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What do I start with here? Oh, the oh hellos. What a fantastic band. I saw them twice at Floyd Fest. Their workshop session and full show was amazing. I heard someone ask what their influences were and the answer was “…well the muppets”

Here’s something I continue to learn, caring continues to dig a hole deeper and deeper. May it be work or personal relationships the more I try the more I’m tested in adversity. It isn’t stopping me. It makes me fight harder. But today I was asked on multiple occasions if I was okay. I (think) smiled and said ‘sure I’m a bit of sunshine, why do you ask?’ And every response was ‘because you don’t have the  smile you always have’.

“Fuck it” isn’t the answer. That’s a quitter.

I care about doing things right.

Cowards talk shit behind other peoples backs.

None of this will stop me. None.

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This post is pretty graphic and long. So just be warned… and ENJOY! 😀

So they usually say that bad things happen in three’s but for once that’s not the case this time. See, I’m an over achiever. I like to go one step further and let the heavy hand of the world get its full dirty fist straight in my face, the when the upper cut to the jaw lands it heavy load I’m up in the air, just to feel the swift down force of its beefy leg accelerate me to the floor. As I lay laughing covered in blood on the ground I urge on the constant attack. Hit me again. I can take it. This isn’t my first rodeo. Then the rest of Life’s crew comes in and works me over with their steel toe boots leaving a hysterically laughing mess propping himself back on one elbow screaming “You haven’t beaten me! I’m just getting started!”

Basic run down of the last few months. I won’t go into too much depth about the usual stuff that goes hand in hand, a bad relationship, work being awful and a terrible fit, got my car stolen (well, that usually doesn’t happen, but it did! New to me!) but I will go into a little about how I almost died.

YEAH! I almost died. I should have seen the signs but I just thought it was due to depression and boredom that I had lost my appetite completely. I would force myself to eat at least something every few days knowing that I needed to eat but for the most part I was never hungry. Always tired… I would get plenty of sleep, but I was always feeling ragged. I did my best to keep groomed to hide the wear and tear that was mentally and physically killing me.

So I made peace with two situations and moved on. Both showed plenty of red flags from the get go, but I didn’t listen to my instincts and went with them anyways. So I felt I was on the up and up. I started car shopping, still bummed that with the car went all my camping gear and golf clubs (but hey, at least my Christmas list would be easy to make out!) The time between jobs was a bit of a linger because my new boss was going to be out of town, so the two weeks there was a total blur. I’d do small jobs to get outside and at least accomplish a few things each day to validate PJ’s for the rest of the day.

Then my parents went to FLA for a week and asked me to watch the dog. So I did. It wasn’t a problem and they have TV so it was pretty nice. Then it happened. The crescendo of the past few months of signs that I completely ignored. The coughing in the morning resulting sometimes in vomiting bile. The lack of hunger. The constant tiredness. All part of what I thought was just depression and boredom, but it was far worse. On November 12th I went to bed with a bad stomach ache. I had a sip of beer and it tasted awful. Prior to that night my drinking had been diminishing greatly. About three weeks prior actually. From my usual few drinks a night down to maybe half a beer, it just didn’t taste good. I didn’t want any part of it. So I went to bed that night and when I awoke at around 6am the following day I went to turn on my side and the slightest movement felt like porcupines in my stomach lined with razors spinning around like Sonic. I was completely incapacitated. I couldn’t move. I decided to drink some water, but getting up to use the restroom resulted in the heavy deep cough, so painful it doubled me over. Following resulted in a rush to the bathroom with the pain to vomit. Pure yellow bile. I felt better, took a tums and went to lay down.

As the day went on I started to be able to turn on my side but never fall completely to sleep. I just felt so dehydrated, but every drink of water resulted in rushing to vomit if I stood up. Something wasn’t right.

