At Least We Know I'm Not Pregnant

In the last year, I have suffered through several horrible nights of excruciating pain, been to the emergency room three times, received numerous steroid injections and been X-rayed several times. All of this has been because of my shoulders which occasionally try to kill me in my sleep. I believe there is something living in there that is either trying to eat it's way out or is feeding on my shoulder bones.

I can feel the discomfort growing during the day and as the days go on, I lose more and more mobility until it gets to the point that I cannot make even the slightest movement of a finger without searing pain shooting up and down my body. The animal inside gets angry when I move and starts biting me. As odd as this sounds, I grow accustomed to it and am very careful with the offending arm. I don't move it. I support it with my other hand when I am walking and I gently place it on the desk or table in front of me when I sit. I mess up and get shooting pains every now and then when I move it the wrong way and anger my inner critter, but I figure out how to deal with it.

Unfortunately, once I lay down at night, there is not much I can do. After sleeping about an hour, the blood has had time to relocate to the sore area and the pain is ten times worse making it almost impossible to turn over or even sit up. Either that or the creature eating my shoulder is nocturnal and prefers to feed at night. It is usually at this point that I give up and go to the hospital.

I have written about these visits before and they can be read here:

That Which Doesn't Kill You, Makes You Realize How Old You Are
My Experiment With Steroids
I Want to Donate My Arm to Science
Enough Vicoden and I Will Agree to Anything

This has happened enough times now that the doctors have decided that there must be something more going on than just the occasional bursitis. I told them my angry parasite theory and they don't seem to be interested. They sent me to an orthopedic doctor, who sent me to a physical therapist and ordered a sonogram. I have seen the physical therapist once and will begin treatment next week. I went in for my sonogram yesterday.

It just looks like the ocean. An ocean of BLOOD!

After several minutes of watching them look at pictures of the inside of my shoulder, I was starting to get bored. Every picture looked the same. I had no idea what she was looking for and when I asked, she said, "Anything unusual."

Looking at the monitor, I asked if the cascading blood river was something unusual. She said it was not.

I wasn't satisfied, so I asked her if she had ever found an angry animal gnawing on someone's insides. She stopped her examination and looked at me.

Sonogramoligist Person (SP): "Do you mean, like, a tapeworm?"

ME: "Do tapeworms usually crawl up into people's shoulders?"

SP: "NO!"

ME: "Then why would you suggest that? I mean something like a beaver?"

SP: "What?"

ME: "Or a woodchuck. I don't know. You're the doctor!"

She went back to examining my shoulder and didn't answer my question. Maybe it's something they aren't supposed to talk about. As she moved the magic wand thingy around to the front of my shoulder, she did ask if it hurt when she put pressure there. I assured her that it did. She didn't respond or change anything she was doing. I think she enjoys her job.

After several more minutes of awkward silence, other than her clacking the buttons on the machine, I asked what she was finding. She showed me this picture.

The first curve along the bottom is my shoulder bone. The white line on the top of it is lubricating liquid. The next curve is also bone and above that is muscle tissue.

Since the curvature of the bones appear smooth, there does not appear to be evidence of arthritis, bone spurs or other abnormalities. There even appears to be the right amount of fluid. It looks healthy. I asked, "Did you see any tooth marks? Or did you even look?" She assured me that she saw no teeth marks, but I think she was just avoiding the conversation. She didn't take me seriously and hadn't looked.

She told me to put my shirt back on. Everything looked good and I could go home. She would send my results back to the orthopedic doctor. I hesitated, "Don't I get any pictures?"

SP: "What pictures?"
ME: "My sonogram pictures."
SP: "We don't give those out."
ME: "We both know that's not true. I have seen lots of pictures of sonograms. Some women just carry them around with them."
SP:"That's because it's for their baby."
ME: "So, you admit that you do give them out."
SP: "For pregnancies."
ME: "Do they pay extra for that?"
SP:  "No. It's a complimentary service."
ME: "Do you want me to scream sexism?"
SP: "I'll get your pictures."

After a supervisor came in to find out why I wanted pictures, I gave her a similar run around and they eventually brought me a disc with my sonogram pictures. I promptly went home and popped it into my computer. After carefully scanning the pictures, I found this.

I knew it. Those shots weren't steroids.
They were monkey tranquilizers!

Red Braves the Accused Axe Murderer...and Lives

For those of you who have been watching (and you know who you are), this is the post that you have been waiting for. Red and I finally got to meet in person. This was not over the phone or through email. She and I were actually in the same place.

In the week leading up to this day, some of my friends have asked me if I was nervous. I can honestly say that I was not. We have talked extensively over the phone and through email. We have heard stories about each other's families, childhood, pet peeves and dreams. We far from know everything about each other, but have already learned a lot before we met face to face.

The progression leading up to this day took several steps. Here's a QUICK recap for the new followers:

• Red writes a phenomenal piece on February 13 about Valentine's Day. I was so moved, I proposed to her in the comment section of her blog. This was intended as a joke. My expectation was a little joking back and forth about it and it would be over.
• The next week, we each mention the proposal and her acceptance in our blogs and have a little more fun with it.
• The intensity grows as more people begin to chime in and watch to see this develop further, especially when Red admits to having a dream about meeting me. Once again the real action happens in the comment section. She explains her reluctance since I could be an axe-murderer for all she knew.
• I responded on my blog with Evidence that I Am Harmless. I carefully explained how I could not be an axe murderer and then asked people that new me personally to vouch for me in the comment section. Over 70 people responded.

While this was fun, Red lives in Delaware and none of it is being taken too seriously, although I was feeling a definite attraction to her. Despite the fact that we would never actually meet, the flirtation was fun. She eventually makes a comment that tells me she is feeling the attraction as well.

Soon after, it is determined that she is moving to Indiana which would put her 150 miles away rather than 900. She sends me an email, so we can begin to communicate privately rather than on display for the entire blogging community to read as well. This is the first time I learn her name, despite the fact that she didn't mean to share it yet. A few weeks later we exchanged phone numbers and have spoken almost every day since then.

