Cannot believe I’m back here (again)

The only luck I have is the kind no one wants


Went to the ER again last week. This time was for Nate.

I’d just written out the last blog entry and gone to bed when I heard him make this awful groaning/coughing sound.

Literally leapt out of bed and almost killed myself getting to his room. When I got there, he was shaking like crazy and making that sound.

Prior to Alison getting sick, prided myself on being pretty cool under pressure but hearing him sound like that and realizing that I was alone, I panicked.

Called my brother – a doctor – and asked him what to do. He just said bring him to the ER.

Not knowing what else to do, I called Gymgirl and asked her to speak to my brother and ABFF and ran out into the street where I nearly killed both of us trying to hail a cab.

Driver: Are you crazy?! You have baby! I should..
Me: (leaping in and fussing with straps) Drive us to the hospital, now!
Driver: (eyes widen and nods) Roosevelt?
Me: Yeah. F____king Roosevelt. (still looking at son) Sorry, kid. You’re gonna be ok. Papa’s here. (try to get seatbelt on)
Baby: (coughs)

And off we went to the goddamn ER for the millionth f____king time.

After getting there and going through everything, they put us two beds away from where they put me and Alison when we first went. Felt my broken heart break again.

We finally saw a doctor who asked a buncha questions and do a buncha exams. Presently, he said that the kid had croup.

Doctor: It’s really common and rarely complicates.
Me: Dude, the only luck I have is the kind no one wants.

Then he gave the boy the exact same steroid that Alison used to take. And those broken pieces of my heart fell into my shoes.

Me: Great.
Him: He’ll feel much better afterward.
Me: (reluctantly nodding) Yeah. Do it.

Nauseated, I got up and went to the bathroom. Walked all the way down to a bathroom I’d been to a few times previously. Didn’t retch this time. When I got out, a nurse was holding the kid who pointed at me and screamed:

Him: Daddy, pee-pee! Daddy, pee-pee!

And then he clapped, because that’s what I do while potty training.  The entire floor turned to look at me and I couldn’t help but laugh.

Me: Thanks, kid.

My brother checked in on us. Then I called the Gymgirl, who lives in Brooklyn, to apologize for waking and scaring her.

Her: It’s fine. I’m in the car going to you.
Me: We’ll just take a cab. I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to call.
Her: I’m already in Manhattan. I’ll wait for you out front.

It was 2AM when we were finally discharged. And she was sitting in a car outside, waiting for the two of us. After I strapped in – parenting is a lotta fussing with straps – she drove us home, came in, and helped me put him to bed.

Her: He’ll be fine, Logan.
Me: I hope so. (thinking) It’s late. You could stay if you wanted.
Her: (shaking head) I have to bring the car back. (thinking) Why did you make it look like it was nothing for me to leave him in your blog? You and I both know it wasn’t. But you and he are a package deal. So…
Me: (interrupting) I know. I’m sorry. (pause) Thanks. For everything.
Her: I would do anything for him.
Me: I know. I’m sorry about how everything went down. For what it’s worth, you’re my favorite.
Her: (sighing) Go get some rest, Logan.

She left and I shut the gate behind her.

There’s more, of course, but this is all I wanted say on it.

Went into the boy’s room and gently put my hand on his back.

Me: (whispering) Thank you for being ok.

Location: in front of more rum
Mood: worried
Music: don’t know how to fix it now. Sorry, I’m not perfect 
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Blogarama - Observations Blogs

You’re not gonna believe this

Had another accident


It’s been a pretty insane week – which is saying a lot considering everything that’s happened the past two years.

Immediately after my last post, I had a week of insomnia. Serious insomnia.

My demons seem to like to stop by after midnight and stay for a spell.

After about four days I took some serious sleep meds and woke up in daze at 3AM on my floor.

And a lotta blood. A whole mask of blood, in fact, courtesy of a two-inch gash on my eyebrow and blood all over my face. No idea what I hit but I probably tripped on a chair.