I felt as if I could just make it through today, I would be fine. If I was in this shape on Friday, I’d go see a doctor. But a little bit of sense came to me when I realized I started my new job on Monday. Well, it seemed best to go see my doctor now and heal through the weekend, whatever I had so I could be ready on Monday. When I called, that’s when the first blizzard of lake effect encroached upon us. My primary physicians office said to go to the ER closer to my folks place because they had over 2″ of snow and ice and it was only getting worse. Fair enough. Not feeling I couldn’t drive safely in my condition I called my brother in law to take me, he laughed at first, and I said ‘no seriously, please’ and he was there in a heart beat. When I arrived I was admitted immediately. When asked my level of pain, 1-10, 10 being the worst, I told them ‘a thousand fires of hell burn in my every movement centering from my abdomen”. So in went the IV (or as I referred to them later, my bio-ports). Granted, I have (well, now HAD) a huge fear of needles. I looked away as she hooked me up. My first of many IV’s on this adventure. The RN said that she would let the doctor know and see if she could get something for my pain. I warned her that when I got my wisdom teeth pulled out a few weeks prior that it took 4x as much NO2 as usual to knock me out. So in came round one of pain killers – no change.

20 min later the nurse returned and said “how are you feeling now?” “The same as I came in, please, this is the worst pain I ever had an I’ve had a spiral fracture to my leg before”. Armed with this knowledge she went back to the doctor, round two of drugs came in, through the IV. I eased up a little. Enough to be able to talk with out shooting pain. Enough to only feel as if I had severe heart burn when I breathed.

20 min later the nurse returned, telling me the CT scan has been scheduled and asked how I was doing. I said, “The slightest better, but still way off the chart.” nodding to the “What’s your pain?” poster on the wall to my left. She rushed back out to see the doctor. Time for the big guns.

With what she said had to work in conjunction with the other meds flowing through my veins this should at least get me to be comfortable. Stick me doc. I felt the cool rush flow into my veins and as it coursed the burning started to subside. I never found out exactly what the last shot was, but I’m guessing morphine. The majority of my stay at the hospital once I was getting stable was a constant every 3 hour injection of high grade morphine. The only thing that could let me be conscience and not be on the verge of tears in the threshold of unearthly pain. If there is a hell, this must be the pain inflicted on the wicked.

My brother-in-law stayed with me the whole time. Feeling relaxed now I could talk to him and he even said that I at least looked a little better with the drugs in me. Yay drugs! After the CT scan they said I had to be admitted at least over night but wouldn’t tell me why. So, I subdued and was lead to my room a few hours ready when they had one. The hospital quickly filled up with car crashes so I was a lower priority as long as they kept the drugs flowing as they took care of the usual assholes who can’t drive in the snow and got into wrecks on the drive home from the first snow of the year. Granted, it wasn’t a dusting, that night started a series of torrential dumps of big and fluffy flakes, but it pales in comparison what hit Buffalo. Poor Buffalo.

When a room was available I was transported in a wheelchair there, high as a kite I smirked and made race car noises as we rounded corners through the hospital. Now, remember, I haven’t eaten in 5 days by this point. I literally had no food in me. Just water once in a while. So I contribute that to part of my delirium for the next two nights. I was put in what felt like, or looked like a college dorm room, but instead of a couch was hospital chairs. There was a TV mounted on the wall and I was seated. I looked around. Odd decorations all around… Where was I? Then a woman came to me with a portable cart, something like from the future. Now, remember, the last time I was in a hospital was when I was born. I had no idea what was going on. I was dehydrated, on no food and hopped up on drugs to sustain the horrid pain I endured. The woman tried to get information out of me and all I could say was my name, the day, and how much pain I was in. Then the next two days were a blur. I was told to lay there and watch TV. Every three hours a nurse would return, ask what my pain level was and give me a new cocktail of drugs. Following this injection I was asked a serious of questions: Was I hallucinating? Do I hear music or other noises? How is my pain? What is my name? How do I feel?” I’d answer the best to my knowledge and when the pain would finally subside again from the last cocktail given to me the nurse would leave and let me watch more TV. I’m not sure if someone was there next to me or not, but there was a chair there and it seemed like something out of a Sci-fi movie. Like I was an experiment locked up in a basement. Testing out these drugs for whatever diabolical plan was in action. At one point I asked the nurse what the hell she was giving me. She told me that every injection she gave me was explained to me and asked if I didn’t remember what she was telling me. I told her I don’t remember any of the names of the drugs but I remember her telling me what they were. So I was feeling dubious. I asked if they were legit or not and she provided a list, front and back 4-5 sheets deep with type 10 font of all the different FDA approved pain meds she could administer to control my pain. It still didn’t seem legit, but anything was better than the pain. The last round was followed with something to help me sleep, and sleep I did.

