.
.
The doc said my arteries are as clear as could be wildly hoped for them to be. They also did a vascular survey and it seems that my heart 'electronics' are exactly where they should be, which means the medicine is actually working, according to him. The procedure, so far, has been a non-event. Oh, sure, there were and remain some odd tickles, pains, and stiffness. Without shoes and socks, my right foot feels like someone took the ball part of a ballpean hammer, and while I was chilled to the bone, smacked it good and hard. From the bottom of my foot into odd parts of my lower leg, it feels, I suppose I could say, as if something shivered me timber.
Oh, and while I was there, I had a nurse who was being a stickler to detail. I found out that I am not 6'4", or 6'3,3/4", or even 6'3,1/2". I am actually... 6'5" and maybe a half or a quarter more. She couldn't quite reach for that last bit and it was right on the edge of being the max. Because my weight is fluctuating, both with eating more with my mother cooking, doing less as I am still a little weak, and water weight oddities, I can't quite say I am below 30% bmi. What I can say is, for once, getting on the scales might actually have helped in that score, for what it is worth. I honestly didn't realize that I was 6'5", plus. Odd. Then again, most people are very lazy. Rather than bringing a chair over to get it right, they just slop measure me.
I'm still walking a little funny. I am worn out. All the good news was nice though. I suppose it was worth it. I think my mother enjoyed getting away, but hospitals are hospitals, as far as that goes. When it isn't terrifying it is boring. She made due with reading materials and such. The hotel was okay, safe and clean, and with a decent city scape scene.
We stopped at one of the many fresh fruit and vegetable markets on the way home. Peaches, fresh local grown, and ready! She bought a few more things for salsa and this and that. All good. I think I am about to crawl into my pajamas, because they are easier to deal with. I'll just put on a pair of socks and hope that tends the foot a bit. And, I think, that is about it for me for a bit. If she wants to go somewhere tomorrow, she will probably have to drive unless I feel a lot better tomorrow. I do love to drive though, so we will see.
Later or possibly good night.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Well, tomorrow is the day.
.
.
I'll be out of town for a bit. The prognosis is good though. The chance of a serious problem during the angiography, angioplasty, or adding a stint or several, is in the 1% to 2% range. Even given my luck I should be fine. And, my mother can't say a thing about me 'taking it easy'! Heh. No, she is fine, she is just a busy woman and loves having a little company sometimes. And I like to help, I don't get the chance often, being mostly useless to most of the rest of the world.
I did get information regarding the clinic appointments, but I didn't receive any other information, so I called and called and called. After about an hour, I made contact with someone who knows about the procedure. I have to be there an hour early to get blood work, I need to fast from midnight on (hopefully I will sleep through that, ack!), but I am unsure if I was supposed to take the medicine in the morning or not. Some definitely not, but all of it? I am not doing well today, so attention span is weak. But talking to someone with English as a second language doesn't help. Ah well. I also signed up for online information with the V.A. After I check in and sign up personally, I can then check and order medicine, by name, online, check and change appointments if needed, have direct contact with my clinics and doctors, and some other gunk. Looks good to me.
My mother wanted to ask me something today. I was a bit nervous about it, because when she says she wants to talk, it usually means someone died, or something really bad, otherwise she just says it, usually. So, after I got up and seemed more awake, she asked if I would allow my brother to contact me. Oh, I know. I said I wouldn't consider it. I said it was his fault and I had tried, many times, to horrific rejection. He is taking the blame for it, too. Oh well. I can't refuse, and wouldn't if I could (which, actually, I could, I just won't). But I just don't want it starting about blame or the past or apologies. Just start off with where we are today and what we are planning for tomorrow, as if nothing happened, at the very least for now. If in time he wants to talk about the past, perhaps. But not now. That is the only non-negotiable.
I best get ready. Something like three sets of unders, socks shorts and at least one t-shirt, two pair of jeans, three shirts, and personal kit. I probably won't take soap or shampoo and conditioner. We will be in a decent hotel, not a spooky motel, so I can assume a bit. Hmm, a shower first though. Hmm, I best take a book or two as well. They probably won't let me move much and I might not feel like it.
Have a good weekend. :)
.
I'll be out of town for a bit. The prognosis is good though. The chance of a serious problem during the angiography, angioplasty, or adding a stint or several, is in the 1% to 2% range. Even given my luck I should be fine. And, my mother can't say a thing about me 'taking it easy'! Heh. No, she is fine, she is just a busy woman and loves having a little company sometimes. And I like to help, I don't get the chance often, being mostly useless to most of the rest of the world.
I did get information regarding the clinic appointments, but I didn't receive any other information, so I called and called and called. After about an hour, I made contact with someone who knows about the procedure. I have to be there an hour early to get blood work, I need to fast from midnight on (hopefully I will sleep through that, ack!), but I am unsure if I was supposed to take the medicine in the morning or not. Some definitely not, but all of it? I am not doing well today, so attention span is weak. But talking to someone with English as a second language doesn't help. Ah well. I also signed up for online information with the V.A. After I check in and sign up personally, I can then check and order medicine, by name, online, check and change appointments if needed, have direct contact with my clinics and doctors, and some other gunk. Looks good to me.
My mother wanted to ask me something today. I was a bit nervous about it, because when she says she wants to talk, it usually means someone died, or something really bad, otherwise she just says it, usually. So, after I got up and seemed more awake, she asked if I would allow my brother to contact me. Oh, I know. I said I wouldn't consider it. I said it was his fault and I had tried, many times, to horrific rejection. He is taking the blame for it, too. Oh well. I can't refuse, and wouldn't if I could (which, actually, I could, I just won't). But I just don't want it starting about blame or the past or apologies. Just start off with where we are today and what we are planning for tomorrow, as if nothing happened, at the very least for now. If in time he wants to talk about the past, perhaps. But not now. That is the only non-negotiable.
