Update Explaining My Absence

SKDT1113Due to all the e-mail questions and comments about where I have been since last week have not gone un-noticed. I admit, I have not been paying attention to The Sting Of The Scorpion for the last several days. I have been distracted with some family health issues. Just know I will get all caught up this morning. But before I do I wanted to go over why I have been out of the loop for a while. Mid last week we had quite a family scare and it has set most of us into panic mode because of everything we didn’t know. Here is what happened.

My dad, 66, had been feeling quite a bit of abdominal pain, outright discomfort, nausea, and complete loss of his appetite. He let this continue, not in total silence, but what he had dismissed as gas, until finally this past Wednesday when I convinced him to contact his physician. He went in to his appointment in the late afternoon where blood tests and a physical examination were performed. The doctor made the observation on how dehydrated and pale my dad looked and recommended different ways to combat this from worsening. The doctor the released him and sent him home to rest. Later that night the doctor called my dad at home and told him his tests were back and he would like him to meet him at the hospital in the morning for some further testing. When my dad arrived he was met in the waiting room by a nurse who was going to expedite his admittance. After being admitted he was subjected to a battery of tests after he had to have an ultrasound done just to get an IV in his arm because he was so dehydrated.

We waited the remainder in his room in the hospital while we eagerly awaited all the test results. Shortly after 9pm the doctor came in to explain it all to my dad and all of us. The short version was that his gallbladder had shut down. He promptly let my dad know he had a 7am surgery to remove the gallbladder. We are all a little relieved now, my sister and I said our goodbyes and let him and my mother know we would be out this weekend to check on him. At 10am the following morning, Friday, my mother called to inform me that it was more extreme than a simple gallbladder removal, it was consumed by gangrene. At this point I headed back out to the hospital to check on my mom and dad. At this point this was all the information my mother had. I sat with my dad the remainder of the day and into the evening. He was given a whole slew of antibiotics, pain killers, and other medications throughout the day so he was not really aware of too much going on. My mother didn’t want to tell him that it was gangrene because she felt it would be better coming from the doctor.

Saturday morning rolled around and I was in the hospital by 7am. He started asking questions about his release and the nurses would tell him they didn’t have any orders for that as of yet. He was told he would go home the next day and now he is being told something different. To say the least he was getting a little agitated. By noon time I had time to convince my mother that we needed to tell him how extreme the surgery actually was so he will know why they are keeping him in for further observation. He took it pretty well and knew that sooner or later the doctor would actually come in to talk to him personally. The day pressed on and at 6pm Saturday evening the doctor made an appearance. He had a very informative talk with my dad and also explained to him sternly that he almost waited to long to be seen. Luckily, in the doctor’s best opinion, he explained that all the gangrene had been removed. He also explained that it had not passed into his intestines, other organs, or the bloodstream. Since he was recovering nicely he would be releasing him in the morning on Sunday.

For the first time in many, many years, I saw tears in my dad’s eyes because he knew he had just cheated death. He promised us all that in the future he would not be so stubborn when it comes to going to the doctor. The doctor had explained the gangrene is not something you want to screw with. We were all pretty taken with this ordeal. We all have sat back and given many things new attention, like our wills and family affairs. I took my dad home Sunday morning, got him all settled in, and called it a day myself. I hadn’t really been home in the last 5 days so I wanted to spend some time with my wife and kids. Lucky for me there was some icing on the cake Sunday evening, I got to Skype with my oldest daughter and my 2 y/o granddaughter who live in South Dakota. There is no better feeling than your young granddaughter to tell you she loves you and it will be okay grandpa.

We all had the crap scared out of us this past week and we owe our thanks to the doctor who was wise enough to do a great job with my dad. I know, for myself for sure, I will always be in his debt for giving my dad another chance in life. He’s not done yet because he is a stubborn old fart who just don’t know how to give up. I know now that he will take his aches and pains a little bit more serious and not dismiss everything as “gas”. I didn’t know too much about gangrene before this last week, but after allot of reading it scares me to know that my dad was riding that razor’s edge and didn’t even know it. Anyway, that has been my last few days, I just wanted to let everyone know I didn’t fall off the edge of the planet or something.