The barrage of drugs and TV marathons continued through Friday. As the day turned to night, in and out off sleep I still had no idea what was wrong with me. Then as if the confusion, dehydration and lack of nutrition wasn’t enough, I heard a woman screaming for help, banging on the walls… I got out of bed and pulled my IV with me down the hall until I found a group of people all dressed the same… nurses? I told them that I wasn’t sure if it was the drugs or what, but I heard a constant crying for help. A scratchy, worn, shattered voice repeating “help me, help me. I’m so cold. Let me in”. One of the women informed me that the door across from mine led to the sanatorium which wasn’t under their control, but could have some ear plugs if I wanted them. Okay, that really didn’t help… what the fuck was going on?

Another round of drugs were given and when I was asked if I was hallucinating I calmly thought to myself as I stared forward to the coo-coo-clock with the live bird flying around on the right, and the cat turning in circles to my left trying to figure out how to get it I replied “I’m not seeing anything out of the ordinary” not fulling telling the truth, because cats chase birds, right? Just like in the old cartoons.

More hours passed then returned the nurse, perfect timing, my pain has started to come back in vengeance and as a fog lifted from the drugs to the reality of pain I remembered I was in a hospital, but this can’t be what a hospital is like… I don’t know what a hospital is like. Can I trust anyone? Was this a secret lab? Who’s in charge around here? I need to get out. Something isn’t right, this is like an X-Files show… I’m an experiment. I know it. I’m definitely leaving Saturday morning.

I finally fell asleep.

Then came the sirens.

In rushed a woman who was feverishly prepping the bed next to me. Wait… I thought someone else was there and they were just chairs… am I still in college? Did I fall asleep at someones house? In the confusion as I tried to make heads and tails of my current position more women rushed in, perhaps they were just getting back from the bar. “What time is it?” I asked “Oh, its just after 12” Just after 12? Wow. I think I remember seeing the clock say 11:50 before I fell asleep… The woman pulled a curtain around an area next to me and I heard the sound of an aerosol can being sprayed then a cold wind flooded the room as another voice told me to “cover your eyes, the lights coming on” I did so and as they rushed back and forth they brought in a very old man. Still confused and making heads and tails of what was going on it became clear I was in a hospital as they were asking people in street clothes to my right what had happened and they explained he was 98 and had pneumonia.

Until 3:45am they were there getting him comfortable as possible as I silently watched TV… One final round of drugs let me rest for a few short hours until I awoke. Still confused I saw a board in front of me saying who my nurse was, what drugs were prescribed to me next and many other details. Gone was the college looking house and decor. Was I in the same room the whole time? I felt something on my chest and noticed I was patched up to an portable EKG, my IV still in my right arm and a bag of fluid on the rack. When A nurse aid came in to refill my bag I asked what was going on and she said a nurse would be here shortly. No, not for me. I felt fine. I was sober. There was no pain. I was thirsty but denied drinking anything, even water. ‘The IV is hydrating you. You’re fine.” I was told. Well, goody gumdrops, it doesn’t help my dry cracking lips and mouth with my coarse throat… so I was granted ice chips. It was like heaven as they few few melted in my mouth… with my cell phone I text my brother in law saying that I needed to leave, I was fine. He said he’d be there at 9 to get me.