I best get ready. Something like three sets of unders, socks shorts and at least one t-shirt, two pair of jeans, three shirts, and personal kit. I probably won't take soap or shampoo and conditioner. We will be in a decent hotel, not a spooky motel, so I can assume a bit. Hmm, a shower first though. Hmm, I best take a book or two as well. They probably won't let me move much and I might not feel like it.
Have a good weekend. :)
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Dinner, gun cleaning, and done.
.
.
I was able to shop solo for my mother. I bought a grip bar for the shower, and hope to have it installed tomorrow. Depending on if she likes it. I may need to get a shorter one. I stopped at Home Depot for the bar, tape, and some razor scrapers. Then I made it to the store and picked up everything but a fly swatter, but because it wasn't available and I was 'done'. I made it home, helped unpack (why she won't let me do what I can I will never know). She made a bit of food for me, a delicious egg, fried potato, and salsa burrito.
We did a few things, but it came time to pick up my friend for dinner. He was a bit miffed, as he had hoped (without telling me) that I would pick him up closer to 13:00 (it was well after 16:00, nearly 17:00 when I arrived). I had no notion that he would be free until 15:00 at the earliest. But a fried chicken, fresh corn, mashed potatoes and gravy, with a glass of milk soothed his savage beast right down.
We then cleaned guns. I did my .45 and .22 Henry, he did his .45 and his .357. My mother indicated that I will not be going shooting this weekend. With my condition being weakened by the procedure, at best, she thinks Sunday would be a better day to drive around and look over the other side of the mountains to my west. It's a single mountain chain that leads down into another valley. Though I don't think there is another set of mountains for some distance beyond them. It is a nice ride though, I like it, though I had nothing to do with her choice. She just... wants to see the other side. That is, if everything goes well Friday.
As well, I plan to have him back Wednesday again, to clean the rest of our guns. Hey, after such a meal, it is difficult to do much or to do it quickly. Plus, he will get another meal on the house. I may ask my mother if she wishes for me to cook it. No, really. I am thinking roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy (all of us love that), and something something else. She may choose to cook, she likes to cook. I am just wanting to offer her a break if she wants it. Women are crazy, even if she says yes, or no, she will probably change her mind on the way and end up doing it no matter what she ever says. Ah well, I do try, sort of. :p
Have a good night. I think I shall rant no more on this fine night. Sleep and such should suffice to find me less foul, should I have been so today. Good night once more.
.
I was able to shop solo for my mother. I bought a grip bar for the shower, and hope to have it installed tomorrow. Depending on if she likes it. I may need to get a shorter one. I stopped at Home Depot for the bar, tape, and some razor scrapers. Then I made it to the store and picked up everything but a fly swatter, but because it wasn't available and I was 'done'. I made it home, helped unpack (why she won't let me do what I can I will never know). She made a bit of food for me, a delicious egg, fried potato, and salsa burrito.
We did a few things, but it came time to pick up my friend for dinner. He was a bit miffed, as he had hoped (without telling me) that I would pick him up closer to 13:00 (it was well after 16:00, nearly 17:00 when I arrived). I had no notion that he would be free until 15:00 at the earliest. But a fried chicken, fresh corn, mashed potatoes and gravy, with a glass of milk soothed his savage beast right down.
We then cleaned guns. I did my .45 and .22 Henry, he did his .45 and his .357. My mother indicated that I will not be going shooting this weekend. With my condition being weakened by the procedure, at best, she thinks Sunday would be a better day to drive around and look over the other side of the mountains to my west. It's a single mountain chain that leads down into another valley. Though I don't think there is another set of mountains for some distance beyond them. It is a nice ride though, I like it, though I had nothing to do with her choice. She just... wants to see the other side. That is, if everything goes well Friday.
As well, I plan to have him back Wednesday again, to clean the rest of our guns. Hey, after such a meal, it is difficult to do much or to do it quickly. Plus, he will get another meal on the house. I may ask my mother if she wishes for me to cook it. No, really. I am thinking roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy (all of us love that), and something something else. She may choose to cook, she likes to cook. I am just wanting to offer her a break if she wants it. Women are crazy, even if she says yes, or no, she will probably change her mind on the way and end up doing it no matter what she ever says. Ah well, I do try, sort of. :p
Have a good night. I think I shall rant no more on this fine night. Sleep and such should suffice to find me less foul, should I have been so today. Good night once more.
Oh right.
.
.
The problem, put simply, is that too many American men are
but want to be
realizing neither is worth being. The internet is pretty much full of these types.
.
The problem, put simply, is that too many American men are
but want to be
realizing neither is worth being. The internet is pretty much full of these types.
I am not sure.
.
.
I am not certain I am for Perry yet. To this point, probably. But I like the direction he suggests and the way he says it. We don't need another soft-on-America politician, like Romney, who seems to believe in the state over the citizen. And we don't need more politicians who have never actually, you know, done anything but run for minor offices. Nor does a businessman seem to be a wise choice. No matter how successful, business isn't politics. Much like you don't put a pro football player into world class swimming competitions, blindly based on his other accomplishments.
It is funny. I hear people complain about the feminization of the military, the queerification of the military, the immoralization of education, the islamification of America and Europe, and all the rest, and yet then turn around and despise the real solutions to the problems. Why can't we offer special rights AND not have these things? They might as well ask why we can't fly. If they have to ask, they are lost. Whatever. I don't receive responses to my comments anymore because I put it the way it is, not the way it should be, or could be in some fantasy land. And that is fine. All I am saying is if you are going to complain about it, then don't turn around and support it. You can't have it both ways. I have decided, other than on personal matters or with those few of you I usually chat with, comments are off (as much as is possible).
You can't pick one or two groups to support, but not the rest. Just like you can't pick some government glut spending and not other spending. It ends up that everyone picks too much. Special rights and glut spending has to end for America to remain free. Or, more, regain freedom. Even so, even should we do the right things, we will do so under the yoke of a huge debt. Nothing will cure that now. Best to decide whether to freely begin working to get out from under that yoke or choose to live with it and without freedom on top of it.
.
