March 20, 2019
Making Progress. Kinda. I Mean, In Comparison... It was just over two weeks ago that I was informed that my services were no longer required, desired or wanted at my job. 14 days plus a few hours.
For the first time in those two weeks, I have left Pond Central. Okay, yes, it was to go pick up my mail so I didn't even leave the building, but I was actually outside of my home. At 315am, practically no chance to bump into other people there.
I'm having lunch with Ph.Duck and D.Nurse on Thursday, so I've got to get my outside on, and fast. I need to pick up my packages from Ex-Job... I didn't think it'd be so hard to go back... I want my stuff, but my brain is really rebelling against it. "Go back to a place that flat out told you they didn't want you anymore? Are you mad?"
You don't have to answer that.
I also need to get a haircut. It's about time, the last one was Easter 2018, I'm pretty sure. Everything is ridiculously shaggy, except where it's knotted or matted together on the right side of my head... that's the side I sleep on. Barbers, man your shavers!
But all of those require me to go out.
Depression is a helluva thing.
March 17, 2019
Yes, I Know That's The Point, But Still... Look, I get that this sort of music is supposed to be catchy. I don't know if Momoland is an Idol team like AKB40 or whatever, or if they're just a K-Pop act, and I'm not entirely sure I care. What I do care about is that "catchy" doesn't quite go far enough to define "Boom Boom".
Seriously. Weaponized catchy. The followup, "Bbam", isn't quite as good, but hell, that's like saying Godfather II isn't as good as The Godfather. It's not, but nobody cares because II is still pretty damn good.
I hope for their next track they move into less onomatopoeia for explosions as a concept.
Enjoy all this while you wait for the the Australian F1 writeup, won't you?
March 16, 2019
F1 Quals: Australia 2019
The first race of a new year is always interesting. Not just because Australia's circuit is rather radically different from most other on the calendar, but because hey! We've got F1 again! And nobody really knows what's in line for the year. Preseason testing didn't tell us anything we didn't already suspect (Mercedes and Ferrari are fast. Williams is not.), but you can never quite trusttesting results. SO the first qualifying session is where we finally get to see what's what... and here's the provisional grid for the 2019 Australian Grand Prix:
|4||Red Bull Racing
|13||Scuderia Toro Rosso
|15||Scuderia Toro Rosso
|17||Red Bull Racing
People honestly believed that the field had actually began to catch Mercedes. I mean, just look at those Q1 numbers: the first 15 cars were covered by less than a half-second, and the top 18 by less than one second. Now THAT'd be a season! Instead, everything changed when Merc kicked in their "party mode" and the cars became just that much faster.
Notable performances? No question but that rookie F1 driver Lando Calrissian stole the show, dragging his McLaren into Q3. The kid's like, 12 years old, but he can drive. At the other end of hte spectrum we find... Williams. Oy, what a disaster this is shaping up to be for the legendary house that Frank built. They missed part of pre-season testing because htey couldn't pass the mandatory crash testing, they had to redesign part of the car because the old parts might not have passed scruitineering... all this from a team that has over 800 people working for them, including some of England's best engineers. And even they get it all wrong sometimes.
Race is in a few hours, F1U! sometime thereafter... in some format. See ya then!
March 14, 2019
Charlie Whiting 1952 - 2019 Just before the start of the 2019 season, the Formula 1 world has suffered a terrible loss. On Thursday, Race Director Charlie Whiting passed away from a pulmonary embolism. He was 66.
Whiting was the go-to guy for any team complaints during a race, but he also oversaw everything on the tech side of the sport. A new track could not be certified as a Grade 1 (suitable for F1) circuit without his final approval. His was the call to stop a race, or to resume racing, during weather incidents. In many ways, he did not just know the rulebook, he wrote it. He was a tireless crusader for car and driver safety, presiding over the addition of both the HANS device and the new HALO system. The combination of him and Sid Watkins did much to keep drivers alive and in one piece.
