Flashbacks, Memories, & The Road Less Traveled

“That Could Have Been Me” is what I thought while watching a woman give a eulogy for her aunt. I had stumbled across the video of some lady who flew from DFW to Washington to talk about her father’s sister.

Blame this on some of the flashbacks I have had recently where I remember lying on the floor in the bathroom.

Blame it on my looking at that black dress thinking about how someone could have worn a black dress to my own funeral and been talking about me.

Blame it on my thinking that a guy in his fifties is too young to die so it would have been more likely for me to have been the guy in the crowd watching that eulogy.

But that is not what had happened. I had made a 3 AM visit to the bathroom to pee and had a flashback to lying on the floor trying to figure out why my body refused to work.

When I climbed back into bed I couldn’t sleep so my mind went all over the place and I wondered about some people and things.

And then I remembered my Dad laughing as he told me a story.

“Based upon your genetics you can tell women that you have a giant one.”

That made me cock my head to the side because he never spoke like that. He saw the confused look on my face.

“Zayde, Grandpa and I all had very large prostates, you will too.” He laughed hard at his own joke and I shook my head.

Flashbacks, Memories, & The Road Less Traveled

This July will mark eight years since the old man went into the cornfields with Shoeless Joe.

I wasn’t particularly bothered when he told me the story because I was late forties and I could drink whatever I wanted including coffee at night.

That slowly changed around 55 but there is still no guarantee I’ll wake up every night. I don’t know when things turned for him there but I wish I did.

It’s on a list of questions I have for him that mom can’t answer.

Sometimes I sit my own son down and tell to take a mental note about my physical health. Overall it is pretty good and it continues to improve but I suspect the younger Mr. Wilner won’t remember details.

Can’t blame him, I know I heard a few things when I was 25 and they didn’t stick. I could get a bruise or muscle ache back then and watch/feel it fade away on the spot.

Still I look at him and tell him to remember there are some things about me that no one but me can ever tell, share or explain properly.

You can’t screw an old head on young shoulders so who knows what he hears or remembers so I rely upon actions to to help.

I don’t miss many days at the gym and he’ll tell you I didn’t complain about hurting my arm for days after I did it.

Mostly that came because I was irritated it wasn’t working properly.

But he also knows that doesn’t mean one needs to suffer in silence. If you have a problem that merits complaining you don’t do so without trying to figure out a solution too.

****

I am lying on my back on the bench press in mid January telling myself I ought to get spotter because 255 isn’t something I can just throw around anymore.

In my head I see the 25 year-old who could pump out sets of far more and wonder if I can pull him forward.

In my head I see my father after he finished training with his trainer and then I see him years later after he let himself go.

I pump out three reps with more ease than I expected and realize I am good, I could put another 50 or 60 on there.

It’s an ego boost but I decide I don’t need it cuz a 50 something year-old Josh has learned to be patient.

But I think about it some more because it is only a few months since October and I pulled myself off of the floor using arm strength.

Roughly two weeks later I’ll tear that tendon and then a week later be talking to a surgeon. A surgeon who says if I don’t do the surgery I’ll lose 40 percent of my arm strength.

“Doc, I tore it curling 115 pounds. I am doing dips with five 45 pound plates on both arms. If I lose 40 percent I am still stronger than most my age” is what I want to say but I don’t.

I can hear my father’s voice alongside some friends who tell me if I don’t do the surgery I’ll kick myself down the road.

I am really angry, mostly with myself but also with a few others. I throw lightning bolts, breath fire and lazer beams shoot from my eyes.

Can’t figure out why some things have to be so damn hard especially when I have worked so hard to get things to a certain place.

But I take a breath, remind myself I didn’t die as much because I chose not to as anything and that I have a chance to do so many things again if I want to.

A voice inside my head says ‘yes’ and I hear applause and then mutter “people will think you’re crazy if they see you talking to yourself.”

I don’t care, they can think whatever they want. I am going to do as I am going to do and they can accept it or get out of my way.

What I Would Say To You

Sometimes you lie upon the proverbial therapist’s couch reviewing life choices and you say you’re just looking for closure.

Sometimes that doc tells you that you have to give yourself closure because you can’t look for it elsewhere.

I believe it and I know that it is one of the things that changed post October.

There are moments where I think maybe those two bags of Iron have kicked in because I feel surges of energy that feel familiar.

And moments where I think it hasn’t happened yet because I am so damn tired.

But I don’t put too much stock in the moment because I am mid treatment. I don’t think they’re going to figure out I have some terrible cancer or some dread disease.

I think this will be something I look back at as being terribly inconvenient but also useful at having made me slow down and look around.

When I look at myself in the mirror the body is still a long way off from where I want it to be. Need to do more work on flexibility and balance.

Need to keep working on functional strength so that I can pick myself and the grandkids off of the floor.

I am really starting to get into those farmers walks. Just need to continue to be patient so I can start piling real weight upon my left arm.

What I would say to you is a good question isn’t it. Am I talking to you or am I talking to myself. Could be one or both.

What gets me excited is the future is unwritten and I think some things that I thought would happen never will and that things I thought impossible are going to.

Thirteen years later I suspect I am about to find out all sorts of stuff.