Back in the middle of March my mother was in town for the weekend of my birthday. While we were driving around one day I spotted (and heard) a Red-winged Blackbird, the first one I’d seen this year. I related to her how hearing them always reminds me of my Grandmother (her mother).
Every summer when I was a kid she (my Grandmother) would rent a cottage for the two of us on Lake LBJ. The cattails at the water’s edge were always full of Red-winged Blackbirds, singing that most-distinctive song of theirs. Anyway, to this day whenever I hear one, it takes me right back there. To simpler, happier times; fishing with Lala.
Well a couple of weeks after that (once it warmed up enough to start keeping the windows open), I was surprized to hear a Red-winged Blackbird right outside my apartment. I’ve lived here roughly 6 years and this is the first time we’ve had any RWBB’s. Apparently they’ve decided to nest here for some reason. There are at least 3-4 males and a few females and every morning bright and early and then again at dusk the air is filled with their unmistakable calls.
If you’ve really been paying attention, you might remember me mentioning that I bought tickets for the Steve Earle concert in Columbus during the ‘pre-sale’.
I just got confirmation on my seat assignment.
Pit Section
Row AA
(I’m not telling you which seats; army of web-stalkers).
That’s right, just like the great Bob Uecker
“I must be in the front row!” (How many times do you think I’ll use that line that night?)
Except I really am in the front row!
I hang out in the news group Alt.Fan.Letterman occasionally a lot. Over the years I think some of ‘the regulars’ over there have begun to begrudgingly accept me. Imagine my delight when I received a package (I’m considering it a birthday gift) in the mail from Kath, my favorite Australian.
Note the clever (and no doubt, intentional) misspelling of my name, lest I get too cocky.
A lovely card inside.
Signed by people I don’t know, at least one of whom seems unnaturally interested in seeing my pigeon-chest.
My Dingo! My Dingo!
The flip-side, showing
Fraser Island, the dingo’s supposed home. I can’t imagine how they ever find a baby in all that sand! No wonder the poor thing looks so hungry!
Thank you again, Kath! You truly made my day!
First, forgive the length of this post, brevity is not my forté.
I try not to make this a place for me to bitch about whatever maladies or ailments I might have at the moment, but this was a fairly life-changing (and damned near life-ending) experience.
Hopefully this can serve as a cautionary tale for someone out there. As some of you (my imaginary fan club) may or may not know I work in group home with four adults with “intellectual disabilities” (that’s the latest PC term, anyway). I work 3rd shift 14/14/12 hours.
Now just a bit more setup. I have an undiagnosed (so far) bleeding disorder, generally not an issue, unless I’m subjected to some sort of trauma. Sometime back I saw a “Dr.” for a stiff, very sore, and inflamed big toe. When I got home with my prescription of Naproxen (an NSAID) I immediately realized that I’m not supposed to take those, and so, I didn’t.
Flash forward to a few weeks ago. The toe is flaring up again, and tylenol proves to be ineffective. Naturally I remember the Naproxen and decide to give it a try. It works and I’m thinking that 500mg once or twice a day, a few days a week should be fine.
So, flash forward to this past Sunday night/Monday morning: I’ve just had a slice of apple pie and my toe is starting to really hurt again, so I take another (my second of the day) Naproxen. I’ll try to keep what came next as in-offensive as possible.
My bowels began grumbling that they needed to be moved, so I did. When I looked into the bowl and saw that one end of the stool (sorry) was composed of the stereotypical ‘old coffee grounds’ I said to my self, “Oh, that’s not good.”
I’m thinking at that point that I’d be ok to finish my shift and can worry about it later.
Within minutes I began to realize that I had miscalculated.
After evacuating (shitting, if you prefer) several gushers (I lost count) of increasingly bright-red blood I knew I was in serious trouble and needed to call someone to take over for me, and ‘maybe’ an ambulance. The problem was; at this point I couldn’t stand without blacking out and didn’t have a phone within reach.
Finally during a break in the action, I crawl to a phone, get my boss’s number and make the call, (from the toilet) downplaying the situation not wishing to alarm her. A few minutes later as my hold on consciousness grew extremely tenuous I called back telling her “This is really bad, I’m going to have to call an ambulance.” (Which I should have already done, literally, hours earlier.) I did, then crawled to open the front door, so the EMT’s could get in.
The ambulance arrived, followed immediately by my boss, and it was off to the ER. I won’t bore you with my tales of the rampant, and apparently institutionalized incompetence I witnessed in the ER.
The bleeding stopped on its own by the time I’d been in the ER for a bit. They did all sorts of tests, revealing nothing that I hadn’t already deduced. They eventually moved me into a room, gave me two units of blood, all sorts of fluids and anti-biotics and such and they were even quite generous with the Morphine.
Tuesday afternoon (I arrived at the hospital around 5:30AM Monday) they finally let me eat, then Tuesday I was parolled, just in time to miss out on getting to vote.
Caldonia (my cat) was overjoyed to see me. She’s a little fat and I’ve noticed that she eats a lot more while I’m at work; so naturally I’d picked this weekend to start leaving her just enough food for the night.
They want to give me a chance to heal before they do any scope-work. So I have that to look forward to; colonoscopes, endoscopes, kinoscopes, otoscopes, kaleidoscopes, oscilloscopes, fluoroscopes, gyroscopes, telescopes, periscopes, all sorts of ’scopes.
