November 20, 2009

(In reply to an email from my SIL about Brian Dettmer's art)

Would you believe I have been looking at his work lately? I found him by following links from blogs, which is now my "job." Bill asks me what I am doing and I tell him going to work each day. He just laughs. I don't know why he laughs as since retirement I get up each day and go straight to my work desk and begin my daylong job of internetting. I just don't get paid for my work these days. Maybe that is why he laughs. Blink. Blink. No pay, no real job.

This guy never cuts the pages out of his books. He finds the pictures he wants and then using glue, puts the pages together so that he can use the scalpel to cut away what he doesn't want. For about a nano second I wanted to go to Goodwill and buy one encyclopedia or dictionary and give it a try, but my brain said it just didn't have the go power to even go buy the book. I guess I will just have to wonder now if it would have been possible for me to do a piece like this. :-)

Moving things around to put up a new sewing table in the spare room that will allow me to keep my machine and serger up all the time, I guess I picked up something too heavy. I couldn't sleep but fitfully Sunday and Monday nights, but knew I had to do something. My ortho surgeon had already told me that my problem is inoperable since it would involve plates and screws which he said would give me more problems than any pain I have. Of course, it wasn't him trying to sit up to get out of bed and by the hardest, doing so. Plus, he didn't have wet panties by the time he got to the potty from not being able to hold his bladder and use the muscles necessary to achieve a sitting up position. Why I was getting this room ready is another entire posting that I hope I don't forget to share with you one of these days.

My friend, Karen, goes to a chiro in Shreveport that she swears by. I used to go to one a lot in Alexandria in my 20s, but when I moved from there to Denver I never went again. I called Karen's doctor and he could see me by the time I could get to the city. This is one cool doctor. He wears plaid flannel shirts to the office with his docker-type pants. I am sure he has to since his office is set about 2 degrees below Alaska in the winter. I will wear a jacket today.

He said with the bone plugs in my neck and the two new knees he was limited in what he could do, but did have a few tricks up his sleeve. There is this machine he has that you lay on that probably has the part that a tire fits onto an 18 wheeler made of steel and concrete combined. It runs up and down your spine and the tech said they raise the angle each time you come in. It makes you nauseous until you can find the maps on the inside of your eyelids to stare at as it does its magic. This is definitely not a table for whiners, which I am prone to be. This is a table for girls with "big girl" panties on and maybe even two pair at the same time. When the bell dings, the assistant, about the size of Barbie's baby sister, tells you to sit up, which you cannot do. Barbie's baby sister with every ounce of strength she possesses, she probably weighs all of 28 pounds, gives you a hand and you get up thankful that you didn't pull her down on top of you.

You wait. When it is your turn to see good-looking in his flannel shirt with his docker-like pants, he has you sit in this playlike chair where you are sitting up, but laying face first into the contraption. You have already hears this loud Geiger counter blasting away when you were on the table getting your "massage" done with 18 wheeler metal tire rim and concrete and wondered if he was tazing someone. Now you get to see what the tazing was all about.

He puts some kind of small bar-like thing in his hand, or at least you presume it his his hand since you are sitting face down into this chair thingy. He proceeds to Geiger you in each vertebrae and also does your shoulders, which you have already told him your surgeon wants to replace, but that you refuse to have done as long as the MRSA virus is alive in this world. Now, this machine is like ten strong men working each joint and it hurts so good that you don't want him to stop and feel like telling him things like, "move it over just a tad to the left/right, down a little, could you turn me over and do my ribs and the tiny riblets across the top of my chest...." you get the picture.

After your time is up there, you get to face a wall that has a large canvas on it that is made of gray felt. Well, that is what it looks like, but I don't know what its purpose is. Could be that once in a while with this next treatment he could accidentally drop you and you would fall against this wall and with the felt it wouldn't leave too many bruises/lawsuits on you/him. He has you put your right hand on your left shoulder and visa versa, but you remind him that your shoulders need to be replaced and your right hand cannot reach your left shoulder. He then has you put your left hand on your right shoulder and the other hand somewhere in the vicinity of the left shoulder. He gets up behind you, if you were younger you could really get into this since his body parts are touching yours, but at 64 all you can do is wish. He then tells you to relax, right, and all but lifts you off the floor twice in succession without any warning.

You are finished for the day and go and pay only a $5 co-pay. Now, if gasoline weren't what it is, you would ask if you could come to see him multiple times a day, but he suggests he will see you again in two days. Yeah!!!! I get to go back today. Wonder if they will raise that back roller and if they do will I have to concentrate harder on the roadmaps on the backsides of my eyelids to keep from puking all over his floor and probably on myself as well.

I must say, the back is still hurting, but not quite as badly. I am still finding it hard to get up into a sitting position from being prone, the washing machine is on double time keeping my unmentionables all nice and clean, but I am looking forward to more torture. I will keep you posted on my progress and let you know if I get straight again or if I will have to live out the rest of my life at a 90 degree angle with a case of Depends near me at all times.

Have a nice day and run get a scalpel, some glue, an old encyclopedia or dictionary and the next time I see you, I want to see a piece of work like Brain's. You might even inspire me to find a scalpel, glue, and old picture book. However, I will be looking for a book with one picture on each page. That way, I can glue a lot of them together and cut down to the bottom picture. Do you think I will need an Esty shop?