I'm a Lucky Guy

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about my Golden List.

Last week, I wrote about my appendectomy.

Since my surgery, some amazing things have happened, making me realize how blessed and lucky I really am.

First and foremost was my sister- and brother-in-law coming through for us at midnight on Friday night to take the two-year-old while we went to the emergency room. Jenn didn't pick him up and bring him home until almost bedtime Sunday night to let me recover. Heidi and Ryan kept him for almost 48 hours, and both Jenn and I needed that!

Laura surprised me with a visit at the hospital.

Some fences were mended...and other fence repairs are in the works.

Mom and dad each made a special effort to make me meals.

Mom helped me get to a doctor's appointment and drop off paperwork, and brought all sorts of fun stuff over to the house.

My mother-in-law called me special from Illinois to check on me.

My friend Kyle went out and got me coffee from Grounds for Thought one night, mowed my lawn, called me, and stopped in to visit.

My grandma sent a coupon and money for me to get lunch one day, which I will save for a day when my doctor tells me I can drive.

My co-workers sent me a total of three (3!) cards and a HUGE bag full of snacks, and a gift card. I'm pretty sure I know who did the shopping, too, because of the kinds of snacks, and how we pick on each other about Starburst.

One co-worker (who I have only recently started talking to outside of the work setting) and her husband bought me a book AND a CD to keep me entertained while I am at home recovering.

Jenn, although she has been on my butt telling me everything I can't or shouldn't be doing, has only been looking out for my best interests. She has done more work around the house that I am comfortable admitting, and her unwavering willingness to help me and take care of me is the best gift ever.

I feel pretty worthless this week, in terms of contributing, and I'm humbled by all of your care, concern and giving. But I have to admit, I have completely enjoyed the pampering, and just lying around reading books and watching movies. So far, I have finished two books, started and finished a third, started a fourth, made some good progress in two more, and am about to start another.

I have also had a chance to write two blogs, edit two upcoming blog entries, and start contemplating yet another one. And I have watched two movies. I'm debating starting a third right now.

Thanks to ALL of you!!

A pain in the belly and a change in weekend plans

I often complain about how nothing ever goes the way I plan it. Take Friday, June 24, 2011 as a prime example.

I'm warning you right now that there is a photo of surgical wounds at the end of this blog. You have been warned, just like Grover warned you all those years ago in your Little Golden Book that "There's a Monster at the End of This Book."

The day went very well. I got a lot accomplished at work and at home, and had written up about 10 items of out of about 30 to post for sale on ebay. Then the pain hit. It was in my belly. Jenn had made an amazing dinner of Dr. Pepper pulled pork, or something like that, and it was delicious. But I suspected that I since it was a new dish, maybe I just had gas, and I wouldn't be able to eat it again. No big dea.

But something was ringing in the back of my head, like "this is not just gas. This is something different." I went about my business for about an hour, until at around 9:30, I told Jenn that something wasn't right, and if I sit up in bed screaming to take me to the ER. She said my belly was hard and suspected gas, so I took some Gas-X and waited to see what happened. Around that time, my pain level was about 3 on a scale of 10.

I wrote up three more sale items, and noticed the pain was getting worse, not better, so I quit. We decided to go to bed around 11:30. At around midnight, Jenn said I was breathing funny and asked me if my pain was worse, or had moved. I admitted that the answer was both, but I didn't want to tell her because it was midnight and I didn't want to go to the ER and be stuck until 3 a.m. We were both very tired.

Jenn called her sister Heidi, and dropped me off at the ER door to register while she took Kaleb to Heidi's house.

When I saw the ER doc, he did the typical prodding and poking and said he believed appendicitis, which was exactly what we thought it was.  He ordered a blood test, IV, and a CT scan.

I wasn't thrilled about the IV. The last time I was admitted at a hospital and had my very own room, was in high school or college when something very similar occurred. At that time the nurse poked me three times with the IV needle (which is roughly the size of a knitting needle), and dug around each time, hoping to strike a vein. That incident was so painful, I literally told my mom to get her the f*** out of my room before I punched her. Even her replacement had to stab me twice.

At that time, I was at the hospital for the same symptoms as I had this last Friday night, but the pain was worse then. My parents didn't want to drive me to the hospital, which was about a half mile away, because they thought it was gas. I told them "You drive or I'll drive. Either way, I'm going." I don't think I had my license at the time. At that time in my life, I had a freakishly high (I mean absurdly super-human high) tolerance for pain. So when I gave that ultimatum, they decided to take me. I was admitted for 3 days before the doctors shrugged their shoulders, said "we have no idea what is wrong with you" and sent me home.