As I waited I started to remember bits an pieces of the days before, talking to a doctor. Him saying that I would probably have to stay one more day, but he would let me know in the morning. I don’t remember what he said I had, but just asked if my abdomen still hurt. I think I was in a room with many others, all in the same situation. Only fueling my extreme imagination that this was a huge experiment deep underground. Held by my will. I looked at the IV machine and it said “Medical Engineering” on a sticker. Medical Engineering? Are they testing equipment too?

This isn’t what I signed up for, I remember being told I just needed a CT scan to stay the night and to leave. I gave them days. Why are they keeping me? They can’t keep me. THEY CAN’T. THEY WON’T.

I look at my bio-port, its showing signs of seeping blood and I fear infection. When my nurse comes I tell her I have to leave, I told my parents I would pick them up from the airport. A lie, but whatever, I needed to get out. She offered me more pain meds. I refused. I couldn’t trust what they were giving me. Nothing felt right. Only a hot shower and to be in my parents or my home would make me feel safe. I needed to feel safe. I wasn’t safe there. I told the nurse my brother-in-law was coming and to get this bio-port out of my arm immediately. I undressed from the clothes they gave me and back into my regular clothes when she left. The man behind the curtain was coughing deeply still and constantly. I felt bad for him. From the talking the hours before with the women in scrubs and people in street clothes I remember hearing he’s been through so many hospitals due to pneumonia.

I became impatient when an hour went by. Only a nurse aid came to draw blood, and I told her that I was leaving. She was surprised but asked if I could still give it to her anyways, it was her job. So I obliged. By this time I was over my fear of needles and I felt nothing as she searched for a vein.

When she left I moved out to the nurses station, showing them my what I thought was my infected bio-port, I as informed to return to my room and that my nurse would be back shortly. When she arrived I showed her my arm and she told me if its been like that for less than 72 hours I was still fine and could redress it after I talked to the doctor. He wanted to see me before I decided to leave.

When he arrived as my brother-in-law arrived he explained to me that my pancreas was so swollen it could burst any moment and that I should stay here and be treated. I told him this isn’t what I signed up for. I was told that it would be two days tops and I could leave. Not all of this. I had no pain. I felt hungry. I was thirsty and needed to go. He reluctantly gave me the paperwork to release me against his authority that I stay.

“Don’t eat anything. Stay hydrated. If you feel the slightest pain come back, return here immediately. Please. Be careful. This is very serious, you could die.” he announced in a concerned voice. I acknowledge his advice shook his hand and the nurse came to remove my bio-port. I was out the door and explaining the events that I could recall to my brother in law on our way to his vehicle and he agreed it did seem odd there and maybe it was best I went home. I asked him to stop for me to pick up some hydrating fluids and when I got back in the car he said I looked a lot better.

When I was dropped off I immediately took a hot shower, put on comfy clothes and plopped down on the couch. A pizza for lunch, perhaps I thought looking through the channels, chugging a 32oz of Powerade. See, no issue. I’m fine. I’ve been through worse.

But the idea of death lingered. Earlier, much earlier in my life I had thought death wouldn’t be so bad when I had hard times, but eventually realized how that impact would affect too many and be too selfish so I always found the will to survive. This prompted me to text my brother in law saying I was a bit scared of hearing I could die… and I would let him know as soon as possible if I felt any pain. No text response. An hour went by and then I heard someone enter the house followed by my uncles voice, “What the fuck is going on with you?” I walked into the kitchen where he and my brother in law were and I thinking I could pass as it being just another Saturday morning, I replied “nothing, whats up?” he looked me straight in the eyes and said “Nothing my ass, he (pointing to my brother in law) came over and told myself and your aunt everything. Do you have any idea how serious this is?”. My aunt, being a retired nurse shot fear into my heart, if she knew my symptoms and sent them down to talk to me, it must be serious.

