I mean my knee surgery. Got a call that an opening had developed at an earlier time (two days only) and would I like to move up? Sure, I said but how about letting my other two docs know so I can get all the pre-op stuff done? Sure they said. It's good that docs calling docs can get things moved when it in nearly impossible for patients. It's getting quite stresssful, as I had all the prior infection in the same knee we are going after this time and I've had three bowel operations for obstructions and subsequent infections of the incision and 14 months of treating those. As mentioned B/4 all seems OK now. We just have to hope for the best. This surgery can cure my knee pain and bring me to nearly normal OR kill me by MRSR, C- Diff, or some other rotten germ that is resistant to nearly everything.
On balance, even though it is driving me a bit nutty, I guessw I HAVE to get it fixed. Other than that and the healing bowel incision, I am in good shape. My Internist is amazed how good my heart seems after all the problems, but at least something works. If all is OK afterwards, I might be able to be a normal human being and leave off the constant health discussions.
When I was young and got to stay with Grandpa and Grandma in Platte, I must have been a whiner as Grandma called me "Poor, sensitive Ronnie." and Grandpa seemed to be constantly asking, "What set him off, NOW?"
I mentioned this to my LSW and said I was sure glad I had outgrown those tendencies. I wonder why she gave me such a prolonged and odd look when I said it? She didn't say anything, but...............
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Monday, December 15, 2008
Fall is supposed to be over and Winter here!!!
BUT, NOOOOOOOO!!!! Just heard via the "fambleen" grapevine that Tom got a dislocated shoulder belaying Tone at the Brickyard. Heard just a very few days ago the Tom fell about 15 feet and was saved (belayed) by Tony.
I am now about as athletic as a nightcrawler, but it is getting a bit nerve- wracking to keep hearing that someone you love is apparently getting closer and closer to a serious fall. Actually it " isn't the fall that kills you: it's the sudden stop at the end of the fall." Someone famous enough to be allowed quote marks around his sentences said that, but I don't remember who---or is it WHOM? Anyhoo, the dau of the belayer got on the horn to the sister-in-law of the belayer for aid in sorting out where to send the belayer hospital-wise and assistance in what to do next, because the belayer, (TOM) kept Tony from serious injury but dislocated his shoulder doing so. I wondered if it was the same shoulder which TOM hurt and got a fractured clavicle several years ago during a bike race accident.???
Some folks need the adrenalin and testerone, but I am really beginning to be concerned that it is starting to look like hormone-reining-in time in the ol' ranch-house. Of course, no person ever likes to hear that they should be a bit less active---I myself am wondering who I would have to shoot (This is just a metaphore and poetic license, folks!!!! I DO NOT need counseling or to be locked up)' if I could not drive without hitting the stray hog or getting lost in a one mile trip in town. This isn't exactly the same, but causes loved ones concern never-the- less.
I know others read my BLOG now and then and hope that this one is taken in the most respectful and kind way in which it is offered. Love can be soft and love can be tough, and sometimes it can be hard to sort out the various kinds, but the base and main fact is the LOVE> This has and will always be there ever since the line-up with the applause on meeting him the first time.
I am now about as athletic as a nightcrawler, but it is getting a bit nerve- wracking to keep hearing that someone you love is apparently getting closer and closer to a serious fall. Actually it " isn't the fall that kills you: it's the sudden stop at the end of the fall." Someone famous enough to be allowed quote marks around his sentences said that, but I don't remember who---or is it WHOM? Anyhoo, the dau of the belayer got on the horn to the sister-in-law of the belayer for aid in sorting out where to send the belayer hospital-wise and assistance in what to do next, because the belayer, (TOM) kept Tony from serious injury but dislocated his shoulder doing so. I wondered if it was the same shoulder which TOM hurt and got a fractured clavicle several years ago during a bike race accident.???
Some folks need the adrenalin and testerone, but I am really beginning to be concerned that it is starting to look like hormone-reining-in time in the ol' ranch-house. Of course, no person ever likes to hear that they should be a bit less active---I myself am wondering who I would have to shoot (This is just a metaphore and poetic license, folks!!!! I DO NOT need counseling or to be locked up)' if I could not drive without hitting the stray hog or getting lost in a one mile trip in town. This isn't exactly the same, but causes loved ones concern never-the- less.
