Thursday, June 30, 2011
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Friday June 24th, 2011 - Libertyville, IL Well, I made it. I’m in a lot of pain, and I can barely move two inches in bed, but I’m in the ranks of the living, and more importantly (at least to me), I still have my giblets intact. The nurses told me the surgery was a success, and that the ‘twig and berries’ still existed. That could have really been a nightmare, and I don’t want to think about it. It’s about as scary as I want to get thinking about what they did do. Apparently, there are two incisions in my groinal area and although they’ll be painful and difficult, they should heal up well. The doctor who did the surgery came to my room this morning and went through all he did, and said he got all the infected tissue. Then, he proceeded to change the dressing on the wounds which had me screaming like a little baby begging for mercy. I have NEVER felt pain like that, and when I started screaming he called the nurse to give me morphine. He didn’t give the morphine thirty seconds to kick in, and he was back down there like a maniac ripping the gauze out of the wounds and I was right back to screaming for mercy like I was trying to get out of a mob hit or something. That was the most pain I ever felt. The doctor calmly told me that was by far the hardest one, even though I was crying like a little girl when he said it. I dare anyone to sit through that and see how they react. I’m a self admitted wussmeister when it comes to pain anyway, but this was way off the charts. I don’t ever want to feel that kind of pain again, but there are no guarantees that say my days are done. When I had my infamous car accident in 1993, I broke my sternum twice. I thought that was the most pain possible, but this was a whole lot worse. I hoped for death, knowing it was the only way I’d feel any relief. When morphine doesn’t work, it’s over. Then, I started to laugh uproariously as I looked at the TV in my room and saw the story of Jack Kevorkian starring Al Pacino on HBO. Of all the movies to have, that was the one that would be on in Mr. Lucky’s room. It really was funny, and the laughter was the exact thing I needed at that moment to divert the pain if even a little. Humor really does heal. The next few hours I had a lot of time to just lay there and think. I don’t know how pure my thoughts were since they were tainted with so much pain, but I was able to process my life and come to the conclusion that the only reason I’m here is to help others and give my all to that cause. I also realized just how little I’ve done with my life and I was ashamed. I had such big dreams as a kid, and then everything hit the fan and all these years later it boils down to me laying in a hospital, uninsured, with gangrene on my junk. That was not part of the plan, but that’s where I ended up. Now, I have no idea where life’s path leads. I can’t dwell on what went wrong or what’s wrong now. I can only hope I’ll have a little time left to reach out and serve my fellow human kind. Fame is no goal, but fortune is my goal because I know I’ll use it to be of service. Right now, I can use some help myself.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Being a hospital patient is like a full time job. I’m finding it very difficult to keep track of everything I have to do and everyone that I have to deal with on a daily basis. There are doctors telling me what I have and how they plan to get rid of it, nurses constantly putting me on different antibiotics and other people who just come in and check my vital signs.
Then there’s the Polish housekeeping lady who tells me her troubles while she mops up my bathroom. She’s missing a few teeth, but she’s a sweetie of a person who comes from a family of eight. She’s number five, and some in her family have diabetes. I don’t have a choice, so when she comes through I’ll just listen. I think it makes her feel appreciated.
There are also the people who bring my meals every day. They’re all super nice people too, but once in a while they’ll start a conversation when I don’t feel much like talking. It isn’t their fault, but I’ve got a lot on my mind and today one of them thought I was angry or something because I didn’t chat it up for ten minutes. I’d just been stuck with needles.
That’s a huge thing with me, and the more I hate it the more I get it. My veins aren’t up to snuff apparently, and everyone who has to draw blood tells me that. What the hell am I supposed to do, bring out some barbells and pump iron for a few hours to pop them out?
Both of my arms are black and blue, and I feel every little prick from needles that were administered by every little prick who does that for a job. What a horrible gig that has to be, but I guess someone has to do it. I do try my hardest to cooperate, but I fall far short.
Sleep is an afterthought. There’s always someone wanting me to do some kind of trick for them right about the time I’m starting to nod off. I need to have somebody check my sugar or give blood or pee in a cup or take a pill or put another I.V. in. It’s exhausting.
Still, I’m very lucky to be up here and have such top quality care. My room is gorgeous and apparently I’m in a brand new wing of the hospital that’s top notch on every level. I’ll forever be grateful for all the care I’ve received up here, even though I have no idea how I will ever pay for it all. I know I can’t worry about that now, but it does concern me a lot.
I know I’ll have to fill out some hardship papers and be in touch with people from every branch of the hospital who treated me - and that’s a lot. It’s all very overwhelming but if I dwell on it, I’ll be in a sad mood really fast. I can’t afford that now, I need to stay upbeat.