I am not certain I am for Perry yet. To this point, probably. But I like the direction he suggests and the way he says it. We don't need another soft-on-America politician, like Romney, who seems to believe in the state over the citizen. And we don't need more politicians who have never actually, you know, done anything but run for minor offices. Nor does a businessman seem to be a wise choice. No matter how successful, business isn't politics. Much like you don't put a pro football player into world class swimming competitions, blindly based on his other accomplishments.
It is funny. I hear people complain about the feminization of the military, the queerification of the military, the immoralization of education, the islamification of America and Europe, and all the rest, and yet then turn around and despise the real solutions to the problems. Why can't we offer special rights AND not have these things? They might as well ask why we can't fly. If they have to ask, they are lost. Whatever. I don't receive responses to my comments anymore because I put it the way it is, not the way it should be, or could be in some fantasy land. And that is fine. All I am saying is if you are going to complain about it, then don't turn around and support it. You can't have it both ways. I have decided, other than on personal matters or with those few of you I usually chat with, comments are off (as much as is possible).
You can't pick one or two groups to support, but not the rest. Just like you can't pick some government glut spending and not other spending. It ends up that everyone picks too much. Special rights and glut spending has to end for America to remain free. Or, more, regain freedom. Even so, even should we do the right things, we will do so under the yoke of a huge debt. Nothing will cure that now. Best to decide whether to freely begin working to get out from under that yoke or choose to live with it and without freedom on top of it.
Another day.
.
.
I worked as long as I could but ran out of steam. I took a nap shortly after that last post. I woke up every hour, but couldn't rise until three hours had passed. My mother was finished with the day by then. I asked if she wanted me to go to the store. For whatever reason she wants to go too. So that is planned for the morning. Tomorrow, when my friend is here, she will be making a really nice meal. We will be cleaning guns.
One of my neighbors brought vegetables over from his garden tonight. It is quite a nice thing to do and is greatly appreciated. I wish I could offer them something back but I have little in the way of anything to offer, but thanks. Which I do offer.
I am not sure, but even with the nap, life is a bit tough right now. I am doing little, moving slower, and tired again. I plan to go to town with my mother, shopping. I think I could do it myself, easier. But then maybe not. In times like these I "prefer" to rest and just go when I can, feel up to it a bit more. No more pushing, though. I really hit it hard the other night. If I have to I will let her drive home on the return trip, though driving isn't much of a stress.
I still haven't received information regarding the angiography. It would be nice to know how long I need to fast, whether I can drink water, and such. I haven't checked the mail in a bit. If this information isn't in the mail tomorrow, I will call and get the data.
Good night.
.
I worked as long as I could but ran out of steam. I took a nap shortly after that last post. I woke up every hour, but couldn't rise until three hours had passed. My mother was finished with the day by then. I asked if she wanted me to go to the store. For whatever reason she wants to go too. So that is planned for the morning. Tomorrow, when my friend is here, she will be making a really nice meal. We will be cleaning guns.
One of my neighbors brought vegetables over from his garden tonight. It is quite a nice thing to do and is greatly appreciated. I wish I could offer them something back but I have little in the way of anything to offer, but thanks. Which I do offer.
I am not sure, but even with the nap, life is a bit tough right now. I am doing little, moving slower, and tired again. I plan to go to town with my mother, shopping. I think I could do it myself, easier. But then maybe not. In times like these I "prefer" to rest and just go when I can, feel up to it a bit more. No more pushing, though. I really hit it hard the other night. If I have to I will let her drive home on the return trip, though driving isn't much of a stress.
I still haven't received information regarding the angiography. It would be nice to know how long I need to fast, whether I can drink water, and such. I haven't checked the mail in a bit. If this information isn't in the mail tomorrow, I will call and get the data.
Good night.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
I have been doing little things.
.
.
Lots of them. I am about done, however. This last thing, my mother wanted me to put up a curtain rod on the back door. She thought the nails that came with the kit would be fine, but I suspected wood screws would do better. And I was right. She is good with what needs to be done, fail on how to do it. So, I got the thing up. I looked out and was just about to tell her when I thought better of it.
I looked at her, about to connect to someone on her cell phone so well and properly distracted. And with a straighter face then the best poker player and in a serious tone, I said, "It's bad, I'm going to have to take the door off to get the rod on". She looked at me, and thought, scrunching her face like she does when something isn't quite right. I then told her, nah, it's up. She then said, "Bring me a hammer". And I said, in a definite tone, "Not while you're angry"! Then I ducked in and am in hiding for a bit.
I do like being a pest. I really do. *evil grins*
.
Lots of them. I am about done, however. This last thing, my mother wanted me to put up a curtain rod on the back door. She thought the nails that came with the kit would be fine, but I suspected wood screws would do better. And I was right. She is good with what needs to be done, fail on how to do it. So, I got the thing up. I looked out and was just about to tell her when I thought better of it.
I looked at her, about to connect to someone on her cell phone so well and properly distracted. And with a straighter face then the best poker player and in a serious tone, I said, "It's bad, I'm going to have to take the door off to get the rod on". She looked at me, and thought, scrunching her face like she does when something isn't quite right. I then told her, nah, it's up. She then said, "Bring me a hammer". And I said, in a definite tone, "Not while you're angry"! Then I ducked in and am in hiding for a bit.
I do like being a pest. I really do. *evil grins*
Ah, okay. I think I almost popped yesterday.
.
.
I didn't realize it when it happened, and not until I had settled down quite a bit. But I think yesterday, during the hubbub, I came as close to a heart attack as I have ever been. I think, normally, when I get that bad, I have a set of things I can do to alter the proceedings. Slowing down, cooling down, blasting the CD player or turning it down (yes, loud helps sometimes), perhaps a nap, a number of things, depending on where I am, to change the flow of events. Even quiet inflective prayers help sometimes.
