Been doing this blog of mine for 4 months now. I just hit 20,000 views. I don't know if that is good or not, but I'm sure as heck happy about it! Not very often I impress myself anymore these days lol. I couldn't have done it without my whacky little brain lol. Kidding, but it couldn't have happened with all of you!!
As 2014 comes to an end, I can't help but find myself looking forward to 2015.
This past year has surely had its poor points, like us deciding to close the bar and me, well about dying and stuff, and although I would like to think of the good that happened with my family, like Scarlett being born, Sarah being in school looking out for our future, and Ryan really learning how to ride bike, read, lose his first teeth and grow as a boy, and me - well with love, strength, support and prayers - living. It has been a difficult journey for Sarah and myself, but we have remained strong and look forward to continuing that into this next year and many more. Back in June we planned a Caribbean cruise for this winter, and that now comes this very next week. When we planned it I was in a wheelchair, grouchy and on a ton of medicine with not much of an idea of the future. Now, I'm not as grouchy, can get around on my own clumsy feet, and have kicked a bunch of medicine, with a less cloudy future - at least short term future :) and have hopefully a place to live where we can stay for awhile.
I have much to be thankful for.
Have a safe and wonderful New Years, and to everyone out there...See you next year!!!!
With moving, Christmas and now our family present of a Chicago trip, plus Packer stress, I've been behind on my posts. I will get back to it ASAP. I have plenty to say!! :)
Until then, happy reading, happy New Years and see you soon!
When I was trying to recover in Bethezda I had asked Sarah numerous times about her bringing me my phone. My cell phone(s) has been embarrassingly rather important to me up to this point for the past 14 years. I think I have mentioned this before, but she didn't bring me it because I wasn't able to use it. While my muscles were extremely weak, my shaking and cognitive physical ability was worse. I couldn't have used my iPhone if I wanted to. I couldn't write, drink on my own or do much anything else with my hands let alone use or even hole a cell phone. After several days Sarah had told me that she was going to bring me my iPad for me. Up to this time, I had really never used any iPad, let alone my own. Honestly I didn't even know why I had one. I wasn't much interested in having her bring it to me, I just wanted my phone. I used it for texts, email and seldom FB along with Internet use, as I seldom used a computer for anything anymore than these things. I eventually agreed to having her bring the iPad. Maybe it was after I tried multiple times and different ways to call her with the hospital phone. One time one of my Doctors brought me in a landline phone for me to use and he dialed Sarah's number. I was pretty messed up and was wondering if I was being lied to about the call, but I finally did get ahold of her. I don't really recall why I needed to talk to her, I think I thought something was wrong, something like the time of the day/night it was from what I remember. Not sure, my doctor was nice though, nonetheless. Once Sarah brought me the iPad I didn't really use it for anything. Maybe I didn't understand or realize that an iPad did the same if not more than my phone could do. Didn't really matter, I wanted to check texts, respond and start reading and responding to the FB page she started for "Mikes Progress" and a few other things like ESPN. Clearly I was in no condition to do any of this, as it never worked. I couldn't figure out anything out correctly and it was very frustrating.
Once I started 'using' the iPad I would get calls from Sarah at night (ok, I have no idea when she would contact me) but I think it was always night and she would 'call' me on FaceTime. Now, I don't want to sound like I am complaining, but my iPad felt like it was about 60 pounds. I was clumsy as hell, fingers barely worked and the iPad felt like it weighed a ton. I bet at least every other time if I even could pick it up I couldn't 'swipe' it open or type in my password. It was completely aggravating but I tried to hide my feelings. Sarah would talk to me on FaceTime, many times with Scarlett and I was grouchy and irritated about how difficult it was to answer. I knew it was selfish and felt bad, but I just really couldn't help it. I couldn't sleep, move, eat, go to the bathroom among other things and all Sarah wanted to do was say hi and show me our daughter and I was complaining about my own problems. Once I figured it out a little better, it became very valuable. Thank you so much for theis donation of this iPad. I now use it all the time, more than my cell phone!!
Now, that FaceTime ringtone I hear from time to time it gives me the shivers.
No this is not my typical post. I don't see myself continuong with thses types of posts, but I did however, feel the desire to mention it tonight. I'm no Saint or Preacher let alone a movie critic, but.. "Heaven is for Real" is a movie based on a family from Nebraska where the Dad is a preacher and his 4 year old son survives a miraculous operation in the hospital. The son shares his time while he was under, visiting heaven. Not my kind of 'movie' but I couldn't stop watching it. I believe that anyone can take something from this story.