Note To Self: Just Breathe

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The absolute worst time to have an anxiety panic attack is while you are sitting in a chair with a needle mere millimeters from the vein it is about to puncture. How do I know this? I know this from first hand experience this morning. But, before I get into that and what happened next, y’all might need to catch up a bit by reading “An Attack Of Aichmophobia” which was written by me on 19 December 2013 and can explain a little more why I was having blood drawn in the first place. The blood was to serve a two fold purpose, one to do my Hemoglobin A1C panel for diabetic medication prescription renewals and also to see if I had anything weird going on which might explain me really freaking out around needles. I know, made no sense to me either. Why stick someone with a needle that has been freaking out about being stuck with needles here lately. Needless to say, the blood could not be drawn as requested because I threatened to stick the needle where the sun don’t shine to the technician. I ended up back in my doctor’s office where I was introduced to Klonopin or at least the doctor thought he was introducing us for the first time. I’m real aware of this drug as it is one of the drugs my son takes to try to “control” episodes he has because of being bipolar. I have tried to use some humor in the last post because it has been my way of dealing with the fact that I’m pretty fucking scared at this point in my life. I mean, ask yourself, how can a diabetic get away from sharp objects?

Meanwhile, while sitting in the doctor’s chair, figiting and sweating like a whore in a Catholic confessional, the doctor went over my “symptoms” and any known allergies. By this point I’m agitated, I want to go home, I want to get the hell away from all of this to sort it out. The doctor offered me a small pill and a small sip of water in a very small paper cup. He said to take it so we could continue our conversation. So, I complied, I took the pill. Within a few minutes my mind was clearing up, my focus was coming back, and it seemed like I just might be coming back to my senses. A quick check of my pulse, my blood pressure, and a tiny flashlight in my eye revealed to the doctor that my anxiety attack has come to it’s conclusion. Wow, now that was impressive, it worked almost as well as the calming effects my wife’s cold hands have when she places them on my neck when comforting me. He went on to explain that what I had just taken was 2mg of Klonopin. Within a few minutes I was back in the lab chair with a needle in my arm drawing blood and I could really care less. The only thing I could think of is where is my pain, where is my fear, am I dead. I’m a very firm believer that fear and pain are two very basic elements that ensure our safety and remind us that we are indeed still alive. I felt neither but I did feel scared. I imagine how my son must feel, what must be going on inside his brain as he watches what happens around him. Does it have the same effect on him.

That is that. A short walk down the hallway to meet my wife in her office. After seeing she was in there alone I walked thru the door, closing it behind me, where I sat down in one of the chairs at the front of her desk, all I wanted to do is just breathe. She made no comments about what had happened. If I know her the way I think I know her then nothing will ever be said. She did mention that she would pick up my new prescription on her way home with all the instructions. I leaned in to give her a kiss, not saying a word, and I left. I got into my car and found myself going to work. I have spoken to her since because she called to check up on me. She tried to explain that from now on I will need to take this medication prior to testing and prior injecting until I feel it is all under control like it once was. Will it ever get back under control? Will it ever be the same again? Have I lost what I thought I had control of just days before? I have come to the point that I really have grown to dislike this whole diabetes thing. Seems everyone has a way to kick it’s ass. I wish I could find my way to kick diabetes square in the ass and right out the door. Is this the part when someone tells me that we reap what we sew? Unfortunately I can’t go back in time, nor do I want to either, tomorrow is another day, to be dealt with like any other day I suppose. I just need to remember to breathe.

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Happy Birthday Dr. Kris!

Kris B-DayVisit Kris @ Channeling Hippocrates To Wish Her A Happy Birthday!

Congratulations to my favorite Georgia peach. Today, November 7th 2013 is Dr. Kris’s birthday. I know she will be celebrating many, many, more birthdays as more years roll by. Kris is my great friend, I wish the world had more people like Kris, because it would be a better place. I don’t normally drink wine, but today, in honor of Kris, I will drink a glass of the cheapest rot gut I can find. You’re the best Kris, the world is a better place with you in it.

So, Congratulations Kris For Giving Us One More Year!

