My CHRISTMAS in the %&@*&! ER

I'M BACK HOME!    We are back from the ER,  now,  I am wearing a catheter again.   We had to postpone our family Christmas dinner  that was to be held here today..   Before I get into nauseating details let me tell you a true incident that just happened:  Anna ring fell and hit the floor and almost rolled over the furnace grid that leads to the basement .  If it had rolled just another inch or two it might had ended up the furnace.  I said, "Today must be our lucky day!" 

When Anna made the announcement on facebook so many of you were concerned,  thank you, I am touched, more ways than one.  What happen all day yesterday I had a hard time urinating.  I could only dribble and drop, very little at a time.  Since my prostate operation this situation of having a hard time urinating has increasingly grown worse.  Yesterday, I went from  about 6 or 8 pm until 4 am without peeing at all.  I only got  about one hour's sleep.   Well, at 4am I hadn't urinated yet so I woke Anna and we called the urologist office and the PA on duty told me to go to the ER.  Which we did.  They immediately gave me a catheter to relieve the pressure.  The ER's urologist and the on-duty urologist of the group I go to, looked at it.  By running exploratory catheters down my pee-pee my urologist group's on duty doctor    determined  the healing of the prostate operation caused some big scars.  Big enough to block the path of the urine flow.  Now, they will, in steps, at their office, ream it out, so to speak.

All the people  that got involved in this, doctors, PAs, and nurses they were all very friendly and treated me like kin or a friend rather than a patient with a number.

My urologist group's doctor, when he first enter and lifted my hospital gown to see what he was dealing with said something to the effect that, "Here, Modesty  goes out the window."  Which was very true, two female nurses , two mail nurses, and two doctors looked over my private parts and I think most had reason to get their hands on my stuff  - with rubber gloves on of course.  I thought about making a wise-crack saying they need a fisheye mirror like convenience stores have so the people walking down the hallway would not miss the show.   But I didn't.

The Flow of Piss

Prelog 1

Back in the late 1940s and early 50s I went to grammar school at Waterman Street School.   The students' restrooms were  in the basement.  On one side of the building was the girls' and on the other side was the boys'.

Of course all the teachers were women.  They had to trust us boys to behave during our bathroom trips.  

My friend Archie Richardson, normally a quiet kid, could arch his back hold his penis and shoot a straight stream of piss all the way up the wall where it meets the ceiling.  The rest of us tried but we just didn't have the bladder pushing power Archie had.

Prolog 2

Like many men my age I had an enlarged prostate.  The enlarged prostate virtually blocked the urine passage, or urethra.  My urine flow was reduced to a dribble.   And my bladder was always full and uncomfortable.  It was time to see a urologist.

My urologist and his P.A. s gave me a series of test and  decided my prostate had to be shaved to reduce its  size.  When he was telling us about what they needed to go he warned me that the human body works like a computer.  The bladder figured out there was an enlarged prostate in its way so it pumped harder to move the fluid on out.  He said once the prostate has been shaved the bladder will not know it.  It will think  it still has a heavy job to do pushing the urine out, and pump hard to shove it out (I'm using layman's language, of course).  He said it may or may not do that.  And it will eventually figure out that the prostate is no longer a problem, then quit pumping so hard.

Page Two:

Friday morning the doctor's P.A. and nurses removed the catheter.  And now, I found out each time I pee it shoots out with the force blast, similar to a pressure washer.   So, where is Archie Richardson?  I think I can beat him!

My Big Gallbladder Stones Attack Adventure

Several months ago, it might have been as early as fall of last year, at the hospital's imaging center they discovered I had gallstones.   My GP recommended a surgeon.  We visited him and his main question was, "do they bother you?"

"Well, ....no."

He told us many people live a life time with gallstones and never know they have them.   But if I wanted them out they would accommodate me.  It was my call.  A cut in my pretty stomach  My call: NO.

Anna had hers out  about a year earlier when she found she had  gallstones.   A wise choice I found out.

As the months continued I noticed at times when I pigged out on fatty type of  food, or something heavily doused in mayonnaise I got a very stomach-bloated feeling and I had to take it easy for the next day.

My bloatness  times increased.  Did I get the message my body was trying to send me?  It was LOUD and clear (if you get what I mean).  Nope, Good looking mouth watering food overruled any common sense that I may have.

Most recently at a sandwich shop near the hospital which we eat  at occasionally we had chicken salad sandwiches.  Mine was delicious .  But as soon as I had eaten it I realized than I had just been consumed by a big glob of  mayonnaise.  Our roles were reversed,  the mayo was consumer and I was the consumeree. 

I was sick all the next day.

Then just a couple days later we went to an all you can eat country-cooking buffet.  That was on a Monday.  Tuesday morning I was  sick and lifeless which lasted until Friday or Saturday.  By the way, if you are interested in scientific experiments, again I proved that drinking a Coke to settle your stomach is an old wives' tale, it is like throwing gasoline on to a fire..... like I said that is not the first time I disproved that theory.  It seems I would learn, doesn't it?

Saturday  I had part if a sandwich.  I was trying to get well for Fathers' Day the following day . or at least be able to fake it to smile and talk during a meal.  Our son and daughter-in-law and we were going out.  Where they were here we decided instead of food I needed ER treatment.    We spent the rest of the day in the ER and the next 5 days at the hospital.

