Friday, February 22, 2008

Bizarre Surgical Side Effects

Drop That Razor...

Just in case I haven't mentioned it before here on the blog, let me let you know that I'm a pretty hairy guy.

Not just pretty...not just hairy, but pretty hairy none the less.

I manage to keep most of what tries to sprout in reach on my back and shoulder blades under control, but the rest of my glorious visage is covered in a varying blanket of dark brown and increasingly grey hair.

That said, I'd like to find the person responsible for removing shaving butchering off all of my fuzzy coat from the bottom crease of my pert "man titties" to the top of my pubic bone and give them a good thrashing.

Now I think that I know how a baby Porcupine feels the first few weeks of his life.

Here & There

But Not Everywhere...YET.

Good GOD!!

Or rather...

Thank God!!

(I'll let those words sit here for a minute and sink in as I contemplate my ongoing existence.)

Whether I'm thanking GOD for yet another miraculous recovery or talking about how good he's been to me to allow me to continue to draw a few new breaths here on the planet this week, let me tell you that I've been back to death's door for yet a second time in 2-1/2 years because I'm STUPID (not to mention hard headed and arrogant and have thousands of other Biblical failings I've yet to mention or completely study in my own time and mind.)

After suffering yet a second bout with ischemia of my small intestine--in layman's terms I had a number of old and new blood clots in the veins feeding my guts. Not only is it painful, but it kills something like 1/3 to 1/2 of the people that don't get it diagnosed and treated in time.

This time I was early with the diagnosis, but the treatment still involved abdominal surgery to remove 2 feet of my small intestine and the installation of 34 metal staples in my new "zipper scar" that runs down the center of my belly from below my breast bone to below the top of my pubic bone.

I'm still enjoying a dull ache and weak abdominal muscles even thought the surgery was last Friday and the staples were taken out on Monday.

All I know is, I don't want to do this again, and thus I'm following up on extensive post operative testing involving various man made "scopes" shoved down my throat and up my behind in the next few months, and I'm taking a fist full of anti-oxidant and Coumadine every day for the rest of my life.

The only problem with this scenario it that while I'll live longer, swinging like a monkey around construction job sites and banging my thumb on a daily basis is out as an a career or avocation.

It's a desk job or unemployment for me from here on out, and to that end I've done a few things over the past three weeks while lapsing in and out of consciousness.

FIRST, I accepted a contract to sell my undeveloped land in downtown Brunswick, closing the deal by the second week in March.

SECOND, I intend to take the proceeds from the sale of the lots and toss extra money at getting the renovation project finished and on the market by April 15th.

THIRD, I have negotiated a GREAT employment deal for myself with an engineering company in Knoxville, Tennessee, beginning full time work by April 30th. They want me so badly that they're willing to wait for my real estate transactions to be completed and they're paying most of my relocation expenses to get me into town and on their payroll.

Sorry I didn't mention this earlier, but Pat and I snuck off late last month for the interview and then the illness stepped in and closed the deal in my middle aged mind. If I don't re-enter now, I'll never be able to come back in and make a truly competitive salary because I'll be too old and can't give the company the time in the saddle they are looking for.

Besides, on days like today 45 hours of guaranteed pay, paid vacation, paid holidays, 401 K, and most of all...HEALTH INSURANCE...looks pretty damn good from where I'm sitting, having ran up a $50,000 tab in the past three weeks myself.

The only thing I'm wondering now do you explain disappearing for 24 days to your dog?

Further, how do you justify taking Missy the Turbo Pup away from her southern coastal home (12 months on February 14th) and into a city that gets over a foot of annual snowfall?

My dog has to wear a sweater outside when the temperature drops below 50 degrees F, even though she has long hair.

Life's tough, I guess???

Thursday, February 21, 2008

Home Again

The Event Struck A Little After Noon...

Not 100%, but better none the less. More later.

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

Home Tomorrow???


Otherwise, I believe that I'll just go ahead and die