Clouds

It's weird what captures social media attention. 

Wednesday, as we were having dinner, I couldn't help but notice a partial view of a cloud to the east of us. Even with the limited view - stupid houses blocking it - the thing seemed enormous. And bright. 

Shortly thereafter, my nephew-in-law (is that a thing?) texted the title image. 

He and my niece live about 2-3 miles from us, so they saw the same thing - albeit I'm sure the cloud changed a bit, but you get the idea. 

The thing was formidable and kind of an awesome sight. 

I didn't think it was a storm cloud. Just a big summertime one, but later weather outlets defined it as a cumulonimbus cloud - or one that are capable of producing lightning and other dangerous severe weather, such as tornadoes, hazardous winds, and large hailstones. 

As far as I know, neither of us saw any of that. 12 hours later we'd get a pre-dawn t-storm which was cool, but nothing major. 

Still, what little I looked at social media yesterday, there were tons of people who saw the same thing. 

Quite impressive. 

There wasn't to be a tie-in to this above post, but as I was drafting, there were multiple NWS warnings coming across my phone. 

I'm putting this post to bed before we lose power. And I'm 95.4% sure we WILL lose power. 

And I'll take my chances, but my crippled ass is not getting into the basement. 

Song by: Milky Chance

Normal Person

I guess today is my 'nothing' post ?

It's odd, but with the hospital and recovery I find it increasingly easier to avoid news and death scrolling. 

While PT doesn't take a whole lot of time - as they keep telling me not to overdo it - in theory I should have more time to see bleak items, but I'd rather read a book and not open my laptop after I do my NYT games. 

I didn't even crack open the laptop again until after 20:00 to draft this. It is quite liberating. 

Since being home, 710 and I are in the same house, but that's it. Our TV room has an ok sofa at best, but one that is sub sub par for my "condition". With a bum hip it is just not comfortable or easy to get in and out of. So I have been in the bedroom in the evening, he in the other room. What little tv I was watching before, has gone to zero since we don't have one in the bedroom. 

I'm not mad at that. 

It is a tad odd not being together. Stupid conversations happen over text so we aren't yelling room to room. 

Again in theory - during the day I should be able to binge all thoe shows everyone talks about, but I haven't done it. Not one show. Not one episode. Not one minute. 

Books are fine. More than fine, actually. 

I'm mobile enough that I spend my days downstairs. It has to be one or the other, since I'm left alone most of the day now. ....and downstairs has food. It also keeps me from reclining in bed all day, which can't be good. 

The title image means little to you, but I made lunch all by myself. Simple, for sure, but it isn't that easy to put together a sandwich when both hands are on the walker most of the time. Simple things like getting and moving ingredients, while not exactly a challenge, are exponentially more difficult. And getting the final product to a table is multiple trips - though to be honest, I carried the Goldfish bag in my teeth. 

For early evening, we stay downstairs too and I've been taking my meals back at a table instead of being served in bed. Last evening I even set up 710's morning coffee for him. It sounds stupid, but they are little acts of normalcy. I need that. 

Hell, I even prepped the salmon. Sure, he had to get me the items and put it in the air fryer, because well, that's tough to move that around while operating a walker. 

Anymore, I'm not an adventurous man, so right now normalcy is what I crave. 

Song by: Arcade Fire

Shopping with Blobby

Yet another installment in the drudgery that is everyday shopping. The camera-phone makes it a bit more fun - though I get looks whenever I take pics of products. Like I care what people think!

Yes, I know I just did a Shopping with Blobby segment, but that was for August. We are now into another month. 

In theory, it would have been a piece I held while we were in Europe later this month so I didn't have to actively post during travels, but those plans have been dashed. No Berlin marathon. Won't be strong enough to get around 2-3 countries easily. 

So this gets moved up - or you get a 'nothing' post. Truth be told, I'm tried of writing about my "accident", surgery and recovery. 

Anyways - someone has come up with two of the worst things ever and made them into one:

First off, I don't know how to tell nuts.com that malted milk balls are not nuts. They're not even legumes. 

...and lord knows they're not candy. 

Malted Milk Balls are something I assumed that were concocted in a Union Carbide lab in Bopaul, India. These and popcorn balls were the first things to get tossed from any Halloween loot. Even raisins and pennies were after that. Necco wafers were somewhere in between. 

But wait - now they're coated with pumpkin spice??   

It's like the garbage isn't even enough. It sounds like these need to go in the disposal and then have a gallon of cider vinegar poured on top of them while they get ground up. 

Yes, now you have to call the Roto Rooter man to come clean everything out, but trust me, it's worth the price. 

On what R&D committee did people go around the room and give the ok for this? 

Reese's might have been last last successful you got the {ingredient} in my {other ingredient}. 

Leave well enough alone. 

Asleep

In hospital, understandably every day would start and end with a medical professional making me move my toes, making me push back against them with my feet and then run their fingers on the bottoms of my feet. All while asking if anything was numb or tingled. 

I get it. It was a rough fall. But they were looking for any kind of nerve damage or paralysis. 

All is good on that front. 