Red arrived in Indiana last weekend (YAY!!) and that brings us to today.

That is the shortened version. Click some of the links I provided to see the exact way it happened. There is much more to be seen in the comment sections of several posts, but you will have to find those for yourself. I tell this story because I have gained several new followers since this all started who may not be up to speed.

---

Yesterday, after close to three months since this all started we were finally face to face. I didn't have many expectations, but had been looking forward to this day for some time. I even had pictured how the initial meeting would take place.

SHHHHH!

After seeing each other, as we began to approach I would hold my fingers to my lips as she started to say something. Then, I would kiss her. Without a word, just a kiss. I figured since we were engaged before even trading names or numbers, why not kiss before we speak face to face? Plus, after all this time, I really wanted to. However, as is often the case, the way things happen in the real world rarely match up with what I saw in my head.

I have come to the realization that I am a much cooler guy on the internet than I am in the real world. I have several theories as to why this is:

1. There is less of a chance of getting slapped online
2. I don't normally have physical contact with the other person
3. The fact that I am in my underwear is not looked down on
4. I can easily step away from any conversation online with the push of a button

All of those factors give me much more confidence to say whatever I want without considering any negative repercussions. I am not socially inept. I live and work in the real world and have many close friends, but I have a boldness online that is not part of my real life personality. Despite my online persona, I was now crossing a parking lot toward the woman that I had been talking to for the last few months. This was no longer online. It's the real world and the first thing I noticed was that her pictures do not do her justice. I know that none of you in the blogging world have seen her, but Red is a beautiful woman. You just have to trust me on this. I immediately lost my nerve to start the day with a kiss. We greeted each other with a long hug.

Since we had met at a state park, we decided to walk one of the trails since many of the attractions were closed. We quickly discovered that the three days of rain preceding this meeting has made a mess of the trails. Red eventually took her sandals off to brave the mud while I did my best to find my way around each messy area.

Somethings I had learned about Red, I was not putting into practice at this time. After talking to her few a few weeks over the phone and internet, I discovered that she wasn't psychoanalyzing me by measuring the amount of time between phone calls. I didn't want to call too often and appear smothering, but also didn't want too much time between contacts to appear disinterested. This and many other factors were laid to the side when I realized that it was okay to just relax and be myself. She didn't have a bunch of crazy unpredictable expectations.

Now that we were face to face, I found myself being uptight. There was no reason for this. We had talked for months and already knew each other. It took a little time to relax. Since the state park was not working out the way we had planned, we decided to relocate. We chose a small town of historical significance to go see the sites there. The drive over (separately) gave me time to refocus.

The conversation flowed easier as we took the historical tour, although I did struggle to behave myself. Every new piece of information the tour guide gave us, brought snarky comments to mind. Also, Red seemed to be interested in the things he was saying, so I didn't blurt out every thought as I normally do.

We followed the tour with a late lunch and ended the day back at our cars. After a goodbye hug, she did what I had chickened out on earlier and kissed me. I immediately told her how much I had wanted to do that all day. She then admitted that she had wanted to when we first saw each other, but decided against it.

Maybe I should follow through on my instincts more often. I could have kissed her at the beginning of the date. In fact, it would have changed the tone for the entire day. It was a wonderful day as it was, but an initial kiss would have changed it. I don't know in what way, and I am happy with how it played out, but I didn't need to second guess myself.

After laughing at how neither of us had followed our first impulse, we shared another kiss and said our goodbyes.

It was a very good day and I expect that the next time we meet, it will be much more relaxed...and next time we meet, I will start with the kiss immediately.

---

Red's take on the day can be read HERE.

Fortune Cookie #2

Last week, Adam and I got to eat at my favorite restaurant in Mt. Vernon China Buffet #6. The last time I was here there was some confusion about why it was called #6. Of the few employees that spoke English, none of them knew the reason. On this visit, I got my answer.

The owner opened 5 other restaurants before he opened this one.

I know. Boring. I was hoping it was something more interesting, like:

• It was the sixth attempt at passing health code regulations and this was the first one to succeed.
• The owner kept opening restaurants to give to his homely daughters that would never find husbands and this was for daughter number six.
• The previous five restaurants had been destroyed by ninjas to avenge the theft of a General Tsao chicken recipe.
• Six Buddhist monks are sworn to protect against the Mongols now that the restaurant has installed a Mongolian barbecue. The descendants of Genghis Khan are not happy.

Adam convinced her to pose for a picture.
I don't think she ever really understood
what he wanted.

We were served by our favorite waitress. I don't know her name, because I am given a different answer every time I ask her. I don't think she speaks English. She understands it well enough to take our order, but even then it is very limited. Luckily, it's a buffet place and she really only needs to know what you want to drink.

Waitress: What to drink?

Adam: Mountain Dew.

Waitress (to me): You?

Me: What do you have?

Waitress: You want soda?

Me: I quit drinking soda. What do you have?

Waitress: Sorry. Say again?

Me: What do you have?

Waitress: Drink. You want what?

Me: Do you have a menu?

Waitress: Mountain Dew

Me: No, no. Menu

Waitress: OK (walks away)

On her return she brings Adam's his Mountain Dew and I get a Pepsi. It may not have been what I ordered, but I guarantee she will never let it go empty. She keeps it full. She is a very good waitress, even if she does not speak the language of her customers.

The end of the meal comes and we receive our fortune cookies. I pull mine out and it says:

That's great. Everyone wants good luck and the Chinese are telling me that it is going to happen. They are also saying that it is going to happen soon. In the spring. The first day of spring was less than 6 weeks ago. The middle of June will see the end of spring, so my good luck is about to happen quickly.

Am I going to win the lottery? Probably not, since I don't play the lottery. Is a rich relative going to die and leave me their fortune. No, none of my family has any real money. Is my blog going to explode with growth, get a million new followers, be discovered by a world renowned literary agent and I get buckets of cash thrown at me? It could happen.

I carried this fortune in my wallet to keep it in mind and not take any little blessings for granted. Here is what has happened since I received this fortune.

