I'm still awaiting the photos from my daughter concerning the renovations going on to the house ... sigh! Hopefully, soon....
Friday, my picky and demanding contractor (AKA "the-son-in-law" had us meet at the house to make some final decisions about electrical placement, etc. I think I've mentioned that there were various 1" level differences throughout the house. That's simply a result of the house being sliced/diced over the years. While we were there the workers were trying to remove what we THOUGHT were stick-on tiles in the sun-rooms....they were not. whoever put the sun-rooms in had placed the tiles one the WET cement and pushed them in - making it literally impossible to take up. I'm not sure what they thinking about that was, or even if they were thinking.
Regarding tile - On Tuesday my daughter/son-in-law and I went and picked out tile for the house. One of the major changes involves putting the same color tile throughout the entire house. we had a plan A and a plan B as far as color was concerned ... no problem. On Wednesday, the tile man started calling the various stores to place the order. In the size of tiles needed (18" x 18" - 45.732 x 45.72 centimeters)it was discovered that in spite of being a highlighted for sale tile, not one single store here had enough tile. Some had 10 pieces (NOT boxes) another had 100 pieces, etc. My beloved son-in-law was ready to pull the hair out of his shaved head. Then one of the stores told him it could be ordered in delivered in - oh - three to four weeks. At this point my beloved son-in-law was starting to show signs of complete melt-down.
His tile guy looked at the back of the sample piece and literally called the plant where the tile was manufactured. He discovered that 1) the tile was manufactured in a plant about 7 hours from here and 2) if they were there the next morning they would load up ALL the tiles that had been chosen (tiles,boarders, edging, etc.) as well as all the grout and other things necessary to install them.
Two of my son-in-law's workers put his trailer on the back of their truck and drove - basically all night - and picked up the tiles and drove back to get them there to have the house tile finished this weekend.
However, I was informed Friday that I have been been place on "house restriction" - meaning that I am not allowed to see the house until Monday....
I threatened today to get into "drag" and visit the house incognito. My son-in-law texts back that when he finally stopped laughing hysterically - it wouldn't work. So, I promised that I would behave and NOT go to the house this weekend. And frankly with the temperatures and heat index being in the triple digits all weekend and much of next week ... I don't plan on going too many places at all...
More to follow - hopefully with more pictures!!!!!!
Showing posts with label emotions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label emotions. Show all posts
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Monday, August 22, 2011
The House ~ continued
After reading today of Mitt Romney's decision to bulldoze his "small" house and build an 11,000 square foot addition, I'm almost afraid to write about mine. It certainly isn't anything like his ~ but after all the years I've been paying money to apartment owners, it probably will feel like it!!!
As I've mentioned my Son-in-Law is doing all the destruction/reconstuction on the house. On Monday, I thought I would surprise him and his workers by showing up - unannounced. My good friend BW drove me to the house. I don't drive, but that's for another set of posts, dear friends. I was sure I saw his truck in the driveway along with all the other vehicles. We entered the front door and as I was pushing back the plastic keeping dust and such contained - I yelled out: "My moving van is outside, where do I put all my stuff?"
As we rounded the corner, I realized that 1) he was NOT there and 2) these folks had absolutely NO idea who in the heck I was. SIGH! Fortunately, I introduced myself quickly, and the ice thawed even more quickly. I was taken on a tour and shown what was happening, and what was planned. If it is possible, I became even more excited!!! S was the fellow in charge and he explained as much as possible. He had a couple of questions for me and we made our way over piles and piles of lumber, etc. It was obvious, the dumpster had not arrived yet....very obvious.
I felt as if I'd caused enough chaos for the day, and we left more quietly than we arrived...
Wednesday, my daughter and I met J at the house for further discussions about plans and such. Unfortunately, my son-in-law IS a contractor and just as in other professions, they speak their own language. Fortunately, S was there to translate - both directions I might add.
Friday, we had to meet there again and this time, the dumpster had arrived and the place looked less as if something or someone had exploded in there and more like a construction site. There were some issues that needed to have decisions - for instance, my idea for the master bathroom had hit the reality of the space. Not a big problem, but that took some time to talk out.
This is a picture of the bathroom I'm talking about. I decided it was the winner of the "world's worst bathroom" ... to give a point of reference, it will be almost three times the size it is in the picture.
The toilet was taped closed for the estate sale - for very good reasons, and I'll leave it at that!!
More later - and hopefully, I'll have some pictures of the destruction by then!!!
As I've mentioned my Son-in-Law is doing all the destruction/reconstuction on the house. On Monday, I thought I would surprise him and his workers by showing up - unannounced. My good friend BW drove me to the house. I don't drive, but that's for another set of posts, dear friends. I was sure I saw his truck in the driveway along with all the other vehicles. We entered the front door and as I was pushing back the plastic keeping dust and such contained - I yelled out: "My moving van is outside, where do I put all my stuff?"
As we rounded the corner, I realized that 1) he was NOT there and 2) these folks had absolutely NO idea who in the heck I was. SIGH! Fortunately, I introduced myself quickly, and the ice thawed even more quickly. I was taken on a tour and shown what was happening, and what was planned. If it is possible, I became even more excited!!! S was the fellow in charge and he explained as much as possible. He had a couple of questions for me and we made our way over piles and piles of lumber, etc. It was obvious, the dumpster had not arrived yet....very obvious.
I felt as if I'd caused enough chaos for the day, and we left more quietly than we arrived...
Wednesday, my daughter and I met J at the house for further discussions about plans and such. Unfortunately, my son-in-law IS a contractor and just as in other professions, they speak their own language. Fortunately, S was there to translate - both directions I might add.
Friday, we had to meet there again and this time, the dumpster had arrived and the place looked less as if something or someone had exploded in there and more like a construction site. There were some issues that needed to have decisions - for instance, my idea for the master bathroom had hit the reality of the space. Not a big problem, but that took some time to talk out.
This is a picture of the bathroom I'm talking about. I decided it was the winner of the "world's worst bathroom" ... to give a point of reference, it will be almost three times the size it is in the picture.
The toilet was taped closed for the estate sale - for very good reasons, and I'll leave it at that!!
More later - and hopefully, I'll have some pictures of the destruction by then!!!
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Dear Me ~ Part 3
And so the re-construction began this week for real. I've gone a quite a roller-coaster of emotions about this purchase. Everything from "this is wonderful" to the to be expected "OMG ~ "What am I doing, have I completely lost my mind!!!!". Let it not be said that I do something like this quietly and with no outward show of emotion.
I also made it a point to talk to my children about this ~ and they were amazingly supportive, vocal in their love of the idea and more than willing to suggest way to spend the money!!! I've been living in apartments for so long, I'd almost forgotten about what owning a home is like ~ almost.
The house had been owned by one family since 1960. The Father has passed away a number of months ago, and the Mother wasn't doing all that well. The Son came a lived with her for awhile, and decided that she needed to move back to where he lived and worked. That's how the estate sale came to be. the son helped gather the stuff up for the sale, and then the next day, he and his Mother boarded a plane. They literally locked up the house and walked away....leaving in the process an incredible amount of things ~ including the contents of the refrigerator.
The head of the estate sale outfit has his phone number and we connected by phone. It was a very positive chat and then he had his realtor call me. Several phone calls later it was decided that it would NOT be a good idea for his agent to represent both of us - so another agent from the same office called me and we were off to the races!!!
The closing was two days before our beloved congress tried to drive the economy over the cliff - really good timing on my part!!
My dearly loved son-in-law is a contractor and is doing all the work on the house. He also has a lot of work to do for various franchise owners of a certain fast food outlet. Again, with them rolling out a new menu item requiring re-doing most of the kitchens in a rather short space of time, my timing couldn't have been better.
More tomorrow or Saturday. Until then here's a teaser pic of the start of the re-construction!
There will be a LOT more pictures of the mess of re-doing it all that I will post later. My daughter took them, and her camera does pictures that are HUGE HUGE HUGE! She'll get them to me, and I'll get them into a size that will fit....
I also made it a point to talk to my children about this ~ and they were amazingly supportive, vocal in their love of the idea and more than willing to suggest way to spend the money!!! I've been living in apartments for so long, I'd almost forgotten about what owning a home is like ~ almost.
The house had been owned by one family since 1960. The Father has passed away a number of months ago, and the Mother wasn't doing all that well. The Son came a lived with her for awhile, and decided that she needed to move back to where he lived and worked. That's how the estate sale came to be. the son helped gather the stuff up for the sale, and then the next day, he and his Mother boarded a plane. They literally locked up the house and walked away....leaving in the process an incredible amount of things ~ including the contents of the refrigerator.