Despite such power in the sport, all reports say that he was very much just a guy who loved Formula 1. However, he very rarely gave interviews so the fans didn't really know him. Look, this is the sort of person he was: he loved the "Fake Charlie Whiting" twitter account. It was a very gentle satire of the subject, but really made fun of the sport more than anything else. In fact, he liked the account so much, he met the person behind it many times and had many e-mail exchanges with him. I have a hard time seeing, say, Jean Todt, do the same.
As far as what this means for the race weekend, and the upcoming season as a whole, former V8 Supercars deputy race director Michael Masi will be filling in this weekend. I expect to see similar substitutions through the season unless they name a replacement right away. I have no idea who Whiting's second-in-command was, or even if there WAS such a person: in the 20 years he was Race Director for F1, he presided over more than 400 race weekends.
His loss leaves a huge hole in the sport, one that won't be easily filled. We here at F1Update! extend our condolences to his family, friends, and the F1 world in general.
March 12, 2019
Endings And Beginnings Last Tuesday was by all appearances just another day. Same assignment for the day, same system difficulties we've had for weeks, same lack of neighbors around my desk... really, that last one wasn't much of a problem. After clocking in and checking my e-mail (chair massages are on thursday!) I got right to work, popping lifesavers as I went. It's a new habit, I guess.
After a good 90 minutes, I came up for air, stretched, swore as my saddlesores screamed, then checked e-mail again. Hm. E-mail from the boss, inviting me to a meeting in 15 minutes in the forward training room. Okay, just click on "accept" and... huh? No accept? It wasn't sent via outlook, but personal from the boss to me. Well, isn't that interesting? I sat and thought for a moment... perhaps it's going to be training on a new work type. We have been struggling for claims of late, after all. I leaned back, mulled it over in my mind, then sat up, pulled my cellphone out of the filing cabinet, followed by my car keys and my glasses. To anybody looking at me, it just appeared I was going on break as I headed to the meeting.
I found seven or eight other people in there, as well as the boss herself. Oh dear... she's not a trainer. She talked for a few minutes about... nothing, really, I guess, and then said the magic words: "we've made the decision to terminate your employment with us."
Declining claim counts and a new processing system were cited as reasons. Then the various managers, supervisors, and assistants walked in carrying boxes and bags... the contents of our desks. I was mildly amused that while almost everybody else was being handed their stuff in shopping bags, my desk needed a large box and a large bag. Well, when you've lived in a place for nearly four years, that kinda happens. They helped me get my stuff to my car... when you're using canes, your ability to carry boxes is kinda truncated... wished me luck, and I was unemployed again.
I drove directly home, looked around, and decided to take a nap... and that was probably the last coherent thought I've had. The past week has been spent doing (or not doing) things as it strikes me. There are things I could/should be doing, but nah. To me, it's clear that for whatever reason, losing this job has hit me harder than losing the Duck U Bookstore job. I haven't left Pond Central since I got home that day, so about a week. I've got packages waiting for me back at the office, things I couldn't have redirected, so plenty of reason to go out, but no.
Guess this is good news for the F1 fans left in my readership... I'll have time to follow the sport again. First race of the season is this weekend after all... Australia. I'm unsure if this is a good trade or not.
Time will tell... about a lot of things, actually.
March 01, 2019
A Question Answered... By Anime! For most of the nearly four years I've worked at my present job, there has been a constant face in the evenings/night shifts... the head of the cleaning crew. They usually show up around 8pm, empty garbage cans, clean bathrooms, vacuum, that sort of thing, y'know? I've made it a point to smile and nod, or wave, or something, to the guy in charge, because hell, he's cleaning up our mess. Without him, I suspect the office would look like Pond Central before the "condemned" sign went up in no time at all.