• I ended up in the emergency room for my shoulder pain again. BAD LUCK. However, this visit led to a discovery of the issue causing these pains. I have started treatment to prevent further injury. GOOD LUCK.
• Reaching the end of the semester in graduate school, I have a 4.0 average. GOOD LUCK...and hard work on my part. I am only giving luck so much credit.
• This week I was offered a position as office manager of a new business opening in town this summer. I accepted the job. GOOD LUCK.
• Regular followers of my blog know that I have been talking to Red for the last few months. A few days ago, she moved. This move brought her 750 miles closer than she was before. GOOD LUCK.

Since all these things happened in the spring, I will consider this fortune to be accurate. Of course, the spring is not over. I even spoke to Red's father briefly on the phone yesterday and he did not threaten me with any type of physical violence.

It has been a good spring and I anticipate it to be followed up by a great summer. Part of the great summer will involve more trips to the China Buffet #6...maybe I can bring Red there sometime. 

Enough Vicoden and I Will Agree to Anything

Proverbs 20:29

Aging sucks. As much as I want gray hair, because I think it is cool and makes a person look wise, I do not appreciate all the extra age related stuff that goes with it.

For the last year, I have been fighting a painful battle with my shoulders. I have been in the hospital 3 times for what the doctors have told me was bursitis. Read about one of those visits here. My most recent episode was last week and I was given the same diagnosis.

Since then, I have been pretty well drugged up on painkillers (I totally understand now why people take these for fun) and anti-inflammatory medication. Yesterday, I saw an orthopædic specialist, who sent me to a physical therapist today.  Thursday, I will be back at the hospital to get a sonogram on my shoulders. Maybe they think my shoulder is pregnant. I don't know. Although, it would make sense that there is something living inside there. Sometimes it feels like the bone is being gnawed on.

It is frustrating to have pain and not understand why it is happening. Luckily, my pain is not present all the time, but when it does flair up, it is horrible. I can barely move without crumbling over in agony. However, I believe this physical therapist may have found the problem. I am about to have a few very unpleasant months, but it will be worth it if he is correct.

I saw this same man about 10 years ago for a back problem that I had dealt with for the previous 15 years. He theorized that the problem was not in my back, but was a problem in my hip. A quick adjustment and a few weeks of therapy and I was cured of a major issue I had endured for over a decade.

So, when the orthopædic doctor handed me my papers and said I could go to any physical therapist I wanted, I knew who I wanted to see. At his office today, after me telling him my story of what has happened for the last year, he had me do a few movements to observe my mobility. Things like raise my arms above my head and straight out. Try to scratch my back as high as I can. Of course, I don't know what he is looking for, but he kept making small grunts. A-HA!  OK!  Uh-Huh! He would then write on his notepad.

Based on what he saw, he had me try a few more things and then told me what he thought the problem was. I have tightness in my post-blah-blob-jiggity-ascular area. This is somewhere in the back of my shoulder. Since it is so tight, it restricts my movement (which I don't even notice) and I compensate with other parts of my body, causing the flair-ups which would not be happening if I could move naturally.

He then told me that over the course of the next few months I would begin to hate him. Apparently, the exercises to fix this and stretch out the area are not pleasant. However, before he can do the therapy, I have to prepare the area at home with some pre-stretching.

According to the therapist, a shoulder with full range of motion should be able to lay their arm flat on the surface while in this position. My left arm goes to about 45 degrees before the pain kicks in and my right arm (the one I am having problems with this time) does not like to rotate at all. Pain or not, it just stops even with pressure. The muscle (or tendon or old piece of shrapnel, whatever it is) is too tight to allow for the movement. This is part of what he claims will be the reason I will not like him. Before I go back for my therapy on May 9, I should be able to get my right arm to a 45 degree angle. If not, we cannot begin treatment.

I started as soon as I got home and I have to say, I HATE THAT MAN. This sucks. Before seeing him, if I started to feel discomfort, I stopped what I was doing to find another way to accomplish my task without pain. Now, I am supposed to purposefully hurt myself in order to do it correctly.

I actually have a decent tolerance for pain. Due to my past back issues, I have dealt with pain most of my life, but this hurts. He told me that I will be very sore from these stretches and we was right. I have only done it once so far and I hurt more now than I did before I went to the hospital. According to him, they should slowly begin to stretch and I will see some progress each day. In the meantime, I am wondering what he is going to do in therapy since this is just the stretching to prepare for what is coming.

I am very happy that we are finally going to get this taken care of, but the good doctor and I may not be on speaking terms for a while after this.

How Do You Say 'Healthy' in Canadian?

Every now and then, I get excited about getting in shape. Well...let me rephrase that. Every now and then I get disgusted about being out of shape. This, in turn, gives me (a little) motivation, to want to do something to fix it. Trial and error have proven to me that the following methods do not work.

• Taking smaller bites to reduce the number of calories consumed.
• Pre-planning your meals does not mean get larger portions to avoid having seconds
• Eating every 2 hours to reduce the amount eaten - yeah, right!
• Formulating an exercise plan - apparently, finishing the plan does not count as exercise
• The same for reading a diet book - it doesn't burn many calories

I recognize the value in exercise and eating right. I have nothing against these things. It is just not part of my routine and I have never had success in changing this. The only time I remember getting into really good shape was when I was in Tae Kwon Do with my son.

The instructor talked me into taking the lessons with him. On Mondays and Wednesdays, I went to a childrens' martial arts class with Christian. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, he accompanied me to the adult class. It was something we did together and kept each other motivated. Plus, it was fun and I got to see the results of what I learned each week. The purpose of this was not to get into shape, but it is what happened.

A few years ago, I took some of my tax return money and bought a gym membership. I pre-paid for the entire year. I think I went four times. That breaks down to $75 per visit. Not really worth it.

I have decided that what I need is a person to go to the gym with me. Someone that I have a standing appointment with that I have to keep. Whether that is every morning or just 3 times a week, that would be enough to make me go. Plus, having that person there screaming, "COME ON, YOU PANSY! GIVE ME 10 MORE!" might be the extra incentive needed to not stop when I start to get tired.