But day 4 I started to get some tingling in my right hand. 

The right side of my body took the brunt of my fall. So fucked was I that I didn't notice I cut my hand, elbow and part of where my abs should be.  Still you gotta figure, human nature had me put out my hand somewhat to break the fall. 

In the ED, they xray'd the wrist and nothing was broken - which is kind of a minor miracle in its own way. 

Day 4 though was a reckoning day in a way. One day post op. The pain meds, what little they did, had being moved to non-narcotics and the trauma pain replaced by post-op pain. That trauma pain also covered up all those other injuries I sustained of which I had not yet been aware.  I mean, I knew my hand, because it had been caked in blood and they had to pluck stone out. 

All the other aches came to the surface. All minor. Except for the hand. 

There was a bruise below where you see the cut. No more bruise, but it still hurts. And it is my "launching" hand from when I have to get up to a walker. 

While I told "my team" about the tingling - which really feels like it is in a perpetual state of being asleep - it was always a 'let's wait and see'. 

I get it. There was trauma to the hand. It will take time to heal.......hopefully. 

It does not hurt, per se, but it is annoying. There aren't peak or lull times. It is 24 / 7. I find myself stretching my hand or shaking it trying to "wake it up", all to no avail. Today it will be two weeks since the symptoms appeared - so far no sign of ebbing. 

My first follow-up isn't for another week, so we'll see what the doc says though he is not a hand guy. 

To be honest, my bigger concern is this is just how it's gonna be forever. Like the tinnitus that came into my life 14+ years ago and decided to squat in my head forever. 

I get I'm damanged, but I am really hoping I don't have to live with neuropathy for the rest of my frickin' life. 

Song by: the Smiths

My Music Monday

710 finally got me out in a car the other day. It was such a mood changer. Going from hospital to home was a lifesaver, but this was another level up. 

I can't drive yet, so I was the passenger. Window down. Taking in the air. The blue sky and the clear lake. The direct sun.

I set the scene, because a song came on the radio I had never heard. If Al Gore's Intertubes are to be believed, "Blood Spilled" by Blonde Redhead came out just a few week past. 

Admittedly, I know nothing of the band. Never heard of them so far as I can tell, though it looks like they've been around for two + decades. A trio, it seems consisting of twin brothers and a female vocalist. 

I have played the song a few times since that car ride. And it's ok. But something struck me on that journey. Maybe it was just another one of the senses falling into place. 

"Blood Spilled" is a bit trance inducing. Cocteau Twins-like, but not exactly. Homage, perhaps?  It entranced me for that car ride. 

The song might never be able to recapture that moment for me, but it just associates with a good memory in a week full of crappy ones. 

Shopping with Blobby

Yet another installment in the drudgery that is everyday shopping. The camera-phone makes it a bit more fun - though I get looks whenever I take pics of products. Like I care what people think!

These last few weeks have left me feeling old. 

In an instant - literally - I went from being independent to semi-independent at best. Very reliant on others for weeks. 

My counters, bathrooms, hallways and bedrooms looks like a pharmacy of elder supplies. I believe I mentioned this days ago. 

From my hospital bed, I was ordering things for overnight delivery so they'd be rarin' to go by the time I was discharged. One of these things was called a Hip Kit. 

Not as in groovy. 

As in - you have a new hip or broke your old one. Or both. 

From anywhere between $30-50 you can get a kit that includes basically a rag on a stick to warsh (not a typo) your back. Grabbers - the kind T-Rex's would use to get things off high shelves, or off the floor. Shoe horns. Leg lifters. Sock puter oner things. 

They taught me to use these things in occupational therapy before I left. The leg lifter was great. I needed it for the first 10 days. I use it less and less now, as I'm gaining some mobility.  And I use the shower pad on a stick. 

Other than that, right now, I have 710 to help with the other stuff. 

But this upcoming week, he'll have to make appearances at the office, which will leave me at home alone for half days. Which means, I'll probably be using this stuff more and more. 

I'm not in a position to be in a shower with no one else around, so that'll have to wait. For the most part I can be dressed before 710 leaves for work. 

I'm not 100% sure how much I'll need (or use) this stuff. It won't go bad or anything, and well, I'm not getting any younger, so the chances that one of us (or both) needs it in the future are high. 

Have You Seen Me Lately?

Still on the mend. 

Thank g-d for celebrity deaths to get me off my health posts - which in an odd way is fine for me. There is only so much trauma and healing I can bothered yakking about. 

But it's animal day. This week, many pics taken by me.........just from the same location. 

Shep has been a good but passive caregiver. He doesn't really do much but lie below me at night and lay at my side in bed during the day. Still it's enough to calm me internally, so there are some medicinal qualities to his presence. 

We have surprise guests too. So........yay. 

He usually jumps up, on my good side, first thing in the morning when I awake. 

Sometimes he jumps down, sometimes he painfully crawls over me to the other side. 

I can't take my afternoon nap without him. 

I'm very glad for this. 

My nephew sent me a new pic of Henry. Great image. 

710 picked up Shep while I was at the hospital and sent me this. 

Morning nap. For him. 