The head of the estate sale outfit has his phone number and we connected by phone. It was a very positive chat and then he had his realtor call me. Several phone calls later it was decided that it would NOT be a good idea for his agent to represent both of us - so another agent from the same office called me and we were off to the races!!!
The closing was two days before our beloved congress tried to drive the economy over the cliff - really good timing on my part!!
My dearly loved son-in-law is a contractor and is doing all the work on the house. He also has a lot of work to do for various franchise owners of a certain fast food outlet. Again, with them rolling out a new menu item requiring re-doing most of the kitchens in a rather short space of time, my timing couldn't have been better.
More tomorrow or Saturday. Until then here's a teaser pic of the start of the re-construction!
There will be a LOT more pictures of the mess of re-doing it all that I will post later. My daughter took them, and her camera does pictures that are HUGE HUGE HUGE! She'll get them to me, and I'll get them into a size that will fit....
Friday, August 1, 2008
A 60+ Stoner ~ Late Evening Thoughts
This chapter picks up from --here--
Once taken into the surgical holy-of-holies, I was shown to a draped area with a bed and various machinery not for the faint of heart.
I was handed two (not one) two surgical gowns to put on. As surgical gowns had been designed by Dr. Seymour Butts, this was a welcome change indeed. Now, the posterior areas would not be flapping in the breeze of hospital air conditioning...or so I thought. Alas, when the surgical nurse (have to use the right title here) came back. I was to put one on and the other would be put on after surgery. But, I need not have worried - once I got into the bed, I didn't get to leave it.
And now the torture began. After the first surgical nurse left (having divested me of one of the gowns), a second one arrived - carrying a $4 cup of coffee. Sheer torture. Fortunately, he was but a moment and left with coffee intact very shortly. At that point, the anesthesiologist arrived without coffee and talked in detail about what they were going to do and how I would be "under" for the operation.
Those who know the story of a year ago, know that my last major surgery was not exactly a walk in the park going into it. I had shared that with my Dr., but had no idea he had shared it beyond that.
I was very glad to talk to the anesthesiologist and find out that I was NOT going to be given the paralyzing shot so common in operations, but would be a combination of gas and drugs. There was a lot more torture as various surgeons, interns and I swear there was a cleaning person all arrived in front of me - with cups of coffee. One person actually used the table by the end of MY bed to add his sugar ... I was in agony.
I should have paid more attention to the next explanation but I didn't.
They were going to give me a nerve block in my upper legs which would relieve most of the pain over the next couple of days. This is important for later.
After that discussion the Dr. came to see me and made the usual poking of the leg, discussion with the nurse that was with him - and merely gave me "THE LOOK" for daring to joke about marking the leg to be operated on with an X. (Some surgeons are known for NOT having a sense of humor - mine included!)
At that point, the anesthesiologist was back with several additions to the IV that had been started in my arm. I felt wonderful!!!! Nothing hurt,
I had a good grasp on reality and everything seems fuzzy and sharp at the same time. The bed I was on was the one I would be taken to surgery in - and off down the hall we went. By this point, the meds were beginning to take hold, and I was enthralled by the passing lights, and the people passing by. My mouth seemed a little fuzzy but I think I could still be understood, but frankly I have no idea what I said. Finally, it was through the doors and into the operating. I was feeling so good - getting onto the operating table was no problem. That's because they didn't move me until I was out. The anesthesiologist was talking about the mask in my ear, and it was placed over my nose/mouth and I did as I was told - to breathe deeply.
That was the last I remembered until I woke up in my hospital room. To say it took a few minutes to get focused would be a distinct understatement. Managed to see my daughter sitting in the room, and supposedly asked her if I'd had a good time at the party. I then remember various people suddenly (she says not suddenly, but over a period of time) converging around the bed to "fill me in" on all I needed to know. First off was an explanation of the machine in bed with me making my leg move up to my chest and then back down. A major annoyance during my stay, even if I was grateful that I would keep me from locking up the new knee. Then there was the physical therapist to point out what they would do later (Spanish Inquisition torture for 400 Alex.).
He finally left and the nurse came over to explain the pain pump next to my bed.
In my foggy state I did manage to listen as she explained that every time the light came on I could press the button for pain medication. Please make not that she actually said could press it. As she was leaving, the light was on - (cue the Psycho violins here) - so I pressed it. And that's what I did all afternoon to early evening.
I need to do a short explanation here (do I do anything short?). I am not a stoner but not by nature. With my compulsive/impulsive nature people are sometimes surprised. I simply can't. Pot makes me incredibly physically miserable and very sick - which made me a real pain-in-the-butt in the Theater department in college. And none of the rest either because they don't work in my system as -according to everyone else - they should.
So now, I have drugs blocking the pain in my knee, whatever was in the IV dripping away and I'm pressing the pain pump every time the light comes on...which seemed to be about every five minutes. At this point - even my daughter agrees- I had gone from operation drug lingering head long to a 60+ year older stoner (in case you hadn't gotten that!!)
I had several cell phone calls I don't remember having, ate two meals which I don't remember and several servings of ice cream - which was available anytime on the floor.
I was blissfully unaware - even though my daughter was telling me at the time I was beyond loopy and heading toward loony!! That blissfully unaware came to an end when I looked at the wallpaper above the sink in my room. I've included a picture of something similar - but mine was more gold, more washed and with some dark in it. (creepy music for 200 Alex) I was looking at the TV on the wall when I realized that the wall paper pattern was moving . . . around the wall. I did what any logical person would do in that situation and closed my eyes several times to see if it would go away.
It didn't.
I realized right away that I was for the very first time in my life completely and absolutely stoned. I will say that it was frankly NOT a good sensation. (OK, DEA did that cover my probation?)
I also knew exactly where the problem was and what needed to be done about it. At that point the nurse came in and we both basically started the same conversation . . . which in a nut shell was "the machine has to go." She was trying to be diplomatic about it - I was being blunt. She wanted to re-set the timer (!!??) I wanted the thing gone. And shortly gone it was. Eventually the "trip" came to an end, the wallpaper stopped moving and the fuzz began to clear.
It especially cleared enough for me to concentrate on my nemesis since the beginning of time - the walker. Curse it as much as I did - it wouldn't take the hint and leave. It just laid there against the wall and mocked me!!!
---more tomorrow
Once taken into the surgical holy-of-holies, I was shown to a draped area with a bed and various machinery not for the faint of heart.
I was handed two (not one) two surgical gowns to put on. As surgical gowns had been designed by Dr. Seymour Butts, this was a welcome change indeed. Now, the posterior areas would not be flapping in the breeze of hospital air conditioning...or so I thought. Alas, when the surgical nurse (have to use the right title here) came back. I was to put one on and the other would be put on after surgery. But, I need not have worried - once I got into the bed, I didn't get to leave it.And now the torture began. After the first surgical nurse left (having divested me of one of the gowns), a second one arrived - carrying a $4 cup of coffee. Sheer torture. Fortunately, he was but a moment and left with coffee intact very shortly. At that point, the anesthesiologist arrived without coffee and talked in detail about what they were going to do and how I would be "under" for the operation.
Those who know the story of a year ago, know that my last major surgery was not exactly a walk in the park going into it. I had shared that with my Dr., but had no idea he had shared it beyond that.
I was very glad to talk to the anesthesiologist and find out that I was NOT going to be given the paralyzing shot so common in operations, but would be a combination of gas and drugs. There was a lot more torture as various surgeons, interns and I swear there was a cleaning person all arrived in front of me - with cups of coffee. One person actually used the table by the end of MY bed to add his sugar ... I was in agony.I should have paid more attention to the next explanation but I didn't.
They were going to give me a nerve block in my upper legs which would relieve most of the pain over the next couple of days. This is important for later.After that discussion the Dr. came to see me and made the usual poking of the leg, discussion with the nurse that was with him - and merely gave me "THE LOOK" for daring to joke about marking the leg to be operated on with an X. (Some surgeons are known for NOT having a sense of humor - mine included!)