So I was apprehensive about being here again about 20 years later with the same symptoms and getting another IV with no tests having been done and no definitive answers. This nice little 80-year-old lady came in and said she was going to take some blood and start the IV.. While I am no stranger to blood tests, I decided to just look away until everything was over and not see the IV needle so I wouldn't flip out.

I told her about my previous IV experience and told her "I like you so far, so don't make me hate you." I was joking, of course...maybe.

She poked me with what I thought was a blood test (I have really bad veins, so I thought she might have a hard time. I asked her "warn me when you do the IV." Her answer was "it's done." I turned, looked into her eyes and said "I love you." Ask Jenn. She used the IV to take blood, then started me on saline and gave me a shot of morphine.

She handed me a what looked like a 30-ounce jug of clear (radioactive?) juice for the CT scan, and told me I had 10 minutes to drink it and an hour to wait after that to get the test done. I downed it in 2 minutes, not 10.

The CT scan went fast, and when I got back to my ER stall, the doctor came in and said the bloodwork came back consistent with appendicitis, and we would see what the CT scan said. At around 4 a.m., he came back and said I was being admitted for appendicitis and he was calling the surgeon to handle it the next (Saturday) morning.

I got to my room at about 5 a.m, and had to answer a bunch of intelligent, and a bunch of really ignorant questions. They told me they would leave us alone to sleep, but still came in every 15 minutes or so to bring this sheet of paper, or sign that sheet of paper, or help me change into a surgical gown, or ask me a question, or grab a chart that they had accidentally forgotten. In short, we didn't sleep much.

At about 7 am., I took a shower and scrubbed my belly with a special cleaning solution. The doctor came in and talked us through the procedure at around 8:30 a.m. I asked him about a catheter and he said "how do you know about that?" My answer was "I'm not stupid." Good news, he said. The catheter goes in and comes out (as does the small breathing tube) while I am under anesthetic and sleeping well. Good deal.

Being wheeled down to surgery with my mom in the background.
Everyone as picking on me, talking about what a big baby I was
about having to get a catheter,  except the guy in the blue.
I thanked him for being on my side. Scroll down much further and
you will see a photo of my surgical wounds. You have been
warned twice now. No complaining!!

My mom and my gurney arrived while we were talking to the doctor, so I got wheeled down to surgery right away. By about 9:15, the anesthetist put the mask over my face and told me to breathe deeply. I remember counting to seven quietly by myself and wondering why I wasn't knocked out again. Next thing I know, I'm waking up, head full of cobwebs with two nurses staring at me from a nursing station saying "there he is."

They wheeled me back up to my room and I slept a restless sleep for quite awhile. My mom had gone at some point, and Jenn had gone home, showered and changed, as well.

The next 3 or 4 hours are very unclear. I finally shook off the uggyness, and ate the jello and drank the two cups of coffee and the Sprite that they brought me. I called my mom and gave her an update, and invited her back up. Jenn left again to do some shopping to prep for my homecoming, which was expected to be that night. Mom and dad came and visited around 3:30 p.m. and stayed until about 5:15. Mom said I kept talking and drifting off, then waking back up, talking again and drifting away. I was told if I could eat solid food, I could go home. I demolished the dinner plate. By the time Jenn returned, I had signed my walking papers and was ready to go. I was home by 7.

The night went by pretty well, but I didn't sleep much. In fact, I dozed off for 20 minutes at the most, but was able to watch the movie Gladiator from beginning to end, only rewinding a few times to catch what I missed to sleep. I know I was up a lot going to the bathroom, getting more to drink, and taking a painkiller at 1 a.m.

I fell asleep after 4:30 and was awake by 7:45. Jenn made me an omelette and coffee, and I scarfed that down as well. I took a shower, and we went to church. Then we came home and sat out in the yard for a bout three hours. While I was out there, my feet started itching, so I took off my shoes and socks, and I had this horrible rash on my feet. We sat there and watched it grow, even after rubbing cortisone cream on it, and taking two Benadryl. We don't know if the reaction was caused by the antibiotic I was given at the hospital, or the Percoset, so we called the doctor. He called in some Vicodin for me, and Jenn is picking that up right now. The rash has mostly faded from my feet, and the itching is all but gone.

Two of my three incisions in the awesome shave-job they gave me while I was out.
No, you may NOT see the third incision.