I know others read my BLOG now and then and hope that this one is taken in the most respectful and kind way in which it is offered. Love can be soft and love can be tough, and sometimes it can be hard to sort out the various kinds, but the base and main fact is the LOVE> This has and will always be there ever since the line-up with the applause on meeting him the first time.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
More news from St. Cate's College
According to the newspaper today, St. Catherine's College got a new, two million dollar endowment for their College of Health Sciences which is where our Elizabeth will be going. Perhaps this great news is one of the reasons she will get a nice scholorship. I prefer to think that she got it due to her hard work, fine musicianship, church work, and placement in the top five of her HS class. They will be lucky to get her and they know it. Wait until they see what she can do!!!!!!!!
Other fambleen news is that last night we went with Anne's family of Jeff and Sylvie to hear grandson, Steven, play violin and wear soldier costume for Turtle Lake's School Winter Concert. It was fine, but two schools combined and there weren't enough chairs and many had to stand. Fortunately it was only an hour. Heard from Anne that Steven and Elizabeth plan to play their violins together for our fambleen X-mas get together. I can't wait. Love those kids!! Sylvie is gathering herself for auditioning for her middle school play, THE MUSIC MAN, soon. She was good as a "n'orphan" in ANNIE. Good voice!
Other fambleen news is that last night we went with Anne's family of Jeff and Sylvie to hear grandson, Steven, play violin and wear soldier costume for Turtle Lake's School Winter Concert. It was fine, but two schools combined and there weren't enough chairs and many had to stand. Fortunately it was only an hour. Heard from Anne that Steven and Elizabeth plan to play their violins together for our fambleen X-mas get together. I can't wait. Love those kids!! Sylvie is gathering herself for auditioning for her middle school play, THE MUSIC MAN, soon. She was good as a "n'orphan" in ANNIE. Good voice!
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
We went to Winona, cultural center of the Universe
The LSW and I were invited once again to the smallish southwestern town of Winona on the mighty Mississippi river. We always get invited to hear and watch the latest concerts of our fantastic grandaughters. Elizabeth, a senior in HS, plays the violin as she has since about age 8 and has gotten so good she is first chair in the Winona HS string orchestra, and twice in the MN orchestra. She also plays for fun in the great group called the Winona Fiddlers which is all done by menory and is so much fun to hear and watch. She also got accepted with a very fine scholorship to St. Catherine's College in St. Paul for Nursing. What a girl---and such a good person, too.
The other one, Claire, who is a Sophmore is a Dancer (with a capital D). She has taken about four lessons a week for years in ballet there in Winona and we got to see her in The NUTCRACKER BALLET on that same weekend. She was a snowflake, a Russian Baba, and a Chinese dancer,soloing in two dances! She is so slim and beautiful, it nearly always brings tears to my eyes to watch her. Good thing the house lights are down and the music is loud enough to cover a proud Grandpa's sniffling. If caught, I just say it's the Winter weather. It WAS only 11 degrees.
Their parents have done such a good job of raising these two wonderful girls, that I don't think the LSW and I could have done any better!!! My wife did remind me that we had had a large hand in raising their mother and she was sort of just following through. True, but there is much more of Margaret and Tom in the girls. Without great parents who love and nuture, a child can turn out to be a skunk. I am positive we will never smell a bad odor from either of our Winona "Grands"!!!
The other one, Claire, who is a Sophmore is a Dancer (with a capital D). She has taken about four lessons a week for years in ballet there in Winona and we got to see her in The NUTCRACKER BALLET on that same weekend. She was a snowflake, a Russian Baba, and a Chinese dancer,soloing in two dances! She is so slim and beautiful, it nearly always brings tears to my eyes to watch her. Good thing the house lights are down and the music is loud enough to cover a proud Grandpa's sniffling. If caught, I just say it's the Winter weather. It WAS only 11 degrees.