I’ve still got a surgery to get through. Then, after that, I have to educate myself on how to change my entire life and deal with my diabetes. I’m not the first one to have to do this but I sure wasn’t planning on it. Once again, life throws another unexpected curve ball.
Yes, there’s a ton of humor in all this, but there’s also a lot of angst as well. Will life as I know it ever get back to ‘normal’, and why is it me that has to go through this? All I’ve ever wanted was to make people laugh and spread some humor throughout life, not this.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Friday, June 17, 2011
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Cough. Hack. Wheeze. Sniffle. Gurgle. Sneeze. Shiver. Repeat process, again and again until drifting off to a peaceful transitional death seems like a welcome relief. I am SO sick I can’t stand it anymore. I can’t speak, I can’t sleep, all I’ve been doing is coughing like a maniac until it feels like my eyes are going to pop out of their sockets from the pressure.
Please, could someone just shoot me immediately? Two behind the left ear ought to do it. Feel free to keep my ’I (heart) Uranus’ bumper stickers and ’Schlitz Happened!’ shirts as my tokens of thanks, and I hope you can do a lot better with my concepts than I have. It hurts just to breathe at this point, and I’ve coughed so much my throat is like raw meat.
I’m a legendary weenie-wuss (or is it wuss-weenie?) when it comes to having anything even close to do with being under the weather, and this is about as under it as I care to be. Good thing I’ve been mostly illness free for the better part of my life, or I’d really be in a bad way. It’s not often I’ve had to fight my way through something that hurts this much.
It could be pneumonia back for another visit, as I’ve had it before. Or, it could be some leftover throat gunk from someone’s innards who breathed in my face or shook my hand after a comedy show in the last week, and saturated my usually frighteningly healthy pair of pink lungs with the black jungle rot tar of death that left me in the shape I’m in now.
I don’t think it’s my infected tonsils, even though my throat feels like I’ve been packing it with Brillo pads and insulation for the past couple of days. My cough is too intense. It’s completely annoying, even to me, and I didn’t want to subject anyone else to it so I didn’t go home last night after the radio show. I got a hotel room instead, so I could rest quietly.
Well, quietly for me anyway. I have no idea how infectious any of this is, but I figured it must be, even a little, if I got it. Who drooled on me in the last week or so? That could be anyone, but I’m not going to live like Howard Hughes and not shake anyone’s hand. That just isn’t how I roll. I mingle and visit and sign autographs, or whatever I’m asked to do.
Radio was totally rough last night, and I felt like was torturing whatever listeners we did have with my raspy hack, and I had to shut my microphone off countless times to get that deep painful cough low enough in my throat to scratch the itch so I could keep on talking. I apologized to the co-hosts, but what else could I do? We needed to get through our time.
I’ve got a nice variety of lozenges and cough drops now and my old standby from early radio days, Fisherman’s Friend. I also bought some Nyquil type knockoff that I’m hoping will at least let me snooze for a few hours. I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt so low.
I really do need to get some kind of health insurance coverage. If this jungle rot doesn’t kill me, I’m right at the age where they start prowling my poop shoot with colonoscopies, prostate exams and that occasional extra money run as a drug mule through that prison on the Turkish border I keep getting postcards from. I only hope I live that long. I feel rotten.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
one place in recent memory. They either talked through the entire show or stared up at the stage with blank looks of bewilderment like we were speaking in some form of gibberish. The opening act was Kate Brindle, one of my all time faves. She’s a sweetheart and one of the most peaceful souls I’ve ever met and they just buried her alive. They talked all the
way through her show and it was downright rude. I could tell it would happen to me also. Sure enough, they didn’t shut up the entire time. I stood there trying to be dignified, but that’s no picnic when an entire room full of drunken apes are babbling. I’ve done way too
many of these in my lifetime and seriously considered just walking off stage and leaving. Those boozers weren’t there for comedy, and it wouldn’t have mattered a bit. But, I told the guy who booked it I’d do it and I spoke to the owner who was actually a nice guy. He
apologized for the drunks and said tomorrow night would be better. It couldn’t be worse.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Monday, June 6, 2011
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Friday, June 3, 2011
My standards are low, and I really enjoyed that car. I’ll enjoy this one too. I’m grateful. Tom did me a huge favor, and I totally appreciate it. He also cooked us up some killer steaks and told some hilarious stories of his days in radio, of which he’s a big time talent as well. He smartly got out of it, as he saw how ugly it is. He’s got talent in business too, so he made the right choice. Good for him. Friends like him are rare, and I couldn’t have more respect for the guy. He’s a winner. I’m a dung beetle trying to scrape out a living.