I also am beginning to think that exterior factors, such as work, stress, and such, sometimes only have a minor impact on when those things happen. Sometimes that will happen for absolutely no external reason. Because, as I think about things, I really haven't been working all that hard. Bending over a lot might be the biggest problem, regarding physical work. And heat was probably the biggest external stressor. And trying to shop with my mother, in the heat, while stressed, would have been the largest mental stress. Gah! I love her but she shops low, slow, and stops everywhere. But to be honest, she is a good shopper. She remembers lists she didn't bring and alternative fixes for things. I think I can do fine, but not so long, so hot, when so tired. Though too, sometimes this, like I said, happens for no reason at all. Getting home isn't quite what I used to believe it to be. I am having to switch from thinking it is mental to understanding it is merely because my body is telling me if I don't get home, it will fail.
A good night of sleep has helped me get things right. I couldn't get to bed until after midnight but I was up by 9:00. I think I slept well and fell asleep relatively quickly. My waking was nice too, starting at probably around 8:30 and slowly percolating to the 9:00 lift-off. My mother feels bad about it, because she just thought it was an emotional reaction. Now that she realizes it was a physical problem, it bothers her. From now on, if I have to go, I will have to ask her to drop everything and then come back in later or another day. I can often do that. Especially if all I have to do is drive or be the passenger.
I know she wants to go to the grocery store today. Morning or evening is best. She may also want to go somewhere else. My trick, today, will be to stop somewhere, or take a bottle of Gatorade with, though there are a few other tricks I have. When I shop, I can do it very fast (more so when I remember to bring my list). If she lets me shop, she will have what she wants in five minutes, rather than the thirty to forty five minutes she would take (but nothing, or almost nothing, from other lists gets bought). Boom, boom, done, and that actually makes shopping doable for me. A slow pace kills me, literally I am thinking now. I'm a hunter, not a gatherer. :)
I could be wrong about the heart attack. I don't really know the symptoms. Oh, sure, I have read them. I have also read real people reporting on it. I think it is completely individual. Perhaps pushing, too, is good. I don't know. I do know I will continue to work, though pace myself a bit better, if possible. It hit from my blindside, like a Mack truck though, yesterday. But I did most of the right things. I just couldn't go straight home. I'll figure it out. Anyway, Friday is when they will be looking at my arteries and such.
Have a great day.
.
I didn't realize it when it happened, and not until I had settled down quite a bit. But I think yesterday, during the hubbub, I came as close to a heart attack as I have ever been. I think, normally, when I get that bad, I have a set of things I can do to alter the proceedings. Slowing down, cooling down, blasting the CD player or turning it down (yes, loud helps sometimes), perhaps a nap, a number of things, depending on where I am, to change the flow of events. Even quiet inflective prayers help sometimes.
I also am beginning to think that exterior factors, such as work, stress, and such, sometimes only have a minor impact on when those things happen. Sometimes that will happen for absolutely no external reason. Because, as I think about things, I really haven't been working all that hard. Bending over a lot might be the biggest problem, regarding physical work. And heat was probably the biggest external stressor. And trying to shop with my mother, in the heat, while stressed, would have been the largest mental stress. Gah! I love her but she shops low, slow, and stops everywhere. But to be honest, she is a good shopper. She remembers lists she didn't bring and alternative fixes for things. I think I can do fine, but not so long, so hot, when so tired. Though too, sometimes this, like I said, happens for no reason at all. Getting home isn't quite what I used to believe it to be. I am having to switch from thinking it is mental to understanding it is merely because my body is telling me if I don't get home, it will fail.
A good night of sleep has helped me get things right. I couldn't get to bed until after midnight but I was up by 9:00. I think I slept well and fell asleep relatively quickly. My waking was nice too, starting at probably around 8:30 and slowly percolating to the 9:00 lift-off. My mother feels bad about it, because she just thought it was an emotional reaction. Now that she realizes it was a physical problem, it bothers her. From now on, if I have to go, I will have to ask her to drop everything and then come back in later or another day. I can often do that. Especially if all I have to do is drive or be the passenger.
I know she wants to go to the grocery store today. Morning or evening is best. She may also want to go somewhere else. My trick, today, will be to stop somewhere, or take a bottle of Gatorade with, though there are a few other tricks I have. When I shop, I can do it very fast (more so when I remember to bring my list). If she lets me shop, she will have what she wants in five minutes, rather than the thirty to forty five minutes she would take (but nothing, or almost nothing, from other lists gets bought). Boom, boom, done, and that actually makes shopping doable for me. A slow pace kills me, literally I am thinking now. I'm a hunter, not a gatherer. :)
I could be wrong about the heart attack. I don't really know the symptoms. Oh, sure, I have read them. I have also read real people reporting on it. I think it is completely individual. Perhaps pushing, too, is good. I don't know. I do know I will continue to work, though pace myself a bit better, if possible. It hit from my blindside, like a Mack truck though, yesterday. But I did most of the right things. I just couldn't go straight home. I'll figure it out. Anyway, Friday is when they will be looking at my arteries and such.
Have a great day.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Too much, too hot, too long.
.
.
I got very snappy this afternoon. A culmination of many things. It was hot. I have been active every day for too long. My mother moves very slowly, looking at this and that, with no notion to buy. And finally the fact that since we were together, I couldn't just go home. I need to do that sometimes, but could not. I barked, no biting. I also apologized. But I am nearly on bed rest for a few days. I nearly passed out in Walmart. Simply put I was done. I went to the auto to wait, after letting her know, but she still took a long time to get out of there. Trapped, overheated, dehydrated, and done for.
We got home and slowly unpacked the car. I have been chugging Gatorade, which is helping. But it might be a bit before I am able to do much again. I took it to the line then way over it. Okay, I see that there is a real line which going over takes me too far out of my element to be civil. I hadn't gotten close to it before. I have always suspected, if I didn't actually know. Now I know. Feral is where going over that line takes me. Well, that and a few other lines.
We will be going to SLC Thursday. I like the place I chose to stay. There is even a large pool, more for my mother. It is relatively close to the V.A., I know the way well and it is rather straight forward. I have to be there at 6:00, so I am hoping there will be little traffic for the drive, which in heavy traffic would take no more than fifteen to twenty minutes, and ten minutes if it is light. Why the angiography scares me? First, because of what they are actually doing. Second, that after it is done I will be in critical care for four to six hours (and that is if it all works as planned). Then that they don't want me to drive for 24 hours after the procedure. But worse, they fibbed about the severity of the thing when they talked to me about it.