Their parents have done such a good job of raising these two wonderful girls, that I don't think the LSW and I could have done any better!!! My wife did remind me that we had had a large hand in raising their mother and she was sort of just following through. True, but there is much more of Margaret and Tom in the girls. Without great parents who love and nuture, a child can turn out to be a skunk. I am positive we will never smell a bad odor from either of our Winona "Grands"!!!
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Christmas Story (continued)
I looked from my hand to his face and back a few tmes before I realized his dark wool pants hid steel leg braces. I had to get on with it or this line of visitors would go on forever.
"So, tell me what you want for Christmas." I looked up into his mother's face hoping she was listening, but she seemed too tired to care. Even if she did hear, she may not have been able to get it for him. She sure hadn't spent much on their clothes.
He put his hand on top of mine and smiled for the first time. It seemed that the whole place had gone quiet and it seemed warmer too. Then the store was gone and the sky shone where the roof should have been. He turned to face me completely and I didn't even feel the pain in my leg.
He said, "I want you to be happy and to not hurt. I forgive you."
I could almost swear that a troop of angels started in singing. He slid down off my lap, picked up his crutches, smiled up at his Mother, and left me bewildered. What had just happened? How come I didn't hurt anymore?
Next thing, Mr. Hardie was standing there holding ared and green envelope. We were alone. He put his hand on my shoulder and actually beamed at me. "Great job, Santa! I've never seen such a display. They all loved you and you have a permanent job every year and in between, too, if you want. I don't know how you changed so much, but it's been a blessing to watch."
I just shook my head and headed for the door. I had a taxi cab to catch and pay for two trips. Looking into the envelope, I saw the pay I expected plus a note. It was from Mr. Danvers, the store owner. It said, "Thank you for helping make our Christmas so merry. Please come to the Utopia Inn tonight. I have a room saved for you. I"ll come talk to you tomorrow morning. Man! What a deal! I suddenly realized I didn't hurt and had left the hospital's crutches behind the tree.
"So, tell me what you want for Christmas." I looked up into his mother's face hoping she was listening, but she seemed too tired to care. Even if she did hear, she may not have been able to get it for him. She sure hadn't spent much on their clothes.
He put his hand on top of mine and smiled for the first time. It seemed that the whole place had gone quiet and it seemed warmer too. Then the store was gone and the sky shone where the roof should have been. He turned to face me completely and I didn't even feel the pain in my leg.
He said, "I want you to be happy and to not hurt. I forgive you."
I could almost swear that a troop of angels started in singing. He slid down off my lap, picked up his crutches, smiled up at his Mother, and left me bewildered. What had just happened? How come I didn't hurt anymore?
Next thing, Mr. Hardie was standing there holding ared and green envelope. We were alone. He put his hand on my shoulder and actually beamed at me. "Great job, Santa! I've never seen such a display. They all loved you and you have a permanent job every year and in between, too, if you want. I don't know how you changed so much, but it's been a blessing to watch."
I just shook my head and headed for the door. I had a taxi cab to catch and pay for two trips. Looking into the envelope, I saw the pay I expected plus a note. It was from Mr. Danvers, the store owner. It said, "Thank you for helping make our Christmas so merry. Please come to the Utopia Inn tonight. I have a room saved for you. I"ll come talk to you tomorrow morning. Man! What a deal! I suddenly realized I didn't hurt and had left the hospital's crutches behind the tree.
Santa's Boo-boo
A Christmas story I made up just for fun.
"Good God, Man! What happened to your leg? How can you work with all the lap sitters that wiggle so much?"
"Well, Mr. Hardie, It's really looks worse than it is. The pain, well, pain is to be expected. Life, you know?" I couldn't quit. It was the first money I'd earn in months, the store was nice and warm, and I could even eat in the employee cafeteria for FREE. They had great chicken soup.
"Show me how you can get around and not make a scene. We can't have a scene. Scare the kids and all. At least you're not inebriated and smelling like a distillery like that guy we had to fire last year."