When we arrived at the ER I was almost immediately sent to a little room, placed in a wheel chair and someone took my vitals and asked how come I was there so they would know what to look for.  There were a few us lined up in little red wheel chairs and the way they were painted and lined up it made be think we were about to partake in a bumper car race.

A male nurse was getting the vitals from someone and he asked the patient what was the problem, or why was he there.  The man said he thought his hand was broken. 

"Why do you think  it is broken?"

"It hurts like it is broken."

"Did you bang it against something?"

"Yes."

"What?"

"A wall".

"A wall?"

"yes, I hit a wall with my first hard".

"Were you trying to hurt someone?"

"No."

"Was someone trying to hurt you?"

"No."

"Were you drinking?"

"Yes, I had a few beers.... look man, I didn't know I was going to be questioned!"

"I have to ask you questions based on what you say..."

An orderly grabbed my wheel chair and began to roll me back.  I wanted to say ask him to wait a few minutes, I'll like to hear the rest of that conversation, but  as discreet as I am, I said nothing.

From this point on the rest of our visit for the next five and half days I found the hospital staff were very friendly and almost everyone had a accent of some kind, I heard Doctor Zhivargo, those two wild and crazy guys on Saturday night Live, Cisco and Puncho, Count Dracula, a KGB spy, and lastly but not least a mixture of Beverly Hillbillies and Hee Haw.

Anna was back with me when we went back to the ER.  We were put in a curtain cubical.  There were three cubicles alongside the wall.  The good thing about curtain cubicles you can overhear everything  the neighbors are saying and the bad thing is that the neighbors can overhear everything you are saying.

A young man in the next cube was born in 1991.  About 22 years old?  By the conversation between him and his medical giver he was in some kind of dirt bike a-rama  thing near either Dallas or Cartersville.  The medic person asked him about how many feet was he in free flight.... I took this as being flung from his vehicle and was flying through the air.  He said, "about 70 feet."

"70 feet?"

"Yes  - the jump is 50 feet.... and  bla bla bla....."

I wanted to holler out, "Speak out!  I can't hear over here!"

And on the other side a young lady or teenager was pregnant.  She just found out.   She was estimated 7 months pregnant.

Speak up!

They determined I was having a gallstone attack.  They could not just remove the gallbladder because there were complications involved:  I am on Plavix, a blood thinner.  They would have to wait until the Plavix to wear off.  Exactly when did I take my last Plavix pill?  That is easy, Saturday night.  They said they could operate on probably Thursday or  Friday.  The second item was my count, whatever that is, and my temperature, and maybe one or two other symptoms which had the signature of a renegade gallstone that might be plugging up a valve hole or something.  They would have the GI group to give me a closer look by MRI and determine where that little rascal renegade gallstone was and then a tube down through me somehow and mechanically pick it up.  Shit!

The surgery coordinator I was assigned to put me on a "nothing by mouth" diet.  Nothing by Mouth means nothing.  I got fluids through the iv and that was it.  Speaking of IVs, my iv tubing was continuously tangling itself up and it would beep  and beep until they came to fix it.  Finally it got where if I just moved my arm slightly it would shot working and start beeping.  The nurses  showed me how to press start again and press the iv selections.  Which I'm sure they enjoyed their extra time.  One day it kept beeping and I couldn't get it back running correctly and the nurse came in several times and got it running but before she left good it would start beeping again.  She told me I was just going to have to keep my hand still.  As she was telling me this and my hand was in plain view being still, it started beeping again.  She called the unit to have them come and jab a new iv hole.

Speaking of holes in my arm, before the week was over both my arms were full of holes and bruises.  I told the nurse drawing blood  when I left there if the cops pulled me over and they saw my arms my car would be searched for sure.  

I should note that I don't think anytime for those five nights in the hospital I got over 20 minutes in a row of good sleep..... well, any sleep.

For five day we saw a long list of professional medical people to come and check on me.  Members of  my cardiologist's staff, doctors and nurses kept the door swinging, along with the GI team members, gastrologists (?), one person with a plastic looking toy that he insisted I blow in every hour, ten times, and one well fit doctor in his 30s who looked like the poster child of an aggressive sportsman  and exerciser, bounded in one day, didn't identify himself, he just ask was I OK, and I said, "Yeah, considering..." and before we could have a chuckle over my wise-crack he was out the door before it even slung shut.  Who was that man?  I bet he is very self-centered and cried when his  Little League team lost and if he ever made a mistake on the sporting field he managed to blame it on someone else.  I guess each of them saying  "Howdy-you-do? will be priced and invoiced and we start seeing statements from various medical groups will start coming soon.

There were one lady that had an interesting air about her. It seems she had a wry smile on her face all the time and seemed to sense the ironic  humor in humans intermingling.  She would usually ask me if they did so and so, and based on what I said she elaborated.    She had an accent and reminded me of a KGB agent - she needed a trench coat to complete my  interpretation of her

One student nurse came through one day with the nurse watching everything she did and wrote it down and sometimes asked her why she did something.  She was a very serious learner.  Later that same day she came back and ask if I mind if she ask me some questions about my illness, which I truthfully answered everything she asked.   Somehow it came out that she loved dogs and she has a part whippet and part something else, but looks like a pit bull dog.  While we were in such a jovial mood talking about our dogs we asked her if she had any children.  She was taken by our question and was silent for a few moments.... damn, what did we say wrong?   Then she finally spoke, saying one thing as a nurse she was taught is not to divulge too much private information about yourself.   Then, she broke her own self-imposed rule and told us she was pregnant.  We congratulated her.  She  left and we didn't see her again.