But more, if they do see blockage, they may well try to open in. Since I won't allow an open heart surgery, or any surgery really, if they mess up I am dead. I simply won't allow them to open me up and cripple me for life. Period. I won't even say I am truly frightened, I just know where I am coming from and they don't understand, yet. I think they were rather flip about it, and that doesn't provide much comfort. I don't like this, not at all. But it probably does need to be done, most likely just to check something off the list as a possible culprit. The good side is if they see blockage and can clear it without killing me, I might be back on my feet sooner than later. And perhaps another medicine addition might help keep it that way. It is worth a shot, but don't pull my short hairs about the potential dangers. That's all.
I went in to make sure my mom wasn't crying about my snap. It wasn't completely at her, but she got some of the splash. Actually, it wasn't all that long of a tirade either, or deep. But it was enough. A hug, a kiss, and another apology. Just so she knows. I know how heart-breaking that anger can be. She seems good. I got her a glass of ice-water and asked if she needed anything else. Nope, just reading until she can sleep and good for the night. But she does seem "good" about it. Even around the edges. We do seem to hurt the ones we love the most. Luckily my snap was short, if deep. Ugh.
Almost time for bed. The fan is going, the Gatorade is helping, nighttime medicines are down, Sam is enjoying popos attention and Sassy is... being the nutball she likes to be. All good. Good night.
.
I got very snappy this afternoon. A culmination of many things. It was hot. I have been active every day for too long. My mother moves very slowly, looking at this and that, with no notion to buy. And finally the fact that since we were together, I couldn't just go home. I need to do that sometimes, but could not. I barked, no biting. I also apologized. But I am nearly on bed rest for a few days. I nearly passed out in Walmart. Simply put I was done. I went to the auto to wait, after letting her know, but she still took a long time to get out of there. Trapped, overheated, dehydrated, and done for.
We got home and slowly unpacked the car. I have been chugging Gatorade, which is helping. But it might be a bit before I am able to do much again. I took it to the line then way over it. Okay, I see that there is a real line which going over takes me too far out of my element to be civil. I hadn't gotten close to it before. I have always suspected, if I didn't actually know. Now I know. Feral is where going over that line takes me. Well, that and a few other lines.
We will be going to SLC Thursday. I like the place I chose to stay. There is even a large pool, more for my mother. It is relatively close to the V.A., I know the way well and it is rather straight forward. I have to be there at 6:00, so I am hoping there will be little traffic for the drive, which in heavy traffic would take no more than fifteen to twenty minutes, and ten minutes if it is light. Why the angiography scares me? First, because of what they are actually doing. Second, that after it is done I will be in critical care for four to six hours (and that is if it all works as planned). Then that they don't want me to drive for 24 hours after the procedure. But worse, they fibbed about the severity of the thing when they talked to me about it.
But more, if they do see blockage, they may well try to open in. Since I won't allow an open heart surgery, or any surgery really, if they mess up I am dead. I simply won't allow them to open me up and cripple me for life. Period. I won't even say I am truly frightened, I just know where I am coming from and they don't understand, yet. I think they were rather flip about it, and that doesn't provide much comfort. I don't like this, not at all. But it probably does need to be done, most likely just to check something off the list as a possible culprit. The good side is if they see blockage and can clear it without killing me, I might be back on my feet sooner than later. And perhaps another medicine addition might help keep it that way. It is worth a shot, but don't pull my short hairs about the potential dangers. That's all.
I went in to make sure my mom wasn't crying about my snap. It wasn't completely at her, but she got some of the splash. Actually, it wasn't all that long of a tirade either, or deep. But it was enough. A hug, a kiss, and another apology. Just so she knows. I know how heart-breaking that anger can be. She seems good. I got her a glass of ice-water and asked if she needed anything else. Nope, just reading until she can sleep and good for the night. But she does seem "good" about it. Even around the edges. We do seem to hurt the ones we love the most. Luckily my snap was short, if deep. Ugh.
Almost time for bed. The fan is going, the Gatorade is helping, nighttime medicines are down, Sam is enjoying popos attention and Sassy is... being the nutball she likes to be. All good. Good night.
A deal with the devil?
.
.
It is sometimes more difficult to wake up in the mornings when I know I have much to do. It doesn't matter what I want. This is part of why I am often slow or late, too. And yet I don't want to quit or give up, and I want to help my mom. So I made a deal. I will wake up as early as I can, and more easily, if my mother gives me two hours to... wake up. Not a request for coffee, no asking for even 'a bit of work', nothing. Talk to me, that is fine, but not about work. She has agreed. No, this is what helps me wake up to get to whatever I try to do and every day, whether I get to something or not, whether she is here or not. She has agreed. And, this first morning, she did quite well.
I set my alarm for 7:00, and since I went to bed at 23:00 or so, I thought I had a chance. But I have been doing something for too many days in a row, and every day, and a lot of stuff (given my situation, condition). I did not wake until 9:00 or 10:00, and then I came out and did my morning reading. I could see she was biting her lip, but she did great. And I finished early, so I went in and let her know I was ready. Now I know why she was biting her lip though. I hadn't gotten the trash out and she didn't know when they came to pick it up! So, that was the first thing. Then kitty litter (which was actually pretty good, but weekly is the goal). It seems Sassy "went" in the middle of the kitchen. I think she is acting up because my mother is here. Or my mother was sitting at the table and Sassy didn't think she could make it through? Something.
Three or four or five tasks have been done since then, but it was time to sit. I let her know I was going to take a break, that I had little choice. And I didn't. I turn pale, get sweaty, and begin nearly feinting when it is time to sit. Yes, boys and girls, I have real limitations. Bending over a great deal is the heaviest strain and most, if not all, jobs this morning saw me bent over a great deal. At least, on the good side, with her still sick, I am 'keeping up' to a more narrowing seeming work ethic, for a guy in domestics against a gal, and all things being equal, and... such. Yes, I filled that statement with more caveats, exceptions, and 'buts' than is probably legal in proper English grammar, but it's all true!