Got to my feet and staggered to the bathroom where I took a tube of crazy glue and roughly sealed the cut. Then I called up Gymgirl.

Me: Sorry to wake you. I had something happen and I need you to do two things: (a) Call me in three hours and make sure I wake up? And (b) do me a solid and come by tomorrow to watch the kid?
Gymgirl: What? Why?
Me: It’s a long story. But I need your help. Can do those two things for me?
Her: I’ll call you in three hours and see you as soon as I can.

She called me and I woke up.

The crazy glue kept the wound closed and I managed to drop the kid off at his daycare. Gymgirl would watch after him after his sitter.

Because I had to go to the ER and I had enough goddamn experience to know it’d take all day.

Surprisingly, the local medimerge said that they had a plastic surgeon that could patch me up. In six hours. Downtown. So I made it back home, crawled into bed and slept until it was time to make it downtown, which I somehow did.

Doctor: That’s quite a cut
Me: I always go for the superlative.

Took 13 stitches to patch me up. Had rough flashbacks the whole time.

Took a cab home cause I was so out of it that I was sure I’d end up in the train tracks otherwise.

Me: How’s the kid?
Gymgirl: He’s good. How are you? (looks at me) You look OK. You look like you’re wearing makeup.
Me: That’s the look I’m going for.

My demons come at me after midnight. Wish they wouldn’t.

Then again, I wish for a lotta things.

 

Location: home, sick and in pain, again
Mood: just @#$@#$@# peachy, again
Music: my life has been a silent fight to be ok
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Blogarama - Observations Blogs

Puttering around

The first days after an ACL operation are no fun at all

ACL injury in a leg braceFriday was interesting.

Woke up and got a phone call from the hospital at 9AM asking why I wasn’t there yet.

Me: My operation is scheduled for 2:45 today. I’m looking at my confirmation now.
Her: We have you down at 11AM.
Me: You’re kidding me.

She was not.

After several other phone calls, I hurriedly got dressed and hobbled out the door. After a few minutes of trying to get a cab, ended up taking the subway there. Don’t really remember how I made it down the stairs.

After a few more missteps – literally and figuratively – ended up on the cutting table.

Anesthesiologist: So how did you get injured?
Me: The usual, I was talking back to the wife.
Him: (laughing) You’ve got to learn to do that while walking away.

The next thing I knew, I was waking up with my leg wrapped up like a burrito.

The operation was a success and the wife picked me up and took me home. At first it didn’t hurt at all but once the anesthesia wore off, the pain came on hard and fast.

Wasn’t ready for it.

It’s not the pain of where the injury happened. It’s the two holes that they had to drill into my leg to get to the injury plus the two holes they drilled into my bone to attach a replacement (cadaver) ACL that was killing me.

My buddy Cary had gone through this before and told me to just enjoy the pain meds and have a lotta cookie dough. I did as instructed but substituted ice cream for the cookie dough.

Spent the rest of the weekend trying to not be sick from the meds and trying to find a comfortable position. Both were unsuccessful.

I’m told that the first 36 hours are the worst so I’m hoping that’s true. I’ve got 12 more days in this ridiculous contraption around my leg.

No fun at all. Luckily my wife is made of awesome and she made life as comfortable as possible over the weekend. She even got me a donut that was not whole-wheat.

And my mom called me, which was funny, as always.

Her: What about the guy that hurt you? Are you going to sue him?
Me: No. He’s an idiot but I’m not going to sue someone for being an idiot.
Her: Oooooh, I want to punch him! I want to punch him on his nose.

It’s good having people on your side.

———-

I’m posting my follow-up to 10 Tips on how to write a good Match, OK Cupid, or POF dating profile: Part 1 on Friday.

Also, I’m posting at noon from now on, just fyi.

And now, more drugs. At least there’s no oatmeal to go with my vicodin.

Location: bed
Mood: uncomfortable
Music: down on both bad knees. I’m just too much
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