New Experiences

This morning mom dragged me to the VA Med Ctr. I didn't want to go because
I)It's a long ways from home and
(If IV=4 how does II=2)
next, I don't honestly believe anything will be accomplished. But mom can be convincing and painful.
  Upon arrival I was directed to a reception desk in the rear of the hospital. I signed in and almost immediately felt a strong camaraderie with the others waiting. A few that knew each other were talking and laughing about the most terrifying moments of their lives. How to kill a VC  and stay alive yourself was the general thrust. The laughs came from the screw-ups that almost cost their life (Being so cheap he didn't waste the extra bullet to ensure the VC was dead). What was amazing was the snowball effect that swept the room. It was damn near a party.
  I was called in to the case officers office. Turned out she was an incredibly helpful NP and I am now her property. If anyone, anywhere in the VA system gives me any crap, I call her. She easily accepted moms presence as my brain.
  All in all this was much less objectionable than I expected.
  I barely made it home when psychiatry called and made an appointment.
  I'm also assigned to a psycho neurologist. May take a while to get an appt.

So Strange

One of my daughters wrote about some Korean food she had. At the same time I was watching The Godfather. All of a sudden a wave of nostalgia swept over me and I remembered when I had 2 offices. 1 on post and the second in a Tea Room in Itaewon. Monday thru Thursday I would be in the tea room with mamasan and her family conducting business. Friday and Saturday nights in a Korean country western bar eating Bulgogi and listening to "The Battle of New Orleans" and "Sink the Bismark" etc. And I loved both.
   Incidentally, I'm thinking about writing my bio here or maybe on another blog. I've had a sufficiently off the wall life. As I think back, it's a wonder I still have what sanity I do.

2d entry today:

Holy Shit
I had to stop myself. Last night as I was going home, a very good friend and EXTREMELY accomplished person asked why I didn't have a Lifeline type device to call 911 when I have a seizure. I found there is no such thing. I want one anyway. 
Starting with a bunch of medical brains and moving to design brains I started organizing a network of various disciplines to get me a Epilepsy Lifeline thingy.
I realized what I was doing just before I got GE Aerodynamics involved.
Who said you can never go back?

I Write Because I Can't Talk

Sometimes subjects come up in conversations with me that I can't talk about. For some reason my throat constricts and I tear up. It's annoying as hell. One came up this morning when I decided to go to work. My wife asked "why?". Well, unfortunately I'm one of those people that lays around at night asking the same question, "why?". Why do I insist on going into the money pit, as one person called it. I know it's a money pit.

I go because I have to. My body is screwed up. Between the pain and the constant fear of falling over face first into the toilet, I probably shouldn't come in. But that would be surrender, quitting. Every time a person quits one thing or gives in to fear, it's easier to quit or surrender the next time. When does it become easier to just stay asleep rather than wake up and do? It's not in me. God, I hope it's not in you either!
See the last paragraph in post of Wednesday, February 9, 2011 (From the Beginning.)
Disclaimer: I was insane and hallucinating at the time of the attempted escape (most notably that I was a POW and my thoughts were being monitored via a fiber optic cable inserted into my neck from a sensor planted in my head.).

For those who want to know

I just came home from the wound clinic. On the 28th of this month they will do an angiogram on me. I managed to convince the doctor who is doing it, that putting me to sleep is safest for all concerned. He believed that coming at a terrified, phobic retired soldier, with a big needle, may not be a great idea. My wife pointed out (on the way home) that I could just be tied down for a couple of hours. I didn't think of that at the office but I'll let arrangements stand.


Here's the reality:
1. I am terrified and phobic
2. I am brain damaged (hypoxia in the lower portion) from a previous problem
3. My friends have learned that 23 years of training don't disappear just because you're 60 years old. (Don't startle me, I now react faster than I think)

It takes all of the control I can muster to let a lab tech take a sample. I used to watch the puncture and blood fill the little tube. Now I Turn my head AND close my eyes.

What got my attention mostly was this doctors inability to appreciate the extent of my fear. He got hung up on the technical (It's just a needle I stick into your groin...) and was completely incapable of see from my perspective. It was only after I included the possibility of damage to his wrist, arm or shoulder that he started listening.
Why?