At that point, the anesthesiologist was back with several additions to the IV that had been started in my arm. I felt wonderful!!!! Nothing hurt,
I had a good grasp on reality and everything seems fuzzy and sharp at the same time. The bed I was on was the one I would be taken to surgery in - and off down the hall we went. By this point, the meds were beginning to take hold, and I was enthralled by the passing lights, and the people passing by. My mouth seemed a little fuzzy but I think I could still be understood, but frankly I have no idea what I said. Finally, it was through the doors and into the operating. I was feeling so good - getting onto the operating table was no problem. That's because they didn't move me until I was out. The anesthesiologist was talking about the mask in my ear, and it was placed over my nose/mouth and I did as I was told - to breathe deeply.That was the last I remembered until I woke up in my hospital room. To say it took a few minutes to get focused would be a distinct understatement. Managed to see my daughter sitting in the room, and supposedly asked her if I'd had a good time at the party. I then remember various people suddenly (she says not suddenly, but over a period of time) converging around the bed to "fill me in" on all I needed to know. First off was an explanation of the machine in bed with me making my leg move up to my chest and then back down. A major annoyance during my stay, even if I was grateful that I would keep me from locking up the new knee. Then there was the physical therapist to point out what they would do later (Spanish Inquisition torture for 400 Alex.).
He finally left and the nurse came over to explain the pain pump next to my bed.
In my foggy state I did manage to listen as she explained that every time the light came on I could press the button for pain medication. Please make not that she actually said could press it. As she was leaving, the light was on - (cue the Psycho violins here) - so I pressed it. And that's what I did all afternoon to early evening.
I need to do a short explanation here (do I do anything short?). I am not a stoner but not by nature. With my compulsive/impulsive nature people are sometimes surprised. I simply can't. Pot makes me incredibly physically miserable and very sick - which made me a real pain-in-the-butt in the Theater department in college. And none of the rest either because they don't work in my system as -according to everyone else - they should.So now, I have drugs blocking the pain in my knee, whatever was in the IV dripping away and I'm pressing the pain pump every time the light comes on...which seemed to be about every five minutes. At this point - even my daughter agrees- I had gone from operation drug lingering head long to a 60+ year older stoner (in case you hadn't gotten that!!)
I had several cell phone calls I don't remember having, ate two meals which I don't remember and several servings of ice cream - which was available anytime on the floor.I was blissfully unaware - even though my daughter was telling me at the time I was beyond loopy and heading toward loony!! That blissfully unaware came to an end when I looked at the wallpaper above the sink in my room. I've included a picture of something similar - but mine was more gold, more washed and with some dark in it. (creepy music for 200 Alex) I was looking at the TV on the wall when I realized that the wall paper pattern was moving . . . around the wall. I did what any logical person would do in that situation and closed my eyes several times to see if it would go away.
It didn't.
I realized right away that I was for the very first time in my life completely and absolutely stoned. I will say that it was frankly NOT a good sensation. (OK, DEA did that cover my probation?)
I also knew exactly where the problem was and what needed to be done about it. At that point the nurse came in and we both basically started the same conversation . . . which in a nut shell was "the machine has to go." She was trying to be diplomatic about it - I was being blunt. She wanted to re-set the timer (!!??) I wanted the thing gone. And shortly gone it was. Eventually the "trip" came to an end, the wallpaper stopped moving and the fuzz began to clear.It especially cleared enough for me to concentrate on my nemesis since the beginning of time - the walker. Curse it as much as I did - it wouldn't take the hint and leave. It just laid there against the wall and mocked me!!!
---more tomorrow
Thursday, July 31, 2008
A 60+ S_ ONE R ~ Early Evening Thoughts
Picking up from --here--
Everyone knows what a hospital waiting room looks like, sounds like and very often smells like. They are often places of frenetic activity, unintelligible or delivered in code intercom calls . . . and frankly smell like hospital.
I was not prepared for this entrance/waiting room. There was the tranquil sounds of fountains and a full sized grand piano was being played by ghostly hands. OK, that was a slight exaggeration - it was a player grand piano.
Turning to the right, there was a marble topped circular desk with someone in coat and tie standing behind it. I was tempted to go outside and see if I had been delivered to a funeral home by mistake. Everything seemed so peaceful and didn't smell. It turns out that the gentleman behind the desk if the first person everyone talks to before entering the rest of the hospital.
He takes your information (actually listening I might add!) and then
calls whoever you are supposed to see and they will come an get you. If necessary, he will take you to where you need to go. No wandering aimlessly around the hallways trying to remember if you were told turn left, then right - go up five steps and "shake it all about."
There were several reasons they went with the set-up the way they have it. First of all it help control traffic and also it help convince people that they are known and expected. Of course, visitors check-in and go up to the rooms.
Anyway, hospital registration came out to get me as I waited in nice comfy chairs - by a window wall and listened to the water wall and piano. I was taken to a glass enclosed area to begin the sign all the papers required and make sure all the payments had been recorded. Within a very short delightful time, I had my wrist band and the nurse came and got me for the necessary testing that had to be done.
Before going into the testing area, she took me on a tour of the floor where I would be staying - showed me a room (I was beginning to wonder if I would be expected to buy a time-share plan before I would get out). And we grabbed a fresh cup of coffee from the floor waiting area. Already I was falling in love - they had good coffee!! 
Once ensconced in the testing area, two nurses went to work on me. The only complaint I had was that one cup of coffee was not going to be able to replace the gallon (so it seemed to me) of blood they drew. OK, the 2nd complaint had to do with those little gluey pads they use for EKG's. But that has more to do with glue and chest hair. . . and there's not much anyone can do about that. And then, we were done. Because I had come in before the day of surgery, I was given a reprieve on arrival time on Friday. I didn't need to be there until 5:30am!! Not much of an improvement, but at that time of day (Is it really a time of day?) I'll take what I can get!!
So now I was free until Friday morning - about 33 hours away. Just enough time to go home, and brace myself for nothing to eat or drink after 10pm on Thursday.
Of course, that gave me sometime to surf the net and discover all sorts of things I didn't want to know about the operation. . . and anesthetic. I know I should have stopped reading, but it was as if I was watching a car wreck. I just kept looking.
"Achmed was supposed to pick me up Friday in time to make the 5:30am deadline. At about 5:00am I get a phone call they he can't pick me up, but one of his friends is going to be there and the "friend" knew where the hospital was. "Friend" did NOT know where the hospital was - and "Achmed" was giving him directions the entire way - very loudly - over the cell phone. And we did make the appointed time. Again, check in at desk, registration comes and gets me and I get a wrist band - which includes a picture, by the way. No mistaking who I am that's for sure!! Registration takes me to the surgery floor, and there is the ONLY place I've had to wait for any length of time...along with the others scheduled for early morning surgery.
We did get to laughing as the waiting became a test of endurance. Right across from where we were waiting was an area for families to wait while surgery was being done. The area was filled with coffee, colas and rolls and such. It was very hard to behave - let me tell you. Especially seeing the coffee .... especially the coffee.
Eventually, we were released from the torment and taken back to begin the final part of this story ... and of course the last letter in the hangman puzzle in the heading.
--more tomorrow.
Everyone knows what a hospital waiting room looks like, sounds like and very often smells like. They are often places of frenetic activity, unintelligible or delivered in code intercom calls . . . and frankly smell like hospital.
I was not prepared for this entrance/waiting room. There was the tranquil sounds of fountains and a full sized grand piano was being played by ghostly hands. OK, that was a slight exaggeration - it was a player grand piano.
Turning to the right, there was a marble topped circular desk with someone in coat and tie standing behind it. I was tempted to go outside and see if I had been delivered to a funeral home by mistake. Everything seemed so peaceful and didn't smell. It turns out that the gentleman behind the desk if the first person everyone talks to before entering the rest of the hospital.He takes your information (actually listening I might add!) and then
calls whoever you are supposed to see and they will come an get you. If necessary, he will take you to where you need to go. No wandering aimlessly around the hallways trying to remember if you were told turn left, then right - go up five steps and "shake it all about."There were several reasons they went with the set-up the way they have it. First of all it help control traffic and also it help convince people that they are known and expected. Of course, visitors check-in and go up to the rooms.
Anyway, hospital registration came out to get me as I waited in nice comfy chairs - by a window wall and listened to the water wall and piano. I was taken to a glass enclosed area to begin the sign all the papers required and make sure all the payments had been recorded. Within a very short delightful time, I had my wrist band and the nurse came and got me for the necessary testing that had to be done.
Before going into the testing area, she took me on a tour of the floor where I would be staying - showed me a room (I was beginning to wonder if I would be expected to buy a time-share plan before I would get out). And we grabbed a fresh cup of coffee from the floor waiting area. Already I was falling in love - they had good coffee!! 
