before they decided was at blood intermittent clotting in the heart before the stroke.  (I'll be another week, at least, before I can dress this up in technical horse pucky.)

So, now I'm on blood thinners for life, checking weekly to see that I am on the razor's edge bleeding to death on the one, and my blood clotting up and resulting in a stroke on the other hand.  I'm told it's pretty much routine now ... just never forget to make your monthly check up.

I haven't appended any therapy or special closes yet.  Though I was discharged from St. Joseph's around the 20th of the month.  He said have no, in fact, attending the coin show it coin show at the end of the month.  But I was I was quite nervous, having gotten used to being under constant scrutiny, and, in fact, constantly having to rediscover simply thinks like using the lock door ... in fact, I still can't out entirely figure out how the microwave oven works.  It's literally beyond...

I've been on my own more or less for about four months.  I've been in a state of perpetual panic over everything from slicing bread to holding more than an object it both hands at once.  But has day is a gain.  Every increase in my powers, is that owed back to be me … and I hope to collect every of penny.   Significantly, I’ve begun to write again … not a little better every day, but a lot better every day.  I’m still pretty shaky, but I’m the hang of just the words again, and a sense of style again.   I may even hopes of being more or less as fit for writing in as little in month.

I can’t pretend I haven’t slaved over this for over an hour … probably a lot more.  I will have many mistakes that I can’t see, and will seem foolish later.   But what I wrote yesterday was more difficult than what I wrote yesterday, and what I intent to wrote tomorrow will be more difficult still.  There is no alternative.  I grow again or I will die.

19Comments
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
It took ten minutes to write twenty-five that promptly vanished!  I was going to say that there seems change by the day, but in a hundred way the internet made it HARDER!  I have number of sketches from the hospital  dealing with scanning see too tough to deal with after today's fuck up.
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
Featured

Well this is a hell of a how-do-you-do! by TaralWayne, journal

Devious Journal Entry by TaralWayne, journal

Temporarily Down by TaralWayne, journal

Everything You Downloaded Was Wrong by TaralWayne, journal

Hold That Pose by TaralWayne, journal