Me? Probably playing NYT games. Or trying to relax. 

My sister in law sent a pic - via 710 - of Simon !!!!!

I miss this guy in a way. We never truly bonded, but man, I saved his life. Throw me a bone!

Song by: Counting Crows

Record of the Month

I figured I'd do a monthly 'what I'm listening to' kind of thing. This could be viewed as a lame placeholder kind of post. And probably it is. But it's my blog! So there!   

The Menzinger's have a new disk out as of a few weeks ago. I knew it was coming, but then Blobby fell down and gone boom.  ....and I didn't have an opportunity to listen to Everything I Ever Saw. 

I don't know what happens when millennial punk ages. Against what are they raging? Or are they? Or is it just a look back at what was - ......everything they ever saw? 

The disk does seem like a look back, but with glimpses of now and maybe the future and perseverance. "You can always reinvent yourself / you can can be who ever you are" they sing on the first song release, "Nobody's Hero, which touches on looking back and moving forward. 

"Close Encounters" starts the album on an extremely strong note.  Rock x 10. "We may never stand a chance / but we still gotta try / No one’s coming to save us from ourselves tonight" starts that perseverance theme.  The song drives, the album less so. Again - aging punk rockers. 

"Other People's Money", while fine, should have been the punk song here, railing against Musk and MAGA, but it's got a fucking literal "la dee dah" in the chorus of a mid-tempo rhythm. 

"Nobody's Hero" is still one of my top songs of the year. It'll be difficult to knock it from the #1 or 2 position. 

Less intensity for Menzingers is still more than most bands at their peak. Things are more melodic than usual, but that's not a bad thing. It's slightly more accessible. 

Everything I Ever Saw is a strong disk. Like a lot of my choices, it's not for all. The Menzingers are a rock quartet, talented and tight but effusive. It comes out in bursts of energy that one might find themselves singing at the top of their lungs at one of their concerts or in your own car.  Guilty. 

Don't Dream It, Be It

My second celebrity death post in a row. I don't think I've done that since George Michael / Carrie Fisher back so long ago. 

Tim Curry's death was unexpectedly expected. He did a an NYT Magazine article a few months back. Which indicated he wasn't well, though if they specifically said from what, I don't remember. But well enough to do a feature interview. 

I didn't know Curry's oeuvre well.  Sure, Rocky Horror Picture Show and Clue. Or a few episodes of Roseanne. That's about it for me. 

His imdb will tell you he probably made a more than decent living with voice acting in cartoons or video games. The list goes on forever. 

Almost three years ago I wrote about Rocky Horror for a My Music Monday piece. 

Curry, whether good or bad for his career, playing Frank N. Furter was a career defining moment. I imagine some casting directors couldn't see past his Furter character. He played it so fucking well. Everything was over the top yet at the same time it wasn't. It was a balancing act I'm guessing only he could truly pull off. 

His character was outrageous and sympathetic at the same time. You rooted for him. 

In that post I give a brief notice on my affection for Sweet Transvestite. 

His performance of this song is just perfect. The vocal, sure. But every single movement. Every inflection. Every camera angle. Every raised eyebrow. ....and ever decaping, (it's a word!.......now.)

THIS is the performance that drew me into the movie. For me, there was no way they could do better than this. They still can't. 

Song by: the cast of the Rocky Horror Picture Show

When We're Gone, Long Gone

Ugh. 

I gotta write about Dolly Parton. 

The 'ugh' isn't because I don't like Dolly, it is the circumstances under which one must write. Death. 

I had zero against Dolly. That said, other than the two Trio albums, I owned nothing by Dolly. 

If she's done more than two movies, I don't know about it.  Yeah 9 to 5 was fun(ny).  Straight Talk I saw on a plane - avec audio - and I was exceptionally high at the time. And it co-starred James Woods. So........she gets 0 point for that one. 

But the world - or at least the US - is a worse place without her. 

I dare you to find a an interview where she wasn't so upbeat you could barely stand it sometimes. She seemingly never begrudged the things that brought her PR or get bugged by a question that so much other talent just has ooze out of their bodies. 

She seemed kind to and about everyone ever when disagreeing with them. I'm not sure that is a style that can be learned, just cultivated to a sharper degree. And she had it down. 

Unlike her - the "it sucks to be famous crowd" also didn't donate money to find a workable Covid vaccine. My first three Moderna vaccines were in part due to her. 

Her literacy / Imagination Library book programs are phenomenal. If you don't know about them - read about them. 

Ohio has a license plate template for that. I actually took a pic of a real on in a crowded parking lot months ago and can't find it. What were the chances the car owner would be walking up at the same time? But he was cool with it - and said his daughter participated in the program. 

Let's face it: there is no Patsy Cline Park or Loretta Lynn Land.  Dolly was one of a kind. Period.

With no immediate family (well, brothers and sisters there are, I'm sure), I hope her estate planning will continue that community growth of literacy and good works. 

She was an anomaly in certain ways.  Growing up poor and uneducated in Tennessee. Everything her starting fan base was. She championed literacy. A Covid vaccine. LGBTQ ally. Everything that initial fan base is against. 