However, in one of those "I don't know X, and by now I'm afraid to ask" moments, I don't know his name. He told me a few years ago, yes, but he has a very thick Slav/Eastern European/Something accent, and it just got by me. I mean, it's not a big deal, it's not like we talk or anything... a nod, a wave, that's about it. And, to be honest, I'm just about the only person there who does even that much. There's always a few people in a business setting you don't want to piss off: the office manager, the head of the cafeteria, and the head of housekeeping all leap to mind... Anyway. Tonight. It is 8pm, and I've been the only person in the entire building since about 6pm... I had a couple of hours to make up. Anyway, because I was sick and tired of headphones, I had hooked up my mp3 player to a couple of cheap external speakers and was rocking out whilst doing claims. Mr Head Of Housekeeping was a couple rows over, using a push-brush to clean up a spill before he brought out the real vacuum, and something wonderful happened.
He started singing along. "It was a song my grandfather sang." I'm still not entirely sure where he's from originally, but he knows Katushya... and his first name is Alexander. I'm not sure how I didn't get that the first time around. What the hell, let's do another Russian song!
I first heard this maybe four or five years ago (edit: SIX! Saturday Night Tuneage XVIII, would you believe?), I didn't know what I just heard then, I'm still not sure now, but damn it's fun anyway!
February 26, 2019
That's A Long Time I can't believe I haven't written anything in The Pond for 12 days. That never happens. So anyway. The weather has continued to be crappy, but nowhere near as bad at it was... only one ice/freezing rain event, for example. Every day's forecast has been the same: flurries/light snow early, then drying during the day, then more snow/drizzle overnight. Which really doesn't sound too awful, until you realize that it's just making sidewalks and parking lots into minefields, all set to Bouncing Betty your cane...
*ahem* Work continues to be a royal PITA. My numbers continue to drop, while my new boss has had to deal with me during the my worst stretch of health-related problems in years. They've been very patient, even not throwing a fit when I walk through the door at 1130am. Well, if they want to fire me, they've got plenty of documentation for violating attendance rules. So that's "helped" matters immensely... maybe I'm imagining it, but I don't think so.
And then... then there's the Health Department. I'm still having to keep them happy with cleanup procedures around Pond Central. This actually is the biggest stressor in my life right now, to the point where I was awake until nearly 5am this past Sunday/Monday to finish cleaning up/off/whatever the couch area in the living room. It's right behind my computer chair, so it's a convenient place to put stuff. That's been done since Day 1 at Pond Central, it's just that this time it hadn't been cleaned up in a few years. At least they approved the photographs, so that's step three of that process completed.
Between the weather, work, and the WCHD, I've developed a nervous tic, a twitching of my head to the right, as if trying to get hair out of my face... which is certainly where it came from: it's been 9 months since my last haircut.
None of this is fun anymore... at least, not what I call fun. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go get ready for work in the morning. Because what else do I do?
February 14, 2019
Watching Excellent People Do Their Jobs Excellently Lighting Designers know that there is a God and He loves us, because there are Pink Floyd concerts to light.
"So, Mr Lighting Designer... my concept for the lights on Run Like Hell is throw as many instruments as you want into the arena and just live it up."
"I think I can work with that."
Seriously, though... whoever thought up the "projection screen with lights around it" idea had better have gotten a raise that day.
February 12, 2019
The Story So Far. In Minnesota, they have a saying... "there's only three good uses for ice: fishing, hockey, and whiskey." They know better than to go out in a ice storm, which we had a few days ago, or when it's -35 at noon, which we had a few days ago, or the other ice storm, which I came home early to avoid driving during "rush hour."
And then as a personal "Screw You Wonderduck", I got to work the next day... and it began raining. DELUGE-level raining. Well, that's unfortunate, but nothing to worry about. After all, the temps aren't supposed to begin falling until after midnight or so. Lo and behold, the weather nabobs had gotten it wrong again. I left work wearing just the zippered fleece sweatshirt... and it had probably gone down 20 degrees in a couple of hours, AND the wind was gusting around 30 - 40 mph. I make it to my car despite the little frozen waves on the parking lot surface. I unlocked the car, pulled on the door handle, and...