From the beginning

I get yelled at a lot, by people who love me, because of things I do, or don't do. I'm scared, really scared, for the first time in my life. For anybody that knows me and what I've done that's quite a lot to say. I'm scared  because of what happened in the fairly recent past and I still remember it. The "Shit Happens" argument doesn't work because that's what I'm scared of. Shit happening again. I still remember my hallucinations, being woken up from coma to ask if I wanted morphine to stop the pain of having some tubes pulled out of my chest. The blinding pain of arterial blood samples taken at every shift change. Sitting around for a year and a half wondering where the missing hard drive I backed myself onto was lost and what was on it. I still remember the day I woke up and saw my wife and daughter standing next to my bed, trying to talk to them and finally realizing they couldn't understand a word I said because I lost my language. Losing 77 pounds and being so weak I couldn't hold my head up, let alone wipe my own ass. Waking up in the middle of the night thinking I was a prisoner and trying to escape. (I got as far as the floor in a bloody, shit covered mess.) The 3 headed dongle that hung out of my neck for dialysis and had to be changed three times due to infection. (Incidentally it was an NP that got me off that. My doc gave me 10000:1 odds of getting off dialysis.) 

I know what I need to do. But damn, don't preach at me. I'm still terrified.

Holy Crap - 2 Subjects

1. Superbowl - Christina Aguilera, in fact all the entertainment I saw last night was an inch past detestable. I didn't think LCD TVs smelled bad and then I looked down ans saw that I had vomited in my lap. In fact, just remembering it makes me want to...


2. About Me - We all know about my crying. I think I've figured it out. Actually a friend of mine figured it out a while ago, told me and was immediately dismissed. I'm overly empathetic. It's that simple. Once upon a time I was a (professionally) cold hearted SOB. Grinding people is what I did for a living. I had been tested by a certain unnamed agency (a modified MMPI) and found suitable for what I did.
  I believe the Mandala has come around. Even small things bother me now. Earlier example: In On The Beach everybody knew they were going to die from radiation. But they didn't let that stop their lives. Now whenever I hear Waltzing Matilda I'm off.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l_o8vX8lGss&feature=related

Another memory

Today is Superbowl Sunday. While stationed in Pirmasens, FRG tonight people would come from all over northern Europe to watch the game. They came from as far away as Flensburg and Holland. And of course my section was there. The children (supposedly) were locked up in back. Language could get pretty foul with a bunch of combat arms soldiers watching a ball game and full of beer. We would down as much Parkbrau as we could find. The game was taped and after the game duplicated to be sent out to the units our friends came from. AFN didn't reach them.
  This wasn't a solitary event. New Years Eve was at Jeff and Vanessas. July 4th started at the fireworks behind the chapel then move to Dave and Glorias. Thanksgiving was held at a gasthaus out in the woods on BS10. Even the Germans liked to party with us.
 I hear people talk about lovefest at Woodstock. Not Even close.

Things I never figured out

While writing my last post, I started remembering other incidents from my life that seem inexplicable.
I'm going to list them as they come back to me here. I'll probably be updating this post as time goes by. I don't know if you'll be notified but what the hell.
 My last position on active duty was considered extremely sensitive. I was responsive to the NCA. I conducted investigations for NSA. I managed the cryptosystems for Nuclear release for NATO.
 After I got hit in the head and my epilepsy started it was decided I could continue doing my work. When the doctors reported that Dilantin was controlling my epilepsy, my access was pulled. I was OK to be epileptic and have grand mal seizures, but when the seizures were controlled it was not acceptable. Dilantin is/was considered a psychoactive drug. That's when I decided to retire.
I'll be adding here as I remember.

How to evaluate a patient

Doctor: Where does it hurt?
Patient: Right now it doesn't. The pain is transient and mostly in my left foot.
Doctor: So, your hip hurts? When did that start?
Patient: About 2 years ago.
Doc: So, both of you hips hurt and you can't walk?
Pat: No, one hip hurts but I walk.
Doc: And your legs hurt so bad you can't walk.
Pat: I walked here. I can and do walk.
Doc: No, no. Your legs hurt so bad you can't walk. And both your hips are in pain.
Pat: Wrong. I'm not saying it again. My hip hurts because your therapist walked off and I fell over backward. My legs don't hurt. The bottom of my feet hurt.
Doc: Come back next week and don't get your foot wet.