Yes, I'm generalizing, but not by much. 

For me, Dolly will be missed more as a human being than an artist. Her legacy will last due to her causes and commitment. 

Song by: Dolly Parton, Linda Ronstadt & Emmylou Harris

Opiated

While I am down and out, I can't stop thinking about my privilege. 

The other day on our weekly call, I said we should start a pool on what my total hospital bill will be. My submission was $210,000. 

Before this "event", I'm pretty sure we had not yet paid off our annual deductible. I think we can safely say we have covered that as of now. So much of this theoretical number will be covered. 

The debt saddled with someone who didn't have that coverage is just mind numbing. Even the deductible alone could be bank-breaking. 

Still - privilege is more than just about money, though arguably related. 

710 happened to have this week scheduled off. Unlike some work areas, his time off does not roll over year to year. So it is of a use-it or lose-it situation. And he works at a level where if needed, he could have either taken the time off with little notice or he could have found a way to work from home. Or I guess apply for FMLA to be a primary caregiver. 

But what if he couldn't? What if there wasn't a 710 and no other caregiver?

I'm guessing Discharge Planning would have me shipped off to a rehab facility. The severity of my injury had me on the cusp of not being able to go home as it was. But there it is: another financial obligation. 

I'll be getting in-home physical therapy for at least the next three weeks and then lord knows how long PT for months after. Mo money; mo problems. 

That doesn't even cover all the durable medical equipment one must have: walkers, grabbers, elevated toilet seats, shower chairs. I already had the crutches and cane. It all seems excessive until you find you can't move certain ways, or bend for the next three months. At least not without reinjuring myself - and the hospital is the second to last place I want to be. 

We should also discuss meds. 

Yeah - those are all mine. The front row, depending on the bottle, is either once or more per day. The back row are PRN meds (or, as needed). I think I've touched the back row twice since I've been home, as at least one of them is opioid related. 

I honestly try not to touch those, as I know the devastating effects they can have - and that is just the constipation, let alone the life ending scenario they bring. 

My first few days were nothing but mophine and fentanyl. Direct IV access. Several times per day each for several days. It takes five days to get addicted to opioids. They are a fucking nightmare. 

...and the sad part? They never brought me any pain relief. I found that to be true back in 1992 and 1993 with my ruptured appendix and original leg surgery respectively, but back then I chalked it up to other pharma phun I was having and assumed I had a tolerance. 33 years later proved me wrong on that. 

The only positive thing I'll have to say about my meds: cheap. Everything is generic. 710 goes, "I think the most expensive bottle was $4."  But you do get what you pay for. Little is capsule coated or gel packed. They are big, clunky, dry as a bone pills that are extremely difficult to swallow. But for a mere fraction of a penny, they could all be sized or coated for easier ingestion. Pharmacies wonder why only 35% of prescriptions ever get filled and 30% that do never get taken. 

Anyways. These are ramblings from a semi bedridden man who has too much time on his hands. 

I would assume my non-US readership is stymied by our healthcare system. Trust me - it's not just you. 

Song by: the Tragically Hip

My Music Monday

It's iTunes roulette this week. 

I haven't heard a song in days and days and days. Any kind of media has just been not in my existence - by choice - since last Saturday. Minimal screen time. Laptop only opened to write this blog. Zero tv. Zero books. Zero music. 

So you get the 10th song deal. 

And you get an incredibly awesome song at that. "For Emily, Whenever I Might Find Her" by Simon and Garfunkel.  The live version. Which oddly is the only one I knew. I had to look it up but there is a studio version that was released in 1966.  The live version is 1969. 

Art Garfunklel was just a massive vocal talent - albeit a specific one - and while in the Rock n Roll Hall O'Fame, is just an asterisk too much to Paul Simon. 

No one is denying Simon's songwriting abilities, but the two stand out cuts from the band - this and "Bridge Over Troubled Water" - has Simon saying he should have been sining lead. He's kind of a dick. Neither of those songs would have been better and just give Art credit due. 

An expertly written and performed song - one that shows there could never be studio trickery in their work. 

First Date

While clearly it was an interesting week for me - which might be a big understatement - being held captive I was experiencing things in a microcosm. 

For the most part of the week, I remained mostly immobile in about 150 square feet. Never once did I turn on the tv. I had nothing to do but observe. 

What I noticed is how gay healthcare has become. Outwardly. 

Back in my day - yes I'm old enough to be able to say that - while not hidden, it was certainly not out there. I could count the number of male nurses on less than two hands that I knew. All gay. 

In the job I worked, there were a high number of gay males in the roles of clerks at the hospital. 

Even meeting 710 there, while not clandestine, we didn't talk about our relationship or make lovey dovey eyes across the workspace. Number one, it wasn't really either of our nature, but two - you always got the feeling no one wanted to know. And it's work, that's valid............you know to a degree. 

Day 1. Hour 1, even. I get to ED room #16 to be greeted by a handsome Amerasian RN named Jacob. Professional. Nice. Upbeat. Cute AF. 