The older nurses seemed to have cared less about divulging or TMI.  Bah!

During my near-week at the hospital over the PA system they announced "Town Hall Meeting" in the auditorium two to four times a day.   One nurse told me she had been there 31 years and has yet attended one of those meetings, she said she had to eat her lunch working, do I think she was going to waste her work time hearing about the hospital long range plans?  She shooed the thought away like swatting a fly.

Just like the Wheels of Justice move slowly, so do the Wheels of Medicine.  One group can't  make their move until  the group ahead of them do their thing.

But the day we thought the GI people should do their exploring we had the nurse to call and asked when they were going to do me.  They said they had no paper work on me.    Back to the drawing board.

Finally that day or the next they came and did my MIR.  The thing is by the time they got the orders and did the MRI the little renegade gallstone had moved on, probably flushed away with the water the IVs has been dripping into me.  And my temperature was back to normal and so were the numbers. 

My surgery to have the gallbladder removed was Thursday.  A team came in and made sure I was properly cleaned, stripped down with no clothes except my hospital gown, watch removed, and ring we  compromised.  I was rolled onto a gurney and down the corridors and elevators and down more corridors until we reached the operating complex.  While being pushed looking ahead I thought it would be neat to have my camera with me to video the trip down the halls, you see lots of people mulling about talking, reading orders, reading newspapers, and just hanging out.  It would make an interesting video.  Then I thought of how I would look holding a video being gurneyed down the hall and I was reminded me I only had on a hospital gown.  Damn, when the people looked up to see the gurney noise what all did they see flapping in the wind go by them?

In the operating staging cubicles again we had fabric cubicles that you could hear other people talk.  One guy with a very loud voice was telling someone with him he does all kinds of workouts every day in a gym and so far this year has ran over 19,000 miles.  He said an actual number, like 19,745 but I didn't retain it, I wasn't compulsive over his stats as he was.  But I do know he said he ran at least 19,000 miles this year.  That was June 20.  June 20 was the 171st day of 2013.   If you divide 19,000 by 171 you will see that the guy was claiming to average slightly over 111 miles each day.  

That is a lot of time improving one's body for endurance, which is commendable but when did he find time for just routine daily routines like sleep, eating, yard work, whatever.  As he told whomever he was talking to, "I'm the real thing!"

Well, as long as he is still talking he will always have a favorite subject to talk about.

The operation went smoothly, or I suppose it did.  I only remember them putting me back in my hospital bed back in my room.   Additional to my IV they hooked me up to some additional devices or gadgets.  I had an oxygen breathing tube, both lower parts of my legs wrapped in air tubes  that was tighten up whenever they felt it was needed, which was about every ten or fifteen minutes, and maybe a heart monitor, I forgot.

With all the tubes and wires wrapped around me I found it almost impossible to urinate.  There was a plastic urinal by the bed for my convenience but found it hard and complicated to use.  The wires and tubes were pulled tight and some was in a tangle.  It was hard to stand at the edge of my bed and pee into the plastic urinal.  I had to stoop over balanced on one leg with the other pulled upward by the tubes.  They were trying to flush me so was pumping fluids by the IV to I was forced to pee about once an hour, and each time I had to do an acrobatic act.

Now, I had a tube coming out of my stomach into an overflow bottle, so I could not lay on my side.  I cannot sleep on my back.  From exhaustion a couple of times I almost nodded off to sleep only to gently woken by the feeling of huge snakes coiling around my legs.

After a whole night without a wink of sleep a doctor the next morning was telling me what an great invention the tubes around the legs are, he said that will keep you from having cramps.  I told him that thing kept me awake when I could be sleeping and which is more valuable a stroke from sleep deprivation or no leg cramps?  He looked at me with a frozen smile  and left with his clipboard.  

I was released Friday with an overflow tube attached to a little bottle, which I will have to have remove early in the week.  I am gradually getting my appetite and energy back.  Now, it only hurt when I giggle.

PS - One thing I almost forgot, a nurse was helping me one day and was getting me ready for bed and giving me the proper medicines and she asked me, "Do they give you Tylenol at the Home?" 

Free Range Kids

                                  Street Kids a.k.a. Free Range Kids

These are notes I made on my i-pad during my hours at the hosptital Tuesday.

 My sister was having leg surgery. My sister Frances and I were sitting in the waiting room at the hospital talking about this and that. Frances said the other day on GOOD MORNING AMERICA they were talking about free range children, which is a new concept in day childcare. The idea is to put a big group of children in a huge outside area and let romp and play unsupervised. Let them make their own rules. They feel this cconcept will strenghten the individual character.

I think it will teach them young in life that the strongest bully rules.