Looking over to my brother in law as if he betrayed me since my sister and him agreed with me to keep this under wraps, not to worry anyone, with his head hung low, he looked up and said “I… I had to go talk to your Aunt and Uncle about it. I… I don’t want you to die dude…”

Part two to follow… if anyone got this far.

Learn from your mistakes. Or better yet, advice from my grandfather, learn from others mistakes and never make them. Sounds like great advice. But the issue I take with that is that from my grandfathers point of view, you can watch a man gun another down and see his consequences but will that stop you from having to do the same thing if your family, loved ones, friends, person of innocence is placed in the line of danger of losing their lives?

Situations might be different, of course.

Murder in cold blood is far different than self defense. There are laws. There are rules, Smokie, this isn’t ‘Nam! — *ahem* excuse the Lebowski ref.

But what really is starting to urk me is that even when I try to learn from my mistakes (and there are plenty I haven’t learned from) is that when there is another sentient being involved other than yourself, then all the fucking rules are gone.

Unlike playing a game of chess, you could remember how an player had once moved his bishop a certain way and thought, ‘okay, from previous experiences, I should move a pawn this way’.

–Too much removed? Life isn’t a game? Well, I’ll at least admit its not a structured game. It doesn’t have the same rules as chess, but the point I’m trying to make is that in so many cases in the personal lives of others when there is an personal interjection of yourself there are no rules. No remembering how to handle a situation. There is nothing in one relationship being professional or romantic to casual that will time and time again after you experience it be the ‘right way’ to handle the next.

I’ll be as basic as doing the dishes. — You have dinner at a friends house and after offer to help with the dishes. They say its not necessary to help, but you’re their friend and you want to help, so as you do, they tell you where the plates and glasses go. You’re at an others house in the same situation and out of respect ask to help with their dishes. When they accept, you can’t put the plates and dishes in the same places because its different for them. Its not wrong. Its different. Yes, you’ve learned one way, but its not their way. You can’t say they’re wrong, its just different.

Apply that to relationships of all sorts and really, and I don’t care how many if anyone reads this and tries to poke a hole in my thoughts because they are mine on this interaction of social life and you can’t say its wrong if its DIFFERENT than yours.

We’re all different. That’s what oddly, makes us great. When one relationship, whatever it might be ends, there will never be another one the same. No matter what you think you’ve learned from the last one, it in the whole only pertains to that one.

The saying goes to ‘take everything with a grain of salt’ and I think I get it… because if all of our relationships are just blocks of salt, if you at least take one grain, at least you may have one similar when you encounter the next. That’s where most relationships start… with one similar grain.

Alternate Route

I’ve think I’ve come up with the perfect plan — All willing, please comment immediately. I think the best course for my life right now is to find a girl that wants to have a baby but not keep the baby. Preferably I would like to have a son with this girl then take full custody and make sure the girl is well off enough when we leave to tour the world as a father/son adventure team.

Why? Because its apparent that I’m not very good at relationships or just choose poor ones. But I’m mostly guessing its me. I make a lot of poor decisions and then try to justify them with the thinnest of rationale. Everything sounds good when you’re selling yourself. Its like when you’re grocery shopping and hungry. Everything looks fucking amazing.

I don’t even know why I make poor decisions… I guess for some reason at first I imagine I’m someone I’m not and try to put all the little imperfections I have in the dark so I look better than I am. Maybe. But do I really want to be with someone that doesn’t see the real me? That isn’t a selfish thing to say, what I should say though is, do I really want someone to be with a fake version of who I am? That’s unfair. This is why I am saying I’m the problem. Every decision I make to appear one way in which isn’t completely honest is a lie. It’s dumb stuff too. Really dumb stuff. Stuff that when is eventually discovered is passed off as “dude, its cool, but why would you hide That. I dunno Cause I wanted to be the perfect person for you and I thought you’d think less of me if you knew these small imperfections.

I’m lonely. I’ve fucked up too many relationships. Romantic and others. Life doesn’t get better. I need to get stronger.