I consider myself pretty lucky. I was in and out of the hospital in less than 24 hours. I have three small incisions from my laparoscopic surgery, and some scars with a good story behind it. My pain level is very low (the highest it got was a 6 on friday night just as I was registering at the ER, and hasn't gone above 2 since then). I didn't have to experience a catheter while awake, I was able to get some reading done, and I'll be off for a week. Add that to the following 4th of July weekend, and I will have a 10-day recovery period before I have to return to work. That will allow me to read even more, work on some more small e-bay write-ups a few at a time, and watch some movies that nobody wants to watch with me. Jenn has been awesome, handling tasks that I usually do, and not complaining about it when I ask her to get me something or taking something away for me.

Mom and dad have visited at the hospital and at the house, I was able to update my progress and keep everyone informed through the wonders of my smart phone and the social media, and I got a new blog entry from it. The only downer is that I'm not allowed to drive for at least a week. That's frustrating. But so be it.

This is only my second surgery ever. My first one was to straighten my eyes out when I was six months old or so, and I don't remember that one. Hopefully, this will be my last surgery.

And to think...all I had planned for this weekend was to write up ebay sales and read.

Thanks to all of those who have thought about me, prayed for me, sent me cards, and sent well-wishes on Facebook. I consider myself a very lucky guy.

In the waiting room

The word for today is "waiting."

Kaleb had surgery this morning. Without going into the gory details, it was elective surgery designed to correctly complete an elective surgery that was not very successful the day after he was born. 'Nuff said.

I went to bed early...9:30 p.m. on Monday night...and actually managed to fall asleep right away. Kaleb was already in bed at the time. Jenn, for some reason (maybe the Dr. Pepper????) was wide awake and decided to stay up for a bit. Glad she did, because Kaleb woke up at 10:30 p.m. and was hungry. She came to bed again shortly after he zonked out again.

It was surprisingly easy to get moving this morning when the alarm went off at 3:30 a.m. I got showered and dressed and started making sure everything was packed and ready to go. Jenn got up shortly after and did the same. We got Kaleb up about 15 minutes before we left.

We were the first customers at McDonald's at 5:01 a.m. and actually had to wait for them to get the register ready. Then it was off to the hospital in Toledo.

We got there at 5:45, valet parking (trusting your car is a difficult thing to do, even if he has a name tag and hospital logo on his shirt!!!!) and got K-Bob registered. By then he was wide awake and was running up and down the halls and babbling at the top of his lungs. He loves to listen to echoes, and hospital hallways are good places to hear them.

We waited for 20 minutes before we were called upstairs to pre-op, where we waited some more. We held him the entire time in pre-op, where a number of things surprised me. The first most surprising thing was how open it was. We were in plain view of 4 other beds filled with 4 other patients. Somehow, it seems Health Insurance Privacy Protection Act law, which prevents hospitals from even acknowledging you exist, even to family members who call to inquire about your well-being, have managed to protect your privacy from the guy on the next gurney. Weird.

The second strange thing about pre-op is how many times you are asked the same exact question by countless number of people, regardless of how many times it is written on all of their multiple charts. I can't even begin to tell you how many times we were asked the following questions:

• Does he have any allergies?
• When was the last time he ate?
• Is there a family history of trouble with anesthetics?
• I see he had RSV. Tell me about that.
• When was the last time he took medication of any kind?
• What is the air velocity of an unladen swallow? (bonus points for those who catch this reference)

Ad nauseum; ad infinitum; lather, rinse, repeat.

We spent more than an hour in pre-op answering the same 5 questions over and over again. I think 6 people quizzed us using the same test questions.

And then Kaleb was off to the races, wrapped in a warm blanket and whisked away to the operating room while we were left alone to figure out that we were to leave and make our way to the waiting room all by our lonesome. It's a good thing we both have broad shoulders because we were really left out to dry. I should mention that in their "suggestion box." Some parents who have just handed their child off to a stranger who is going to knock him out cold and cut him might not have their wits about them quite as much as we did.

So now, after an hour and 20 minutes of waiting, the REAL waiting began.

Jenn and I snagged some really runny, cold eggs, tater tots (hmm...I should watch Napoleon Dynamite again), and bacon (Jenn gave me hers because it was more like pig jerky than bacon), and then returned to the waiting room. Jenn read a few pages in a book and then cried her eyes out while Good Morning America or the Today Show, or whatever it was, showed bits and pieces of the last interview of Patrick Swayze interspersed with appropriate (or inappropriate?) clips from his film "Ghost." I have been informed by Jenn that not only will we be watching the interview when it airs tonight, we will ALSO be watching Dirty Dancing sometime soon. Sounds like a good reason to me to go get lost in a corn field on purpose!!!!