Once ensconced in the testing area, two nurses went to work on me. The only complaint I had was that one cup of coffee was not going to be able to replace the gallon (so it seemed to me) of blood they drew. OK, the 2nd complaint had to do with those little gluey pads they use for EKG's. But that has more to do with glue and chest hair. . . and there's not much anyone can do about that. And then, we were done. Because I had come in before the day of surgery, I was given a reprieve on arrival time on Friday. I didn't need to be there until 5:30am!! Not much of an improvement, but at that time of day (Is it really a time of day?) I'll take what I can get!!So now I was free until Friday morning - about 33 hours away. Just enough time to go home, and brace myself for nothing to eat or drink after 10pm on Thursday.
Of course, that gave me sometime to surf the net and discover all sorts of things I didn't want to know about the operation. . . and anesthetic. I know I should have stopped reading, but it was as if I was watching a car wreck. I just kept looking."Achmed was supposed to pick me up Friday in time to make the 5:30am deadline. At about 5:00am I get a phone call they he can't pick me up, but one of his friends is going to be there and the "friend" knew where the hospital was. "Friend" did NOT know where the hospital was - and "Achmed" was giving him directions the entire way - very loudly - over the cell phone. And we did make the appointed time. Again, check in at desk, registration comes and gets me and I get a wrist band - which includes a picture, by the way. No mistaking who I am that's for sure!! Registration takes me to the surgery floor, and there is the ONLY place I've had to wait for any length of time...along with the others scheduled for early morning surgery.
We did get to laughing as the waiting became a test of endurance. Right across from where we were waiting was an area for families to wait while surgery was being done. The area was filled with coffee, colas and rolls and such. It was very hard to behave - let me tell you. Especially seeing the coffee .... especially the coffee.
Eventually, we were released from the torment and taken back to begin the final part of this story ... and of course the last letter in the hangman puzzle in the heading.
--more tomorrow.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
A 60+ S_ O _E R ~ Late Evening Thoughts
Continuing from --last night-- ~
By now the horrors (as I called them) had begun to run out of steam. I had assured all of them that I wasn't going to end up a bed-ridden cripple, that I was not going to have to sell my first born to pay the bills (although when he was growing up ~ ah, let's not go there!) and that whatever path the recovery took I would be just fine ...
I then had D & D to deal with.
They had decided that there was no way I was going to be able to go through the operation and recover by myself ~ and that they were going to be there every step of the way. Which normally, I wouldn't have minded ~ but the thought of them fluttering around the hospital bed and then fluttering in and out of my apartment while I was recovering was just a bit more than I wanted to even think about let alone deal with. (hysteria by proxy for 600, Alex)
Don't get me wrong, they have been and are good friends ~ in very defined doses. Fortunately my daughter was taking over that portion of the watch, and she definitely didn't need any help. So, not only would she be around after the operation, but would carefully monitor my being at home.
By this time ~ a week before the operation ~ the hospital, doctor/surgeon's office, anesthesiologist and medical equipment rental decided they would need to be paid.
I was informed these people would be calling me and to be prepared for sticker shock.
And I was . . . there was a middle-man in what I was beginning to call "Behind The Operating Room Door" and if you're too young (or too innocent) to get that reference ~ send me an E-mail and I'll send you a link. The reason he was in the middle was his delightful personality, his willingness to help, his lawyer skills and a company American Express that could take the charges and I would then pay back from the inheritance.
None of us knew what anyone was going to charge ~ but as a cash up-front patient, I was sure there would be some kind of discount...which I was prepared to ask for.
Believe it or not, the first call was the hospital and I almost wished I had delayed all this several weeks. After my experience of calling all the "medical center" hospitals ~ I was prepared for 1)rudeness and 2) an astronomical price tag. I received neither. The business office was incredibly helpful and let's just say that I was going to be able to get BOTH knees done for the price of ONE at the other hospitals. (blue light special for 300, Alex)
So, when all the calls were done and everyone had the money they needed ~ I began to stump (I certainly wasn't able to dance!) around the apartment singing "Signed - Sealed - Delivered!" When you have to sit down every few moments to let the knees recover, it somewhat takes the fun out of the celebration!!
The Doctor had given me his instructions on a much copied copy of a copy. But the hospital was quite insistent that I either come down on Wednesday and pre-register and get the necessary paperwork and test done,
or I would have to do the morning before surgery. Dear me, what a difficult choice!! (Remember, I'm the one that wasn't sure 5am was an actual time of day!) So, Wednesday afternoon it was off to find the hospital and get the tests done.
Since I'm still not driving (that IS going to change no matter what my son-in-law says!!) I either take the bus or a taxi. In this case, taxi seemed preferable. . . that way two of us could get lost. At this time I had a driver that I used all the time. He was quite good, knew the city and we had a number of pleasant conversations. He was Muslim and spent most of the trips discussing religion with me ... I had always maintained that iron sharpens iron ... and as the conversations were never arguments I had begun to look forward to them. Of course, I referred to him to my daughter and my friends as "Achmed, the dead terrorist.***" Knowing that if I every accidentally called him that or explained it . . . I would be in deep trouble. (non-famous deaths for 600, Alex)
Off we went - I had the address and the approximate location of the hospital, he was convinced, as always, that I had no idea where it was and he did. The discussion was lively and interesting ~ but alas, he is too serious to have much of a sense of humor. But that certainly never stopped his trying to convert me and/or all in my family.
We did find the hospital (I was right ~ he wasn't but never admitted it) and I walked into one of the biggest surprises I've had in a long, long time.
---more tomorrow and another clue in the hangman puzzle of the title
*** for those of you you didn't understand the Achmed reference ~ here is ventriloquist Jeff Dunham and Achmed. My grand kids think he is hysterical, however we did have to explain to the youngest that going through one of the box stores saying loudly: "silence ~ I kill you!" was not really a good idea!!!
By now the horrors (as I called them) had begun to run out of steam. I had assured all of them that I wasn't going to end up a bed-ridden cripple, that I was not going to have to sell my first born to pay the bills (although when he was growing up ~ ah, let's not go there!) and that whatever path the recovery took I would be just fine ...
I then had D & D to deal with.
They had decided that there was no way I was going to be able to go through the operation and recover by myself ~ and that they were going to be there every step of the way. Which normally, I wouldn't have minded ~ but the thought of them fluttering around the hospital bed and then fluttering in and out of my apartment while I was recovering was just a bit more than I wanted to even think about let alone deal with. (hysteria by proxy for 600, Alex)Don't get me wrong, they have been and are good friends ~ in very defined doses. Fortunately my daughter was taking over that portion of the watch, and she definitely didn't need any help. So, not only would she be around after the operation, but would carefully monitor my being at home.
By this time ~ a week before the operation ~ the hospital, doctor/surgeon's office, anesthesiologist and medical equipment rental decided they would need to be paid.
I was informed these people would be calling me and to be prepared for sticker shock.And I was . . . there was a middle-man in what I was beginning to call "Behind The Operating Room Door" and if you're too young (or too innocent) to get that reference ~ send me an E-mail and I'll send you a link. The reason he was in the middle was his delightful personality, his willingness to help, his lawyer skills and a company American Express that could take the charges and I would then pay back from the inheritance.
None of us knew what anyone was going to charge ~ but as a cash up-front patient, I was sure there would be some kind of discount...which I was prepared to ask for.
Believe it or not, the first call was the hospital and I almost wished I had delayed all this several weeks. After my experience of calling all the "medical center" hospitals ~ I was prepared for 1)rudeness and 2) an astronomical price tag. I received neither. The business office was incredibly helpful and let's just say that I was going to be able to get BOTH knees done for the price of ONE at the other hospitals. (blue light special for 300, Alex)
So, when all the calls were done and everyone had the money they needed ~ I began to stump (I certainly wasn't able to dance!) around the apartment singing "Signed - Sealed - Delivered!" When you have to sit down every few moments to let the knees recover, it somewhat takes the fun out of the celebration!!
The Doctor had given me his instructions on a much copied copy of a copy. But the hospital was quite insistent that I either come down on Wednesday and pre-register and get the necessary paperwork and test done,
or I would have to do the morning before surgery. Dear me, what a difficult choice!! (Remember, I'm the one that wasn't sure 5am was an actual time of day!) So, Wednesday afternoon it was off to find the hospital and get the tests done.Since I'm still not driving (that IS going to change no matter what my son-in-law says!!) I either take the bus or a taxi. In this case, taxi seemed preferable. . . that way two of us could get lost. At this time I had a driver that I used all the time. He was quite good, knew the city and we had a number of pleasant conversations. He was Muslim and spent most of the trips discussing religion with me ... I had always maintained that iron sharpens iron ... and as the conversations were never arguments I had begun to look forward to them. Of course, I referred to him to my daughter and my friends as "Achmed, the dead terrorist.***" Knowing that if I every accidentally called him that or explained it . . . I would be in deep trouble. (non-famous deaths for 600, Alex)
Off we went - I had the address and the approximate location of the hospital, he was convinced, as always, that I had no idea where it was and he did. The discussion was lively and interesting ~ but alas, he is too serious to have much of a sense of humor. But that certainly never stopped his trying to convert me and/or all in my family.