It wasn't long before he knew I was gay because I asked someone to contact my husband to let him know where I was. 

Portable xray tech Jeremy showed up soon after. Also cute - not as handsome - and as Asian as Jacob. 

Inside my bay, while I tried to hold it together, one of them says (I wasn't looking, so I can't claim exactly who) "what happened to the date we were supposed to have?".   The other replies, "I've been waiting for you to ask, but I'm free on Wednesday and Saturday."

I really didn't know who was talking because now I was actively not looking. I get where some patients might be put off by the conversation at all, let alone in front of the patient - distracting from their care, I was like, "awwwwwww...........a real life meet-cute moment".  My heart was filled an not just be adrenaline. 

Jacob went out and Jeremy came to do my red hot photo shoot. I just asked him where he thought they'd go on their date. He got all excited telling me some place - which I've forgotten - as they have the best ramen anywhere. 

Blobby bit his lip. I just thought two Asian guys getting ramen was too right on the nose. But it's not my life or my culture, so I shut the fuck up.  Before I left, I told him I hope they have a great time. Then I wondered if any other patient would have weighed in at all, let alone positively. 

Jacob's shift was over before I got transferred but he came to say bye. I told him I hope he and Jeremy had a great date. He thanked me. 

I was stuck there for 16 hours - what else did I have to do? 

At the other hospital, Stephan came in to see if I needed anything. 710 was there. I don't think he ever took my vitals, so I don't know his role exactly. But he straightened my bed saying he doesn't really work this floor and his ideal would to work on the Hem-Onc floor. 

I casually reply that was where 710 and I met. He just snapped his head up and asked if that was true. It was. 

"So............who made the first move?".    "I mean.....who asked out the other first?

Maybe the question should have surprised me, but it didn't. We looked at each not having a true answer. I said, the nurses on the unit kept getting us to go out with them after work. And 710 rattled off a few names of those involved. Obvi for us, not Stephan. 

"How long ago was this?"  I said almost 42 years. His reply flattened me: "and you remember those details from that long ago............that's amazing. 

Lord. 

710 and I laughed after he left. 

The last was Tristin. I'm not even changing names with any of these btw. 

He was a wisp of a man. Maybe 5'10" and all of 100 lbs, soaking wet. Feathered blonde hair. Clear porcelain skin along with high breathy voice. And practically floating, he had so much loafer lightener. 

He walked in as my PT returned me to my room. He was "here to get your vitals"..... "

I thought, "oh, it's so nice they're giving shadowing experiences to high school kids", because there is no way this guy was over 14. 

".....and to take out your cath". 

I know my face changed. I know my eyes bulged. Probably showed panic. Veronica, the PT, and I looked at each other and she read my every thought. 

He said he'd prefer me to get into bed to do it, as he was most comfortable. And I immediately said, "I need you to be more comfortable than myself". 

I'm all for giving guys a chance in bed, but this was not my line of thought. Cathing - in or out - as I've said earlier - is tricky at best. And for this I wanted experienced hands. I didn't want to be Tristin's fourth cath extraction. And a mishap would have surely broken me. 

Just then a woman walks in the room to take it out. I had missed Veronica ducking out, but she got someone else to come in and do it.  Phew. 

Tristin and I remained friendly through the of the rest of the time I was there. 

Still, it was nice to see how free and open gay guys are now. Their comfort level. Their acceptance. 

Of course, I am dying to know how the date went with Jeremy and Jacob.  Maybe they'll tell some rando hospital staff member their story in 40 years. 

Song by: blink-182

Back Home

As you'd imagine, the pickings were kind of slim this week, being I haven't been home to take a picture. And I have not taken one. Not of a dog. 

On my last day in the hospital I realized no one offered me therapy dogs.  W.T.F.?

But it's a decent showing here if I say so myself. 

710 picking up the Dude while I lay around a hospital. 

Chef Bob wanted to bring over Olive to see me, and as much as I'd love it, I couldn't handle that kind of visit. 

My nephew sent me pics of Henry and Virginia to help me recover. 

These three are bonded. It's great to see. 

The reunion. 

Shep was excited to see me when I got home Friday night (yes, I went home sans cath), but immediately pulled away. The equipment. The strange smells The movements. 

He slept next to my side of the bed all night and given the chance to see me the next morning he did come up on the bed and lay next to me for three hours. He's barely left the bedroom since I've been home, but is keeping his distance. 

Song by: the Judds and Alison Kraus. 

Body Language

There are no images of Ted Koppel with a "Day 6" banner behind him*.  Trust me - I looked. 

So you get my piss instead. 

You're welcome. 

Day 6 was a slight continuation of day 5.  Day 5 ended as it started. Panic attacks as I tried to sleep. But I finally did. AND I slept for about nine hours. Yes, I woke when they came to push IV drugs or do my vitals, but I never opened my eyes and went back to sleep. 

My ability to focus was better, but I had multiple panic attacks upon waking - and having another conversation with someone whom I know wasn't there. Sigh. 

But now I had to poo. And I couldn't ignore it. 