I read a few pages in my book, but had a hard time concentrating. I was clock-watching instead.

An hour later, almost to the minute (now about 8:20 a.m.) the doctor who performed the surgery came down and updated us and gave us some after-care instruction. His update and instructions alike were pretty graphic. Again, this was in front of everyone in the waiting room; HIPPA laws be damned.

We then waited for permission to return upstairs. This was another 10-minute wait. During that time, Jenn's mother arrived and began waiting with us. She came up because we needed to make sure that Jenn and Kaleb got home safely and quickly. I couldn't go home because I had an interview scheduled for 11 a.m. in Perrysburg. More about that later.

So we finally get called to go back up and see our little guy, and when we arrive, he is still unconscious (he was put completely under, including an IV for this procedure). So again, we waited for him to wake up. That took about 20 minutes, during which time we got additional after-care instruction from a nurse, asked a bunch of questions, and signed a bunch of papers.

When Kaleb finally woke up, he was RAVENOUS. He downed three bottles of sugar water provided by the hospital before he finally settled. He fought the nurse when she tried to take out his IV. Jenn held him, and I had to get involved by holding his arm still so the nurse could cut away the gauze that held the IV in place.

Now, I get blood tests once each year for a condition I have had since birth. I can watch them stick me and draw blood all day, but IVs are something that turn my stomach when they have tried to give them to me in the past. To watch them give them to or take them out of someone else is completely intolerable. I can't even watch people getting flu shots on the news.

So you have to appreciate the vision of me squatted down next to Jenn, who is seated comfortably in a chair holding onto Kaleb for dear life as he kicks and screams. In the meantime, I am holding Kaleb's arm still so the nurse can cut off the bandage and remove the IV, and all of this is happening at eye-level. MY eye level. Blech.

With that trauma finally over with, we get to take him home, only THIS time, we are escorted back to the waiting room.

Jenn, Kaleb and Elaine climbed in one vehicle and head back to Bowling Green while I climbed in our van and head toward Perrysburg for my interview.

(Before I move on to the interview portion, I want to inform you that Kaleb is doing VERY well. He is back to his babbling; he is walking, though gingerly, and he is for the most part happy. He is sleeping a LOT, eating monstrous amounts of anything he can get his hands on, and is being his all-around monster-ham self. Now, we return to our regularly-scheduled program).

This interview was scheduled two weeks prior. Jenn and I had talked right before I received the phone call and she gave me some advice, which was this: Pick a time in the middle of the pack. If you are first, they will forget you. If you are last, they already have their minds made up by the time you get in there.

So being a good listener, I chose the middle day when I was given the choice. Wouldn't you know it, I picked the same day as Kaleb's surgery and damned if I didn't hear about it for two weeks straight. Oh well. My fault. I neglected to add Kaleb's surgery to my Google calendar. My fault and I admit it. But I wasn't about to change the interview for fear of losing whatever good standing I may or may not have had.

Here's the rub: I wore my street clothes to the surgery with the intent of changing while we were waiting for Kaleb to be released. That happened way earlier than expected. So I drove to the Way Public Library in Perrysburg and changed in their public restroom. Ever do that? It's really uncomfortable standing there in your skivvies while people walk in, do their business, and leave. I caught two people who neglected to wash after doing the deed. Nasty.

It's also distracting when the motion-sensing toilet in your stall is flushing every two minutes because you are setting it while changing your clothes.

So I did that, read a little bit, and got my head in a good place for the interview before I drove the two blocks and jumped in the snake pit.

For those of you not paying attention to this blog, I applied for a dispatching position with the City of Perrysburg Police Department.

I think things went pretty well. I answered the questions as best I could; I only regret one answer. I didn't say anything bad; I was just taken off-guard and gave a really weak response.

I also learned some new things. I originally was told that there were 16 finalists. Now there are either 14 or 15. I don't know why that number went down and I don't care, either. Maybe they found a new job, or maybe their background check disqualified them.

I was under the assumption that after this week's round of first interviews, the final two would be chosen, contacted, and put through a psychological examination, a physical, and a drug test, followed by a SECOND interview. I was under the assumption that then and only then would the selection committee make a recommendation to council.

I was wrong. This was the ONLY interview. It was my last chance to make a good impression. I hope I did what I needed to do. Any examinations and tests, I was informed, will be done AFTER the job is offered to someone.

I was told that I should know my fate by the end of NEXT week (by Sept. 26).

I have done all I can do.

Now, I wait...