....nothing. Frozen dead shut. I tried another one, frozen shut and the door handle came off in my hand. A few of my coworkers stopped to help, ended up losing two more door handles in the process. I called a taxi. That's why I didn't get home until well after 11pm, it took quite a while for the taxi to arrive... as you can imagine. Took a taxi in the next morning, when it was like 5 degrees above zero, and the driver actually helped me get into the SUV. Because canes and ice don't mix, boys and girls. At work, my car was sitting in the parking lot, absorbing whatever radiant heat was coming from Our Pal The Sun ("There is only one God, He is the Sun God. Ra! Ra! Ra!") and hopefully melting whatever ice was holding the doors shut. Around 3pm, I checked, and it opened right up! Yay.
Finished up my work around 9pm or so, gathered up my stuff, trudged in the "How fscking cold is it" temperature, unlocked me car, and the door was frozen shut. I trudged back to the office, sat down in the break room, got another taxi from that place I used earlier in the day, they showed up around 11pm. And then, once we make it to Pond Central, the driver gets out of the van and helps me out (big ice patch). "Do you want help the rest of the way sir?" "Sure. Or you can get back inside the van where it's warm and watch me... that way, I won't die alone." He laughed, and got me through the Khumbu Icefall. Yeah, these guys are getting my business from now on.
I chat with Ph.Duck, he'll come out and pick me up for a run to get the unlocked car Saturday morning... at which time I wake up and discover that I am feverish, headachy, very very tired, etc. So he got it taken care of for me, while I stayed sick Sunday and Monday... and, really, today too. I didn't get in until 1130am, fever is gone, but now there's signs of a cough building.
It's been one thing after another after another after another for weeks now, and I'm quite stressed. I'm still functioning, which impresses the hell out of me, because I think I should be hiding under my bed. Tomorrow is another day.
February 11, 2019
Alive. Nominally Functional. Details will follow if I can get them written in my free time. Because there's quite nothing like getting home from work around 11pm for a few days straight.
February 02, 2019
Of Work And Weather And Wonderduck Too Even for the way 2019 has been going thus far, the past week deserves special notice. To start with, it began to snow Sunday afternoon. And it didn't stop until mid-morning on Monday. The weather nabobs suggested we got five or more inches... and I'd agree, if you go with the "or more" part.
Amusingly, Pond Central's parking lot was in horrible condition... there was some evidence that a plowtruck had come through, but may not have had its blade down... but the Duckmobile was almost totally clear of snow. No question about going to work, probably could have made it... or maybe not. Weather nabobs were later saying that Duckford's squadron of snow removal equipment had been badly surprised by the intensity of the snowfall and even major roads had yet to be attended to. Soon enough, I came to the decision to not risk it and just call in. Apparently, many people did the same and the office was kinda empty.
Tuesday was chilly, with the forecast calling for record low temps overnight through Thursday. We'll see. Got in the Duckmobile, started it up, got my stuff in place (two canes make walking easier, but they're clumsy as hell to put away), and the RPMs slowly died to zero. Hm. To be fair, it had been cold-soaking for three days... or maybe it needed oil. Either way, it started on the second try and kept running. Sounded a little rough, but when it's cold it always does. By the time I made it to work, everything seemed fine. Crossed fingers. The day at work was... it left something to be desired. The claims weren't great, but worst of all was my chair. It was causing me quite a bit of pain... pain that had nothing to do with my leg injury.
See, once it became obvious that I couldn't sleep in my bed, I took up sleepytime residence in a once-comfy wing chair in the living room. For just a few days short of a month, my days would be spent sitting at work, then coming home and sitting in front of my computer, then sleeping in a chair, then repeat. I don't know that I've got saddlesores on the back of my legs right where they meet my duckbutt, but there's something back there that'll do until the real thing comes along. Indeed, that's part of the reason I haven't been blogging much... it's hard to sit at my desk without those hurtin' bad. The good news is now that I've returned to sleeping lying down, they're starting to not hurt as much. Anyway....