Click picture for more info

Ken Degner at ken-inatractor was just writing about the goal he has of losing 10 pounds before the end of June to fit into his suit for a graduation ceremony. He has jumped in on the Pish Posh Get Fit! Challenge.

I stated the challenge I have when it comes to motivation without a workout buddy and he offered to be that person. This is a bit different than what I had in mind since he lives in Alberta, Canada, but told him that this could work.

Even if he is not right beside me telling me that I need to push harder or swinging by the house to pick me up to go to the gym, just having someone to keep me accountable gives me extra boost to get it done. In fact, it has already started. Knowing that I have someone to answer to started the process of finding a gym today.

So, here's the deal. I will post what is happening on here as well. Not for every post, but I will keep my readers updated. Encouraging words or even insults about me being fat should both push me to work harder. I now weigh 223. Ten pounds off, as Ken suggested, would bring me to 213. I know this because I am studying to be a math teacher, so trust me. However, I am going to try for those extra 3 pounds as well. I believe that is very realistic. That give me a full 2 months to lose 13 pounds. That was more math. I haven't yet done the conversions from Canadian pounds to American pounds, so my numbers may be a little off.

Cheer me on or call me mean names. In fact, whoever comes up with the most creative or brutally cruel name to call me, I will send the doughnut I chose not to eat that day because you hurt my feelings. Let the games begin.

Awards Fairy Detox

I got a surprise this morning after answering my front door. When I saw who was on the other side, I immediately slammed it shut again.  The last time I saw this guy, he was dragged off my property by the police. I haven't heard from him since. It was the Awards Fairy.

Since it was a nice day, I had my windows open and he just walked to one of those windows and pleaded with me to put down my phone and listen. He said that after he spent the night in jail, he was sent to rehab. He claimed he was clean now and had to return to my house to make amends as part of his recovery program.

Wanting to be supportive, but still not entirely trusting this fairy who had run up my cell phone bill, ate my pizza lunch, urinated on my couch and holed up in my home for several days, I stepped outside. Before stepping out, I grabbed the restraining order I had against him to remind him why he couldn't stay after he made his peace with me.

He did apologize for his past behavior. He then said before he went any further, he had something for me. He pulled an envelope out of his back pocket and handed it to me.

The front of the envelope said it was from Rusty at Swinging Like a Rusty Gate and it was dated March 15. I pointed out that this was from 6 weeks ago. Why am I just getting it now? He reminded me that he had been in jail and rehab for the last couple of months because I kept having him arrested. I had to agree that he had a point.

I opened the envelope to see what Rusty had sent me. It was the Kreative Blogger award.

Thank you, Rusty for this award. I am sorry it took so long for me to respond, but I guess it couldn't be helped since the fairy had it the entire time.

The award rules are pretty simple. Award recipients are to list 10 random things about themselves and then pass it on to other deserving bloggers. The number of bloggers to pass it on to is not listed.

10 random facts about me:

1. When my son Christian was 6 years old and had lost his third pair of shoes in one week, I grounded him from shoes for a month. He had to go everywhere barefoot (church, grocery store, etc.) Restaurants won't allow people without shoes to come in, so he had to eat outside while we finished our meal inside. He never lost another pair of shoes.
2. We had a baby deer for a pet named Bird. He was named after the first word spoken by the deer in Bambi. Our dogs didn't like to play with him, because he would butt them in the head.
3. I am close to hotting the "100 blog posts" mark. I have something special planned for number 100.



I WANNA ROCK!!!

4. In junior high, I founded a Twisted Sister fan club.
5. I do not own a bed.
6. I can't throw away bubble wrap until I know that every bubble has been popped.
7. The most money I have ever made in my life was as a door-to-door vacuum cleaner salesman.
8. When I was still a white belt in Tae Kwon Do, I defeated a guy who was a brown belt in judo and black belt in karate during a sparring match. I enjoyed my victory from the couch for the next week since he injured me badly enough I couldn't walk. I still won.
9. I still own over 300 cassette tapes. Mostly music from the 80's (when I was in high school). I haven't owned a cassette player for several years, but can't bring myself to get rid of them.
10. When my daughter was being potty trained, she started potty training her Barbies. When they made a mess, she would punish them by throwing them in the freezer. We still don't know why.

Bloggers I want to pass this on to:

• Super Earthling - I only discovered this blog about a month ago and spent the next few weeks digging through her archives to read it all. You never know which of the author's multiple personalities (each with her own name) will be writing that day, but it is always worth it.

• 

  Click picture to learn more.

  Pish-Posh - I have been reading Pish for a long time and have been a fan since the first time I found her. She writes on a variety of topics from very serious and touching to the bizarre (ex. drunk zombies trying to ride bikes). She recently started the Pish Posh Get Fit! Challenge and several people have linked up with her to try to improve their lives.
• The Incoherent Ramblings of a Moose - Lily writes about various topics, but my favorites are when she talks about her heathen son that she refers to as Spawn. If Lily's predictions are correct, one day Spawn will rule the world and it will not be pleasant.

After taking care of the requirements of the award, I thanked the fairy and wished him well. I even shook his hand and told him that I was glad he got the help he needed. As he turned to leave, a truck pulled up and the driver said, "Let's go." The truck bed was loaded down with a TV, some furniture and assorted other things. The fairy jumped in and they sped off.

I returned to my house and immediately noticed that my living room was empty and the back door was open. He had gotten me again while he kept me busy in the front yard. I didn't even think to get the license plate number.

I Want to Donate My Arm to Science

In past posts, I have told stories of some of the crazy things I have done (jumped out of moving cars, set myself on fire, crawled underneath moving trains, etc) and bragged about how I have never broken a bone. It is true that none of my bones have been broken, but that does not mean that I haven't done damage to my body. I was reminded of this yesterday morning.

After dropping Kirsten off at school, I noticed a small, but sharp pain in my right shoulder as I closed my vehicle door. While the pain was not much, I recognized what it was immediately. I have had it before and it usually gets much worse before it gets better.