We did find the hospital (I was right ~ he wasn't but never admitted it) and I walked into one of the biggest surprises I've had in a long, long time.
---more tomorrow and another clue in the hangman puzzle of the title
*** for those of you you didn't understand the Achmed reference ~ here is ventriloquist Jeff Dunham and Achmed. My grand kids think he is hysterical, however we did have to explain to the youngest that going through one of the box stores saying loudly: "silence ~ I kill you!" was not really a good idea!!!
Monday, July 28, 2008
A 60+ S_ O _ _ R ~ Early Afternoon Thoughts
Leaving all the "Sturm und Drang" that I last posted at length about -here- I want to move forward to the merry month of May. A wonderful time of may-flowers (except for those that were being flooded or frozen) and supposedly a welcoming of spring. In my case, it was the welcoming of yet another surgery. 
Over the years, those who know me have realized that walking had become much more difficult and sometimes quite painful. (bad joints for 100, Alex)
In the month of April, I realized that something was going to have to be done ~ and quite soon. I was walking as if I had been riding horses for 100 years (bow-legged really doesn't even begin to describe it. I was beginning to look like the curved sides of a ship!) And I was beginning to be unable to walk for all but a short distance without having to sit down and let the knees recover. All of which contributed to making me fell exceptionally old and somewhat feeble. This time I began to plan and research 1) where I wanted to have it done and 2) who I wanted to have do it. (shocked friends and relatives for 500, Alex)
Several years ago
I had researched the cost of getting my knees done as a cash up-front patient. The results were absolutely stunning overwhelming...out of all the major hospitals in Houston ~ for cash payments I would have been able to literally buy a house for a little more than what the two knees were going to cost me! To one business office (after THREE days of trying to get in contact with them.) after she quoted me the price I simply told her ~ "Look honey, I am not buying the operating room or donating a new one! I just want to rent the one you have!" At that point I simply decided the operations were not going to happen until I was on Medicare or had won the lottery. As both seemed to be long-term before they happened. I gave up.
Now, there was no giving up. Things had to get done and I was the one that was going to have to make it happen. I had decided WHERE I wanted to have it done. It's a small (79 surgical beds) hospital located just on the edge of the medical district called University General Hospital. I found out that the hospital is operated partly by the University of Houston, Baylor College of Medicine and the doctors who are affiliated with the hospital. So far so good . . . So,
I simply called and asked for a list of Orthopedic Surgeons. There were five that were immediately recommended. Armed with Google and my own determination I went on a surgeon hunt. The first name on the list had not only his own website, but was on several others. He had a list of accomplishments a mile long and even had a video on his website that showed through animation what would be done during the operation. -->here<-- (it's not a graphic movie folks!!)
I made an appointment to meet with him - and without a moments hesitation on my part (after we looked at the x-rays) I was scheduled for surgery on May 9th ~ having to be there at 5am . . . A time I hadn't seen for several years, and wasn't sure still existed!!!
Of course,
once you have something like a total knee replacement surgery scheduled ~ the horrors begin the come out of the woodwork . . . each with a different view of how terrible the operation is going to be and how horrible I'm going to feel once the operation is done and I'm on my own. These were usually prefaced by "Of course, yours might be different BUT my (cousin, uncle, sister's friend's aunt three times removed or I read about) . . . whatever had or ended up doing .... whatever. I'm sorry now that I didn't write them all down. They would have made a wonderful plot line for a soap opera or a lifetime of Lifetime disease of the week movies!
--more tomorrow on the adventure and more clues on the hangman puzzle in the heading!!
Over the years, those who know me have realized that walking had become much more difficult and sometimes quite painful. (bad joints for 100, Alex)In the month of April, I realized that something was going to have to be done ~ and quite soon. I was walking as if I had been riding horses for 100 years (bow-legged really doesn't even begin to describe it. I was beginning to look like the curved sides of a ship!) And I was beginning to be unable to walk for all but a short distance without having to sit down and let the knees recover. All of which contributed to making me fell exceptionally old and somewhat feeble. This time I began to plan and research 1) where I wanted to have it done and 2) who I wanted to have do it. (shocked friends and relatives for 500, Alex)
Several years ago
I had researched the cost of getting my knees done as a cash up-front patient. The results were absolutely Now, there was no giving up. Things had to get done and I was the one that was going to have to make it happen. I had decided WHERE I wanted to have it done. It's a small (79 surgical beds) hospital located just on the edge of the medical district called University General Hospital. I found out that the hospital is operated partly by the University of Houston, Baylor College of Medicine and the doctors who are affiliated with the hospital. So far so good . . . So,
I simply called and asked for a list of Orthopedic Surgeons. There were five that were immediately recommended. Armed with Google and my own determination I went on a surgeon hunt. The first name on the list had not only his own website, but was on several others. He had a list of accomplishments a mile long and even had a video on his website that showed through animation what would be done during the operation. -->here<-- (it's not a graphic movie folks!!)I made an appointment to meet with him - and without a moments hesitation on my part (after we looked at the x-rays) I was scheduled for surgery on May 9th ~ having to be there at 5am . . . A time I hadn't seen for several years, and wasn't sure still existed!!!
Of course,
once you have something like a total knee replacement surgery scheduled ~ the horrors begin the come out of the woodwork . . . each with a different view of how terrible the operation is going to be and how horrible I'm going to feel once the operation is done and I'm on my own. These were usually prefaced by "Of course, yours might be different BUT my (cousin, uncle, sister's friend's aunt three times removed or I read about) . . . whatever had or ended up doing .... whatever. I'm sorry now that I didn't write them all down. They would have made a wonderful plot line for a soap opera or a lifetime of Lifetime disease of the week movies!--more tomorrow on the adventure and more clues on the hangman puzzle in the heading!!
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
The Coal Becomes A Diamond ~ Early Evening Thoughts
The response and viewings of my post, Nodrin King's posts and Though Lovers Be Lost post about Paul Potts has been interesting and very heartening. The videos haunted me all day today ~ even to the point I was tempted (ONLY tempted) to sneak another look at them while at work today. (I said only TEMPTED!)
So many people in the audience (to say nothing of the judges ~ although I have some sympathy for them ~ have you seen America's Got Talent?) had prejudged him as he walked out on stage, settled themselves in for a possibly dreadful performance ~ then he opened his mouth and that wonderful, powerful and amazing voice rang out.
Of course, one of the major questions I got was: "Did he win?" Yes, he did ~ and with no further editorializing ~ here is the video clip of the announcement. Another question I had was: "Would he have made it on America's Got Talent?" I don't know ... but I would hope so.
And I certainly hope that the people with the rights to "Britain's Got Talent" will continue to allow these clips to be seen by as many people as possible.
And I certainly don't want to pass over any diamonds in myself or others that might be disguised as a lump of coal.
--more tomorrow night
So many people in the audience (to say nothing of the judges ~ although I have some sympathy for them ~ have you seen America's Got Talent?) had prejudged him as he walked out on stage, settled themselves in for a possibly dreadful performance ~ then he opened his mouth and that wonderful, powerful and amazing voice rang out.
Of course, one of the major questions I got was: "Did he win?" Yes, he did ~ and with no further editorializing ~ here is the video clip of the announcement. Another question I had was: "Would he have made it on America's Got Talent?" I don't know ... but I would hope so.
And I certainly hope that the people with the rights to "Britain's Got Talent" will continue to allow these clips to be seen by as many people as possible.
And I certainly don't want to pass over any diamonds in myself or others that might be disguised as a lump of coal.
--more tomorrow night
Monday, June 18, 2007
A Little Lump Of Coal, That Could Become A Diamond ~ Early Evening Thoughts
A dear blogger Nodrin King posted two of these videos on his blog 
(A Flat With A View) the other day. Having not been on the computer for anything other than work for several days, I missed his post ~ until today. Now, several Kleenex's later ~ I'm ripping borrowing his post and adding a little bit to it.
In the videos is a man ~ by his own admission ~ with little self-confidence, having been bullied in school, was always "different" making an astounding journey. I'm not going to say much more, I don't want to spoil your own discovery.