Defund Obamacare (“Affordable Care Act”)

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Defund Obamacare

Don’t Fund Obamacare

Sign the petition and tell Congress: Don’t Fund Obamacare!

On 01 October 2013, millions of Americans will be required to enroll in Obamacare and could lose access to their doctors and be forced to pay higher premiums and higher taxes. But there’s still time to stop it. Republicans in Congress can stop Obamacare if they refuse to fund it.

Under normal circumstances one would never find anything to do with politics coming out of my mouth. However, since this goes way beyond the normal political rhetoric I feel almost obligated not to remain silent. I realize this decision will separate me from allies, friends, and even some family. All I ask is that you take the opportunity to review what is going to become something in all of our lives in the very near future. I don’t have a particular political alignment or agenda and I’m not asking anyone to “choose sides”. I am asking that each person I reach make the conscious decision to live with yourself and what you decided to do. This petition has nothing to do with me or my blog and all I am doing is sharing the information which can be found publically on the internet. As a father I find it is my duty to let everyone know that we do have a choice if we choose to be heard.

This will be the only time this subject will be mentioned here. I hold no opinions of those who choose to act or who choose not to act. Consider this an opportunity to review your future is it is what you choose to remain silent and let happen. That is all from me now and as far as I am concerned the subject is now closed. You have the information now which is available publically to all Americans. This isn’t about politics, it is about the future of healthcare for myself and fellow Americans.

A Moment In Time Became A Memory

Originally Posted 28 January 2013

Remembering yester-year seems to happen to me more often than not in my life lately. I don’t think I am trying to figure anything out; I don’t think I wish to re-live any specific event, but something seems to trigger a lot of reminiscent memories for me. Perhaps, as suggested by my wife, I have too much “down time” and my mind begins to wander. Maybe she is right; of course I will never admit that she might be right, that would be marital suicide. Just so happens that this story I will be telling shortly has it’s memory sparked quite a bit from different sources and for different reasons. It happens when the subject is brought up directly, mostly brought up by my father, it happens when someone asks or talks about my dayglo orange Volkswagen Thing, or about when my ex and I were inseparable while dating. It is all true, I did drive a VW Thing and we did date 3 years of high school, dated 2 years of me being in college, and we did get married, stayed married for 12 years, divorced finally, and she is now my ex. We were together for a long time I suppose, some might say, myself included, that we were never really meant to spend our entire life together, some might say we should have never been together in the first place. But, those are not the answers I seek to share here today. I have made some promises to some friends, one who is even a doctor, that I would share my own personal story of a bizarre trip to the emergency room way back in the summer of 1984. Unfortunately, I do not have a picture of any sort to share. Even if I did it might be just a wee bit too graphic. So, anyway, here we go.

 

Back when my ex was my girlfriend it wasn’t exactly a match made in heaven. I knew of her, but one could say she wasn’t my type. My freshman year in high school I “dated” a few different girls on a regular basis. Part of this was because I had a car and a driver’s license. Both of which were unheard of for a freshman at that time. How I got both is altogether a different story. We will leave it at the fact that I had both and they were my ticket to having more fun than the average freshman. In fact, not to sidetrack from the story, I lost my own virginity on the hood of that VW Thing. Anyway, I met my ex while I dated her younger sister, younger by a year in case you are interested. She used to give me hell because she knew we were out drinking and doing things to each other that are better left unspoken at the dinner table or in church for that matter. Soon enough my sophomore year started and I was talking with one of my friends who happened to also be one of my ex’s friends as well, they have been lifelong friends, I was the new person to the “group”. My ex wouldn’t give me the time of day as girlfriends tend to talk about things and I have done most of those things with most of her friends. What can I say, I was addicted to sex, not love, not romance, just raw emotionless sex. No commitment, no flowers, no cards, and no bullshit strings attached. I always had two things at my ready disposal, alcohol and my car. From my gathering, I never thought any of them ever had a problem with my “arrangement”. Well, not until they started dating for real, then the things I got to do were their dirty little secrets. As I write this I remember always waiting for the “I am pregnant scenario” to unfold, but it never did. Then one day, out of the blue, I was trying to con my way into a date with my ex. I not only got the cold shoulder but I also was on the receiving end of some real choice words. Such a mouth she had! I never pursued anyone like I did her. It was way beyond lust, it was way beyond being told no, it was deep and I started developing feelings for her the more we talked. We actually became friends, in private of course, because in public and in front of her friends she was a complete bitch to me without warning. But when we were away from them, she was nice to me and I was nice to her. It was all but a very confusing game we played. To this day I still don’t completely understand it.