Frances remembered that "Free Range Children" were exactly what we were. Or more appropriately, "Street Kids". Our Free Range was all of the Clay Homes and all of downtown Marietta. We didn't check in with our parents unless we got hurt or were hungry. Once a dog chased me and I was afraid to confront it to get home, so I went to my grandparents' home in south Marietta a mile away. I was 4 or 5 then. Another time when I was about 3 my mother was ironing and listening to WFOM Radio. The radio was airing live of children in Santa Clause's lap telling what they wanted for Christmas. The mobile was set up at Sears on Atlanta Street and she recognized my squeaky voice.

Our neighbors' kids are Free Range; too Free Range. 911 has been caled on them several times. In fact, Family Services has threatened to take their children.

More notes about being at the hospital: The nurse wheeling our younger sister Bonnie back to us (Frances & I) said, " I'm carrying you back to your parents." During our four to five hour wait in the waiting room a lady pushed a full size harp into the room and strummed enchanged harp music. Nobody seemed to noticed her. I thought it might be out of place to applaud her or give her a tip and there was no hat throw money in.

Frances and I checked out the new restaurant Bistro at the hospital. It has the cool tile & rock decor of a upper scale restaurant. We both had Georgia trout with stone grounded grits. It was good and very reasonable. I charged mine with my credit card. Guess what? The ticket I signed there was no blank to leave a tip. At the bottom it said, "Gradtuities will not be accepted.". That is almost good as coupons!

Paul Had Spinal Surgery

I talked to Paul Roper. He is in a hospital bed getting over spinal surgery he had yesterday. He got through it without any problems, or none that he remembers, anyway.


We are getting at the age that we will frequently have health issues that only doctors can resolve, if we are lucky.

Keep Larry Miller in your Thoughts & Prayers

Thoughts and prayers going out for Larry Miller, who got the call yesterday, for a lung transplant.

Kennestone, the Growing Amoeba

(click on image to make it bigger - run from it to make it smaller)

The above is Google Earth’s eye view of the Kennestone-Wellstar Hospital complex. I count about 18 structures that are mostly buildings but there are some deck parking lots. This is all in about a four square block area. Some of the buildings have at least six floors and most of them are connected by bridges. If I zoomed out more I could have included more of the hospital holdings but they would not be in the cluster, they would be like little satellites scattered around.

Back to the cluster you see. If one had taken an aerial picture above of the original Kennestone Hospital when it first opened in the early 1950s, and then annually take a picture of the complex or compound looking down it would look something like a shapeless amoeba, closing in on nearby buildings when suddenly it is part of them and getting bigger and bigger.

That represents a lot of health insurance!

My Heart, My Valentine to All

My Heart Before


My Heart After

Speaking of hearts, here is my real heart. Really! It is the before and after pictures of my heart when they put a stent in. That was a few days short of ten years ago.

Ten years ago we celebrated Valentines Day by having dinner at Outback Steakhouse. Other than the steak I was fond of their onion loaf that was oozing in grease. The next morning while running my arm and jaw started hurting. I quit running and walked home. The next day we were doing household chores, which included bending over the clothes dryer. When I bent over and straighten back out I noted that something was wrong. We decided to go to the ER at Kennestone Hosptial. The staff checked me over and told me I had a heart- attack. I told them they were mistaken. My only reasoning was that “I don’t have heart-attacks”. They looked at my heart on a monitor hooked through a tube going in my thigh and sure enough, they were right, it was a heart attack.

The next day or so they took me to Piedmont Hospital and put some stents in.

And I am still here typing. Happy Valentine’s Day!

More About Last Saturday, the 24th!

Wait! I’m not through with Saturday, September 24, 2011 yet.

See my hand above? Do you see the little bites and the little pus heads?

Saturday evening we went to the cemetery to put new artificial flowers down at our parents’ graves. At the head of each flat bronze marker is a metal vase to hold flowers. When the vase is not in use holding flowers it should be turned upside down and into a hole about as deep as the vase is, to hold it. When we had the vase out of my parents’ marker I noticed the hole had debris in it, such as dead grass clipping, dirt, pieces of Styrofoam, etc. I reached my hand into the hole to clean it out. After two handfuls of debris and in for the third handful I noticed a weird tingling feeling all over my hand. I pulled it out of the hole and it was covered ants! Hundreds of them. Most were biting and others were crawling in all directions.

They were hard to rake off because I think their teeth, pinchers, or whatever they have had a firm hold of my flesh. Well, with enough dancing and cursing I managed to get them all off.




For the next hour or so my poor hand experience little pain pings all over. But, as you can tell by this text (that was typed using these hands) I got through it and lived and so did my hands. Now, there are only little pus capped bumps to prove my painful ordeal.

I don’t want to squeeze the bumps because I take blood thinner medicine and I bleed rather freely. Just wait until you see the pictures of my hemorrhoids tomorrow and you’ll know what I’m talking about.*



*just joking.

Victoria Moon Road to Recovery

Victoria is the wife of Stephen Moon, who is the son of Anna's 2nd cousins the late Doug and Mary Cochran Moon. Victoria fell in the doctor's office during a routine visit and went into a coma. Here is brief video summary of Victoria's struggle presented by the local Fox TV News:

Cobb Mother Hurt in Fall Recovering: MyFoxATLANTA.com

This Day In History, Selma March

This date in history, February 1, 1965, Martin Luther King and 700 demonstrators were arrested in Selma, Alabama.