Oh, I made one more deal with her. I have watched her, in amazement. And, I do like having a clean house. So, given a day of rest leading up to it, I want her to help me with my bedroom. But, I don't want her to touch a thing. I want her to teach me. I want her to tell me what to do with everything, and have me do it. The same with my bathroom on another day. If she can agree to touch nothing, I will agree to have zero veto power and no (as little as possible) lip. I want to learn to see how she sees, think how she thinks. I want to keep my place up but I am well and truly lost. Oh, I will promise, when she returns, there will always be work if she really wants it (and she does). But that the gnarly stuff won't be nearly so gnarly, or she can get me to do it.
Yes, yes, but my goal is to be as self-sufficient as possible. Not just for me, though if you have ever met an older cat person that reeks of cat, you must know the fear I have. And, further, I would like to have people over to my home for a meal once in a while. I haven't had my friends over in quite some time. I don't want to become a hermit through shame. Further, should I have tasks I cannot quite do, such as rewiring, or bringing the fusebox inside, or hooking up the electric water heater, or having my home inspected for energy conservation, I need to have a reasonably clean place. Shame is powerful, regardless of the reason.
So, the deals have been made. I would like to wonder who in the party to the deal is the devil, but... Well? No doubt who that would be with even an ounce of consideration. But I am actually trying. Later.
.
It is sometimes more difficult to wake up in the mornings when I know I have much to do. It doesn't matter what I want. This is part of why I am often slow or late, too. And yet I don't want to quit or give up, and I want to help my mom. So I made a deal. I will wake up as early as I can, and more easily, if my mother gives me two hours to... wake up. Not a request for coffee, no asking for even 'a bit of work', nothing. Talk to me, that is fine, but not about work. She has agreed. No, this is what helps me wake up to get to whatever I try to do and every day, whether I get to something or not, whether she is here or not. She has agreed. And, this first morning, she did quite well.
I set my alarm for 7:00, and since I went to bed at 23:00 or so, I thought I had a chance. But I have been doing something for too many days in a row, and every day, and a lot of stuff (given my situation, condition). I did not wake until 9:00 or 10:00, and then I came out and did my morning reading. I could see she was biting her lip, but she did great. And I finished early, so I went in and let her know I was ready. Now I know why she was biting her lip though. I hadn't gotten the trash out and she didn't know when they came to pick it up! So, that was the first thing. Then kitty litter (which was actually pretty good, but weekly is the goal). It seems Sassy "went" in the middle of the kitchen. I think she is acting up because my mother is here. Or my mother was sitting at the table and Sassy didn't think she could make it through? Something.
Three or four or five tasks have been done since then, but it was time to sit. I let her know I was going to take a break, that I had little choice. And I didn't. I turn pale, get sweaty, and begin nearly feinting when it is time to sit. Yes, boys and girls, I have real limitations. Bending over a great deal is the heaviest strain and most, if not all, jobs this morning saw me bent over a great deal. At least, on the good side, with her still sick, I am 'keeping up' to a more narrowing seeming work ethic, for a guy in domestics against a gal, and all things being equal, and... such. Yes, I filled that statement with more caveats, exceptions, and 'buts' than is probably legal in proper English grammar, but it's all true!
Oh, I made one more deal with her. I have watched her, in amazement. And, I do like having a clean house. So, given a day of rest leading up to it, I want her to help me with my bedroom. But, I don't want her to touch a thing. I want her to teach me. I want her to tell me what to do with everything, and have me do it. The same with my bathroom on another day. If she can agree to touch nothing, I will agree to have zero veto power and no (as little as possible) lip. I want to learn to see how she sees, think how she thinks. I want to keep my place up but I am well and truly lost. Oh, I will promise, when she returns, there will always be work if she really wants it (and she does). But that the gnarly stuff won't be nearly so gnarly, or she can get me to do it.
Yes, yes, but my goal is to be as self-sufficient as possible. Not just for me, though if you have ever met an older cat person that reeks of cat, you must know the fear I have. And, further, I would like to have people over to my home for a meal once in a while. I haven't had my friends over in quite some time. I don't want to become a hermit through shame. Further, should I have tasks I cannot quite do, such as rewiring, or bringing the fusebox inside, or hooking up the electric water heater, or having my home inspected for energy conservation, I need to have a reasonably clean place. Shame is powerful, regardless of the reason.
So, the deals have been made. I would like to wonder who in the party to the deal is the devil, but... Well? No doubt who that would be with even an ounce of consideration. But I am actually trying. Later.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Survival.
.
.
I keep seeing odd little tales or pieces of advice about how to survive. From books on personal self defense to the notion of surviving come what may. Of course, I look those things over. I think about what is written and the target audience. I am most perturbed by most of what I have read. To put it bluntly, if you are a man in your 30's or older, and you have never been in more than, say, two fist fights, you are in trouble. And women? You might learn to defend yourself against a very weak and poorly interested attacker, but don't even think about getting into 'the pit'. Many of these books or pieces of advice are very poorly targeted. Trust me, don't fight me, don't even think about it. Kill me, if you think you must, but don't fight me.
I honestly don't care if you have practiced martial arts since you were five years old. Unless you have been in real fighting situations, you have zero understanding. There are no rules when it comes to surviving. What of rules may exist now and in the future mean nothing during an encounter. Those are things that are tallied after the fact by people who really don't understand and often mean to not understand. They are a separate issue. Any time you are confronted by naked aggression of which you neither created nor anticipated, and whether you are the target or around the target therefore a secondary target, you are already in a SHTF scenario, a very localized one.
