Friday, August 21, 2009
Just got back from seeing the no-longer-new Star Trek movie with Jamie at the discount theater. I kinda liked it. But it was so much like Galaxy Quest! It had Sarris, torturing a guy strapped to a table, and it had Crewman Number 6, who dies, and it even had the Omega-13 lava-lamp device. So that was cool. It had everything but ducts! Also an interracial kiss that updates the first-ever interracial kiss on teevee back in ‘68.
And the Uhura-Spock kiss reminds me that I forgot to give “mad” “props” (as the kids say today) to Mad Men for that mankissing scene on Sunday night, which, thanks to the geniuses in marketing, was simulcast on the big screen in Times Square. At last! Same-sex making-out returns to Times Square after being banned by Giuliani! And that kiss (good for Sal, who was visibly crestfallen last year when Cosgrove revealed himself to be a raging homophobe who’d never even considered the possibility that he might have gay coworkers) reminded me in turn that I am so old that I can remember the Rock Hudson TV-biopic which centered on Hudson’s homosexuality but would not show Rock kissing an actual man. This was in 1990, people. Rock Hudson was gay—OK, this we could finally acknowledge. But Rock Hudson kissing a man—too ew ew ew for the teevee only 19 years ago.
And reminders of my age remind me in turn that I forgot to tell you all that I came back from vacation with a wicked muscle spasm that eventually forced me to pull over somewhere in Virginia and find a 7-11 so that I could put a bag of ice on my left shoulder and numb myself. Turns out it’s not the shoulder at all. I went to see a physical therapist on Tuesday, bright and early at 7 am (the same one who fixed my elbow in January so that I could resume my hockey season), and learned that I have a pinched nerve, probably around C5. Apparently, when you spend 10-20 hours twisting your neck at the top of a ladder to paint the alcove, and you’re old, this is what happens to you. The giveaway—today, at least—is that I have one of those classic neurological systems, the Tingling in the Arm.
So my MRI is first thing Monday morning, and lemme tell you, brother, I am very happy I have health coverage for this kind of thing. It would be really nice if everyone had health care for this kind of thing, though of course I feel that way only because I am a card-carrying member of the Liberal Fascist party. Needless to add, I should limit the number of hours I spent hunched over a laptop (in fact, I’m writing this on the elevated computer table we bought after Janet’s neck surgery). I don’t think ye olde slipped disc is that severe—right now it’s merely annoying. I expect they’ll give me a bunch of exercises and stretches to do. But I think I should probably cut back to something more like a Poor Man Institute publishing schedule for now. Besides, a new semester is beginning, with all the madness that entails. So: no surgery and less blogging! I’ll drop in with an update when I know the results. Can’t wait to drink that yummy MRI juice!
Update: Whoa, spoke too soon! The moment I posted this the phone rang. It’s Nittany Medical telling me that the insurer has not yet authorized this MRI and it has to be postponed until Wednesday. I mentioned the ominous Tingling in the Arm and suggested that they pass along the information to whatever insurance-company bureaucrat is looking for a promotion by denying me an MRI, and perhaps that will move things along. Well, it beats being euthanized by a seekrit Muslim death panel.