...leaving work on Tuesday night was something of a shock. Yes, I know it's going to be cold soon, but I didn't expect there to have been so fast a change in temps. When I got to work, it was rather comfortable. Leaving work? Cold, approaching zero in a hurry. In a surprise manuever however, The Powers That Be at work acknowledged that it was going to be stupidcold the next couple of days, and gave us permission to work from home. Well! Cool. It'll make the morning commute faster, that's for sure.
Wednesday morning my internet connection was dead. On the plus side, it wasn't just me but a large portion of southeast Duckford, as part of the fiber optic backbone had just up and died, probably from hypothermia. While it would come back, it wouldn't be until 8pm or so. So now, instead of working from home, I had to take PTO for the second time that week... and, as it turned out, I didn't have enough to cover both days. I'm literally not getting paid for one of them. Wednesday was cold, with a high of -13F. Thursday was worse. The low for Thursday was -37F, the coldest Duckford had ever been, period. Go outside? Me? Man, screw that noise. I had an internet hookup, I could do work!
Friday morning, it turned out that, indeed, it was still assfugly cold (-9F at 9am). I hobbled my way to the car, got in, cranked it up, and... coughsputtersputter. Tried again... putting it in gear helped not at all. Right. Oil it was, then. I started her up one more time, hit the gas in reverse, and popped out of my snow-covered spot. At which point, she died. Okay, at least I can access the front of the car now. I then proceeded to put a quart of oil (all I had) into the car... with bare hands... when it was nine degrees below zero. By the time I had everything buttoned back up, I couldn't feel my fingers... I later found out that the wind chill was -20 at the time. Started her up one more time, and... presto! Quieter running, no stalling, problem "solved", at least for the time being. And it's supposed to be warmer on Monday, so I can drop some more oil in without my hands turning black.
By the way... unexpected problem has cropped up with my canes: they're metal. Even just driving to work gets them nearly too cold to touch. Which, considering their job and everything, is unfortunate.
So, my conclusion regarding this week?
January 27, 2019
Perhaps The Easiest Question To Answer Ever Over at The Atomic Fungus, a small amount of griping can be seen regarding the rock band Queen. Fungus Prime is wondering just when this group of... moderately okay reputation became such a thing that they now are considered legendary. The song that causes such angst in the Fungal Vale is, of course, Bohemian Rhapsody, which lends its name to a well-regarded movie about Queen and Freddy Mercury. "Why have they suddenly became such icons?" is the refrain. Here's the thing: it wasn't sudden, but the exact starting point of this popularity can be traced to a very specific date and time:
July 13, 1985, 641pm London time.
It was Queen's performance at the Live Aid concert that turned them from a band of "that's nice" to the hottest thing on the planet. Some 33 years ago, give or take, I had pulled a comfy chair up in front of the TV, hooked a audio recorder up the the headphone jack, and diligently set about recording as much audio from the concerts as I could. I don't know what happened to those cassettes. I don't even remember if I caught Queen's set. But I know it now, and if any one thing can be said to make a band popular, this would be the poster child.
A tight band full of talented musicians playing nigh-on perfectly, led by the consummate showman who has 72000 people in Wembley Stadium and millions more watching across the world eating out of the palm of his hand. After that performance, oft called the greatest single live performance of all time, the question isn't how they became what they are, it's how come they didn't become bigger?
I don't know how much fandom I had for Queen before the show, but I appreciated them a lot more afterwards, and to this day Radio GaGa is on my short list of favorite songs.
Oh, and that Wayne's World thing didn't hurt them, either.
January 21, 2019
Fighting. Losing? I'm tired, I hurt, I'm panicking, I'm depressed.
And I'm whining. That's all I seem to do around here these days... remember those wacky good times of "Next Week: More Zombies"? Yeah, fun stuff. Now I'm at the point where I have a new 12" memory foam mattress that feels like heaven but that I'm afraid to sleep in. Anybody here ever fast for more than a day or two? Back when I first hurt my leg, such things as "standing up" caused enough pain that it was common for me to say "I'm hungry... but not so hungry that I'm going to inflict that on myself."