 

We did begin dating, very traditional dating. I would pick her up from her house, I would sit and talk with her parents, we would go to eat or to see a movie or go to the mall, always making sure she was home by 11 p.m. on Friday and Saturday nights, the only two days I was allowed to take her anywhere by her parents. Whereas I didn’t have a curfew, not even on weekdays. My parents had an unspoken rule about my curfew which was I continued to keep my straight A average in all classes and stay out of jail. I did both with little effort. We dated for a few months, 3 or 4, and our relationship really developed, she would even hold my hand in school and in public, she would kiss me no matter who was able to see it, and she was nice to me always. She alienated most of her friends because all of her spare time was spent only with me. Her sister had a softball game one night during the week, a late game, didn’t even start until 8:30 p.m. or so. Her mom said we could go see her since it was a play-off game and also because it was 4 blocks from their house. That night was misty with light rain on occasion but not enough to stop any of the games or delay them. I went to pick up my ex at her house. I had to wait for her to finish getting ready so I sat and talked with her mom for a bit. When my ex walked out I was knocked out with how she looked. She normally had a real “preppy” look, always slacks and a blouse of sorts or a long skirt with a blouse. I had never seen her in anything else, ever, never before did she dress it down. But on this night she chose to surprise me, she was wearing some skin tight Levis 501 jeans and a t-shirt with her sister’s team on it. Want to talk about impressed, that doesn’t even begin to describe it. So we get in the car to go to the ball park and she looked at me and asked if I liked her new look. She explained that it was because of me and a few comments I made about her dressing like an old lady all the time. It was never said to be mean or to actually be taken seriously, it was always me just joking around. She told me why we were driving that her jeans were so tight that she was unable to wear any panties. Yea, they were that damn tight. We parked, walked to the field her sister was to be playing at, got a couple soft drinks, and went to the top of the bleachers to sit. We sat there to watch her sister’s team wipe the field with the other team sealing the deal for their place in the championship coming up. Her sister came to where we were and told us that she was going to get a ride home from a team mate’s mom and for us not to worry about it. After a short conversation she went back down and left.

 

My ex and I sat up there on what had become cold and wet bleachers for a little while after everybody left. We watched the entire cleanup and the shutting down of everything as we just sat there and talked. We were making plans for the summer coming up since she knew I was going to be home this summer because my dad had died in his accident the summer before. It was a touchy subject with me so she didn’t bring it up much. Our plans included trips to the beach and the local lakes and such. She had mentioned that she wanted me to help her pick out a new bathing suit and how she was looking forward to me being there. She was talking about a few things that night, it was different, she was opening up to me and at the same time re-assuring me that our relationship was indeed sincere. By now they had turned the field lights off and almost everyone that was there is now gone. It’s time to go; I don’t need to get either of us into any trouble for being too late. We stood up and began to make our way down the bleachers. About three quarters of the way down she lost her footing and slipped. I was right beside her, had ahold of her hand, and when she fell her hand was yanked out of my own. When she fell, she landed in a fashion which she ended up straddling the bench seat portion of the aluminum bleachers. She let out an instant scream; she was in pain, serious pain. We both got her back on her feet so we could get off the bleachers all the way. She was bleeding real bad, the crotch of her pants quickly became dark with blood. It was hard to see, she sat on the last bleacher bench and guided my hand to where she was injured, when I pulled my hand back it was covered in warm blood. We still didn’t know exactly what got cut so we walked to the restrooms so we could assess what happened. By now the blood was very visible and it was coming on strong. Once we got her jeans unbuttoned it was still unclear where she was bleeding from. I imagined sliding her pants down one day, wondering what I would see then, but had no idea that the first time I slid her pants down that it was going to be to see where she was injured. It was very severe, she didn’t have a cut or slice, she had a “rip” in her skin, more specifically, she had ripped one entire labia majora and it was bleeding profusely to say the least. I pinched her bloody labia between my thumb and forefinger to try to stop the bleeding, she looked as if she was going to black out. I wadded up some paper towers to hold on it, gave her instructions to hold decent pressure on it, and I left to go get the car. Due to the nature and arrangement of the ball parks I could only get back so close to the restrooms. When I went back in to get her she was standing in a giant puddle of her own blood. I wadded up more paper towels, held them in place, and we tried to get her pants back up, buttoning them was impossible. When we got into the car it seemed like she was beginning to bleed heavier, so I took a towel I had rolled up in the back seat and we stuffed that down into her pants. The command decision was made to take her to the emergency room and go from there. It was a rough ride for her, every motion the car made caused her extreme pain.