A lot of TMI here, but I hadn't dropped a kid at the pool since before I went out running on Saturday. This had Poseidon Adventure, Towering Inferno and Earthquake written all over it. Sure, there'd be few casualties, but many more would be wishing they were dead.  However, I prevailed! But I might now know what it feels like to give birth. 

Even more TMI - the pic. 

Surgery and urine are not my friend - and I do believe this is where some of my anxiety came from. 

I talked my surgical team not to cath me until I was under. I had already suffered enough indignities. 

Sure sure, I was "happy" when they took it out the next day, but it was short-lived. 

Fluid built up, but I was unable to void. Anesthesia and opiods will give you the ability not have an easy time with fudge or lemonade. I needed to go. I felt like I needed to go, but it was "no go" situation. So they had to put in a straight cath the second post surgical night. 

It. Did. Not. Go. Well. 

The pain was so bad they had to take it out and try another one.  YAY ME!

It went in better but it wasn't good. And for the record, I don't know what it feels like for a woman to get cathed, but I hope it's better. And I don't have a comparative feeling of what it feels like for a man - other than "unnatural"  I said "fuck" a fuck off a lot times. The four hours fifteen seconds it took were the worst six days of my life. 

But a straight cath isn't meant to stay in, though the nurse allowed it to stay in most of her shift. It did get yanked. Yet it did come out. 

.......until it didn't. 

Bladder scans where telling everyone I had somewhere between 888 - 1000 ccs of pee stored in me. I had to be cathed again. 

If you're not counting, this is four times in three days.  Trust me - I was counting. 

More "fucks" for the floor to hear. I am ashamed of nothing. 

The day of discharge was coming on day 6, but I had two options - both bad: 

1. Go home with the cath and have urology take it out a few days later. 

2. Take the cath out, wait to see if I can pee, and if not, get re-cathed. 

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK.  and FUCK. 

After literally hours of pondering, I went with #2, which surprised even me. But the science is there if I had a BM (and I had two!) it should make it easier to piss. And they gave me meds to get me to piss. They couldn't give them to me earlier  because it makes your blood pressure dip, and mine hadn't been great. 

This super gay, super lithe kid named Tristan came into take the foley cath out. I think he was 15. He said he was more comfortable doing it with me in the bed - and fuck, he's a kid. He's done 5 of these? I said I'd rather you be as comfortable as possible. But someone more experienced showed up and we were all spared. 

So I sit here pushing fluids to make me pee, which ironically will be a big problem if I don't. But I need something in my bladder in which for it to voided. A vicious cycle. 

Here I sit and wait. Even you won't know the outcome until the next day. I didn't write this for suspense. It's just.a timing thing. I'm putting this to bed long before I know the 'how did it end' thing. Either way I'll want to be in bed by 21:00 and if I'm at home, it'll be a lot. period. trying to wrap up a blog post seems a bit out of my ability. 

*ABC's Nightline didn't exsit before Iran took 52 US hostages in 1979. His daily special reports actually created a show. At some point they started number the shows: DAY X.  They weren't doing that at Day 6 because no one knew it would take 444 days to release them. 

Song by: Queen

Panic !!!!!!!

Day 5 didn't go so well.  None of this has been going so well. 

It is different to be patient in your 20s than your 60s. You have more complications and don't rebound from things what way in which you prepared - should have been prepared at all. 

The EMTs made me laugh when they were getting info while I lay in the road.  Standard questions:  name, address, date of birth.  On the last one a few of them go - "oh happy birthday!"    It wasn't. I had been two days prior. But I wasn't expecting it at all and i was played face down, it made me laugh. Out loud. 

This is the second longest hospitalization that I have had. The last time I didn't have diagnosable mental illnesses. But hospital psychosis is a real thing - not that I have it. I know, because I told my team I needed a psych eval. 

I woke up having a conversation with someone who wasn't there. But I realized it. I knew it. And it was the third time during this stay that it happened. I finally had to say something to someone.  I also wasn't ruling out opioid induced conversations Meds are a fucked up thing. 

But I was also super antsy. Like I couldn't focus on a single thing for more than five seconds. The NYT games?  OMG - a disaster. I must have opened and closed Spelling Bee 145 times. Not even an exaggeration. As it would be explained to me later, it was probably a panic attack. 

I felt captive. I felt vulnerable. I wanted to be gone - out. Of the hospital. Not life. Earlier in the week with the massive amounts of pain, I did wish someone - anyone - to shoot me. 

It's a hospital. I still had to do the work. Peeing. Moving. Walking. Exercising. But I can't say it was a great day. 

Things were better when 710 came to visit. And while I love the man, I want him gone sooner than later. It's no fun watching me get vitals or cathed. Or worse, just sitting there. I'd rather he come say hi and stuff and rescue Shep. 

Yesterday also told me my next 12 weeks are going to suck. So many restrictions on my movements - I won't be shopping, or making dinner or walking the dig (I kind of knew that last one). No cleaning. No yardwork. Everything falls on 710 and I feel like a huge failure. 