The above is a pretty close transcript to my last encounter.

The terrors are back.

I just found out that I need an angiogram of some artery in my abdomen, probably followed by a stent implant.
Meaning: To them a routine procedure clearly outlined in some book.
To me, another chance for HIT and several weeks in coma, loss of most of my muscle mass, destruction of my kidneys, learning to walk and talk again thru weeks of physical therapy.
Who here thinks I should have a big sign made that says "NO HEPARIN ALLOWED HERE!" and hang it around my neck.
On the way home from the hospital I had a waking dream. It was a bunch of doctors dancing around a fire shaking my body parts and pointing to my conscious head in a pickle bottle.

Something's up

For the first time my doctor didn't yell at me to quit smoking, just to cut back. I may be a lot of things but I don't think stupid is one of them. My heart/lungs are working well. No COPD. No congestion. No coughing. The rest of me is falling apart. I have a feeling they suspect something but aren't telling me until it's confirmed. A periodic cigarette helps reduce the pain in my legs. I wasn't offered pain killers. Just told to cut back on smoking and quit eventually.

All I want to do is sleep

Well, it's been a week since my last seizure. I seem to have sufferred no severe aftereffects except one. All I want to do is sleep. I would happily lie down anywhere at any time and go to sleep.
  I know that a bunch of people that read my drivel are medical types. My question is: Is it from the seizures or just from an increased depression?
  I do seem to cry a lot more for the ridiculous. I have no control over it. I see or hear something and I tear up. I don't feel especially depressed. I can cry about something while at the same time satirizing it. I've given up on being selective about what I watch or listen to. I'd rather watch 'On The Beach' and cry all the way thru it than miss the movie. (One of the things that set me off is seeing acts of extreme courage.) I don't know why watching a well shot documentary of Yosemite does me in. All I Know is that it started after I woke up from coma in 2008. The shrink said it was probably because of hypoxia and a few dead brain cells. Opinions?

An Opinion Poll

OK, here's the deal. Yesterday I wrote that I had a seizure last Wednesday. The seizure itself isn't very important, been doing it for 22 years. But, it's the first time I came out of a seizure hallucinating. Is that a good or bad sign?

My Circles

The situation: 2 (?) days ago I had another seizure. (Epileptic due to TBI) I was taken to the hospital and injected with Ativan. That evening I was let go. I take Dilantin (700mg daily) and was at the high end of therapeutic levels. I'm also a category 3 kidney patient. I was on dialysis because I am allergic to Heparin and found out the hard way.
Dilantin works thru binding to protein. My kidneys are screwed so I spill protein. By spilling protein I spill Dilantin. My levels drop so I go Grand Mal. Upon going GM I am taken to the hospital and automatically injected with Ativan. The only way to get rid of the Ativan is to pee it out. Peeing it out I spill protein. By spilling protein I spill Dilantin. My levels drop so I go Grand Mal. Upon going GM I am taken to the hospital and automatically injected with Ativan. The only way to get rid of the Ativan is to pee it out. My levels drop so I go Grand Mal. Upon going GM I am taken to the hospital and automatically injected with Ativan. The only way to get rid of the Ativan is ...
I'll be back soon. Gotta go pee.

HAPPY NEW YEAR

Very short today. Something I adopted a while ago but never explained.
Never leave loved ones without kissing them good-bye, even if you're angry. You never know what'll happen 10 minutes from now.

Crackers anyone?

The other day I exposed a friend to this blog. After he browsed thru it he came back and asked me why I use so many quotes.
I explained him that those people were smarter than me. Why should I expose myself as a fool when I can fill all this space with the words of smart people and in doing so look smart myself.
After all, why should I sound like a politician when I can steal the words of Socrates? I'm a fool. The odds are so are you. The difference is I know it. I think I would rather talk to a person that quotes Confucius all the time than have to listen to his inane blather.
Being with a well educated parrot is superior to listening to the meanderings of a fool. Oh yeah, I'm a fool.

'Twas the day after Christmas.