I have written about this pain and what it does to me in two posts which can be read here.

That Which Doesn't Kill You, Makes You Realize How Old You Are
My Experiment With Steroids

This recurring problem has been diagnosed as bursitis, which in general is inflammation of the tissues in the joint. Once I first feel this coming on, the intensity grows slowly. My shoulder gets more and more distressed, restricting my movement a little each day. After about 5 or 6 days, it culminates in a horrible night, when I am unable to sleep because it hurts tremendously to even attempt to roll over. This time, it must have been in a rush.

Despite having only first felt the beginnings of this pain yesterday morning, the intensity grew quickly over the course of the day and I seriously considered if it would be worth chopping my arm off once I had been in bed for a couple of hours. Laying down allows more blood to go to the area and it begins to throb, shooting pain down my entire arm and into my back. The slightest movement multiplies the intensity.

I pushed through the night deciding to go to the emergency room in the morning. I had learned from previous experiences, that there is no point in going to my doctor, since it would take a week to get in and by then I would be dead...or wishing I was. Same thing.

Since I had taken Adam to the hospital on several occasions (here, here, here and here), I thought he might jump at the chance to  get to do the same for me. When I called him, he came over immediately. He was happy to return the favor and said so several times.

There was also a second reason I had called him. I still had full use of my other arm. I was perfectly capable of driving myself. After all, I had just driven my daughter to school. The previous times I had been to the E.R. for this problem, they asked me if I had driven myself. When I responded that I had, they responded, "Then we won't give you this shot."

The shot they were referring to was the good stuff. The ultra-super-feel-good-floating-in-the-clouds-meeting-Jesus shot. Since the pain in my shoulder is so sharp and intense, a regular painkiller does not begin to touch it, but they promised me this stuff would. I would explain that I only lived 2 blocks from the hospital. They could give it to me as I was walking out the door and I would go straight home. They declined saying that they didn't want to be the reason that I had to meet Jesus that day and never be allowed to leave. You know, because I died in an accident. The joke makes sense in my head.

Since I was in terrible pain and they had not given me the shot on previous visits because I was driving, I wanted Adam to take me so I could get it and then go back home and sleep. Because of the events of yesterday's post, Adam was going to see another doctor today. Knowing they might do a procedure on his feet or the abscesses, he had taken several strong painkillers. Thus, my attempt at staying safe behind the wheel of a car was diminished as soon as I hopped in with him. Nevertheless, he drove me in his self-induced haze.

Since I was not yet in the horrible pain as last time I was there, I was in a much better mood. And having had no sleep due to my shoulder, I had trouble following a logical line of thought.

Admitting Nurse: Are you allergic to anything?

Me: Just keep cats out of this room.

Nurse: We don't allow cats in the hospital.

Me: That's good. It would probably violate some health codes.

Nurse: Anything else.

Me: Local laws, maybe. I don't know.

(Later)
Nurse: Do you have a living will?

Me: No. I am going to live forever.

Nurse: No, you won't.

Me: Yes, I will.

Nurse: No, you will not. Everyone dies.

Me: I never have. Adam, have you?

Adam: Never. Not once!

Me: Ma'am, I have been pushed off a railroad bridge, fallen out of moving cars and even took an axe in the head. I have never even broken a bone. I will live forever.

Nurse: No, you will die.

Me: Your bedside manner sucks.

The on-call doctor informed me that he has never given the steroid shot into the bursa sac of the shoulder before and was not comfortable attempting it on me. I readily agreed. He did set me up with some anti-inflammatory drugs and some painkillers to help me sleep through the night. This means it will take longer to heal and get my range of motion back, but I will be on the mend instead of it intensifying any further.

Discharge nurse: Do you know your name?

Me: Why wouldn't I know my name?

Nurse: What's your name?

Me: What's your name?

Nurse: My name is Karen.

Me: Correct.

Nurse: Tell me your name.

Me: Don't you have it on the paper your holding?

Nurse: Yes, but I need to verify it.

Me: Didn't I give you my driver's license earlier?

Nurse: Yes, you did.

Me: Did you lose it?

Nurse: No. I have it right here.

Me: Well, I am sure it is correct.

Nurse: What's your name?

Me: The same as my license.

They eventually escorted us out and despite Adam's Facebook post giving people the impression that I was dying, I am fine. I am still in a lot of pain since it takes a while for the anti-inflammatory meds to start taking effect, but I should see some improvement by tomorrow morning. I was referred to an orthopedic doctor to see if we can prevent this from happening again.

---

Followup from yesterday's post: Adam saw a surgeon today who scheduled him an appointment for tomorrow. He will be in surgery to get the abscesses drained and the staples removed from his foot that were missed during his last surgery four years ago. After recovery, he should be in a lot less pain.

Getting Tired of Hospitals - OR - (screaming) Oh, Kelly Clarkson

It is time for another installment of our continuing series involving trips to the emergency room with Adam Elliott. I don't plan when these posts are going to happen any more than I can plan when Lindsey Lohan is going to appear in court next. It just happens.

For my regular followers, you already know that Adam has been in the E.R. several times in the last few months. I have written about each one of these visits and they have been some of my most popular posts. So, recognizing what people like to read about (regardless of how disturbing it may be), I decided to share this one as well. Here are the first three if you need to catch up:

• Abscessed Adventures with Adam
• Hop Along Sunday
• Dad, Do You Ever Get That No-So-Fresh Feeling?

I have used an alias for Adam in the last couple of posts in order to save him from the embarrassment caused by the first time I wrote about him. However, somehow people saw past my subtleties and fake names and figured out who I was talking about anyway. So, I will just use his real name. That should prevent any further confusion.

In my first emergency room post, the reason for being there was an abscess that had burst in the middle of the night, causing lots of blood and a huge understandable freak out from Adam. Since this had already happened to him once, he recognized the signs and knew that he was having the same problem again. This time, however, there were four and they were all in the groin area again.

