My Dad - An Update

I'm reposting some of my old blog material,
mostly to get it all in one place again.
This was originally posted on My Space on Apr 17, 2008.

My dad's struggle is over. Tonight he begins a new journey and my journey through this life now takes a new direction. To everyone who has ever traveled with us or provided a sense of direction or a word of encouragement along the way, my sincerest and most heartfelt thanks. I love you all. May God Bless.

Allergies my ass!! I'm dying here.

I'm reposting some of my old blog material,
mostly to get it all in one place again.
This was originally posted on My Space on Apr 16, 2008.

For three days I've suffered. Headaches, runny nose, itchy watery eyes, aches and pains... you know the feeling. But, being male, I loaded up on Tylenol and Sudafed (the real shit, not that candy assed stuff they put out on the shelf now) and pressed on. Going to see a doctor was not really an option.

Now don't get me wrong. I didn't say I was being the strong silent type and suffering in silence. Oh hell no. When I'm sick I'm the biggest baby there is and trust me...EVERYONE knows I don't feel well. But as I stated before, seeing a doctor was not an option.

Last night however, that changed. Sneezing, coughing (i'm still looking for one of my lungs) and fever were thrown into the mix and I was pretty sure I was going to die.

Obviously I didn't and when I got up this morning I agreed to make an appointment to see the doc.

I won't bore you with the details but bottom line is the doc says I have allergies which created drainage which got infected which made me sick.

WHAT? ARE YOU F***ING KIDDING ME?

There is no way I felt that bad because of some stupid allergies. Surely I have some sort of horrible, unknown to mankind, disease! Do you have any idea how badly I felt last night?????? Come on doc... I took off work today. How can I go back and face my co-workers with tales of my sickness when it was just allergies??? That's lame! How am I supposed to get maximum pity from allergies???? Sheesh!

Oh well, on the bright side... the nurse that gave me a shot in the ass was hot and I have some pretty impressive looking meds to take for the next few days.

And now you know why I don't go see the doc. He's no help at all.

If I had wanted to be a doctor...

I'm reposting some of my old blog material,
mostly to get it all in one place again.
This was originally posted on My Space on Mar 3, 2008.

228.

That's the number of days my dad had been in some type of medical care facility ranging from intensive care to skilled nursing.

Follow the bouncing ball.

He gets better, he gets worse. The only constant has been his attitude. It's been good the entire time. Amazingly good. His nurses love him. He's mentally alert and he teases with them constantly. I suppose it's rare to have a patient be that sick and still be that chipper.

I doubt I could have remained positive for so long. In fact, if I had had to deal with some of the stupidity he's had to deal with, i'd have probably killed someone by now.

I've learned so much in the last 228 days.

I know medical terms a non-medical person shouldn't know. I've filled out their forms so many times that now I have to show the nurses where I'm supposed to sign. They seldom get it right. I know about medications and their side effects. I know what a Level of Care form is. I know all the possible outcomes of at least a dozen different procedures, good and bad. I know the Texas Medical Center like the back of my hand. I know that as long as you act like you know what you're doing that you can go just about anywhere at any time and no one will even give you a second look. I know that the chairs in a hospital are incredibly uncomfortable. I know that there are good and bad nurses and there are good and bad doctors. I know what CHF is. I know an amazing amount of medical supplies get wasted every day. I know that i'm sick of washing my hands every time i go into and out of my dad's room. I know that certain pain meds make my dad halucinate, and not in a good way.

I know that the care you receive depends on your ability to pay. It depends on how many 'Medicare' days you have left. It depends on whether Medicare or your insurance company deems it 'necessary'. It depends on how badly the hospital needs the bed you're laying in. It depends on how risky a procedure is and what the chances are that the doctor will be sued if it goes badly. It seldom depends on you or your condition.

I know that I know more than I ever wanted to know about what goes on inside a hospital. I know that I'm tired of having to make decisions that I'm not even close to being qualified to make. I know that if I had wanted to be a doctor I'd have gone to fucking medical school.

Get well dad. Come home.

Into each life...

I'm reposting some of my old blog material,
mostly to get it all in one place again.
This was originally posted on My Space on Feb 2, 2008.

"It's the things I might have said that fester." - Clemence Dane

I went to a funeral this morning.

Seems I've been doing a lot of that lately. Far too much for my liking.

The service this morning was for a friend of my father. A very dear friend. A friend who goes back to before I was born. My dad is still in the hospital so I felt I should go and represent him. He didn't ask me to, no one really expected me to, it just seemed like the right thing to do.

It was a beautiful service. My dad's friend had been a volunteer fireman for 27 years before he retired from the department so there were many men and women in uniform. There were his friends and of course his kids, grandkids and even great-grandkids. The mayor was even there.

Toward the end, the chaplain recounted some funny storys that the family had told him. We all laughed. Then he asked if anyone there wanted to relate anything to the family about their dearly departed.