The surgeon came by. I'd only seen him in an OR cap and mask. He is kind of a stunner. I'd add a pic, but I looked and none of them did him justice. Also a bit on the spectrum I'd guess. But I he said I "walked" past his home when I was injured,  My immediate response:  "well where the fuck were you?".   He laughed. 

I axed him if he knew the doc who found me. He did not, but picked up his phone and called him immediately. I go, "no - I only wanted his email". He goes," this will make day. Trust me. "

The surgeon goes on and on commending the doc for his actions and giving an update on me. 710 and I can hear the elation is his response. I got to talk with the doc and thank him, figuring no one ever gets noticed for their good deeds.

So the day ended on a good note and maybe by evening's end tomorrow I will be home. 

Hopefully. 

Song by: the Roots

Cut

So we are on part 2 of my odyssey. 

Surgery was scheduled for Monday, but no set time. 

What I didn't think I mentioned was that the leg I damaged was my "bad" leg. The one with cadaver bone, metal plates and nine screws. Hence the complication of the surgery. My surgeon would be an ortho-oncologist and for him to repair the current damage, he had to get rid of past damage / hardware. 

My would be two hour surgery lasted four hours. Me not getting back to my room until 21:30. 

The nine pins removed, though he promised to save me one. The metal plate could not be removed, as bone had grown over it. He did find some metal plating to shave down. This was all done to.........put in a hip replacement!

My femur broke above the metal plate right at the hip. The crown, if you will. My best chance for recovery was a new hip.  It is also officially beginning journey of being "Old"

I can't believe I had a fucking hip replacement.

.....and it hurts. 

Granted, not as badly as the fracture site did. This is post-surgical site pain. Swollen tissue and nerves, a foreign body in my hip  It is by no means great, but hardly as bad. 

So in four nights, I have gotten a total of five hours of sleep.  Yesterday was a big fat 0. No sleep. No getting comfortable or any sense that comfort could be found again. 

They got me up to walk a few times, but my blood pressure bottomed out.  80  / 46.   That is low. 

So currently getting IV boluses to get my pressure back up. 

Oh second part of the journey of being old is getting a walker and an elevated toilet seat. 

For 12 weeks (!!!!!) I cannot bend over more than 90 degrees. I have a special device to put on socks and underwear since I can't bend. 

I'm not happy. But was smart enough to send my shrink these deets, as now I'm riding high on new shit to do, but it's gonna come crashing down. 

The doc does say I'll be able to run again and with better mobility. We'll see. I'm afraid to move any which way currently. Right now it is as much a mental game as it is a physical one. 

Not sure who will win. 

Song by:the Cure

Catch My Fall

"........if I should stumble,,,,,,"

And stumble I did. 

Saturday I went out for an 18 mile run. One of my last long runs before September's marathon. Since I was going farther than anyone in either of my running groups, I planned to do the first 13 on my own and joine one group for the last 5. 

Plans change.

Around mile. 4.5, my foot hit a slightly raised sidewalk section. And down I went.   HARD. 

Super duper hard. 

I was at the end of someone's driveway just laying there deciding how bad was I injured, how much did it hurt and what I should do about it. 

First off, my Apple Watch didn't go into emergency mode as it is supposed to. I'm not sure what I would have done had it. The watch has cellualr for this reason, so I did call 710.  Useless. He was still asleep as it was barely after 06:00. 

Oh, but as I lay there, two female runners run past me. Writing. Bloody. Moaning. 

They didn't stop. They didn't yell out "are you ok?". Hell, they didn't even break stride. 

So I had little option and started to walk. 4.5 miles back to wear I parked. I figured I could get myself to an urgent care. 

What I didn't know was, I broke my femur. Cleanly. 

I proceeded to walk on a broken leg for four miles. I didn't make it back. And all of the sudden I couldn't move at all. The pain so extreme I literally couldn't take one more step. The problem was, now I was in the middle of an off ramp (trying the quickest way is a straight line).  Very few cars. None of them stopping, but me not signaling them to do so. 

I called a running member who said she'd pick me up, but my location was wonky. And then I realized she's 4'2" and I couldn't move at all. How was she gonna help me? 

Then I got dizzy, saw white spots and was fading fast. I saw a car coming towards me. I stuck out my hand for him to stop and then I collapsed. 

As luck would have it, he was a physician. He called 9-1-1 and tried to assess me through verbal actions. 

EMS shows up and wants me to get on my back and roll over. I practically laugh at them. I literally could not move at all - that's how bad the pain level was.  All four of them finally took a limb and got my onto a car - while I screamed.  I'll give it to the guy who rode in back with me. Going 45 mph on a bumpy road he got an IV in me and I never felt a thing. 

Urgent Care became an emergency department. One I owuld be in for 18 hours. Tests. Tests. Pain meds. Another IV port. Tests. No sleep. No ability to rest  Consults and then decision to move me to the main campus facility as I was going to need surgery - and it was potentially a complicated one.

Sine they didn't know when I'd be going to OR, I was not allowed to eat for drink...........for 16 hours. I finally had to tell the nurse, page the trauma team and ask if we are going to OR or can "he" eat. While my nurse was hot, he didn't have that critical thinking skill. 