I remember either that day or the day after. It was all over the news as I woke up from my spine operation in the Philadelphia Naval Hospital. “We shall overcome!” president Lyndon B. Johnson said on the news when he announced he was sending in Federal Troops to protect the marchers.

Selma’s police brutality upped the Civil Rights speed. When the nation and the world saw the police pound down on unarmed blacks it reminded them of the fascist style of the Nazi German government not that long ago. It had been going on in the United States for about a hundred years.

Tch tch.

I spent about 40 days in the hospital When the doctor released me, I had less than 90 days left of my active duty. A wave, in the hospital personnel office, pointed out to me that when one has less than 90 days left, and is to be transferred he has the option to get an early out if so desired. I think that regulation was designed to keep down moving costs.

Believe it or not, I desired not. I had several friends in our squadron that I just couldn’t part company with them without any kind of notice.

As a matter of fact, one of them was using my car,a PV544 Volvo, while I was in the hospital. When I arrived back on the base at Lakehurst, NJ, imagine how happy I was to see them until I saw my car. The passenger door was held on by a heavy rope.

tch tch

The Yuppie Preppy Teenage Girl Vagabond

Yesterday we got our flu shots and I got my shingles shot. I never thought much about shingles, even after hearing some gory details of how shingles can affect the human body. Then, a friend had the shingles and I heard a more one on one account. It sounded more personal. The shingles effected some of my friend’s organs such as his kidneys. Then he went on a dialisis machine and finally, his daughter is donating one of her kidneys to him.

I thought it might be in my best interest to get a shingles shot.

The flu vaccine is just about readily available at any pharmacy that sells shots, it seemed. But to find someone that had the shingles vaccine and for your insurance to fit or conform to their list – well, that is another story. We spent a good two or three hours in pursuit of the vaccine. If I understand it, the vaccine has to be stored in a frozen state, and what is thaw out for the day has to be used that sameday.

One drugstore had plenty but our insurance did not jive with what they accepted. Another drugstore chain jived with our insurance but they did not sell the shingles vaccine. Finally we found a grocery store pharmacy that had the vaccine – or they had one dose left. We dropped everything and went there and I got the shot. It is a once in a lifetime shot. Anna got her shot last year.

The druggist was an expert shot giver. Neither one of us felt the needle. Afterwards she told us to stick around the store about ten more minutes, then we could go. I think she wanted to make sure we had no adverse reaction. She said they were now out of the shingles vaccine and will have to wait for another shipment.

I thought of an old postal state of mind quote: “Who cares? I got mine!”

Not long afterwards we were each eating a roast beef sandwich at Arby’s on Sandy Plains Road. In the booth next to us were three well behaved young teenagers. I doubt if they were old enough to drive yet. They were all dressed nicely, stylish, and expensively.

Suddenly one of the teenage girls was standing in front of us. She said she and her friends were practicing basketball at Sprayberry High School. She asked for a quarter very directly, “Would you please give me a quarter?”

“Why do you need a quarter?” we asked.

She looked at us like thinking, “What business is it of yours?” But thinking about it for a moment responded.

“To pay for my food.” She said. We gave her a quarter. She thanked us and walked away.

Later, the girls all together. As they left they all rang the brass bell to let the Arby’s help and the customers know that they were happy with their service. The Arby’s girl behind the counter hollered out a “thank you” and I felt we should have thanked them too.

Eyeballing Voice Mails

I have laser eye surgery scheduled next week. The doctor said it will be a minor procedure. She also said almost nothing can go wrong.

It might be minor to her but it is major to me.

Several times through I have been told eye doctors that floaters in the eye are natural but they would like to be informed immediately if any of the floaters have are white or appear to have bright light. One doctor explained that bright floaters could mean your retina is separating from the eye-ball.

We don’t want that do we?

This weekend, on both days, in the in darkness of mornings and the darkness of nights I had bright floaters.

Monday morning I had them again and decided to call my doctor. After all, she said I should notify them immediately in a case like that.
I called the doctors’ office and explained to the lady that answers the phone that I am scheduled to have laser surgery next week but I thought the doctor needed to know I have having bright floaters in the other eye. She listened patiently and even said “u-hum” a couple of times to signal to me that she understood exactly what I was saying.

Then she said, “Hold on, I’ll transfer you to the operation scheduler.” Click!

The operational scheduler voice mail said she was only in the office on Tuesdays and Thursdays and for me to leave a message or call back one of those days. I hung up the phone and called back immediately and told the same lady who transferred me that I did not need to somebody to reschedule the operation, I needed to talk to someone with medical knowledge, I was suppose to notify them immediately if the floaters were bright.

She more or less said, “Oh!” Then she said my doctor is out of the office this week but she would transfer me to the doctor’s main assistant nurse. She did. It was the main assistant nurse’s voice mail. I told her the story and left my telephone number. My call was not returned (that day).

How can you notified them “immediately” as they advised if the system of voice mails does not allow that?

The next day, Tuesday (yesterday), again I had the bright floaters. I worked out in the yard around noontime and got very sweaty. I came in to take a shower and to get ready for the GOBAG (Good Old Boys and Girls) weekly get-together. It was almost 2:00pm.

The telephone rang. It was the nurse just now returning my call from yesterday. “How can I help you?” she asked. I told her my bright floater story, again. She more or less said I had to drop everything and come right in the office. Anna told her as soon as I take a shower.