No I do not share any real connection with this movie or story, nor does it sway my beliefs. I just feel that it did make me think.
Well today we begin moving. Our goal is to get nearly everything moved in one day and we are for sure planning on sleeping at the new place tonight. Ryan didn't get a chance to see the new place yet as he was in school the times we went and looked at it. (Well, neither did Scarlett :) He doesn't come back to us until Sunday this week so his room will be all set along with everything else being new to him. I know he really loves 'staying' at Nana and Papa's but he understands it isn't 'home' and is excited about the move as we are also. Moving is tough. I am sure everyone has done it. We packed up a bunch over the past few days to lessen the load and have a couple vehicles packed to the brim already. Thankfully we don't move far, still in New Richmond and really only a couple blocks from where we have been staying with my parents. I am going to miss lots about staying here, most of which was spending time with them. Talking like normal, not having to rush things like a quick holiday visit or something like that. Now, it doesn't make me want to stay here longer, or go back to being a kid, but it does have a strange feeling of separation. I do think a lot has to from me getting sick (or else we wouldn't have need to move there) because they could watch the kids, usually Scarlett during the day and I could nap. It sucks 9 months after going to the hospital I am still tired all the time. But, it could last lord knows how much longer for me not getting enough sleep so we are hoping the move will among other things, get me on a better schedule and routine. Scarlett is 8 months old now and I really haven't felt like I have ever been her Dad yet, not in the sense of stereotypical home of Mom and Dad, two kids and a pet kind of way. When we came home from the hospital I wasn't able to do much for her the first 6 weeks other than hold her in our bed. Sarah took care of Ryan, Scarlett AND me. I didn't really do a whole bunch until she started school. Which she just finished her first semester of nursing school at WITC and graduates this May. Yay! Eventually I worked my way to making formula and then to be able to change her diapers. The changing wasn't the big problem, it was actually standing over her changer that was the problem. I am sure I carried her more times than I should have.. sometimes in my walker, while I really couldn't walk well at all. This new home will most likely present it's own problems like most eventually do, but I believe it will be great for us as a family and am looking forward to it. The kids don't know it yet, but we are going to be putting up a christmas tree and decorations this year after all. Wish us luck! lol. Thanks so much Mom & Dad. Time to let me go, again!
Well I was prescribed this lotion for my feet and mainly toes this week that needs to be applied twice a day. Doc says I could have a fungal problem going on, likely related, but probably not directly related to my Blasto. Now when he first said "fungal" Sarah and I kinda gasped, like wtf, a fungus is what gave me this pneumonia! But it's different. I still say this is related to Blasto because I don't think I would have gotten it just on my own. My reason being is that ever since I was still in Bethezda I wore some sort of socks, usually to help protect my feet from any irritation but also for warmth and wearing them made it slightly easier to put shoes on. Now I say slightly because it has been a major issue with anything touching my feet because of how sensitive they still are. Putting socks on is a lot like having a tooth cavity, when it gets touched or irritated, you can't help but wince in pain from the nerve damage in my feet. But I still torture myself and wear them all the time, some started with compression socks, then to doubling up pairs, to now the knee-high tight athletic ones. I probably wear socks now too often or too long of time periods because it hurts like hell to take them off and put on, so I thought maybe my feet were just getting dirty or were staying wet after putting socks on right after showering. I've been through 3 different sport shoes with different sizes, sandals, flip flops, boots, croc's, large fluffy cotton Packer 'boots' and then insulated slippers, but none of them really helped much. The sandals were the more comfortable, but with my drop foot and lack of feeling, I couldn't keep any of them on. I never realized how much you grip whatver type of footwear you have on until recently. Walking on a flat floor was hard enough with most of my comfortable shoes and walking up and down stairs was nearly impossible to keep them on your feet. We finally came along with recently finding an insulated croc as well as an insulated low cut laceless boot. Those both are clearly the most comfortable to wear and I can slip right into them with less pain. This winter my feet and in particular my toes get cold easily and when I go outside or even barefoot in the bathroom and shower they get instanly freezing cold and harder to walk on.