Learning how to use a gun, and practicing with it (or preferably them), is an excellent choice. I highly recommend it, that and gaining a permit to carry concealed. I also highly recommend that if you do so you do not think that makes you, somehow, magically safe now. Even if you have a permit or legal allowance to carry a gun and ammunition; are you willing to shoot a threat in a group of non-involved people? Are you willing to shoot at all? Will you have time to shoot? There are other questions, but that's a start.
If you have never been in a fight without rules, if you have never been in danger of losing it all, you really don't know how you will react. Why do you think they yell at people in military training, save for some of the tighter training (mostly)? It is to get people used to friend and enemy and the environment making lots of noise, in many ways, while the trainee is supposed to do his job anyway. The more advanced students are there at the trainer's leisure, yelling isn't important and is contrary to the training anyway. Get used to loud, boisterous, intolerable conditions. Go out and fight. If you really want to learn. And fight without rules. Or at least fight were the rules are rather loose if you fear that too much to begin. I recommend this only to men who are already combat trained, know where to go, and just need experience. And in another breath, I don't recommend it at all. You really might end up on a slab.
My advice, if you are older and unprepared, or a woman, is to become very aware and avoid confrontation. Know where you are and who is around you. Don't go to bad parts of towns, don't go to bars. Life is really simple. If you must take security risks, doing so in a group only slightly changes the odds of trouble. First, how well do you honestly know yourself? Then, how can you know your friends? No, really. Further, assuming you are right about them, what exactly can they do to fend off a serious threat? Oh? Really?
Survival doesn't always come down to being able to 'man up'. It often comes down to simply using your head, or legs when needed. It comes down to surrendering to degradation at times. It comes down to how much you will sell and how much you can buy. The strong may well be some of the first killed, along with the very weak. I don't think it will have a lot to do with physical ability, intelligence, wealth, or anything. It will have more to do with a willingness to survive. And to survive you will often suffer greatly. Don't worry about being the fastest gun, one against many will undo you. Don't worry about being able to fight your way through any enemy, you can't, eventually. Think about being prepared to suffer. And, actually, understand that won't always do it.
I don't think God chooses. I don't think Satan has the power to choose. Neither, in fact, do we. Oh, I will still prep. And I do know how to fight, shoot, and if I don't have the conscious will to survive, I just seem to do so anyway. But when it comes right down to it, I will usually choose not to fight, quite often by not providing an opponent. But if I have to fight, and I see it coming or not, and I think it is for all the marbles? I don't play fair, I play to win, and I don't worry about it at all. And yet I know that all it would take is one seeming friend with a gun behind his back, a bullet from 200 yards, or a baseball bat to the head (at least a half dozen times, so I really wouldn't try it alone) while I sleep. And I don't worry about that either.
No, don't read a book and buy a .38 and think you are good. It's a big world. When changes come, it will swallow you and Toto too. As uncomfortable as my advice may be, that is probably as good as it actually really gets. And that it is coming from a monster of a fighter and a decent shot, with tactical running around in my mind half of my waking hours, I would advise that you at least think about it.
.
I keep seeing odd little tales or pieces of advice about how to survive. From books on personal self defense to the notion of surviving come what may. Of course, I look those things over. I think about what is written and the target audience. I am most perturbed by most of what I have read. To put it bluntly, if you are a man in your 30's or older, and you have never been in more than, say, two fist fights, you are in trouble. And women? You might learn to defend yourself against a very weak and poorly interested attacker, but don't even think about getting into 'the pit'. Many of these books or pieces of advice are very poorly targeted. Trust me, don't fight me, don't even think about it. Kill me, if you think you must, but don't fight me.
I honestly don't care if you have practiced martial arts since you were five years old. Unless you have been in real fighting situations, you have zero understanding. There are no rules when it comes to surviving. What of rules may exist now and in the future mean nothing during an encounter. Those are things that are tallied after the fact by people who really don't understand and often mean to not understand. They are a separate issue. Any time you are confronted by naked aggression of which you neither created nor anticipated, and whether you are the target or around the target therefore a secondary target, you are already in a SHTF scenario, a very localized one.
Learning how to use a gun, and practicing with it (or preferably them), is an excellent choice. I highly recommend it, that and gaining a permit to carry concealed. I also highly recommend that if you do so you do not think that makes you, somehow, magically safe now. Even if you have a permit or legal allowance to carry a gun and ammunition; are you willing to shoot a threat in a group of non-involved people? Are you willing to shoot at all? Will you have time to shoot? There are other questions, but that's a start.
If you have never been in a fight without rules, if you have never been in danger of losing it all, you really don't know how you will react. Why do you think they yell at people in military training, save for some of the tighter training (mostly)? It is to get people used to friend and enemy and the environment making lots of noise, in many ways, while the trainee is supposed to do his job anyway. The more advanced students are there at the trainer's leisure, yelling isn't important and is contrary to the training anyway. Get used to loud, boisterous, intolerable conditions. Go out and fight. If you really want to learn. And fight without rules. Or at least fight were the rules are rather loose if you fear that too much to begin. I recommend this only to men who are already combat trained, know where to go, and just need experience. And in another breath, I don't recommend it at all. You really might end up on a slab.
My advice, if you are older and unprepared, or a woman, is to become very aware and avoid confrontation. Know where you are and who is around you. Don't go to bad parts of towns, don't go to bars. Life is really simple. If you must take security risks, doing so in a group only slightly changes the odds of trouble. First, how well do you honestly know yourself? Then, how can you know your friends? No, really. Further, assuming you are right about them, what exactly can they do to fend off a serious threat? Oh? Really?
Survival doesn't always come down to being able to 'man up'. It often comes down to simply using your head, or legs when needed. It comes down to surrendering to degradation at times. It comes down to how much you will sell and how much you can buy. The strong may well be some of the first killed, along with the very weak. I don't think it will have a lot to do with physical ability, intelligence, wealth, or anything. It will have more to do with a willingness to survive. And to survive you will often suffer greatly. Don't worry about being the fastest gun, one against many will undo you. Don't worry about being able to fight your way through any enemy, you can't, eventually. Think about being prepared to suffer. And, actually, understand that won't always do it.