Since the day I went to the hospital, so effectively the entire month of January, I have had four or five meals. Now, we're not talking lavish buffets or 10-course dinners served on platinum tableware, no. A bowl of soup. A few forkfuls of macaroni salad. A sandwich. That sort of thing. So, back to my original question: anybody here ever fast for more than a couple of days? Because there's a neat trick the digestive system plays when you do... you get epic bouts of the stuff pepto bismol is designed to slow (or stop).. And it occurs with little to no warning... wacky, huh?!?!
Is it possible to get refunds on life?
January 16, 2019
So What The Hell, Wonderduck? I don't know if that's been thought by any of readers but were the circumstances reversed, I know I would be. I'll be honest: it's painfully embarrassing.
You may remember that I was taken to the hospital on New Year's Eve after not being able to remove myself from my bed for over a day. What you don't know is that a week later, it happened again. I thought my damaged leg was feeling better and decided to actually sleep in a bed. Bad idea. Once again, I called 911, once again the CVFD EMTs came out... except this time they were accompanied by the Fire Chief. He read me the riot act, then said that he'd be contacting the apartment complex and "other agencies." See, they believed my apartment to be a fire hazard... probably because of the piles of amazon boxes blocking the entry hallway, dining room and the front half of the living room.
Yeah. Remember back when I was fired from the Duck U Bookstore? Around about that time I began to lean more and more on Amazon for just about everything but food... Prime Pantry was a thing at the time, but it wasn't much of one. For a while I managed to keep the boxes under control, and then the winter came, your truly became a recluse, and snow and cold conspired to keep me that way. Then came the depression, after which very little of anything got accomplished. And the boxes kept a'comin'. I got a job, and I continued to not take boxes to the dumpster... not laziness, but simply because I physically couldn't.
See, I'm kinda overweight. That TLC show My 600 Pound Life doesn't have me on speed dial or anything, but I'm a lot closer to that than I am to 250 lbs. And the boxes kept coming... more slowly now that I could have many of them sent to my work address, but still they came. And I was either too stupid or too prideful to ask for help.
And then last thurday I get an e-mail from the complex manager: she and "other agencies" would be entering my apartment on Friday. I asked her to keep me informed, and left it at that... I had a job to do. The appointed time came and went, and around 3pm I took my lunchbreak and checked e-mail.
The very first one was from the County Health Department, informing me that my apartment was condemned as being unfit for human life in the condition it was currently in. The second was from the Apartment Complex manager, asking me to contact her ASAP. She had tried to prevent my place from being condemned, but failed... government workers don't exactly have a lot of leeway in their rules, after all. To be allowed to live in my own place again, all of the boxes had to be gone. She then gave me the number of one of her employees at the complex, someone who'd be able to help. I quickly called him, we agreed to meet at 11am Saturday, and we'd get to work. Along the way, I also touched base with the people from the County, then had a talk with my supervisor. "Take as much time as you need, Wonderduck." So then I left and ran back to Pond Central to grab some clothes and find a hotel.
Saturday rolled around, and the guy I hired showed up. We'll call him Beast, because what I expected to take four or five hours and maybe two days... took 2.5 hours. He had the easy job, though... I had to clean the kitchen sink. I'm pretty sure I killed off an emerging intelligent lifeform.
Monday rolled around. The powers that be congregated in my apartment, were pleased with the results, and took down the sign saying "CONDEMNED. THE PERSON WHO LIVES HERE IS A SLOB." And then said that I'm really just on probation... there will be irregular (but scheduled) visits to make sure progress is progressing.
There's a few other things I'm leaving out, but suffice to say that when you combine them all... well, I can't imagine being more humiliated than I am. Oh, and depressed. Whee.
So that's it, that's the story. Cool, huh?
January 15, 2019
Hold Tight Explanation post coming soon.
January 11, 2019
Quick Update On Going's On I'm alive, but I need a hotel room for a few days.
More as circumstances allow.
January 08, 2019
All Right. You Win. There. You Happy Now? I'm sleeping in the no-longer-comfy chair. When I wake up in the morning, my feet hurt from swelling, and I've got what must be something like a bedsore on the back of my left leg... right where it sits on the end of the seat.