I got moved to main campus around 0:100. And had tests until 03:00. Finally closing my eyes shortly after propped up by lots of things so I couldn't move. 

There will be another part. But basically I sat all of Sunday doing more tests and a lot of sitting. And playing NYT games early in the a.m. 

I also texted a fuck of a lot of people about my sitch.  Sister. Work. Running Groups. Other family members. 

None of them have used the word "moron" when I said I walked on a broken leg. .....but you know they thought it. Looking back, so do I.  .....I just didn't know (or figure) it was broken. I was told by at least two docs that if I broke the femur that way it would have to be a severe hit.......and I could confirm that. 

They asked if Ilost consciousness.  I always said 'no', but then thought - well, how would I know? 

I had no head trauma. Neuro checks were all good. All cuts and scrapes were right bodied. 

Now I have to find that doc who saved me and thank him. 

More in part 2

Song by: Billy Idol

Ny Music Monday

Well, more to come about my ominous post yesterday. 

Whle you wait I figure I'd do a tie-in to the would be post......or series of posts. 

The song is "Bones" from the Killers  It resides on their second and arguably best / most consistent disk, Sam's Town.

The song is fine, but does't rank as one of their bests. Most notably, the video was directed by Tim Burton - he of Batman, Pee-Wee's Big Adventure and so many other. 

No deep dive today. Just the intro and the vido. 

Day Off

Yesterday has NOT been a good day for Blobby. 

Far too many details to get into while writing a post on a phone.  

You’ll get a full explanation on Tuesday.  

This Love Starved Heart

A big selection of dogs today. Daycare was very good to me this week. 

Senior dog for a senior Blobby. 

He is soooooooooooo gentle and sweet. 

.....and then there is this guy. 

The ever present Sydney. 

I know her mom, so she's not starved for love, but you'd never know it. Or she just really likes me. 

I feel more popular than the new prisoner being paraded by the other inmates to his cell. 

Shep looks so mean, but if you played the 'live' version, it's post drinking water to normal face. 

Despite what an amazon delivery person says, he's not a bad guy. 

Ivy is such a love sponge. 

We did a full 1.2 mi around the lake. 

It looks Autumn-y

Song by: Marvin Gaye

Skunk

At 05:00 yesterday, 710 doesn't even crack an eye when I get out of bed, but turns his head a bit and asks if I'm going out for a run. 

Affirmative - and then I go downstairs and outside to do some dynamic stretching before embarking on a 5.5 mile run. He was back to sleep before I even got to the bottom stair. 

I think I was about a half mile into my run and internally started laughing at / to myself. "Are you going out for a run?". 

It amused me. 

In what fucking world did that happen when just wouldn't have been a frickin' joke?  

There was a time the chances of me coming home at 05:00 were a lot better than me getting up at that time. And running?  PUH-leese. 

When the "laughing" was over, I noticed I forgot to start my watch.  FUCK. 

I mean, if you don't record it, it didn't happen, right?  So while I did 5.5, my watch and running app say otherwise. 

Then I ran over some animal leftovers that had been trampled by dozens and dozens and dozens of cars. So little was left one would barely notice it especially in the dark. Except for after the left shoe hitting what had been skunk. 

Fuck. Me. 

I carried that with me for another half mile till I got to the park around the lake and rubbed the bottoms of my shoes over and over across the dewy grass. After three times around the lake I headed home, but you can kind of see down a different street. Je did not want to step in smushed skunk again. 

There is really no point to this story - and certainly no meaningful conclusion, though I could fake my way through that had this been a Christmas Story and the teach made me write...............a theme!

But it's not and she didn't. 

Song by: Souther Culture on the Skids

12 of 12

So I'm doing my 196th 12 of 12.

Normally it is 12 pictures taken on the 12th of the month. Since I only post once per day, you get my images the following day. All pictures taken with my iPhone. Click images to enlarge, if you choose.

Created by Chad Darnell and picked up from, what I can tell, any number of random bloggers who then link back to him and vice versa. Chad is no longer doing this, nor is successor coordinating the linking of other 12 of 12'ers anymore

04:10.  yes. a.m. !

Well sombr playing "12 to 12" on 12 of 12 is just weird, right? 

04:34. Gym time. 

Shower time. 

Work sign-in time. 

the staple breakfast photo. 

10:07. TCB - everyday. 

TCB - every way. 

10:54. Blandest grapes ever. 

But probably better than the sugary snack I would have preferred. 

15:22. Is it though? 

All signs point to 'no'. 

15:43. $1,000,000,000

I'm "frugal", but I'll part with $2 to hopefully get the Powerball billion. 

I did not get a sandwich, beer or wine. 

16:01. Doggy Daycare Pick-Up

19:01. 🎶 They're bad, they're bad - you know it. 🎶 

The Heights marching band's first practice of the year - and it sounded like it. Could barely make out it was the Michael Jackson tune. But I give them all the credit in the world. Concert band was enough for me - add marching to it?  Nooooooooooo thank you. 

19:42. Salmon Wednesday. 

Usually it is Tuesday, but we deviated on that day.