I leaned the crutches the hospital had lent me against the wall behind the lighted tree and sort of jumpety- limped the six feet to the Santa Throne. "See! Piece of fruitcake!" I could be so clever with words. Not so
clever in avoiding that darn car that ran me down and left me in the gutter.
"O.K. but how's it going to feel with a kid bouncing up and down? You'll hurt and probably drop one and the store will get sued." His face showed the strain of the season and I could comisserate, but I couldn't just leave and go "home." It was too cold and too far. Besides, I had to get in at least a couple hours to pay the cabbie I had told, "You can trust ol' Santa. I get paid every day and I promise to repay you when you pick me up here at eight-thirty."
I put on my most winning smile hoping it showed through the itchy white beard. "Please, Mr. Hardie. I promise to do it right. No lawsuits."
He rubbed his hands together sort of like Herod washing the whole matter away. "If I see one unhappy kid or parent, you're out. Hear me?"
"Yes. Yes. I hear you. Thank you for the chance." I meant what I had said but wasn't too sure I could deliver. But, heck, I was Santa and he could really deliver. The pain pills the nurse had given me at the ER after the stitches had helped some. I had four more, but knew I was in for some serious pain later. I didn't want to take too many of them and act goofy, remembering what had happened to last years Santa.
I steeled myself noting the increasing line of "Visitors". There were dozens. The littlest ones each had an adult herding them. "Lord," I prayed (which I never did). Who prays now-a-days? "Please help me get through this and I promise to help somebody else; maybe even Louie who stole my blanket when I was out panhandling." Now that was a real promise. No one could refuse to answer such a sincere petition.
This was a real small time operation, meaning there were no Elves or anyone else to help the little lids up and down from my lap. The bigger ones had to stand. No professional photographer either. Any pictures had to be taken by the adults who may have thought to bring a camera. Just as well. Even with the "disguise" I was wearing, I felt exposed. What if somebody from the olden days recognized me?
I had passed the required Santa Clause Course and had practiced "the VOICE"--not too hearty and loud enough to let the listening parents what their little dears wanted. We were told to repeat everything in case they kids couldn't be heard by his attending adult. The mirror had shown a too tall, too slim, too old, and too tired homeless man in a poorly fitting and kind of smelly red and white suit. With the "Waistline Ajustment Device strapped on under the jacket, I looked a bit more Santa-ish. Good enough to fool most kids and if they weren't, who gives a s--- (I mean "darn!" Have to watch the language, too. I need the job.
At precisely four PM, Mr. Hardie re-appeared, pulled the fake evergreen garland off the candycane posts and said, "And here he is everyone, Santa Clause brought to you by Danver's Department Store. Step right up and visit." He glared at me in warning and stepped over near the tree. The first kid was a girl of about four. Her Mother helped her sit on my lap. Darn! so this is what it's going to be like? The pain flared in my left knee. I wiggled to get it into a better position, she wiggled to stay on my lap and Mr. Hardie and the Mom wiggled toward us in a sort of odd dance. I gritted my teeth and, using "The VOICE" asked, "And what do you want for Christmas, little girl?" She stared into my face and then whispered, "A doll that does real
people stuff and clothes and a big candy cane." She smiled and I nearly did, too, but the knee wouldn't let me. She got down and I sighed.
Only four hours and about a thousand more kids. I felt like I was in Hell or at least Purgatory. Man! I hadn't thought of purgatory since I ot kicked out of St. Francis Ctholic School years ago.
Evidently I had hidden my pain and been O.K. as Mr. Hardie turned and walked away with only one last small glare. The next few kids were too big for the lap and I relaxed. It became a little easier as the line moved along. Next there was a little boy on crutches. He swung toward me, then stopped and stared behind the tree. I had forgotten the crutches I had put
there, but it was evident that he saw them. He had such a serious look on his face. I wondered if this would be any fun for him at all. He was followed by a lady who looked like life had used her hard and had nearly given up on her. Guess the kid was tough on her. He spoke. "Hey, you're supposed to let me sit on your lap."
"Well, sonny, you're right. Let's see how that works out." He bent over and placed his crutches on the floor and the lady helped me hoist him up. WOW!!! Right onto the sore knee. It seems that the pain pills had totally worn off and it was like someone had driven a sharp, hot,serrated knife into the joint.