However, I will editorialize just a l i t t l e bit. In the first video watch the judges reactions to him as he says what he does for a living and what he is going to do as an audition. I see their reaction over and over again in life. And you know what? It's so shallow and condescending. Who are we to make any kind of judgment about someone until we know them?
Probably one of the most disappointing moments in a recent friendship was when this person
told me they just simply couldn't be friends with a particular person anymore because their friends just weren't all that good looking. After I picked my jaw up off the floor, I had a few things to say ... I'll post more on that later. But being someone who always had difficulty regarding themselves as special, attractive or having a lot of self worth, these videos really spoke to me on a deep, deep level.
And remember the Kleenex's ... you WILL need them.
The audition: Where the title of this post comes from ~
The semi-finals:
The Finals: He sings the same song he sang for the audition ~
Thank you Nodrin ~ These videos made my day!!!!!!
(A Flat With A View) the other day. Having not been on the computer for anything other than work for several days, I missed his post ~ until today. Now, several Kleenex's later ~ I'm In the videos is a man ~ by his own admission ~ with little self-confidence, having been bullied in school, was always "different" making an astounding journey. I'm not going to say much more, I don't want to spoil your own discovery.
However, I will editorialize just a l i t t l e bit. In the first video watch the judges reactions to him as he says what he does for a living and what he is going to do as an audition. I see their reaction over and over again in life. And you know what? It's so shallow and condescending. Who are we to make any kind of judgment about someone until we know them?
Probably one of the most disappointing moments in a recent friendship was when this person
told me they just simply couldn't be friends with a particular person anymore because their friends just weren't all that good looking. After I picked my jaw up off the floor, I had a few things to say ... I'll post more on that later. But being someone who always had difficulty regarding themselves as special, attractive or having a lot of self worth, these videos really spoke to me on a deep, deep level.And remember the Kleenex's ... you WILL need them.
The audition: Where the title of this post comes from ~
The semi-finals:
The Finals: He sings the same song he sang for the audition ~
Thank you Nodrin ~ These videos made my day!!!!!!
Friday, June 8, 2007
And Yet, It Does Matter (end) ~ Early Morning Thoughts
Yesterday's post ended with the idea that the The symbol is NOT the thing symbolized. The map is NOT the territory. The word is NOT the thing. And this is very important as individuals. I am not a label, I am not a word, I am not a symbol. I am me.Several years ago, I performed in a delightful theatrical adaptaion of Author Robert Fulghum's All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten. In once section (borrowed from one of his other books) he imagined a party where people were exchanging business cards. Each time "he" was handed one, he would look at it, then ask ~ "But, what do you do?" The reactions in the script and from the audience was ~ to say the least ~ delightful. Finally, he had this to say about what he did when he got himself a new business card:
What counts is not what I do, but how I think about myself while I’m doing it. In truth, I have a business card now.Finally figured out what to put on it. One word. ‘Fulghum.’ That’s my occupation. And when I give it away, it leads to fine conversations.
What I do is to be the best Fulghum I can be. Which means being a son, father, husband, friend, singer, dancer, eater, breather, sleeper, runner, walker, artist, writer, painter, teacher, preacher, citizen, poet, counselor, neighbor, dreamer, wisher, laugher, traveler, pilgrim, and on and on. I and you—we are infinite, rich, large, contradictory, living, breathing miracles—free human beings, children of God in the everlasting universe. That’s what we do.
And there it is ~ no labels necessary. No trying to figure out "what" someone is or is not. And that's what I'm striving for ~ to be me...the best WD I can be.
OK TZ, it took me longer than 100 words (I delighted in the email challenge however!)
But I would like to close this post with a new (to me) quote:
Robert Fulghum in his book Maybe, Maybe Not:
I do not believe that the meaning of life is a puzzle to be solved. Life is. I am. Anything might happen. And I believe I may invest my life with meaning. The uncertainty is a blessing in disguise. If I were absolutely certain about all things, I would spend my life in anxious misery, fearful of losing my way. But since everything and anything are always possible, the miraculous is always nearby and wonders shall never, ever cease. I believe that human freedom may be stated in one term, which serves as a little brick propping open the door of existence: Maybe.
Thursday, June 7, 2007
And Yet, It Does Matter (2) ~Early Morning Thoughts
Yesterday, I vented my "orientation fatigue" about people who feel it's absolutely essential to label 
everyone according to orientation ~ straight, gay, bi-sexual, non-sexual, waffle-sexual, buy-sexual and whatever. There were the "ladies" of "The View" trying to determine if Hugh Jackman was gay (suggesting because he had married a less than attractive (!?!) wife he was suspect), there were a number of blogs determining if Enrique Iglesias was gay because he dared perform at the largest gay nightclub in Europe (not for free I can assure you) and sang one of his signature songs to a patron on-stage. My feeling was (and still is) "WHAT DOES IT MATTER?"
A lot.
ALERT:
THE NEXT SECTION
IS GOING TO BE VERY FRANK ~
YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!
I was trying to figure out why the labels of today are so important. In thinking about some of the labels over time and I was struck by how many of them were and are used to define the relationship with a supposed "enemy."
A time tested method of establishing such a relationship is by constantly referring to "the enemy" with some sort of derogatory label. Depending on your age and what you read or were taught
(or believe), the labels you know of might be: Nips, Krauts, Slopes, Monkeys, Panheads, Gooks, Commies, or Ragheads. Soldiers aren't the only people who employ this technique. Hate groups label the enemies of the week as Nigger, Kikes, Jew Bastards, Half-Breed, Witch, etc.
And soldiers and bigots aren't the only ones to do this. The use of derogatory labels is a widespread technique for legitimizing the mistreatment of others. From grade school to Columbine to the NFL, our culture refers to those who are "not accepted as non-enemies" as Wimps, Freaks, Homos, Faggots, Pussies, Retards, Breeders, Fag Hags, Fag Stags, Sluts, Celebutard, Bitch, C--t, Redneck, etc. Someone, somewhere has, I'm sure, a more complete list if you care to look it up. I'll leave the list at that - and pardon me while I sanitize my keyboard.
And if you question my use of Columbine, here is the opening paragraphs of an article from The Denver Rocky Mountain News - July 25, 1999:
---more tomorrow
everyone according to orientation ~ straight, gay, bi-sexual, non-sexual, waffle-sexual, buy-sexual and whatever. There were the "ladies" of "The View" trying to determine if Hugh Jackman was gay (suggesting because he had married a less than attractive (!?!) wife he was suspect), there were a number of blogs determining if Enrique Iglesias was gay because he dared perform at the largest gay nightclub in Europe (not for free I can assure you) and sang one of his signature songs to a patron on-stage. My feeling was (and still is) "WHAT DOES IT MATTER?"A lot.
After I finished quelling the desire to yell and become a hermit, I realized what was really going on was something that I work hard NOT to do. All these instances were simply a desire for labels. Didn't matter if the label was/is accurate or not, the important thing was/is to get the label. And this is why it does matter ~ regardless of orientation.
ALERT:
THE NEXT SECTION
IS GOING TO BE VERY FRANK ~
YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!
I was trying to figure out why the labels of today are so important. In thinking about some of the labels over time and I was struck by how many of them were and are used to define the relationship with a supposed "enemy."
A time tested method of establishing such a relationship is by constantly referring to "the enemy" with some sort of derogatory label. Depending on your age and what you read or were taught
(or believe), the labels you know of might be: Nips, Krauts, Slopes, Monkeys, Panheads, Gooks, Commies, or Ragheads. Soldiers aren't the only people who employ this technique. Hate groups label the enemies of the week as Nigger, Kikes, Jew Bastards, Half-Breed, Witch, etc.And soldiers and bigots aren't the only ones to do this. The use of derogatory labels is a widespread technique for legitimizing the mistreatment of others. From grade school to Columbine to the NFL, our culture refers to those who are "not accepted as non-enemies" as Wimps, Freaks, Homos, Faggots, Pussies, Retards, Breeders, Fag Hags, Fag Stags, Sluts, Celebutard, Bitch, C--t, Redneck, etc. Someone, somewhere has, I'm sure, a more complete list if you care to look it up. I'll leave the list at that - and pardon me while I sanitize my keyboard.