Getting out of the chair requires effort and pain... but at least I can do it. Shower, get ready for work...
...and then I have to face the NINE STAIRS OF DOOM. I have to go one-by-one, basically dragging my right foot off the front of the step until it falls to the step below. I then follow up with a normal stride with my left foot. Rinse, repeat. The best I've done was when I was surrounded by EMTs. This morning, it took about 10 minutes.
Get into the car, drive to work (not as easy as you might think... foot doesn't move without causing the muscle to twinge), get out of the car. Keep cursing to a minimum.
Walk the kilometer from the far end of the parking lot to the door. At least I have two canes now, that makes it a little more stable. Realize that your lunch break is seven minutes getting up and walking to the break room, 15 minutes hating life, then another seven minutes going back.
Finish up work. Trek to the car. Drag self into car, don't care about amount of swearing. Turn the key in the ignition. "Grunt. Grunt. Grunt. Grunt. Vrooom." The battery seems to be unhappy... and all the presets are gone on my radio. FSCK.
Drive home, apply brakes to turn into apartment complex, feel shoe fall off right foot, because why not? Take forever parking nose-out in case of battery failure. Walk up the stairs (much easier), get into Pond Central, and begin unwrapping my new memoryfoam mattress.
Realize new memory foam mattress is toying with me, refusing to unwrap from the first level wrap without tearing the second level and, I assume, exploding like a comfy jack-in-the-box. Give up for the night, come to the computer, realize there are only two cans of soda left in the house... and I can't exactly go shopping.
Any wonder why for a quarter I'd break down and sob for the rest of the night?
January 06, 2019
Update Things are not well over here. Health is okay, so I've got that going for me. I just don't like much of anything else. Details when I can bring myself to enter them.
Good wishes would be appreciated.
December 31, 2018
In The Grand Scheme Of Things, It Could Have Been Worse. So I went to bed Sunday morning around about 3am. Woke up around 9am, still tired from the awful week that had just passed, so I just rolled over and went back to sleep. And by "rolled over", I mean carefully positioning every nanometer of my body so as not to trigger the Big Pain Jolt from the leg.
At 2pm I woke up again, stretched, and mentally clicked "run exit program" in my head. Step 1: get legs over the side of the bed. This is not as easy as you might expect: the muscle that hurts the most will scream at any stretching, and the simple act of trying to lower my feet to the floor is enough to make it bad. Step 2: get myself into the correct position... as close to the bedtable as possible. Step 3: try to stand up using my legs while also shoving myself vertical with my hand on the bedtable. If everything works, I'll end up out of bed, standing and ready to start the day.
Step 3 failed. The muscle in my leg refused to give me the "tug" it usually provided. Instead it just screamed and screamed. Okay, that happened on Saturday too. I'll just give it another couple of hours, take a nap, try again then. It failed then, too... and hurt even worse.
And then I became concerned. I've never had THAT happen before... not even when my left leg hurt. I gave it another try a few hours later, no go. Day turned to night, Sunday turned to Monday, and there I was, unable to get out of bed. As the night went on, my mind kept bringing out weird music requests.
I had no idea there was an album version of one of my favorite songs about radio... being trapped in bed has its advantages!
In fact, he wasn't when this song was released.
Yes, really. It was a weird night.
Eventually, the sun came up, 9am came and went, and I called the apartment complex to send someone to Pond Central to unlock the door. I then called 911. I explained the problem, the dispatch operator said "they're on their way", and sure enough 10 minutes later there were two members of the CVFD EMT squad in my bedroom, trying to figure out just what the hell is going on. Eventually, the two EMTs, Thor and Hercules, grabbed my upper arms and pulled. Voila. I'm on my feet. Didn't even hurt.
Put some clothes on, got into the ambulance, and away we went to the nearest hospital... where it turned out they needed to put me in triage. I looked at Thor and said "Amateur hour started early?" He shook his head... since the weekend just before Christmas, it's been serious accident, gunshot victim, car crash. He'd never seen it so bad before, and with a smile said "hell, you're practically a lunch break." Laughter ensued.