Since we had to DJ for a dance on Saturday night, he decided to get them fixed to prevent them from bursting while working the dance. That would have been a problem. So, we went to the hospital on Friday night.

Please keep in mind that Adam was in a lot of pain and was not in the mood to speak with medical personnel. 

After parking the car and locating the room they placed him in, I witness him impatiently trying to justify to a nurse why he is back again. Explaining again why he doesn't have a regular doctor and describing again why he had his foot amputated. It gets old telling the same stories again and again.

After laying spread eagle on the bed to show the doctor where the problem was, he was advised to go home and take a hot bath. The doctor then chastised us for waiting so long to come in. Adam tried to get him to understand that after having parts of both feet cut off and spending over two weeks in a coma, he has a severe aversion to coming to the hospital at all. The doctor then explained that at midnight on a Friday, the surgeons required to fix this problem are not available and would not come in for so minor a problem.

Adam raised his groin up in the air and exposing the area, yelled, "You mean this is a minor problem! I can hardly move!"

The doctor looked again and hurriedly exclaimed, "Oh, I didn't see that one! We will take care of that right now." He then rushed out of the room.

I was relieved to hear that they were going to take care of this and started to say so, but noticed that Adam was not doing very well.

Now, if you ever want to have someone with you to keep a serious situation light-hearted and maintain a sense of humor to keep you distracted, I am your man. Regardless of the intensity of the moment, the jokes just keep coming. Once, after replacing a friend's calf muscle (true story) and having seen his shin bone from his knee to the ankle, we kept laughing as we struggled to stop the bleeding. We joked as we carried him to the car and kept doing it as we rushed to the hospital. He was even laughing and making jokes. I've been told humor is my defense mechanism. I can't help it.

However, I could quickly tell that Adam was not responding to attempts at humor and definitely was not going to be laughing even if I handed him comedy gold. I attempted to switch to good friend/comforter mode. I am not nearly as good at this.

His body was starting to shake at the thought of what was about to happen. He had experienced horrible pain when the area was even touched and they were about to cut into it. I tried to calm him and help him see how this was going to be worth it and he understood that, but was very scared. After all of his surgeries, he really doesn't like being cut on anymore.

I am not going to go into details as I have in the past, but I will say that I saw the inside of parts of Adam's body that I never even wanted to see the outside of. I stayed in the room for the whole thing as extra weight to sit on him a friend to help keep him calm while they did what they had to do. I learned that Adam has a lung capacity that I did not know was possible. I have heard him scream in pain before, but he launched into a scream that lasted at least a full minute without taking another breath.

They took care of the worst part of it, but now he has to get scheduled for a full surgery to complete it this week. He will be knocked out for his one. We are also going to try to talk them into removing the staples that are still in his foot from his last surgery.

---

I had decided to not write about this one, but Adam insisted. When Adam goes to the ER, my stats explode. I try to make it funny while I tell the story, but usually there are a few things that happen that make it funnier. This visit was not funny. I hated seeing my friend in that much pain and not being able to do anything about it. Hopefully, our future hospital visits will have more comedic value and not be as serious.

Technically, I guess I should be hoping not to have future hospital visits.

Days of Summer

We are quickly approaching my favorite time of year. In three weeks, I will have completed my last class for the year and summer will be here. I have explained in a previous post how much I despise cold weather. The summer months can sometimes get hotter than I would prefer, but I will take the hot days over cold ones anytime.

The signs of warmer weather are everywhere. Some of the signs, I could do without. When I step outside, I hear the neighbor kids yell for me.

"HI, BRETT"

My response is always the same. I yell, "NO!"  For some reason they start giggling.

Then I check my mail and go back inside or hop in my car and drive off. I don't like small children and I have told them that on many occasions, but they keep insisting on talking to me.

A few times, I have come home to find that they are having a picnic in my front yard. Seriously, six kids on a blanket right in front of my door.

ME: "Why don't you guys do this in your own yard?"

UGLIEST KID: "Because you have the best tree on the street to sit under."

I have saved half the money I need to have the tree cut down.

The eyes are the best part.

Once, they knocked on my door and asked for food for their picnic. I gave them a can of sardines. Unfortunately, they ate them and came back asking for more. Nothing I try with these children seems to work. They keep coming back. They knock on my door at least twice a day.

Despite the annoyances of the kids on my street, I still love this time of year. The sun is out. My schedule is less hectic. There are more opportunities for travel. People have barbecues and fish fries. I love it.

Terry, an old friend I recently reconnected with, has invited me to go camping with his family this summer. He suggested the two of us spend time teaching his youngest son some survival skills. I laughed and told him that my best survival skill is pre-planning to make sure I am always within walking distance of a microwave to cook my dinner.

As much as I love the summertime and going outside to enjoy it, I have never been a fan of camping. When I was a kid, our family vacations usually involved loading up the truck to go sleep in a tent at a campground 20 miles from our house. It wasn't all misery. We did have some good times, but I would have much rather been in a hotel or traveling somewhere new.

Good times

The only times I ever chose to go camping was for a few years right after high school. The group of guys I hung out with would drive our vehicles to this spot a quarter mile back in the woods near a pond and have a campfire. Since this was actually just a way to get drunk away from the eyes of our parents, it really wasn't about the camping. We never even took tents. A few cases of beer, some lawn chairs and wood for the fire was all we needed. We slept in the truck beds or the lawn chairs, if we slept at all.

About a year ago, one of the guys suggested getting the old group back together to go out to the pond for a camping trip like old times. Twenty years ago, I would have jumped at the opportunity, but it doesn't sound like much fun today. I suggested we all just meet at Applebees.

Part of what those trips so much fun was that we were doing something we weren't supposed to be doing. Plus, the crazy things that happened while we were out there. One of our favorite activities was to pool our money to convince John to do something he didn't want to do. Once, for eight dollars, he waded across the pond. It was only about waist deep, but it was cold enough that it had a thin layer of ice on the surface. On another occasion for eleven dollars, he climbed to the top of a tree and shimmied out onto a branch until it broke, dropping him into the pond. He would do anything for a little money.