"You got bad legs, too?" he asked, "Ain't Santa 'posed to be perfect?"
"Um, yeah, kid. Just sit still and say your piece." I had deviated from the "Acceptable Phrases", but this was no time for the niceties. All I wanted to do was to get the little cuss off me and take a pain pill break. I put my hand down on his leg trying to hold him still and felt an unexpected hardness.
"Good God, Man! What happened to your leg? How can you work with all the lap sitters that wiggle so much?"
"Well, Mr. Hardie, It's really looks worse than it is. The pain, well, pain is to be expected. Life, you know?" I couldn't quit. It was the first money I'd earn in months, the store was nice and warm, and I could even eat in the employee cafeteria for FREE. They had great chicken soup.
"Show me how you can get around and not make a scene. We can't have a scene. Scare the kids and all. At least you're not inebriated and smelling like a distillery like that guy we had to fire last year."
I leaned the crutches the hospital had lent me against the wall behind the lighted tree and sort of jumpety- limped the six feet to the Santa Throne. "See! Piece of fruitcake!" I could be so clever with words. Not so
clever in avoiding that darn car that ran me down and left me in the gutter.
"O.K. but how's it going to feel with a kid bouncing up and down? You'll hurt and probably drop one and the store will get sued." His face showed the strain of the season and I could comisserate, but I couldn't just leave and go "home." It was too cold and too far. Besides, I had to get in at least a couple hours to pay the cabbie I had told, "You can trust ol' Santa. I get paid every day and I promise to repay you when you pick me up here at eight-thirty."
I put on my most winning smile hoping it showed through the itchy white beard. "Please, Mr. Hardie. I promise to do it right. No lawsuits."
He rubbed his hands together sort of like Herod washing the whole matter away. "If I see one unhappy kid or parent, you're out. Hear me?"
"Yes. Yes. I hear you. Thank you for the chance." I meant what I had said but wasn't too sure I could deliver. But, heck, I was Santa and he could really deliver. The pain pills the nurse had given me at the ER after the stitches had helped some. I had four more, but knew I was in for some serious pain later. I didn't want to take too many of them and act goofy, remembering what had happened to last years Santa.
I steeled myself noting the increasing line of "Visitors". There were dozens. The littlest ones each had an adult herding them. "Lord," I prayed (which I never did). Who prays now-a-days? "Please help me get through this and I promise to help somebody else; maybe even Louie who stole my blanket when I was out panhandling." Now that was a real promise. No one could refuse to answer such a sincere petition.
This was a real small time operation, meaning there were no Elves or anyone else to help the little lids up and down from my lap. The bigger ones had to stand. No professional photographer either. Any pictures had to be taken by the adults who may have thought to bring a camera. Just as well. Even with the "disguise" I was wearing, I felt exposed. What if somebody from the olden days recognized me?
I had passed the required Santa Clause Course and had practiced "the VOICE"--not too hearty and loud enough to let the listening parents what their little dears wanted. We were told to repeat everything in case they kids couldn't be heard by his attending adult. The mirror had shown a too tall, too slim, too old, and too tired homeless man in a poorly fitting and kind of smelly red and white suit. With the "Waistline Ajustment Device strapped on under the jacket, I looked a bit more Santa-ish. Good enough to fool most kids and if they weren't, who gives a s--- (I mean "darn!" Have to watch the language, too. I need the job.
At precisely four PM, Mr. Hardie re-appeared, pulled the fake evergreen garland off the candycane posts and said, "And here he is everyone, Santa Clause brought to you by Danver's Department Store. Step right up and visit." He glared at me in warning and stepped over near the tree. The first kid was a girl of about four. Her Mother helped her sit on my lap. Darn! so this is what it's going to be like? The pain flared in my left knee. I wiggled to get it into a better position, she wiggled to stay on my lap and Mr. Hardie and the Mom wiggled toward us in a sort of odd dance. I gritted my teeth and, using "The VOICE" asked, "And what do you want for Christmas, little girl?" She stared into my face and then whispered, "A doll that does real
people stuff and clothes and a big candy cane." She smiled and I nearly did, too, but the knee wouldn't let me. She got down and I sighed.