I should have stood up. I should have told them how I believe that people come into our lives to fill a need. To help us in some way. And when that need is filled they move on. I should have told his kids that if it were not for their dad being in my dad's life at a very critical time, that my dad's life would have surely turned out very differently, and by extension, so too would have mine. I should have told them that their dad, in is own way, had made a difference in not only my life but the lives of the hundreds, or perhaps thousands of people who he had helped. As a fireman, as a friend, as a father he did so much and he only asked for respect in return. I should have told them his life mattered to me.

And in the end isn't that all we can really hope for. To know we have made a difference in someone else's life. To matter to someone.

But I said none of those things. I waited until it was over, then I hugged each of his children and told them how sorry I was for their loss. We cried together and I left.

I suck.

Is it wrong?

I'm reposting some of my old blog material,
mostly to get it all in one place again.
This was originally posted on My Space on Jan 15, 2008.

Is it wrong that I love this commercial?

I laugh my ass off every time I see it.





I know... I know... (shaking head)
I'm going straight to hell.

There were instructions???

I'm reposting some of my old blog material,
mostly to get it all in one place again.
This was originally posted on My Space on Jan 12, 2008.

South Beach Breakfast Wraps

Microwave Cooking Instructions

Tear open one end of plastic pouch.
Place one wrap (in pouch) folded side down on microwave-safe plate or paper towel.
Microwave on High for 1 minute 45 seconds.
Remove from pouch before eating.

---

Does anyone know approximately how long it takes to digest plastic?

Just asking...

Thanks Ben (Franklin)

I'm reposting some of my old blog material, mostly to get it all in one place again. This was originally posted on My Space on Jan 5, 2008.

Somehow, I forget how much I enjoy going to the public library. I've loved going there since I was a child. (Yes, smartass! They had libraries when I was a kid.) It has always been a magical place... quiet, cool, relaxing.



There are comfy chairs to lounge in or tables to sit at if you prefer a more structured environment. There's computers attached to the internet if you feel the need to connect to the outside world and everywhere people are securely locked away in their own personal space. Some are reading, some studying, some carrying on whispered conversations but they are all being respectful of everyone else's need and or desire for peace and quiet. Time seems to stand still.



You know, if you think about it, time actually does stand still. All that knowledge, all that information, all that passion frozen in time on the pages of books and magazines. It's awesome.

As you might have guessed, I stopped by the library on my way to the gym this afternoon. There were a few things that caught my attention while I was there.

First, there were an amazing number of people there today. It was actually a bit crowded. Not like at a baseball game or a concert, but crowded none the less. Even more surprising to me was the disproportionate number of young people there (under 20). I don't know why this stood out for me but it did. I guess with the proliferation of the internet and video games I had assumed that libraries had gone out of style for kids, only visited by those who attached sentimental value to them like myself. Granted, some of the younger teens were there socially, (what better place could there be for fourteen year olds to sit and make doe eyes at each other for hours at a time??) But even factoring out those few, there were a large number of teens there. Maybe there's hope for the future after all.



And the librarians and volunteers were incredibly nice and helpful. Why is it that people who get paid to help you (store clerks, etc?) mostly treat you like you're an annoying piece of shit on the bottom of their shoe, but the volunteers (or woefully underpaid employees) at the library bend over backwards to make sure you're finding what you need and having no problems checking out? Doesn't make sense to me.

Well, actually, it does but that's another blog entirely.

Anyway, it was a refreshing stop on my way to the gym. I have to remember to do that more often.

Oh, and in case you're wondering.... A Child Called "It" by Dave Pelzer (recommended by a close friend) and a hand full of books about drawing and sketching were the treasures I left with.



I'll let you know how it turns out. :-)

Sometimes Life Is...

I'm reposting some of my old blog material, mostly to get it all in one place again. This was originally posted on My Space on Dec 11, 2007.

My daughter is an RN at Texas Childrens Hospital. She works in the Cardiovascular Intensive Care Unit. Other than that I don't really know a lot about what she does. I know she does amazing things and I suspect saving kids lives is a matter of routine for her. So is taking crap from parents who are scared to death and don't know who else to blame. I'm sure it can frequently be very overwhelming. She calls me when it gets to be too much and lets me help her carry her burden. I love that about her.

Like the time she had to remove one of her babies from life support. The parents were 14 and 16 years old. They could not bear to watch so they said their goodbyes and left, leaving my daughter to gently unplug all the tubes and wires and wait for the inevitable. It was definitely one of her lowest moments professionally. She called and cried and I listened. She didn't know it but I cried too. Some days life just sucks.

I got another call today. It was her day off. She said, 'Guess what?'

I could tell she had been crying but I could also tell it wasn't the "I've got bad news." kind of crying.

"What?", I said gently.

"My baby got a heart." she said, the tears starting again.

Since she has no childred of her own I knew she meant one of the kids she takes care of at the hospital had received a heart. A transplant.

Again I listened. Again I cried.

Some days life is good beyond description.