Bits & Pieces

Just glanced at the calender and realized it's about two weeks until September. Where has the time gone. The old adage is true, you know the one, time and age. Trust me.

Speaking of age, my best friend, Duke, has posted an excellent article on age and tools. Sally forth and read.

*****

I'm not sure why but every now and then I have an urge to clean firearms. This weekend I walked out to the garage to do just that, clean guns. One thing lead to another and I found myself cleaning debris from my reloading bench. Three hours later I finally had two rifles cleaned and a few hundred extra rounds of ammunition I found under the clutter. Don't you just hate it when you find five extra boxes of ammo you weren't aware you'd purchased and had forgotten.

Guess it's time to sort ammunition.

*****

Billy just left the shop. He's a funny fella. He'll walk in and say something like, "Hey, Stephen, you got any guns for sale?"

I'll say, "Sure."

Him, "I'll take it. How much?"

"Don't you want to look it over?"

He'll throw a smug smile on his face as always, I mean, always, and say, "No, just give it to me."

He left with a Hi-Point C9. Just stuck it into his back pocket and paid with cash, just like that...

As he walked towards the door he yelled, "Hey, next time I want a pump shotgun."

"What price range?"

"I don't care."

For real....what's not to love.

*****

Late Sunday night Sweet Wife's back went out. She's always had a problem with her lower back. Pain like you wouldn't believe. 0400 found me driving her to the emergency room. I practically had to carry her from the house to the car and when we arrived at the hospital, to emergency.

Nice young nurse escorted us to one of their rooms. We waited. Two and a half hours later a doctor, nice older lady, came inside and examined her. Said, "Oh, my goodness, you must be in some awful pain."

Doctors, they're bright you know.

Hung an IV. Pain didn't diminish. We waited another three  hours. (side note here...never forget your Kindle) Doctor returned. She took one look at Sweet Wife's face and said, again, "Oh, my goodness, you must be in awful pain." Six years at University and several of residency makes for a very bright doctor.

Get the picture.

They gave her a shot of morphine. Wrote scrip for muscle relaxers and pain medication. The doctor left and we waited. Remember, we'd arrived at 0400. Five and a half hours later and we were on our way out the door. 

As I helped Sweet Wife to our car she turned to me and said, "Thank you for not losing your cool in there....I'm proud of you."

"Well," I said, "It isn't cool to shoot doctors in confined spaces, there's no place for them to hide."

They told her to take the day off....


*****

Hey, time for work. Take care out there.

Stephen

Bits and Pieces

Not much time - they come. They're out there, crawling along the hallways. They wait...

I hate to post of my illness. Seems torrid. Yet, I'm stuck. Hopefully I'll be able to escape within a few days. Of course my escape is conditioned upon my agreement for home care. They insist on a vacuum pump, portable, a leash if you will.

Now, on my new follower 'thanks and welcome' post....please be patient. I am reduced to writing on this laptop. It's a nice one, but I hate it. It's sensitive, my fingers are too damn big...and well, I hate it...there. I promise, I will give proper thanks as soon as  possible. I keep my promises. Maybe I'll surprise you, if I have the time today...never know...my photo library is stashed on my office computer, yet, maybe...either way, you will be thanked properly. There is a purple dragon on the wall, see him...drugs...suck.

Hospitals, a few tips.
Bring reading material, a couple of 'old fashioned' paperbacks, a Kindle if you have one. My Kindle is priceless. I've read, between all the bulls&*t, two novels.

Bring little salt, sweetener packets. These meals (chuckle) come with one tiny packet of salt. Example, yesterday there was a piece of chicken breast, a tiny pile of green beans, and a few pieces of limp pasta. Each required seasoning. And, there sat that tiny packet of salt. 

You will not sleep. When the door to your room opens for any visit, scream and yell and insist the critter close it upon their exit. Hospitals are loud. Fight for your rights. Some here fear me. One lady noticed my holster (sans weapon) and made a remark that I probably enjoyed hurting people....I smiled at her, kinda toothy...she hasn't been back. When they respect and fear you, you just might get a few more moments of rest.

Park you dignity at the door. Granted there are some very lovely young nurses that in ordinary circumstances - well, you understand. But in here...with my Sweet Wife in residence...it's well, kinda not cool for my neither regions to shine. Even the head (bathroom) is open territory for rudeness. The suckers just walk the hell in and ask if they can stay a while....just hand over the toilet paper and ask if they'd like to help you wipe. Again, fight for your rights. If medical staff brag through the door, kick their butts out. Train them well. It works. Just yesterday the ASP remarked she thought I was 'just such a sweet man.' I'd yet to snap at her. She'll learn. (hey, really, I am a sweet kinda guy. Not my fault they give me drugs.)

Sorry, drifted off. Serious, drugs are awful. I find myself, as I write this, lost, mind numbed. Thinking requires a bit more effort than normal. Resist as long as possible the pain killers. Morphine is a demon. I hate it. See, reading back on my last couple of lines....all hell. I don't care....

Get the point....like that.

You will lose weight. I came in at 225. I now weight less, and at six foot one, anything less than two hundred pounds and I resemble a bean pole...just deal with it. Some of you, it might just help. I think of it as a tune-up for future battles...

They are close now, I've caught their scent. Wound care. Nice guys...they help me heal. They hurt too.

It'll be a few weeks before I can hold and hug my Little Bit. Received word she isn't happy by the fact her father is driving her to school. A couple of nights ago she was able to visit...at first the duty nurse said no way. Then Sweet Wife jumped into action. She explained to the nurse that she needed to see her Papa, and I wanted to see her. She said it's not good to keep these two separated. Little Bit did her part in the drama by giving over her big brown eyes, tears rolled down her face. The nurse melted. Little Bit was required to dress in protective garments. She was limited to the hallway of my room. The little girl jumped up and down and cried (yes, so did I) and fought her Nana and father in her attempts to run and jump on my bed.

Sweet Wife calmed her down and asked her to throw kisses. I caught 'em like a pro. She asked why...we explained. She said she didn't care if Papa had germs, she wanted them too. (whew) Rip out my soul, why don't 'ya. It hurts.

I want to again thank each and every one of you for all you kind thoughts and prayers. I promise to cease writing about this stuff as soon as possible...a clear mind would help too.

If I have missed any comments please let me know. I will, I promise, answer as soon as possible. Edit work isn't my thing....if I misspelled a word or two, please, over look 'em.

God bless.

Stephen

My Window

To the world gives me a view of the river and the endless sky and the thousands upon thousands of vehicles in an unbroken stream that moves from east to west and beyond. This window is my distraction as they clean and remove the dead tissue.

I count recreational vehicles. During today's session, as the nice man worked, I lost count at fifty one.

He'd look up and say, "Are you okay?"

"Sure." Then relax my grip. The nice man took my hand and said, "I know it hurts."

I asked, "Have you experienced this too?"

"No."

I went back to the view from my window.

Stephen