 

When I pulled into the emergency room I helped her out of the car and we went inside. She was immediately taken to the back for assessment. I, on the other hand, got to stand out front where I got the 3rd degree. My story, for some reason, was beyond belief and I was all but called a liar and a rapist. Her parents arrived soon enough, as well as my own parents, and the deputy sheriff. Everyone had questions; both of us were talked too multiple times by multiple people. I was liar and she was covering for me somehow or another. That’s neither here nor there, but it made me feel very “low” as if somehow this entire situation was my fault. Her family asked me to leave because they didn’t want to deal with me at that point in time, I would be dealt with later and I wouldn’t like it. Meanwhile, the drama was happening at the front entrance. Seems the blood that had been dripping out the floorboard drain holes had begun to puddle up and became very visible, enough that cops were called to check it all out. My car was seized as evidence and towed off. I was taken into police custody for questioning. After all the paperwork was done I was released into the custody of my parents, who still didn’t believe what happened. The following morning, as I was being taken to school by my dad, we drove by the park, which at that point had police and crime scene investigators doing their thing. (Did I mention she lost a whole hell of a lot of blood?) Later in the day the story was in the local paper, which in the article asked the public to step forward with information on what had to be a homicide. My called the crime stoppers number, police came to the house, went to my ex’s house, and finally sorted it all out as being one long connected event that took place the night before. I was not allowed to speak with my ex by her parents for an entire week; my own parents were forbidding it as well, but for different reasons. The only reason I got to speak to her was because she had returned to school. We were able to talk then. She told me while she was in the emergency room that investigators ordered the rape test to be completed. When they figured out she was still an intact virgin then that too passed. She got 17 stiches total starting from the lower (anus side) all the way to the top of the labia majora ending inside at that point. (Sorry, it’s kind of hard to describe.) The stitches were done “neatly” by the surgeon yet she was told that one day she might have to have plastic surgery for cosmetic purposes as he did not know how it would heal or how it would scar in the end. She went thru a hell of an ordeal but she remained with me because we both knew that the rest of them were full of shit. What was told was what happened, nothing more, nothing less. Later that day, she offered to show me her stitches. Between the stitches and the bruising I was hard pressed to even think what I was seeing looked like any vagina I had ever seen. In due time the stitches came out, the swelling went away, and the bruising went away, but the scar was staying for life. After 30 days I got my car back. About the same time both sets of parents eased up and agreed to let us continue dating. From that point forward one of my favorite things to do was to simply trace her scar with my finger tip, she never seemed to mind, dressed or undressed.

 

Years went by and we were married and soon after along came my now oldest daughter. When she was born it was hilarious because the mid-wife had a lot of questions about the scar, still visible as an indention in the skin. For fun, I will share what I consider a “funny ha ha” about my ex-wife. When we were in the process of getting our divorce, she had moved in with her boyfriend, and I was packing up all of our personal belongings so I could give her hers. I came across a card, on the envelope was the word “Scar” and the paragraph written inside started with “Scar, blah blah blah……” and was signed by the jackhole she was now shacked up with. I thought to myself, wondering, as I have done on some other occasions since, with a simple question. Does she think of me each time someone sees her scar, does she think of me when someone inquires about the scar, does she think of me when another man touches her scar, does it still tickle, does she tell the story? Of course, I will never know, but I have always wondered. Anyway, that’s the story. Sorry I was unable to present y’all with a visual representation; if I had a picture I would sure share it.

