The Yeti in the Mirror

Requiring assistance to bathe and dress is profoundly humiliating for a proud man. Fortunately I am not a proud man. In fact, I rather enjoy the pampering and extra attention. After all, a skilled professional washing your armpits and extremeties is surely one of life's great joys.
Initiates in the Bacchian Mysteries of Ancient Greece must have experienced similar cleansing pleasures when being ritually purified by their high priests, except I'm just going to lounge in bed all day watching Antiques Roadshow after my scrub-down, rather than dancing myself dizzy and sacrificing a bull while screaming obscenities into an ear of corn.
But I draw a very distinct line when it comes to somebody else shaving my face. The chin is sacred ground as far as I'm concerned: it should not be desecrated by some over-talkative, razor-wielding maniac who thinks he knows in which direction your stubble grows, even if his razor does feature two lubricating strips and an omni-adjustable head. I will either shave myself or cultivate a beard of Victorian proportions, no matter how much it itches and prickles and looks ridiculous hanging beneath my hairless head.
And so, since I suffer from restricted movement, most of my post-operative period has been spent observing five o'clock shadow sprout into eleventh hour facial hair. Alas, instead of endowing my appearance with an aura of Socratic wisdom and sagacity, my new beard makes me seem like the sort of sad, middle-aged buffoon who attends Renaissance Fayres dressed as a desperately unfunny court jester whom even kids find boring. What was I saying earlier about not being a proud man?

Comments

[Giric]

Yes no doubt the, "Initiates" received that low level of cleansing due their estate. Let us hope yours was more on a par with what the Priests received. Tho I am sure from your description it was not attended with hyssop, fine ointments, nor dancing girls, more's the pity.
They have skilled professional bathers in your hospital?! Where is this divine spa? I have never heard of such a thing before. I have always gotten the simpering ninny, or the brunhilda with a loofah. Neither of which had a modicum of decency or decorum. One was rough, but no more thorough, the other a nervous twit.
Now I could watch Antiques Roadshow, followed by Hollywood Treasures or even if desperate, American Pickers, but don't you think that is way too much excitement for a man in your condition?! I would think you would be stuck with re-runs of Lawrence Welk, as this is the only true programming for recovery in our Hospital. All other programs are deemed too innervating.
As to the chin whiskers, I am sure the paid help are more than happy to be relieved of such a task. I have been on the giving end of said chore, namely my elderly father in-law. He claimed no one at his assisted living could do it as well, so for three years I was so honored to be the remover of his chin whiskers, as well as ear and nose hairs. There are worse tasks, but for the moment what they are eludes me. So grow on my friend, grow on, and bless you for your fortitude.
P.S. One can have no pride and participate in Ren-Fairs, I once went to one in such a silly get-up, I made the local paper. I believe I was Bosworth of Gomber that day, my friends called me Bomber. Alas it failed, due to the, "authentic police," and other such bureaucrats. Most have a silly notion that the Renaissance was entirely Elizabethan England and if you do not dress accordingly you are not authentic. I went as a French Fop.

[Laurent]

Perhaps you could start playing air guitar to ZZ-Top tunes.

[Assisted Living Seattle Wa]

I agree with you. This type of projects should be encouraged and I think that these type of projects are the projects for the future. . . . .

[home insulation Toledo]

Perhaps you could begin enjoying air instrument to ZZ-Top music.