Hyperchondria

I'm not sure that is even a word.  What do you call the opposite of a hypochondriac?  A person who keeps imagining that he is well?

Whatever it is, that's me.

There's been a couple of odd things happening to my sadly neglected body lately.  I have not mentioned them for fear they might seem too personal.  Though that never stopped me before. So if that sort of thing is Too Much Information for you, stop here.

I do not refer to the results of the Engineer Pass fiasco.  Unlike Mini-me, I've recovered from that fairly well.  It was mostly just scratches and bruises, anyway, though I do have a big knot on my left knee that remains tender to the touch.  The bump has solidity, like a piece of bone under the skin, but has not grown since the day the Beast got too big for his britches, and does not hurt if I do not push around on it.

Old joke:  "It hurts when I do this, Doc!"  "Then don't do that.  That'll be $50."  You can tell from the Doc's fee structure that the joke is conjecturally as old as I am.  As long as the bump doesn't get worse,  or otherwise interfere with my trip, I'm willing to ignore it until I get back home for my surgery on the 27th.

Speaking of which, that is Odd Thing Number One.  The quarter sized lump on the back of my left hand, which had been red and swollen and thick before I left, has now entirely disappeared.  There is no mark or substance at all to it any more.  You can't even see the suture scar from the biopsy.  If I did not know where it had been, I would not be able to pick out the spot.  It would be easier to find Waldo.

Of course, my hands are completely covered with various marks and scars and freckles and sun damage from a lifetime of using them as tools.  I always presumed that's what they were for.  Another bump or two would be easy to lose in that crowd.  So I guess I'll show up for surgery anyhow.  After all, she's a professional.  Maybe she can find it.

What can I say, Doc?  I took the RV Cure for Cancer.  You should try it on your other patients.

Where in the World is Carcinoma?

But wait, there's More!

The Other Odd Thing has to do with my belt.  I've been needing a new one for a while now, but it's hard to find a plain brown belt, especially one that will fit the brass buckle I've worn for 35 years or so.  But now I've got real incentive.  This one has mysteriously gotten entirely too big.

Since August 23rd, when I left, I've lost more than 4 inches in my waist.  I've gone from the first to the last hole in my belt.  And it's still not tight.

Of course, when I took this pic, my pants fell off.

I have no idea what I weigh right now, and seldom do, except at the doctor's office.  They are tediously insistent in their routine, so I climb on the scale.  One such visit 5 or so years ago launched my last attempt to lose weight through regular exercise, and I did get rid of 40 lbs. over several months, but it has crept back since.  I can't keep my mind on the subject for very long.  I just really don't care.

But inches!  That's serious.  That means I have to buy new jeans!  Maybe skip down two sizes. On the other hand, unlike at Ojo, my old bathing trunks fit just fine now.

It came to me gradually that something was wrong.  My pants began to fold up around the waist like a cinch sack.  Like I was wearing a Glad garbage bag.   And now my belt has run out of holes.  Hey, maybe in a few weeks I can just cut it in half and make a spare!

No ready explanation comes to mind.  I haven't consciously cut back.  I had a 12 inch pizza for supper the other night.  I even made cookies, for goodness sake, though I gave some of those away.  And yet there it is.  Or rather, isn't.  The Belt Does Not Lie.

I do sort of remember skipping a few meals, because I forgot to eat.  Apparently there are more interesting things to do around here than eat.  I'm probably not the first guy who got fat through boredom, and skinny again by having fun.

Okay, I'm not exactly skinny.  I haven't been RVing long enough.  But it's a good start.

Maybe I could turn this blog into the very next fad diet tome.  Forget curing cancer.  Diet books are where the big bucks are.

"The RV Road To A New You!"  My fortune is made.

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Lessee, what else, what else?  O, Daze got the cutest neighbor.  It's called a T@B trailer:

It belongs to Mike and Mary of Durango, who came out to Haviland Lake for the weekend, just because they can.  I asked Mike how he could stand being all bent over in that thing, and he jumped inside, straightened up, and said "What do you mean?"  Mike and Mary are not as vertically impaired as I am.

Besides the personal fit, he bought it with the idea of pulling it with a small SUV waay up some local 4 wheel drive roads.  It does seem ideal for that:  big wheels, high clearance, weighs very little, a large angle of departure to avoid dragging.  The tongue wheel even has a hand brake. There's handles on the corners so you can push and pull it around to where you want it.  If you get stuck in a sharp turn or a narrowing road, you just unhook, push it to where it needs to be, drive the car around somehow, and hook it up again.  Easy.

Not for everyone.  But Mary calls it her "little luxury travel trailer".  There's a queen sized bed, a dinette, and a kitchen in there.  And they are not hard to find.

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I've discovered another spa.  And this one's got a discount for us suave senior types.  It's Trimble Hot Springs in Hermosa.  A Very Civilized Place.

For $9.50 you can spend all day using an Olympic swimming pool, a warm soaking pool, a hot pool, a sauna, and a wonderful long stretch of green lawn on which to lay out in the sun with all the aplomb of a large purring cat, or maybe a lizard lazing on a flat rock.  Rotate through the Stations of the Spa.  Which I did.

They also have covered tables, where you can picnic.  Which I didn't.

You can rent towels, but who needs them?  That's for people in a hurry, which I am not.  That warm Colorado sun does a superb job of wicking you dry without benefit of terry cloth.  The dappled shadows of trees creep slowly over the grass, insolent small breezes sneak very near to lick coolly at your legs and torso, intruding into your dreams with a shiver of unexpected caress....

Whoa!  Was that a nap?


Bob, who's still fool enough to think he's getting better with time.