It didn't always involve money. His brother convinced him to climb a tree by telling him he didn't believe he could do it. This was a thin tree with a diameter less than a foot across at the base, but it was over 30 feet tall. John shot up the tree with very little effort. While he was bragging from the top about his climbing abilities, we chopped it down.

I really don't think those sort of things would happen if we went out there now. We would have to take out a loan to offer enough money to convince John to put his body in harm's way these days. We notice the mosquitoes and ticks much more now and one of the guys became a cop. It would be his duty to stop us from the really good stuff.

I doubt I will be doing much camping this summer, but there will be plenty of other things to do. I have a couple of trips planned. I am getting together with some college friends. I will be working a couple of weeks at a youth summer camp (high school, not little kids). There will also be the unexpected activities that pop up. Freedom from classes is just a few weeks away. I love this time of year.

The Turtle Whisperer

Sunday afternoon we had a fish fry at my parents' house. We had a great time telling jokes, eating and laughing together. My parents just got back from being in Florida for the last six months, so it was great to get the whole family together again.

My daughter named him Lynus.

After the meal, we were hanging around outside and my mother walked up with a box turtle she had just found near the pond. I immediately decided to bring it home to give to our 4 year old neighbor. I don't know if she likes turtles, but did know that it might upset her mother. She gets upset with me over little things like teaching her daughter to pet bees or eat dirt. I don't know why I enjoy it so much, but I do.

When we got home, the neighbors weren't home, so I left the turtle outside and went in to do some homework. I went out every now and then to check on him and he was always within a few feet of where I had left him.

After a few hours, I forgot about Lynus and quit checking on him. In fact, I never thought about him again until I was taking Kirsten to school the next morning. A few hundred feet from our house, we passed him on the road.

I could have gotten a better picture,
but decided that a close up was unnecessary.

I don't know how long it took him to get that far or know where he was trying to go, but I don't feel too bad because I had warned him about the road the day before. I should have known better since every turtle I have ever known has been resistant to any sort of instruction. I think it's the way they are raised. Hundreds of years of them retelling the story of  The Tortoise and the Hare to their children gives them a false sense of accomplishment.

Don't call Turtle Protective Services on me, because I did my part. Plus, even if they do come, it takes them forever to get here.

The demise of Lynus reminded me that it was time to feed our surviving pet, Dr. Finklerstein. He only eats once every two to three weeks, so it slips my mind sometimes. I ran to the pet store to buy his food. I gave him the food and something happened. It looked at me.

Isn't he cute? We named him Norman.
TIP: Don't name your food.

This had never happened before.

Dr. Finklerstein (my daughter named him) is a ball python and he eats mice. In the past, knowing that I am purchasing something that is just going to be eaten, I have never given it much thought. I get home, I toss the food in the cage and I walk away. However, Norman had a personality.

Say something. ANYTHING!

So, I took him out of the cage and decided to see if he might be one of those super smart mice that could turn me into a master chef or help me become a better teacher or teach me a life lesson or something Maybe he was waiting for someone to take him seriously as an individual instead of just seeing him as a lowly mouse.

I tried talking to him, but he didn't answer. He didn't even squeak. He just stared at me.  Then I realized that I was being presumptuous in assuming that he would speak English. So, I spoke to him in Spanish. Still no response.

My daughter, insinuating how stupid I can be, snidely asked if I had ever seen Ratatouille. 

 "Mice," she said, "speak French, not Spanish. DUH!"

Insinuating how stupid she can be, I responded, "Those were rats, not mice. DUH!"

Since my daughter has had a year of high school French, she tried to communicate with Norman. We still don't know if Norman speaks French or not since all Kirsten knows is how to count to twelve or ask for the nearest bathroom. Where do our education tax dollars go?

Not wanting to give up, I tried one more tactic to give him the opportunity to communicate with us.

He just kept hitting the asterisk over and over.
He is either an imbecile or is cursing at me.

Dr F had been
waiting patiently.

Frustrated, I sought out one more opinion. Dr. Finklerstein had been watching this play out and hissing at our feeble efforts. He was beginning to grow impatient.

I asked him what he thought and got no response.

"Do you think Norman is special?"

The Doctor (snake) stuck his tongue out at me.

"Should we give him another test?"

The Doctor stuck his tongue out at me.

He even turned his back on me.

I was beginning to get the impression that Dr. Finklerstein was in a bad mood, so I put him back in his cage.

I told him we could not move forward until they worked this out between the two of them. I put Norman in the cage and left so they could have their privacy to discuss this without any biased influence from me.

I checked back in on them an hour later only to discover that Norman was no longer there. I guess they never came to an agreement and he just stormed off.

I am a Person and Other Complaints

This post is an attempt (but don't take it too seriously) to paint a less pathetic more accurate picture of my friend Adam Elliot. I have mentioned him in several blog posts and a few times the post was even centered around him. In fact, some of my most popular and funny posts have been about him going to the emergency room.

1. Abscessed Adventured With Adam   Ranked #1
2. Hop Along Sunday   Ranked #5
3. Dad, Do You Ever Get That No-So-Fresh Feeling?   Ranked #3

Adam has a unique handicap originally caused by a rare blood disorder which makes him susceptible to various ailments and injuries caused by his restricted mobility. You can read his story on his blog here. Since he has had portions of each foot amputated, it causes severe pain if he is too active. However, since he can get around (slowly...oh, so slowly) for short distances, it is possible for someone to not even be aware of his limitations.

Almost every time I have included him in a post, it has centered around some of these issues.  However, our relationship is not based on his handicap, as evidenced by some of our conversations.

While trying to decide where to eat:
Adam: Do you know what I haven't done in a long time?
Me: (long pause) Uh.....hurdles?

Despite the jokes, which he is more than proficient at dishing out as well, we have a lot of fun together. For a while after his hospitalization and surgeries, Adam couldn't do a lot for himself and required a lot of assistance. He lived with his brother for a while, who took care of him and made sure he had what he needed. After several months, I became that person. He even lived with us for a short time. He has come a long way since then.

