Brock's Book Blog

For the last week or so I have been fighting a nasty case of pneumonia. I have had this a couple of times so I’m familiar with the progress from first sniffle to the current antibiotic fueled surge of feeling better. As some of you know I have a compromised immune system…have had for the last fifteen years. This makes me susceptible to nasty things that float through the air, or linger on surfaces. I had my flu shot and took the usual precautions but every now and then the micro biological world sneaks in and hammers me.

I’m no longer a spring chicken and I really feel the back aches, joint pain, never mind bone rattling coughs and disrupted sleep. I don’t imagine I’m the most pleasant spouse under these circumstances. What really bothers me the most is watching my darned grass get longer and thicker. I should have cut it a week ago, but I was too sick and my back was in no shape to climb aboard the John Deer . I also have some holes that need to be filled with eight foot fence posts. Right now they’re soggy with water and will have to wait. I know the deer are just salivating at the thought of tasty grape buds, not to mention my fledgling veggie garden. Fortunately, there is so much lush greenery for the taking, that my makeshift fencing has kept them away.

I am a grand father again. My daughter produced twins a couple of weeks back. Sam and Ruby were a little early arriving, but have been working frantically at catching up.. eating, sleeping, and pooping … Nana has been taking turns with the other grandma in supporting the new mum. My medical predicament has  severely curtailed grandfather participation, but then I’m not overly excited about resurrecting diapering skills. The last time I changed one was at least a quarter century ago. Apparently the technology has changed since those endless washer/dryer and folding maneuvers of bygone ages. I haven’t actually had any hands on refresher, due to my contagious status, but that to will come about in the fulness of time.

The one individual who is most effected by my pneumonia is our old dog. He looks longingly at me every morning at what would normally be walk time. I ‘m not allowed to do our regular three kilometer circuit. The boss, in the next room practicing piano, has put the kibosh on any physical activity beyond walking up to check the mail and bringing down the weekend morning paper.

All I’m allowed to do is watch the grass grow and bide my time.