Once in the ER, and lemme tell ya, their ambulance was kitted out with some of the neatest gewgaws I'd ever seen... including a motorized lift system for the gurney. All they had to do was put the wheels in lock position, click a bar underneath my head into a track, and press a button. Voila, into the back of the ambulance I went. At the hospital, it was the reverse. SO cool.
Anyway, once in the ER, they took me right to a room instead of staging me in the hallway. On one hand, yay instant service! On the other hand, oh... what happened to the patient that WAS in there that they'd expected to STILL be in there? Happy New Years!
Nurses came in, did nursey things, doctor came in, shook my hand, doctor left. X-rays and Ultrasounds were ordered and given, the results came back negative on both... no fractures in the upper leg, no thrown off blood clot blocking things. And then came the words I was longing to hear: would you like some water?
Hm, lemme see... I was trapped in my bed for 30 hours, I've been here for four more hours, and in all that time, I haven't had ANYTHING to drink. Yes please, some water would be pleasant.
It was lukewarm and in a styrofoam cup. And dear god, it was the most wonderful thing I'd ever tasted. And then it was empty, and I was sad because they didn't offer me a second one... until they came in with a painkiller! More perfect water AND hydrocodone? This day might actually be shaping up to something!
I was discharged, and Ph.Duck and RN.Duck gave me a lift home... and even though their car is bigger than the Duckmobile, getting into and out of it was sheer agony. Because I was in the passenger seat, which is the reverse of what I'm used to, and the door sill is substantially higher in their car than mine. Particularly getting out, when my right foot slipped off the top of the sill and out the door, I actually screamed as the pain hit me. Some profanities as well, which I almost NEVER do in public.
Once I made it inside (going up the stairs is MUCH easier than going down), I began looking at new mattresses online. I clearly need more altitude on the box spring and mattress on the floor that I do now. And before you ask, bedframes stand no chance in hell around me.
So now it's nearly midnight and 2019. Happy New Year, everybody!
...and now I get to figure out if I can sleep in a chair or not.
Edit: since I appear to be a self-centered jerk, please allow me to thank Brickmuppet a few minutes later than I should have. Having such friends as these is luxury beyond measure. And that includes all the Pond Scum as well. Yes, you. You too. Yeah, even you, ya big galoot.
December 29, 2018
Psychology Of Pain There are times that I envy the majority of humanity. Creativity, inventiveness, the ability to fabulate, these are all part of the Human race as a whole, but most people can't really do them. I have some small ability at tale-telling, and an active (some might say OVER-active) imagination. Which is why I'm writing this at some short time after 10pm on Saturday.
I have just gotten out of bed.
It all started last night... er... this morning. I shut my computer down at about 230am... and then spent the next two and a half hours convincing myself that standing up wasn't going to hurt much. See, my leg injury is pretty rotten... right in the groin muscle on the right side. ANY movement of the leg tends to hurt. Standing up, though... that muscle does a lot of the work. So I sat here in front of my computer, raging at myself for not standing up. Pain 1, Wonderduck 0. Eventually I did get to my feet and went to bed... which hurt. That whole "muscle" thing, y'know?
Around about 2pm today, I woke up. I gently maneuvered myself into position to exit my bed... took a half-hour, since I was trying to limit the pain... and spent the next two hours raging at myself for not being able to get out of bed. I could FEEL that muscle twinging every time I rocked forward. Pain 2, Wonderduck 0. Defeated, I went back to sleep, hoping to succeed next time. I'd better, I was getting awfully thirsty.
Around about 9pm, I woke up again, threw myself into the standing up position, screw the pain, and hurled myself to my feet. Pain 2, Wonderduck 1.
Shower felt good, brushing my tooth felt fantastic, and I just decapitated a 2l bottle of Mountain Dew. Tastes good, man.
Hope tomorrow is better.
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