Being A Practical Joker

Origianlly Posted 25 January 2013

 

Late yesterday afternoon I received a text message from my wife informing me that I had an ultrasound appointment today at 4:15. When I text her back she informed me that it was complicated and she would explain it all to me when she gets home. In case some of y’all haven’t read much here on my blog let me give a very brief background on my wife and what she does for a living. She is a medical office manager @ an affiliates doctors office, meaning she is the manager of all the personnel for 5 family practices, 1 orthopedic office, scheduling, billing, front desk, x-ray, ultrasound, physical therapy, the pharmacy, and so forth, she is the manager for around 90 people. Anyway, her and a few of her close friends at the office got together to formulate a grand scheme to have a “gotcha” moment for the ultrasound technician. Why? The story is that this technician does not like to do ultrasounds on a man’s penis, buttocks, or genitals. Digging a little deeper I was informed it is because she does not like it when men naturally “react” when there “business” is having warm gel applied to it and a wand going over the areas. She knows it isn’t flattery towards her because she is just doing her job. Around the office she complains a bit (alot) since she has no desire to see a man’s genitalia.So, after getting my “briefing” last night I agreed to participate in their practical joke. I went up to the doctors’ office 15 minutes early because my wife asked me to so we could talk before my “mock” appointment. Sure enough, I was on the schedule, got checked in, and the proceeded to go down so I could talk to my wife. She gave me the procedural run down at this time. She explained the technician would begin the examination with a series of questions and we would discuss why I was there. I was told at this point that I was suffering from a “penile nogile” about the size of a quarter, (a lump on my penis). Why we talked, my wife, her close friend, and I, they began to explain how this technician has been dreading doing this ultrasound as it was to be her very last procedure of the day and she wasn’t looking forward to seeing someone’s bent out of shape penis. Later in the morning, after reviewing the schedule, the technician realized the man on the schedule had the same last name as her manager with the letters VIP next to it. When she asked my wife if there was any relation, my wife kindly replied that it was her husband. Now, I have never met this lady, the first time I even knew she existed was last night. But, she knew “of” me based on what she could gather from other employees. She was told I was 6’8″ @ 265lbs. Others remarked how I dwarf my 5’1″ @ 110lbs wife. I was told she was nervous, more than normal because it was her boss’s husband.

As I sat in my wife’s office, the technician softly knocked on the already open door to ask if I was ready for my procedure. I stood up, turned to her, offered my hand for an introductory hand shake, and said sure. We entered the exam room where I was told to change into a gown so I could readily show her my trouble area so we could discuss what comes next. Ummm, what? She left the room for a few moments. She came back and I was still dressed. She asked how come and I told her I was a bit nervous due to the sensitivity of my problem and was a bit uncomfortable doing the exam since she works for my wife. I told her I was feeling a little tension in the air and maybe it would be best if we talked about the procedure first. So, we talked, she explained everything she was going to do to me right down to how it would feel for me. She also told me not to be “alarmed” it I got an erection because it is a normal reaction. With my straightest face ever I told her I was much better now and thank you. She left the room again for me to change. When she returned I was still dressed. She said it was ok and I could just unbutton and unzip my pants to show her that she can work around it. I told her I wasn’t going to show her my penis. She asked why not. Then I told her I needed to tell her something personal first. Frustrated, she asked what it was. I smiled and explained she had been set up and that I was supposed to her she had been “got” by her boss and her friends. The look on her face was, what they say on t.v., priceless.

 

She took off out of the exam room, only to be confronted by all the involved practical jokers. On the plus side, she took it all in stride, laughing with everyone, joking, and admitting that yes, she had been “got”. They all continued to talk while I listened, it was funny as hell to me since I actually know all the other people quite well. Then I left since I needed to get my son from chess club at the middle school. I kinda feel bad for her since they all conspired to getting her goose. I am very glad she appeared to be in good spirits. The last words I heard her say were to my wife. She explained she is really glad she did not have to examine the the penis of her boss’s husband, she may have been scarred for life. Funny. So, that was my afternoon, what did you do for fun today?