She said there is no time for a shower, I should come right now, without a shower. “Time is of the essence!” – Sherlock Holmes.

Then she added that once we arrived, because I didn’t have an appointment, they would have to work me in as soon as they could. In other words, be prepared to wait a while.

Hmmm? Me sweaty and dirty and I am to rush down there in a flurry to sat down and wait a while to be worked in? Nope! I’ll use some of that “work in time” to take a shower.

There is a term I heard a lot in the Navy: Hurry up and wait.

Anna and I rushed to the doctors’ office and I was worked in within a reasonable time, not more than 30 or so minutes. The nurse and the doctor had a hard time dilating my eye. I forgot the term but as a layman I’ll say the membrane covering my eyeball was so thick and hard it was hard to get a solution through to dilate the eye.

I told Anna I had a better idea. Why not just turn out the lights and just sit there for about ten minutes? By then, my eyes would have naturally dilated to adjust to the dark. That makes sense to me. I wonder why the experts haven’t thought of that?

That reminds me of the BP trying to control the uncontrollable oil gushing in the Gulf. They flew in the top engineers to try to figure out a way to stop or control it, and spent millions of dollars doing so.

From pictures he had seen a plumber saw the problem and figured out a solution. It was just a plumbing problem, I guess. Somehow the plumber was able to contact the right people to listen to him and now, it appears, it is under control, thanks to the plumber.

Do you think he will get a lot of money for solving their problem? I bet not. BP said who is to say they wouldn’t have figured out that themselves in time. But, I bet the executive who allowed the plumber’s idea to be tried gets a big bonus in the millions.

The doctor that saw me could find no sign of the retina parting from the eyeball.

All’s well that ends well.

A Funny Thing Happened On the Way To ...

I am almost always early when I am to be at a certain place at a certain time. Some would say I have a fear of being late. I am not quiet that bad. I think a slight compulsion to be early would better describe me, and 99% of Hunters my age or older who share my genes.

The other day I had an eye doctor appointment at 9:30am, which I was 15 minutes early for. What I didn’t realize or remember, they also had me down for a depth and peripheral vision test at 9:00am.

We came strolling in at 9:15am thinking we were about 15 minutes early. I carried a book to read during the time waiting. The receptionist leaned over and saw the name I wrote and said, “Mr. Hunter, are you aware you were to be here at 9:00?”

My heart leaped. I thought maybe grasping at my heart was in order. What me late? “At 9:00?” I asked.

The receptionist said I was to come in at 9:00 for tests and then see the eye-doctor at 9:30. She added she would go back and see if they can still do the eye test.

She went back and returned with a technician at her heels. She said since it was only my left eye that is giving me the problem she thought she can make it by 9:30. One eye is quicker.

When I got inside the room for the tests I apologized for being late and she broke in and says, “That is why we tell people to be on time, if someone is late it backs everything up.”

I wanted to say, “I know, I know! I have felt that way all my adult life! And normally I see people waltzing in 15 to 30 minutes late and no big deal was made.” But I didn’t. Her hands were on the controls.

When the female doctor did see me she looked over all the facts, tests and latest eye pressure numbers and said the new eye drops she prescribed are not doing any good.

She said laser surgery was the only solution. She put me in the hands of her assistant nurse to make the arrangements. Both the doctor and the nurse assured me laser eye surgery for glaucoma is a piece of cake. They said it only takes about an 5 minutes, and after about an hour wait, they check certain things to see how it went, and then I could go out and go to a party if I wanted to.

I will undergo laser surgery in about two weeks. I will be a piece of cake. What kind of cake?

When Anna and I got into the car I said, “Well, I know not to be late again! They operate!!”

On down the road a mile or so Anna said she didn’t understand something the doctor had said, she said the explanation was blurred. I told her blurred was a good choice for a word at the moment.

Stick around, I got a million of ‘em, I tellya!

HIC!

I think it was during the year 2007 that a nine year old girl appeared on The Today Show with a case of non-stop hiccups. I think she went over six or seen weeks hiccupping.

That was probably a terrible feeling and embarrassing ordeal for that young girl. I wonder what all her parents thought to get of her constant hiccupping. Most of all, I wonder what she got out of it.

After all, she was on The Today Show. That should have some kind of endorsement or in-person value.

Not to try to outdo Little Miss Hiccup of 2007 but I too presently have non-stop hiccups. I have been hiccupping since about 2am yesterday.

Fortunately, my hiccups took breaks at convenient times: It allowed me to sleep about 6 hours last night and it stopped long enough to allow me to go physical therapy this morning. I could picture each time I let out a loud “hic” muffled sounds would come from everybody in the room, like they were trying to swallow a giggle.

There is a possibility I might need laser eye surgery fairly soon. I thought With the constant hiccupping I do a loud jerking “Hic” during eye surgery and the doctor accidently bores me a new third eye socket.

I think one ailment might cure another ailment. I can see the possibility that my hiccupping ailment could counter-act my invisible ailment. How can anyone ignore a loud hiccup jerk?

Here is a couple things I took mental notes on. I hic every 4th or 5th breath, breathing in air. Sometimes it is 4 breaths and sometimes it is 5 breaths. I let go loud jerking “hics” about every six sets. If it stops and I think it is gone I can eat or drink something and it will trigger it off. This morning it did after I had my first cup of coffee. And today after therapy I dropped by the Varsity and had a chili dog.