I first met Adam when he was in junior high school. I was a counselor at a summer camp and he left an impression even at that young age. Just as is true today, if Adam was in the room, everyone knew it. He has never had much talent at blending in or staying in the background. Just like the present, his mouth got him into a lot of trouble.

After that summer, I ran into him occasionally. Years later, he would drop in at the church I was working at to visit with the senior minister who had been his youth minister growing up. We would go out to lunch occasionally. Then, Adam disappeared. Since he hadn't been a regular part of my life, I didn't think anything of it.

The next time I saw him, he was in the wheelchair and I got to hear the story of what he had been through for the last 6 months. For some reason, we hit it off after that and became the friends we are now. He doesn't even get mad when I challenge him to a game of Dance Dance Revolution.

Adam now has a DJ service which is getting more and more business all the time. He does weddings, local taverns, class reunions, school dances and whatever else someone may need. It is a full music and laser light show. I accompany him on some of these show and assist with setting up and tearing down. Once the show starts, you would never know he is missing part of his body. He is even pretty popular with the ladies, a fact that he displays no humility about.

Adam is offering a special DJ discount to followers of this blog. He and I will do your show for free. You will only be responsible for our expenses to get there and back. Adam is especially hopeful that fellow blogger Bozo will accept this offer and the fact that she is in India has nothing to do it.

Don't think you can't get slapped
just because you're in a wheelchair.

Although, the handicapped act only carries him so far. He doesn't have a free pass. It is possible to cross the line even when you don't have feet. He doesn't take it personally. He knows that it was not his inability to participate in a marathon that got him slapped. It was his mouth.

Although, we do have to think of a new phrase for him, since "Sticking his foot in his mouth" doesn't really apply here.

Despite the regular beatings he gets from various women, he does have a social life. He goes out with his friends, goes to the movies, attends community events, is active in his church and travels occasionally. He and I have caused trouble in this town on several occasions and will continue to do so.

---

Shout out to Whitney Whaley
at Paul Mitchell.

I just had to take a break from this post because he just called me to go experience what he called "something wonderful." He took me to the Paul Mitchell cosmetology school to get their scalp massage. Despite having school work to do, I agreed and spent 30 minutes in a chair getting my scalp rubbed, while they put in all sorts of lotions and conditioners. Not the sort of thing I would ever think to go get done, but it was fantastic. I feel great and my hair looks magnificent. I feel so pretty.

With the writing of this post, hopefully my regular readers now know that the friend that I refer to is not a whiny home bound reject. In fact, he just got a date with one of the girls that was fixing his hair. He does actually have a brain and a life and goes to more places than just the hospital and bathroom.

Hopefully, now his persistent phone calls about my blog's depiction of him will come to an end.

I feel so very pretty.

I Got Tagged - Get to Know Me Today

A few days ago, I was contacted by Brandi Boddie of Penning Praises.  Brandi passed a quiz on to me to help my readers get to know me better. As usual, any time a woman asks me questions that do not involve how her jeans look, I am more than happy to answer.

1. Book or movie and why?

That depends on whether I have a TV.


 2. Real book or e-book?

I have never actually read an e-book. I have seen Kindles and other devices. They look like they could be handy, but I don't see where to put the bookmark.


3. Funniest thing you've done in the last 5 years?

Last May, when Harold Camping unsuccessfully predicted the Second Coming of Christ, I filled 38 blow-up dolls with helium and released them in the mall parking lot on the evening of the supposed Rapture.

I thought it was very funny. Local law enforcement did not agree.


4. Do you put yourself into the books you read/write or the movies you watch?

I don't really put myself in them. I put myself above them. I picture myself as the all-powerful puppeteer working the strings of the characters. They do whatever I want them to do. HA HA HA. "Dance, little people, dance!"

When Winona Ryder blew up Christian Slater at the end of Heathers, that was me.

When John Travolta plunged the adrenaline syringe into the heart of Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction, that was me.

When Keanu Reeves dodged the bullets of the agents in The Matrix, that was me as well. For the record, that was not easy. I had to do four takes before I got it just right.

The only exception is any movie that casts Freddy Rodriguez. I don't control Freddy Rodriguez. In those movies, I am Freddy Rodriguez.


5. How would your best friend describe you?

By explaining positive attributes about me. He may give a few negative ones. No ones perfect.


6. Favorite kind of car and why?













 7. Would your choice of party be a catered meal or barbecue out back?

Can't you have barbecue catered and brought out back? I would imagine they they would take it to the place they were instructed to. Then you could have a barbecue with a few friends over and still not have to cook. Why does everything have to be one way or the other?


8. What's your favorite season and why?

Deer season. I don't hunt, but always end up with some of the meat somehow. One guy makes jerky every year. Love it.


9. What specific lesson have you learned - Spiritual, educational, occupational?

Spiritually - The phrase "Cleanliness is next to godliness" is not in the Bible.

Educational - Most college professors will not accept a paper that has "THE INTERNET" written in large letters across the Works Cited page.

Occupational - When told you are being chosen for a drug test, don't get excited and ask which ones you get to test.


10. Besides writing, what's your favorite thing to do when you get some extra time?

Make a sandwich.

Or if I am in one of those moods where I don't want anyone to talk to me, I stand on a street corner with a clipboard.


11. What's one place you can be found at least one time every week?

Sitting in my kitchen watching my neighbor's annoying habit of washing eggs off the side of his house and car.

---

These eleven questions are supposed to be passed on to 11 more people so they can play if they wish. I choose these 11 people. And you should check out each one of their blogs.

These blogs are in order from shortest title to longest. Thus creating a nice stair step pattern. You're welcome.


Misty's Laws

ken- inatractor

In Shane's Brain
A Bozo's Abbozzo
The Train's Whistle
Ach du Lieber, Jayne
Doesn't Speak Klingon
Good Youngman Brown
When a Lion Sleeps, Let It Sleep
Rob's Altruistically Self-Serving Blog
The Incoherent Ramblings of a Moose