And if you question my use of Columbine, here is the opening paragraphs of an article from The Denver Rocky Mountain News - July 25, 1999:
At Brooke Gibson's high school, nasty nicknames were the norm. "Nigger lover" was what they called her when she listened to rap. "Dyke" when she cut her blond hair short.I realized that the label(s) make some people comfortable. Much as the old country fellow said: "Yur either fer us or agin us!" And there it is ~ labels define who is "fer" us or "agin" us. If Hugh Jackman marrying a less than attractive woman (according to "The View") makes him suspect as being gay or Enrique Inglasias performs at a gay night club makes him gay ~ then that helps define the "group" and where they belong. But then, according to S.I. Hayakawa's Language in Thought and Action:
At the school her sister Layn attended, nicknames might poke fun at someone's shirt color, but never their skin color or sexual orientation.
It was the same school.
Columbine.
The symbol is NOT the thing symbolized. The map is NOT the territory. The word is NOT the thing. Most societies systematically encourage ... the habitual confusion of symbols with things symbolized.So, (he said with a lot of trepidation) if the word is not the thing ~ why does it carry so much weight and/or power to hurt or destroy?For example, if a Japanese schoolhouse caught fire, it used to be obligatory in the days of emperor-worship to try to rescue the emperor's picture (there was one in every schoolhouse), even at the risk of one's life.... The symbols of piety, of civic virtue, or of patriotism are often prized above actual piety, civic virtue, or patriotism.
In one way or another, we are all like the student who cheats on his exams in order to make Phi Beta Kappa; it is so much more important to have the symbol than the things it stands for.
---more tomorrow
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
And Yet, It Does Matter ~ Early Morning Thoughts
I read quite a few blogs ~ actually a LOT of blogs.
It's always interesting to see what people are talking about, what concerns people on the internet ... as anyone who reads blogs can tell you ~ sometimes it's funny, sometimes its somewhat frightening and then there are the days where irritation lands similar to a cartoon anvil.
A number of the blogs were all "a-twitter" over a discussion the ladies (a term I might ...no, I won't go there) of "The View" had whether Hugh Jackman ~ known as Wolverine in the X-Men series ~ might be gay or not. Evidently no definite conclusions were drawn...at least by the time of the commercial break. (please note: Rosie was no longer on the show - and these were women who usually talk over each other doing news topics) No conclusions were reached other than that men who marry women not stunningly attractive, are considered possibly gay. (what a lovely thing to say about Hugh Jackman's wife!!)
Then - while in London Enrique Iglesias performed ~
neither by surprise nor free ~ at one of the Europe's largest gay nightclubs. He was doing his usual songs, and came to one of his signature pieces titled "Hero." At this point, he usually brings a woman up on stage and sings to her. In this case, he called up one of the bar's male patrons and sang the song. A large number of blogs went beyond "a-twitter" to almost hysteria...(including some that should know better) although any performer will tell you ~ you play to the audience you have. Ask Bette Midler.
To make the day complete probably should have involved a phone call from
D&D, but instead I got a call from someone who might be a delightful replacement for them. I was regaled with a complete description of a movie he had just watched and had to listen to an extended description of the people in the movie and their possible orientation. (I have watched movies with this person before ~ this is nothing new)
I'm going to be politically incorrect here ~ but at this point I was, frankly, suffering from "orientation" fatigue. After the 5th time of trying to convince my movie reviewer and performer sexual preference psychic, I gave up and gently but firmly ended the conversation.
I thought about why all this seemed to be going on, and why it mattered at all. I literally wanted to go out in the middle of the complex and yell ~ "WHAT DOES IT MATTER?"
My point is talent is talent is talent. If it's good it needs NO labels. If it's good it will cross lines, orientations and even - Lord help us - party affiliations. I don't spend my time while watching a movie wondering what someone does in their off-time. If the performance is terrible I will 1) regret that I'm there and have been known to
2) count patterns on wall paper or buttons on what someone is wearing to keep my mind and/or body from falling asleep.
As a slight aside, my technical theater instructor in college told about having to design a really, really awful show. He painted grape clusters on the wallpaper of the set ~ only each cluster had a different number of grapes. His rational was that perhaps the audience might make it to intermission before they finished counting the grapes.
After I finished quelling the desire to yell and become a hermit, I realized what was really going on was something that I work hard NOT to do. All these instances were simply a desire for labels. Didn't matter if the label was/is accurate or not, the important thing was/is to get the label. And this is why it does matter ~ regardless of orientation.
As I've written about before,
labels are very handy for boxes, shelves and sock drawers, but deadly when applied to people...blonds are dumb(er), geeks wear glasses, people who appear smart or work hard are nerds...to the racial, orientation and intelligence labels designed to either hurt or put people "back where they belong."
--more tomorrow
--the intro notes to Enrique Inglesias "Hero"
www.8notes.com/school/riffs/guitar/enrique_iglesias_hero.asp
--Twilight Zone picture unfortunately had no credits or year
--grape cluster picture
www.forchini.com/history.html
--fire picture
http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/56877193/
It's always interesting to see what people are talking about, what concerns people on the internet ... as anyone who reads blogs can tell you ~ sometimes it's funny, sometimes its somewhat frightening and then there are the days where irritation lands similar to a cartoon anvil.A number of the blogs were all "a-twitter" over a discussion the ladies (a term I might ...no, I won't go there) of "The View" had whether Hugh Jackman ~ known as Wolverine in the X-Men series ~ might be gay or not. Evidently no definite conclusions were drawn...at least by the time of the commercial break. (please note: Rosie was no longer on the show - and these were women who usually talk over each other doing news topics) No conclusions were reached other than that men who marry women not stunningly attractive, are considered possibly gay. (what a lovely thing to say about Hugh Jackman's wife!!)
Then - while in London Enrique Iglesias performed ~
neither by surprise nor free ~ at one of the Europe's largest gay nightclubs. He was doing his usual songs, and came to one of his signature pieces titled "Hero." At this point, he usually brings a woman up on stage and sings to her. In this case, he called up one of the bar's male patrons and sang the song. A large number of blogs went beyond "a-twitter" to almost hysteria...(including some that should know better) although any performer will tell you ~ you play to the audience you have. Ask Bette Midler.To make the day complete probably should have involved a phone call from
D&D, but instead I got a call from someone who might be a delightful replacement for them. I was regaled with a complete description of a movie he had just watched and had to listen to an extended description of the people in the movie and their possible orientation. (I have watched movies with this person before ~ this is nothing new)I'm going to be politically incorrect here ~ but at this point I was, frankly, suffering from "orientation" fatigue. After the 5th time of trying to convince my movie reviewer and performer sexual preference psychic, I gave up and gently but firmly ended the conversation.
I thought about why all this seemed to be going on, and why it mattered at all. I literally wanted to go out in the middle of the complex and yell ~ "WHAT DOES IT MATTER?"
My point is talent is talent is talent. If it's good it needs NO labels. If it's good it will cross lines, orientations and even - Lord help us - party affiliations. I don't spend my time while watching a movie wondering what someone does in their off-time. If the performance is terrible I will 1) regret that I'm there and have been known to
2) count patterns on wall paper or buttons on what someone is wearing to keep my mind and/or body from falling asleep.As a slight aside, my technical theater instructor in college told about having to design a really, really awful show. He painted grape clusters on the wallpaper of the set ~ only each cluster had a different number of grapes. His rational was that perhaps the audience might make it to intermission before they finished counting the grapes.
After I finished quelling the desire to yell and become a hermit, I realized what was really going on was something that I work hard NOT to do. All these instances were simply a desire for labels. Didn't matter if the label was/is accurate or not, the important thing was/is to get the label. And this is why it does matter ~ regardless of orientation.
As I've written about before,
labels are very handy for boxes, shelves and sock drawers, but deadly when applied to people...blonds are dumb(er), geeks wear glasses, people who appear smart or work hard are nerds...to the racial, orientation and intelligence labels designed to either hurt or put people "back where they belong."--more tomorrow
--the intro notes to Enrique Inglesias "Hero"
www.8notes.com/school/riffs/guitar/enrique_iglesias_hero.asp
--Twilight Zone picture unfortunately had no credits or year
--grape cluster picture
www.forchini.com/history.html
--fire picture
http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/56877193/
Saturday, May 5, 2007
Jesse ~ The End Of A Journey ...
You won't see it on the news...or read it in the paper. I wish I could put up a billboard to express all that I am feeling this morning.
From Two Lucky ....
From Two Lucky ....
“I love you.”
He was with me, and his mother, and died peacefully in his sleep.
Jesse has been battling melanoma for the last three years. He was a real fighter. Even at the end, he didn’t want to go home, and instead asked the doctors if he could stay a few more days to get well.