The loud hiccup system reminds me that the 7th wave in the ocean is believed to be higher than the ones around it. If you don’t believe me see the movie PAPILLON.

Some skeptics may point out that my hiccupping took breaks… convenient breaks to allow me to sleep and go to physical therapy. You might even say it is a psychological disorder, if it allows itself to stop for the carrier’s convenience.

If you say such, here is my retort back: Asshole!

Wait! I'm Jumping Ahead of Myself!

This morning I was to have a MRI at 9:00. The paperwork told me to come at 8:30 to fill out the paperwork, submit insurance cards, etc.

We also got a handout map showing how to get around Tower Road at the hospital. They said Tower Road would be partially closed.

To allow for any route confusion or traffic snarled up because of the Tower Road partially closed I left one hour early, at 7:30. I drove straight there with no traffic or mapping problem at all. I was sitting in the parking lot at 7:50 and not due for 40 more minutes.

I sat in the truck and watch the traffic speed both ways down Tower Road. Nobody seemed to know they were suppose to be confused and having jam up traffic because of the confusion.

I went inside at 8:20. The technician hopped up and motion me back. I asked the receptionist should I fill out any paperwork. She said they have it all.

The MRI was 35 minutes. The buzzing noise sounded like what I would think being submerged underwater near machinery would sound like.

I thought about many things, made little plans, planned routes, planned blogs for certain dates, and suddenly, without warning the submerged sounding noise stopped. The technician said, "That's it!"

"Wait! I'm not through day dreaming?"

He told me to up to the receptionist area and have a seat and he would bring a disk up to me. I did. I sat down and waited.

I told the receptionist if I had made my appointment about two hours later I could go to Brandy's Hotdogs to eat. She said she loved Brandy's.

She added, "I remember when it was Betty's".

I said, "I remember when it was the Marble Inn." I had her there.

The technician came up front and gave me the CD disk to give to my doctor. I looked at my watch. It was 9:00. I was suppose to be starting my MRI now.

Quantum Leap?

The Eye That Sees All

Last week I went to a glaucoma surgeon. She did a very detailed study of my eye that shows signs of glaucoma. She determined to first try to treat it medically before considering an operation.
That suits me!
She prescribed Travatan Eye Drops. She told me this medication may make my eyebrows bushy and it may turn my eye brown which means I might have one brown eye and one hazel eye. She asked me was I OK with that.

“Yes, why not?” I might look exotic – a man of intrigue and mystery.

After we left I thought I wished I had asked her can she prescribe some eye drops that will cause that eye to turn red and glow in the dark and maybe the other eye too. How would that be for intrigue and mystery?

Frances and the Tumor

I have told several friends about my sister Frances' brain tumor. Generally, I have kept it under my cap, so to speak , because I thought she might not want the world to know any issues about her health.

I heard she appeared on some church’s bulletin’s prayer list and she told her class newsletter about the tumor. So, the cat is out of the bag.

Speaking for prayers, some friends said they were going to pray for her.

She has a Glomus Tumor which normally latches itself on the jugular vein in the upper cheek area. Of course we were concerned but felt better about it after the doctor told us it is not malignant.

It did a minimum of damage so far. Hopefully its growth has been halted.

The ear, nose, and throat specialist group in Marietta Frances went to did not have the expertise or equipment to deal with her tumor. They sent us to the doctors at Emory Hospital.

I lost count the number of times we went to Emory over the past month see various doctors, MIRs**, and one time just to deliver some misplaced x-rays and paper work. I think, five times – six tops.

Yesterday was the day of her radiation treatment. She said it wasn’t as bad as she thought it was going to be. In fact, she said, it wasn’t bad at all.

The prayers must have worked. Thank you.

We had to be there at 6:15 am. Of course, in Hunter Time that was 5:30am, but in actuality that was 5:15. But we had to wait around for the valet service to open at 5:30.

Normally, I avoid valet service about as much as I avoid being splashed with scalding water, but this time, we got information from two different sources if you come to Emory Hospital for radiation the Valet Parking is free.

We first reported to the Same-Day Surgery’s Waiting Room on the 3rd floor, signed in and took a seat. We did not wait very long until Frances’ name was called. I went with her while Anna and Bonnie stayed in the waiting room.

We went to a pre-surgery room where they prepped you. In Frances’ case, they hooked an iv to her and attached a big bracket to her head that resembled a heavy cast-iron flange.

I picked it up and it wasn’t as heavy as it looked. It is designed to keep her head from moving during the radiation blast. How does it stay on her head? Get this: It is screwed on with 4 screws; two screws into her forehead and two screws in the back of the head. The screws were screwed in with a regular looking ratchet screw-driver.

Whatever works!

While in the pre-op section I asked the nurse if he/she* could tell if a person was a doctor or a RN – they seemed to be wearing all the same uniforms. He/she* said he/she* knew most, if not all, the Emory doctors, but of course sometimes Grady doctors, Marietta doctors, and so on might show up. He/she* said he could even tell then – something about the way a doctor carried themselves.

“The strut!” I said.

He/she* laughed and said that I had something there.