So now back to this lotion.. Sarah puts it on thick and it needs to dry. Well, my feet get ice cold right away but I can't put socks on or it'd mess up the ointment and I can't put them under my sheets in bed for similiar reasons. When I need to use the bathroom I can't put anything on my feet so I hobble slowly holding onto the walls as I go. Fun! Lol. Oh, and I forgot to mention how I hate lotion! The feeling of it on my skin drives me bonkers. Tanning oil, hand cream, gasoline, this stuff, you name it, I really dislike using any of it. I don't like putting any kind of lotion on anyone else either because I can't seem to get the feeling and scent off of my hands. Hahaha. I have noticed in the past two winters that my hands have NOT gotten dry. They used to get terribly dry, I think it was all the different soaps and chemicals I used at work through the years. Curse you sanitization! Oh well, hopefully this lotion does the trick on my toes and feet. And thankfully it doesn't smell or sting or even tingle, so that's helpful. Now, what the hell am I going to do with my feet on our Carribean cruise! Hopefully wear as little as possible much as possible!
One other thing going on is I still have that annoying noise coming from my throat. It isn't as bad as it was when I first came home, but I hear it every time I'm in bed. My throat still tic's, like I have pop rocks candy stuck stuck somewhere. At least my unpleasant choking on carbonated drinks has basically stopped. Rather embarrassing out for a meal and I start gagging like a cat throwing up a furball. I was that guy at the Leine Lodge Tour this summer being thier for the first time, sitting like a fool on my 3-wheel scooter sampling beer, then one of the beers hit me and I start choking on the bubbles and I can't figure out if it's coming back out or going down. Knock on wood, but so far everything has gone down as in this case but I'm still feeling like an idiot and I'm all tearing up from the choking reaction and sweating trying to catch my breath from all the non-walking that I was doing lol. Not sure what is making me get the ticking sound coming from my throat, but it is rather annoying. Better then when I first got out of the hospital though. I had to have my gauze changed from my trachea all the time where I thought I had real issues then, like my lung was dissolving or something fun like that. But, turned out it was harmless then and I guess still is 😛
Been feeling kinda like crap the past week. Lame also because I was feeling better for awhile there that I even cancelled an appointment to see my main Doctor in the cities for Blasto. I originally figured it was the cold that hit Sarah, Ryan and Scarlett. I think I got a slight cold but nothing too bad, except it wasn't going away and then over the weekend I started feeling differently worse. I had a belly ache and took one of my as needed nausea pills, and it seemed to help a little. But I had one the next day and nothing helped and continued to have it again today. My feet have something else going on with them, and I was prescribed a lotion for them to help a possible fungal infection. My toe nails in particular my big toe nails look and feel like they are dying. I still can't feel most of my feet very well, but am still hoping they are continuing to get better overall with my nerve damage. A little over two years ago I got hand-foot-and-mouth and through a few months time all 20 of my nails had fallen out where new ones started to grow, and this feels similar to that as far as just the nails are concerned.
This morning it felt like I was going through some sort of tunnel vision for about 15 minutes or so and was very, very strange. Like I was really drunk and couldn't see straight while also feeling like I stood up too soon and got light headed and could see stars. My dreams the past week have been annoyingly long and consistent. They will wake me up and then I will get up and use the bathroom and the dream stays with me until I get back to bed and it continues until I fall back asleep and keeps continuing well past waking up in the morning. My sleep has been really bad of late. Tired through the day and ready for bed early, then I just can't fall asleep or, like tonight, fell asleep at a nice time but then wake up an hour later and I'm still up and now 3 hours have gone by. Then to top it off I am getting some major brain farts. Not from forgetting something, but it feels like my brain has its own heartbeat and can hear it sometimes. (No I'm not crazy:) You know when you get tired and find yourself head-bobbing in and out of being awake and asleep? Well it's like I do that, losing track of myself for a very split second, and I swear I can hear it happening. Or my hearing has just increased and I'm able to hear my eyes blink. Ugh. Well, I got blood drawn at the clinic and results came back decent although my Doc hasn't seen them yet. He may start decreasing my Vitamin D and my Potassium pills, but he prescribed me a sleep aid and a anti-depressant that doubles as something else but I forget what it is. I'll pick them up from the pharmacy tomorrow. Was not wishing to take more medicine as we've been weaning off some of the meds and I take about a 1/4 of the total from what I was taking about a month ago. My Doctor thinks this stopping and weaning has contributed to my symptoms as of late.