I don't think God chooses. I don't think Satan has the power to choose. Neither, in fact, do we. Oh, I will still prep. And I do know how to fight, shoot, and if I don't have the conscious will to survive, I just seem to do so anyway. But when it comes right down to it, I will usually choose not to fight, quite often by not providing an opponent. But if I have to fight, and I see it coming or not, and I think it is for all the marbles? I don't play fair, I play to win, and I don't worry about it at all. And yet I know that all it would take is one seeming friend with a gun behind his back, a bullet from 200 yards, or a baseball bat to the head (at least a half dozen times, so I really wouldn't try it alone) while I sleep. And I don't worry about that either.
No, don't read a book and buy a .38 and think you are good. It's a big world. When changes come, it will swallow you and Toto too. As uncomfortable as my advice may be, that is probably as good as it actually really gets. And that it is coming from a monster of a fighter and a decent shot, with tactical running around in my mind half of my waking hours, I would advise that you at least think about it.
Sin.
.
.
I don't know why some things come to my mind, or why I write about this topic and not that one. All I know is sometimes some things seem to need to be written. This is one of those.
Sin has been on my mind lately. Well, sure, I have confessed to the major ones, the ones I know about or understand for what they are. And I have done that as honestly as I may. Details have been lost in time, but not what was done. I was forgiven these sins, and given a general forgiveness. And I have accepted that forgiveness, finally. But issues remain.
Chief of these issues is a concern regarding what must go with forgiveness or absolution. That is to go and sin no more, especially the same sin. I suppose I wonder, given the chance, would I commit that same sin again? If not in flesh, what about in my heart? I know the answer and I don't like it. I live with it in my heart even as I learn better to live without it in the flesh.
My lady friend was here, we slept in the same room on our trip. And I kept my hands, but not my heart, to myself. God knows. He knows all things. I did do what frustrated men do, privately of course, several times. This too is a sin. I cannot seem to fully get away from sin. You see, and this is a catch. It is required. While I have been vastly better at my choice of celibacy since the 'spring' of health upset the applecart. But that I have to try, pray, work at it, means it is still in there. And more, I would not wish to lose my interest in women. This is just one aspect of sin which bothers me. There are many topics, this one is simply one that most people understand. I think even women know this, if from their side of the conundrum.
I can't say for sure if I will eventually make it to heaven. I know what Christ suggested, I have read the bible, I try to understand what the Church says and means by it, I look to the Magisterium for guidance, I ask God to take over my life and live through me in a quarter of my prayers (the other prayers being over food or little thanks or requests for safe travel or health for myself or others). And I try to let Him come in and use me as He will.
Just saying, this has been on my mind for several weeks. No, I don't think I am dying. I merely think I am hitting something and I need to embrace it and work past it. God is so easy to work with that it is impossible at times. Faith, I suppose, is the anti-dote to doubt. Hope too. Charity must be the product of those two? I'll keep working on it. Childish as it may seem, that is where I am.
.
I don't know why some things come to my mind, or why I write about this topic and not that one. All I know is sometimes some things seem to need to be written. This is one of those.
Sin has been on my mind lately. Well, sure, I have confessed to the major ones, the ones I know about or understand for what they are. And I have done that as honestly as I may. Details have been lost in time, but not what was done. I was forgiven these sins, and given a general forgiveness. And I have accepted that forgiveness, finally. But issues remain.
Chief of these issues is a concern regarding what must go with forgiveness or absolution. That is to go and sin no more, especially the same sin. I suppose I wonder, given the chance, would I commit that same sin again? If not in flesh, what about in my heart? I know the answer and I don't like it. I live with it in my heart even as I learn better to live without it in the flesh.
My lady friend was here, we slept in the same room on our trip. And I kept my hands, but not my heart, to myself. God knows. He knows all things. I did do what frustrated men do, privately of course, several times. This too is a sin. I cannot seem to fully get away from sin. You see, and this is a catch. It is required. While I have been vastly better at my choice of celibacy since the 'spring' of health upset the applecart. But that I have to try, pray, work at it, means it is still in there. And more, I would not wish to lose my interest in women. This is just one aspect of sin which bothers me. There are many topics, this one is simply one that most people understand. I think even women know this, if from their side of the conundrum.
I can't say for sure if I will eventually make it to heaven. I know what Christ suggested, I have read the bible, I try to understand what the Church says and means by it, I look to the Magisterium for guidance, I ask God to take over my life and live through me in a quarter of my prayers (the other prayers being over food or little thanks or requests for safe travel or health for myself or others). And I try to let Him come in and use me as He will.
Just saying, this has been on my mind for several weeks. No, I don't think I am dying. I merely think I am hitting something and I need to embrace it and work past it. God is so easy to work with that it is impossible at times. Faith, I suppose, is the anti-dote to doubt. Hope too. Charity must be the product of those two? I'll keep working on it. Childish as it may seem, that is where I am.
Ha!
.
.
Now my mother had hoped to sleep in today. Which she is doing. I myself, as usual, just wanted to get up at a regular, earlier, time. And I did. Nothing fancy but I was up at 8:00. She is sleeping and it is a goodly bit past 9:00. I have been trying to be (more) quiet, as if I make much noise in any case. But I don't think it would matter. Not when she needs sleep enough to sleep in, which only happens when she is ill. For her, 8:00 IS sleeping in on a normal day.
I just wanted to toot my horn. Sure, I am winning by default against a sick opponent, but I gotta take it! Later.
.
Now my mother had hoped to sleep in today. Which she is doing. I myself, as usual, just wanted to get up at a regular, earlier, time. And I did. Nothing fancy but I was up at 8:00. She is sleeping and it is a goodly bit past 9:00. I have been trying to be (more) quiet, as if I make much noise in any case. But I don't think it would matter. Not when she needs sleep enough to sleep in, which only happens when she is ill. For her, 8:00 IS sleeping in on a normal day.
I just wanted to toot my horn. Sure, I am winning by default against a sick opponent, but I gotta take it! Later.
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