I asked he/she* how many employees did Emory have. He/she* said about 15,000.

Then I said I knew it was privately owned “by the Methodist?”

He/she* made an “iffy” symbol with his/her* hand and, “Yeah, but Coke has donated a huge sum of money over the years.” He/she* added, “If a member of the Candler family or any major Coke stockholder's family member comes in we are suppose to clear the way and bend over and bow”. He/she* rolled his/her* eyes.

They did the radiation procedure in the neighboring medical building across the street. All four of us walked over with the transporter and Frances (in a wheelchair). We walked deep down in a tunnel. The tunnel went under Clifton Road. The procedure was done deep below earth level. In a way it was spooky.

In all, we walked the tunnel three times.

The radiation procedure itself didn't take long, only about 15 minutes. But there was a lot of "hurry up and wait" situations.

The doctor came in her room after it was all over and said all went fine and they would want to see her in about six weeks, and then in about six months, then six months again, and after that once a year.

We checked in, as I said, just after 5:30 and checked out after 3pm.

While waiting on the car to be delivered to us free by the valet service we saw the police escort a heavy thug-looking guy in that was wearing an orange pants suit and hand-cuffs.



Also I believe I saw Georgian MAD artist Jack Davis and his wife walk by. I didn’t have the gumption to ask him was it really him.

I cursed myself for not bringing my camera.

*The word he/she* is not to meant to point out a sexual preference of the person. It is designed to protect the sex identity of the nurse, to keep him/her* out of hot water.
** The MRI procedure Frances had was done at an Emory medical facility in Tucker last Monday. We were two hours early and they were running one hour behind. That was a guaranteed three hours time of just sitting there. With the scanning time it added up closer to four hours. During that time I got drowsy and walked into their cafeteria to get a cup of coffee. I did not see any thing that looked like a coffee container. Behind a counter with a stainless steel steaming food containers were two servers. I went up to ask them where the coffee was and they looked every way but directly at me. Then I walked to the cashier to ask her…when I was feet from her she got up and asked somebody something across the room. The invisible man struck again! However, I did find the coffee- it was in a soft drink dispenser type machine. When I poured the coffee the cashier saw me immediately and told me how much and held out her hand. It is funny how my invisible cover is blown when I owe them money.

Chili Dogs, Nature's Own Man Made Health Food

Yesterday I had a stress test.

The last time I had one, about two years ago, the gizmos found I had a blockage and the doctor ran a probe through my groin to check it out. The probem was in the area of a stint that was put in a few years ago. Evidently, the stint collapsed.

After it was all over the doctor explained to me that my cardio system performed its own bypass. It actually weaved a series of blood vessels that leaped over the blockage and landed on the other side so the blood could continue its journey.

When I went to the Mississippi River Museum on Mudd Island in Memphis I saw a film that proved rivers performs their own bypasses all the time. This is just another case of natural taking its own course.

The doctor said there was nothing for him to do, and added, “Its nice doing business with you.”

I was half-way afraid the stress test on the treadmill, with about a dozen electronic hookups to my chest would find another blockage. But it didn’t!

I had a follow-up with the doctor about 30 minutes later he said everything was fine with good reports. My good numbers had increased and my bad numbers have decreased. And not only that but I lost some weight since my last visit last June. He said, “Whatever you are doing, keep it up!”

I fasted since the evening before. Somehow, I felt it wasn’t really necessary. I asked the doctor was it really necessary that I fasted. He said, “No, that would only be for Nuclear Stress Tests…. You hungry?”

Yes!

The doctor said to keep up whatever I was doing – right? I followed his instructions. I drove directly to Brandi’s World Famous Hotdogs and for brunch I had two delicious chili slaw dogs.

I sat at the counter beside a guy that was reading and had three chili-cheese dogs in front of him on a paper towel. He was reading a newspaper. I thought his dogs were getting cold – put who am I to pry? He knew what he wanted: read, eat hotdogs, and ignore the person sitting next to him.

Interesting, while eating I noticed a big cabinet or stove or something in the rear of the store. On top were some personal belongings, such as pocketbooks, etc. And also, there with the personal belongings was a Styrofoam Chic-Fi-a cup. Not that there is anything wrong with that, but it just looked out of place in a spicy hotdog eatery.

The spicy chili dogs are always delicious but this time they out did themselves. In an earlier post I had mentioned people discussing which is the best day for the chili at Brandi’s, as far as being spicy goes, Monday or Friday. Yesterday was Thursday, and it was the best yet.

The heat in my throat stayed with me driving up Canton Road for the next ten or fifteen minutes. It was a good heat that made you feel all arm inside.

However, about 30 minutes later, I burped a terrible acidic taste came up. It definitely had the chili favor to it. Yyyeeeccchhhhh!

Then just before I went to bed last night, again, I burped and the same acidic taste gurgled up. For a moment I blamed the hotdogs then I remembered for dinner we had meatballs, left over from a club luncheon Anna went to that day.

Good I would hate to see two innocent hotdogs get a bum-rap.

Paul is Leaving The Hospital (very soon)

Paul Roper is alive and kicking.

Paul's knee was replaced today. And he was walking this afternoon. Now he is planning his escape route. The insurance company said they would gladly help.

I was going to wish him a speedy recovery but I wasn't quick enough.