Well, not real giants, but a metaphorical giant I would say.

I want to announce to all the suffers of student loans, those especially with one cold hearted, oblivious, obnoxious, rude, crude and devilish bitch named S. Mae that a day of reckoning may finally be upon their pillars of greed and corruption. The sheep that have fallen into the flock and now shiver, shake, hide and cry when her name is mentioned and the whip of repayment is cracked may find hope. I am on the precibus to fight with full force in a court of law to end my misery and sorrow that is forever (seemingly) indebted to her for a piece of paper with my name and a degree on it. The injustice of their failures has gone far beyond acceptable long ago, but now with recorded evidence of their incompetence to fulfill their end of an agreement, I pose on the edge to strike back with a serious lawsuit. Time will tell where this story goes, but I for one hope it ends up in my lawyers hands and justice for all the years I’ve spent in misery because of her.

On a lighter note, it seems my portion of this pad named Earth has pulled one of the best April Fool’s day jokes on its residing citizens today: 72 and sunny with not a cloud in the sky. You might be thinking “Frog, you’re insane, that’s perfect weather!” but oh wait, the rest of the week will be rain and cold. Mother Nature you too are a cruel hearted bitch. Especially to the denizens that have added girth to their midsections from hiding indoors far too long through a brutal winter. You tease then punish. Unfortunately there isn’t much I can really do to spite you back, other than move… I’ve done it once its surely not off the table to do it again, or many more times! But I did get my bike back in working order and explored over the area this afternoon and relished in the one day of grace between the all the cold, snow and rain that has kept its firm reign over this area for far too long.

When I get more time, I’ll get the crowd of tadpoles that still follow the frog up-to-date on whats new in the swamp, for now, I will ask that we all lower our heads and have a moment of silence in memory of a dear, dear friend of mine who had passed away this winter. Rest in peace Silver Fox, our memories will never fade.

This won’t be too long, I’m just copying over a show to watch while I eat dinner, but it needed to be said… I got the most wonderful news today: I’m going to be an uncle. My sister wrote me a text and said “call me at lunch” and naturally since text has no feeling behind it, I had no clue if it was good or bad… so I called her and she said “How would you like our child to address you?” — well she actually said it in a different way, but, in general, they confirmed she’s in her 11th week and will be having (hoping all hope that all things go well) a baby in September! That’s my birthday month! That’s so exciting! But what’s really funny, as I told her, “Your hubby is probably 100x more excited than you are, isn’t he?” and she said “well, lets put it this way, as soon as we had it confirmed he told total strangers at a gas station that he was going to be a dad”

That’s all… I’m going to be an uncle. I can’t wait.

I honestly forgot about what I was going to write about when I got home. I was at the shore line watching the sun set over the frozen Lake and just thinking. So its at the same place by the house that I wanted to thinking about buying and this car pulls up and I was freaking out. “Oh man… someone called the cops… they think I’m a stalker, I’ve been here at least 4 times” So at the time I was on the phone with a claims adjuster for my car and asked her to be on hold as I talked to the random woman and said “Hi, I’m just enjoying the view, I just had to get a picture of this sun set”

Displaying IMG_20140218_180121659.jpg

Beautiful.

So naturally, with my car in shape its in, I still have to get back before dark. I paid over $300 today.for bills. Yay. Then I smelled fresh cut french fries after I parked and it took so much restraint to not go get some. I have plenty of food left. Especially my v-day pizza I got for myself. Gotta eat it sooner before it turns bad. Wasting food makes me think of how much we all waste and people at other countries just want clean water.

“Get up off my feet and stop taking tired excuses – NIN via Johnny Cash’s version

Which, I have no idea if anyone has heard Cash’s version (or the awesome 8 bit version), roughly 6 months before he died and lost June, the love of his life, was, and I paraphrase again was said by Trent Reznor that it wasn’t his song anymore, that Cash made it his own.

Oops, time to go watch my “guilty pleasure” show.

Keep hopping.