I just wish they could tell me something concrete, right now I’m a complete wreck. Every twinge or grumble from my gut absolutely terrifies me.
I’ve already taken next weekend off from work, I’m a nervous wreck and I’m exhausted.
Oh, and the moral to this story?
Don’t take stupid chances with your health.
As you may be aware, I rarely mention work here, for a variety of reasons. Anyway, by way of set up, for those who don’t know, I work in a group home with four adults who have mental retardation/developmental disabilities. I’ve been there for (exactly!) seven years, during which time the folks I work with have become, quite literally, like family to me.
Yesterday, after spending an hour and a half shoveling ice and snow just to get my car dug out, I had pretty much decided that I was going to have to call and excuse myself from Thursday’s staff meeting. Later, after another 2 or 3 hours with the shovel, getting the sidewalk cleared and getting my neighbor’s car dug out, I was greeted when I came in by my answering machine flashing that I had a message. Hopeful, I played the message; sure enough, it was my boss; due to the weather, Thursday’s meeting was canceled. Hooray!
Then, a few hours later I get a call from my boss’s boss. Instinctively, I know this can’t be good. Her voice choked with emotion, she tells me that one of my people from work passed away at home tonight.
Like anyone in healthcare or social work, I was aware of the inevitability of this day, but I don’t think you can ever truly be prepared, especially when it’s totally unexpected like this.
Right now I feel like I’m still in shock, one thing’s for sure, it’s going to be a long and sad weekend at work this week.
I’ve been feeling under the weather since about January 9th. Came down with a nasty sinus infection with a side order of (chest aching, burns like a furnace) bronchitis. Went to the doc, took the medicine and felt better, but I’m still not “well”.
Consequently, I haven’t ridden the bike, which has left me feeling even worse.
This afternoon I got a letter in the mail. It was a note from my nephew (he’s 10) thanking me for the remote control helicopter I got him for Christmas. He wrote:
Dear Greg,
Thank you so much for the remote control helicopter. I have had a lot of fun with it. In fact, I got it stuck on the roof. Don’t worry, we got it down. I had a crash and had to make a few repairs, but it’s ok. You are a really cool guy.
That absolutely made my day! I am a really cool guy!
Actually “sad” doesn’t even begin to cover it. This past weekend (Saturday the 16th) one of my good friends from high school’s wife passed away. I’m ashamed to to admit just how out of touch we’ve become, but it has been years since we’ve spoken.
Anyway, I can’t stop mulling the situation over in my head. I can’t even begin to imagine being a widower at 40 with three boys to raise. It’s just totally beyond my sphere of comprehension.
Terry, my thoughts and prayers are with you and your boys and with both families, of course.
I wish I had something profound or insightful to add, but for once, I’m at a loss for words.
Damn!
Back on May 8th I got a ticket; 79MPH in a 50MPH zone. I’ve really been sweating, thinking it was going to cost me a fortune. Around these parts, anything above 25 over the limit and you have to appear in court, the fine (if you waive your right to spend the day in court) for 15-25 over is $135, so I’m thinking this is going to be a $200 deal, minimum.
Anyway, I originally went to night court on the 15th, but there was a civil trial that was running extremely late, so they let me postpone; I could come back any day there was open court (Monday or Tuesday at 5:30PM, Wednesday at 9:00AM) within 2 weeks. After over a week of dread-filled procrastination, I decided Wednesday morning would be the least busy, so today was the day.
So, I show up at 9:00, find a parking spot right at the door, then discover the meter is only 30 minutes max. “No worries”, I think, “I’ll just move the car to a 2 hour spot down the block after I sign in.” I sign in, and sit and wait. Much better looking crowd in the mornings, apparently, so that’s a plus (Monday night it looked more like they were taking job applications for carnival workers). 9:30 comes, they haven’t called me into the courtroom yet, so I ask the lady next to me to listen for my name and I run down to the car. Naturally, the meter’s expired and I now have a parking ticket, too. Oh, joy!
Thankfully there’s an open 2 hour spot just down the block. I move the car and return to the waiting room. They didn’t come for me while I was gone, so I sit and wait some more. Finally around 10:30 they call me and a couple of other lucky contestants into the court room.
The girl before the judge (the Honorable Susan L. Goldie) finishes up with her time and the Judge says: “Gregory Evans”, Gregory, just to remind me that I’m in trouble. I approach the bench, feeling like I just got called into the Principal’s office. She reads the complaint against me and tells me the maximum fine is $150. “Yep”, I’m thinking, “with court costs that’ll be twohundred-something.” She asks how I plead, I plead guilty, and she fines me… $35! And I swear, she even gave me an almost imperceptible “I’m letting you off easy” smile. No apologizing, no begging for leniency, and for whatever reason she gives me a huge break and sends me on my way.
With court costs the total was $102. I was so relieved that it wasn’t double or triple that amount that I didn’t even care about getting the parking ticket anymore.
Since I wouldn’t have gone to court if I didn’t have to, it actually would have cost me more money if I had been going slower!
…I’d buy the elder of my two nephews these kid-sized bagpipes.
Then I could get the younger boy a bodhran and they could kick out the jams, Celtic-style!
Maybe next Christmas!
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