Love kept Jesse going for as long as it could. In these short years, we made the best of it. The more virulent the cancer spread, the stronger we loved.
His last words were: “I love you,” and he blew me two kisses before falling asleep.
Our love was extraordinary in the face of adversity. He is my hero, and will always be loved.
Two funerals are being planned. The first, a graveside service, will be held in Lovettsville, Va, next Thursday, where he was born.
The second, a memorial service in New York, will be held shortly after.
Details of services to come.
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
Jesse - I Begin To Say Farewell ~ Late Night Thoughts
I have been writing about and following "Two Lucky (people)" for some time now. During that time, I have been blessed to learn about Yen and Jesse and their incredible love for each other. It's a love that has been through a lot ... but as I have said before - it's a love that totally demonstrates the power of love as a choice. 
It also is a love that demonstrates the vows that are so often said at weddings - for richer or poorer, for better or worse, in sickness or in health ...
Those short phrases, packed with meaning. Those short phrases packed with truth.
Through everything that's been going on they both has believed, hoped and trusted. But through it all their love has never wavered.
Jesse had been taking treatments - some of which were quite toxic, but even those had to come to an end.
And I can admit that I wept as well. I didn't have someone to hold my hand and tell me anything. But eventually, I went back to what had been written - and dried my tears and continued.
Yen himself began to realize what seemed to be coming. He was walking down the street and saw a film crew working on a new movie.
On the 30th of April - Yen wrote "White Flag":
And again I weep. Again, I grieve. But again, I stand with them in this time - and I say - "I do not care if someone is gay-straight, black-white, moon-man or whatever, this kind of love is so deep and powerful, I maintain that great portions of the universe bow in honor of its strength."
Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.
We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labor, and my leisure too,
For his civility.
We passed the school, where children strove
At recess, in the ring;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.
Or rather, be passed us;
The dews grew quivering and chill,
For only gossamer my gown,
My tippet only tulle.
We paused before house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.
Since then 'tis centuries, and yet each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.
--Emily Dickinson
It also is a love that demonstrates the vows that are so often said at weddings - for richer or poorer, for better or worse, in sickness or in health ...Those short phrases, packed with meaning. Those short phrases packed with truth.
Through everything that's been going on they both has believed, hoped and trusted. But through it all their love has never wavered.
Jesse had been taking treatments - some of which were quite toxic, but even those had to come to an end.
His prognosis, simply, is that the tumors in Jesse’s liver are growing too quickly.But even through the sorrow of that moment, the hope/love shone through.“You’re carrying too much disease. Must be 10lbs in there,” he said.
I cried hard today in the town car on the way back from the hospital. It did not last long, probably for less than a minute. The tears stopped as suddenly as they had come. It happened soon after we got into the car, when Jesse took my hand and said to me: “I am so happy to be with you.”
And I can admit that I wept as well. I didn't have someone to hold my hand and tell me anything. But eventually, I went back to what had been written - and dried my tears and continued.Yen himself began to realize what seemed to be coming. He was walking down the street and saw a film crew working on a new movie.
"As the crowd grew, I walked away. I thought about Jesse. Thereupon, I wondered if one day later this year, or the next, I would find myself in a darkened cinema, waiting for the same scene to come on, with my hand on the empty seat next to mine.And then on the 29th of April ... the doctor brought those vows full circle:
...For better or worse, For richer or poorer,
In sickness AND in health:
'Till death do us part ...
The last several days as I took time to look at all I have known about Yen and Jesse - and all I have been blessed to have shared of their lives, I realized that the depth of their love as shown in the writings has, in a sense, prepared me for whatever may happen in their lives.In sickness AND in health:
'Till death do us part ...
"I was told today that Jesse has only three to four more weeks left to live. When the doctors pulled me aside (”May I speak with you in private?”), I already knew....My reaction was visceral, in spite of fore-knowledge, and unexpected in that regard. I sat in the toilet and cried. For the first time, in a very long time, I believed I would not be whole again. I felt my insides wrenched from me. I howled. I was also confused, which only proves how one, notwithstanding one’s intelligence, can reject logic in the face of grief.
Even though I already knew the answer, I kept asking myself: Can this really be true?
On the 30th of April - Yen wrote "White Flag":
He sits at the top of the stairs, so still he might have been there forever and for always.The air is capricious, however, taunting him with whispers of dead men’s philosophy. His eyes turn down, and he feels the weight of mortality from under his feet. Around him, the hallway seems equally frozen, as if a breathing picture, a fixed fragment of time fallen into itself.
All of this is nevertheless an illusion, a vision he sees where time has forgotten its relevance.
In fact, he doesn’t remember beyond the stairs. The breaths he takes are the same he exhaled only moments before. In the dark, he begins to stale.
But moments later, a gust of wind from below erases this vision. It rises like a clean breeze from under him, and from it, he rediscovers the certainty of movement. He lifts his eyes, and looks around, then, begins to make out a hill in the distance.
The force of its existence strikes him awkwardly, unexpectedly.
He decides the hill must have been there always, as he has. He hunts the horizon for more shapes: a river, trees, but finds nothing, until in a final instant, he sees a bird tracing a wide circle near the hill top.
The trajectory of the bird’s flight, like a cut flag, fills his memory of the sky. The bird descends, then disappears into the hill’s shadow. For a moment, he forgets he is sitting on the stairs. The simultaneity of its movement, with the swelling of his heart, leads him to cry.
And again I weep. Again, I grieve. But again, I stand with them in this time - and I say - "I do not care if someone is gay-straight, black-white, moon-man or whatever, this kind of love is so deep and powerful, I maintain that great portions of the universe bow in honor of its strength."Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.
We slowly drove, he knew no haste,And I had put away
My labor, and my leisure too,
For his civility.
We passed the school, where children strove
At recess, in the ring;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,We passed the setting sun.
Or rather, be passed us;
The dews grew quivering and chill,
For only gossamer my gown,
My tippet only tulle.
We paused before house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.
Since then 'tis centuries, and yet each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.
--Emily Dickinson
Saturday, April 28, 2007
Even More Amore ~ Early Morning Thoughts
I've been reading and following Two Lucky People for some time. Yen and Jesse are two amazing people deeply in love. Jesse has an aggressive form of Melanoma. While this kind of illness could tear many couples apart ... they seem to be stronger than when I first met them through Yen's writing.Here's some of what I've written -
Two People In Love ~ True Love
Further News About Jesse ~
Encouraging Valentine's News ~
A Welcome Bit Of News - Yen, Jesse ~
A Love With So Much More ~
Emotional Bill Of Rights ~
"I'm so happy to be with you." ~
Over and over, I've commented on the depth of their love and the strength that flows in their commitment to each other and to the life they are living.
Almost all the postings have been by Yen, but late in February Jesse treated us with a post of his own. The wonderful statement at the end was simple but with amazing depth. Jesse wrote: "He’s such an amazing person that I wish everyone of you could meet him in person. I’m so proud to have him as my boyfriend."
On the 26th we were again treated to a second post from Jesse. From his hysterically funny description of trash TV ("...trannies tear at each others’ wigs on Jerry Springer"), the forty-five minuted trek to the hospital, ending with his description of what it feels like when he finally makes it home ("By the time I make it to the door, I feel like I’ve been beaten half-dead by a very heavy stick.")When he does make it home, he's met with an outward expression of an inward choice Yen has made to be in love.
While I’ve been gone, Yen’s been busy transforming the apartment into a five-star resort.When I step into the room, I smell faint jasmine. Incense is burning on the window-sill. I hear calm, musical voices in the background. There are fresh rainbow-colored tulips on the coffee table. A plate of cool celery and keen carrots.
What? A tall, icy drink of pina colada? (Virgin, my Yenny smiles.)
What Yen does to this place sets my soul at ease. I am now ready to take a nice, long afternoon nap. This apartment, this home, it’s my castle of comfort, my paradise.
As I said in an earlier post (and with what's been going on my life recently, I believe it even more): "I do not care if someone is gay-straight, black-white, moon-man or whatever, this kind of love is so deep and powerful, I maintain that great portions of the universe bow in honor of its strength."And once again, I maintain they are living the vow/promise of ... "for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness AND in health..."
It was wonderful to read the post from Jesse - and it reaffirmed what I believed - together they are a potent force - for healing, togetherness and love.
And as I climb into bed this morning, I once again will say to the listening universe, "I want a love that will be like that - the kind that Jesse and Yen share. The choice that no matter what, I will love and care." I'll say it quietly, but I have no doubt it will be heard...
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