Only four hours and about a thousand more kids. I felt like I was in Hell or at least Purgatory. Man! I hadn't thought of purgatory since I ot kicked out of St. Francis Ctholic School years ago.
Evidently I had hidden my pain and been O.K. as Mr. Hardie turned and walked away with only one last small glare. The next few kids were too big for the lap and I relaxed. It became a little easier as the line moved along. Next there was a little boy on crutches. He swung toward me, then stopped and stared behind the tree. I had forgotten the crutches I had put
there, but it was evident that he saw them. He had such a serious look on his face. I wondered if this would be any fun for him at all. He was followed by a lady who looked like life had used her hard and had nearly given up on her. Guess the kid was tough on her. He spoke. "Hey, you're supposed to let me sit on your lap."
"Well, sonny, you're right. Let's see how that works out." He bent over and placed his crutches on the floor and the lady helped me hoist him up. WOW!!! Right onto the sore knee. It seems that the pain pills had totally worn off and it was like someone had driven a sharp, hot,serrated knife into the joint.
"You got bad legs, too?" he asked, "Ain't Santa 'posed to be perfect?"
"Um, yeah, kid. Just sit still and say your piece." I had deviated from the "Acceptable Phrases", but this was no time for the niceties. All I wanted to do was to get the little cuss off me and take a pain pill break. I put my hand down on his leg trying to hold him still and felt an unexpected hardness.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
WOW!! I got an unsolicited request to turn my BLOG into a real memoir and even a real book!!!
The request was from my dau, ANNE (with an E). I know she respects my writing abilities and it's not just that she wants something to remember me after I'm gone--JEEEZZZZ!! What a bad thought that is!! Anyhoo, I started thinking about it and decided to look up the word memoir so I could do it right and got sidetracked by the phone then getting the mail. In glancing at the new Readers' Digest, there was an article about memoire writing!!
Our local paper-St. Paul Pioneer Press-- has a local write-in section aptly called BULLETIN BOARD. It often has people telling about recent and very satisfying BMs they have had.. Originally I thought this really strange, until I found out the letters BN don't stand for what most people think they do---- BM in the BULLETIN BOARD means a Baader/Meinhoff Experience; explained as the occurrence within a 24 hour period of reading (or seeing or hearing or sensing in some way) a factoid, license plate, word or whatever that is totally NEW to you and within the original 24 hours of chancing upon that same fact, cord or whatever AGAIN!!. It's rather like a Deja Voodoo (Now, folks, I just made up this word combination so don't go trying to steal it BUT if any of you hear it in the next 24 hours, let me know for a BIG prize and we can both send it in for a truly satisfying and mystical BM. I also just got to wondering if a person should begin to carry little plastic bags around with them to collect these BMs so we can leave them later on the doorstep of the Pioneer Press and run away after we ring the bell. Speaking of which, remind me sometime to tell you about the fish guts in Platte.
Our local paper-St. Paul Pioneer Press-- has a local write-in section aptly called BULLETIN BOARD. It often has people telling about recent and very satisfying BMs they have had.. Originally I thought this really strange, until I found out the letters BN don't stand for what most people think they do---- BM in the BULLETIN BOARD means a Baader/Meinhoff Experience; explained as the occurrence within a 24 hour period of reading (or seeing or hearing or sensing in some way) a factoid, license plate, word or whatever that is totally NEW to you and within the original 24 hours of chancing upon that same fact, cord or whatever AGAIN!!. It's rather like a Deja Voodoo (Now, folks, I just made up this word combination so don't go trying to steal it BUT if any of you hear it in the next 24 hours, let me know for a BIG prize and we can both send it in for a truly satisfying and mystical BM. I also just got to wondering if a person should begin to carry little plastic bags around with them to collect these BMs so we can leave them later on the doorstep of the Pioneer Press and run away after we ring the bell. Speaking of which, remind me sometime to tell you about the fish guts in Platte.
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