Watching the news this a.m. I saw that Pamela Anderson was wanted by the IRS for $150,000 back taxes. As the story was presented pics of her were shown. She was born the year I graduated from high school. She looks like she;s my age. The reason for this blather is actually out of curiosity. Why is she in the news? Poor Pam is a model of depravity. The only reason the public is aware of her is because she made a porn film with her rock star husband. (I can't remember his name.) She has no talent other than random copulation. What the hell is this creature doing on my TV? What next? Is PBS going to make a 10 part documentary on the Marquis de Sade for Sesame Street?
The unfortunate truth is we have become the new Rome. Obama should go to Capri as to stay in keeping with the people he wants to be. He is following in the tracks of the Ceasers.
He has and still is creating blindly loyal bureaucracies. During the campaign we were encouraged to turn in the names of people that didn't agree with him. A lesson learned from STASI.
His bureaucracies are trying to seize control of media sources and and limit interaction between citizens. (Net Neutrality has been incepted by bureaucratic fiat, no congress involved.)
The health care(?) bill is firmly rooted in eugenics. Read it, I've gotten thru a lot of it. The constant and continual use of our money to create a dependent underclass that would be forever linked to his party, sort of like what the solid south was. (Incidentally, the loyal opposition is no better. Politicians would sell their mothers into white slavery to finance a campaign.) The cap and trade bill is designed to give the government control over resources. Has anyone noticed the centrally managed delivery of electricity as advertised by GE?
What does the first part of this have to do with the second part? Pam is a distraction. The crotch waving celebrities of no other talent have taken our eye from what is really happening in this country. The camel toe is thrown in your face as a voice says "Vote Obama".
The mixed martial arts shows have become our new gladiators and the christians the new christians. With a seemingly unending bloodlust and a completely undeserved feeling of intellectuality we gleefully watch intentionally induced mayhem while attempting to resign the forces of integrity into the margins by screaming "separation of church and state". (I would prefer the statement be "separation of state from church".)
Our moral compass has become inverted. As I've said before, I don't care if you believe in God, just live as if you do.

Hard Day at Red Rock

Today has been wonderfully hard to deal with.
It's the Tuesday before Christmas and I'm getting somewhat overwhelmed. For those of you that don't know I've suffered 2 serious brain injuries in my life. The first left me with epilepsy and the second emotionally off center. I think the second is the most troubling. I'm not really depressed but certain things make me cry. Spontaneously. No reason apparent. Things of extreme beauty like Yellowstone Park. Heroism like a construction worker lowering himself into a waterfall to save a mother and child. Some movies, most noticeably "On the Beach". etc.
Just a few minutes ago a customer walked into my shop and gave me a Christmas present. I'm crying.

About Art

Recently I became involved in an on line discussion about art. I am sure that the person I am/was chatting with have different concepts of what constitutes art.

To me it is a drive emanating from inside the human spirit. It demands the attention of other human spirits. It does not require a degree in art appreciation. A piece of real art stops you in you tracks. It makes you question whether or not you've been human enough. My literary character heroes are Don Quixote and Sam Gamgee. Whenever I see "The Persistence of Time" I'm torn between laughing and crying at the truth of it. MLKs "Dream" speech angers me because of what it tells me what we aren't. The cave paintings of France remind us all of the need to leave footprints.The Temples at Karnak remind us of how puny we are. The writings of Vonnegut make me think of what a ridiculous species we are. Art isn't in the eye of the beholder. It's in his soul.

I don't know know quite how to write this one.

I look around, I listen to people around me and I'm lost.
 What's wrong with you stupid assholes? You trample each other to get a TV! And you think this is OK! Kill for a half price uplift bra?
 Stop! Go down to the nearest halfprice bookstore and get a copy of The Aristos. Read it. If you got the cash fly to the amazon basin and live with the head hunters for a couple of months. They see life right.
 On Christmas Eve, don't pack presents. Take your kids into the living room by the tree, turn out the lights and read the Christmas Carol to them. I don't care if you're an athiest. The night isn't about the birth of some kid 2000 years ago. It's about the birth of what you can be. I don't know if there is an afterlife (although having been dead I think there is) but live as if there is. Believe in Santa Claus. We'll all be a lot better off.