In other news, we are moving out of my parents place here starting next week. I think this will help out in several factors once we get settled in. For one, getting on a little bit of a better routine (although with Sarah's school holiday break coming, it may not feel "routine" for awhile) with sleep, daily schedules, and meals and bedtimes, as well as daily chores that just don't feel the same living here. And for two, trying to be as normal as a family as we can be. I mean I enjoy my time living here with my folks, but it is still difficult no matter how great and accomdating they have been. And it is difficult for Sarah, and relatively easy to understand why. For all the privacy we get here, of course it is just not the same as having your own place. Good thing we are not moving far so I can use the grandparents to babysit and do my laundry while I sleep, kidding :) Love you Mom & Dad!
Well that is all for now, going to try and fall asleep and get some needed rest.
I know you guys like my dreams though haha.
While I will never remember all of the hospital rooms I stayed in because some of them I never was awake for, and others I never actually was in or existed anyway. I still struggle with believing that a couple of my rooms not only had I been in before, but they were actually apartments that I had lived in years before in some point in my life. One room in particular I thought for sure I had been living at before. It was so confusing how they moved my old condo in New Richmond into this hospital up lord knows how many stairs. Of course, it was also my same 'room' that Robbie not only was still a mailman but doubled as my nurse. I 'thought' I remembered this room, where the laundry was, my old land line phone was and I wondered why the front door had moved. This was the first room that I remember having the in-room contraption that they strap me into, lift me up out of bed and carries me into another bed or a wheelchair. I don't remember what it was called, but it was annoying. I figured if they wanted to move me, just to slide my ass off the bed into the chair or roll me over into a new bed. I mean by the time I recall this happening I was well under 170 pounds. But, turns out I'm not the doctor.
Then there were the other times when they had me stay in different places for outpatient care and I would be in some really nice lake house and the owners of the place would watch over me during the night and nurses would come check on me a few times during the day. I hated this. (No, it never happened.) Made me miss actually being in the hospital. They made me sleep in the kitchen and treated me like I was such a pain in everyones ass to be staying there. I'm always thinking to myself, because I couldn't talk or really communicate, then why the hell am I here if you don't want me in your home? So yeah, my bed would be in the kitchen and when they had guests over they would put me in some back hall, the garage or even just outside by the lake. Being outside was kind of cool because the view was nice from my bed on wheels, but it was always cold and rainy. Which was what it always looked like from outside my actual room in March, April and May anyway. I am not sure how long I (thought) I was staying at this home, but it seemed like months. Never saw anybody I knew, couldn't talk, move and even the nurses seemed to only come when they wanted to. Maybe they were turned away at the door to even come in. Not sure, and I was never sure who any of them were or what they looked like and I would be lucky to get changed once a day. I know I always tried to hold going to the bathroom as long as I could, because if there was an accident there would be hell to pay. But I really didn't have any control over when I went other than I knew it was happening. Never was sure why they kept me in the kitchen. One time they left me in there when they did have company over for once and it was dark outside at this point and like normal it was raining. I could hear people laughing and having fun in the next room which was fine and all, not like I really wanted to join them, I was just happy to hear people having a good time and not being sent out to another place so I wouldn't bother them somehow. Then I realized what all the fun was going on about, there was a house party going on with the teenagers of the house as I guess the parents were gone and they were laughing because they were trying to figure out what to do with me and where they could move me this time to. This was an absolute terrible feeling. All I could do was hope this was a dream and I would wake up soon and it would be all over. I didn't care if I was still sick or really where I was, I just didn't want to be there anymore. The party moved from the next room into the kitchen and they continued to party on and have fun around me. Half ignoring me, half interested in me in the way as it was going to be fun for them to mess with me. I was sure I was going to be pushed into some closet or outside or into the lake, anything that would make me fall off my stained bed and unable to move. They eventually did start bringing me somewhere and they talked to me like things were going to be OK but I knew they were joking around. I'm not sure if I passed out or what really happened next, but I don't know what they did to me because a few days later I did wake up, and I was back inside a hospital and felt a little more safe. I wasn't sure which hospital I was in at this time, I think the U of M but either way, I was just glad I wasn't still in that horrible home.
I think this memory of mine didn't help in some other instances, mainly with security while being sick. I remember when I got transferred to another hospital that when I got there, the staff 'messed' with me. I swear to this day that they were trying to kidnap me and take me to some god awful
country and do whatever they wanted with me. I get to this new hospital and they instantly start
giving me shots and kept asking my phone number and other personal information. I couldn't talk but wasn't about to tell them anyway. Most of them didn't speak English anyway so I didn't know what they were trying to tell or ask me to do. Then they started searching for my cell phone. I had it clentched in my hand and wouldn't let go. I did my best to cry out for help, and cry out for Sarah to come help me but I couldn't reach anybody and they finally got my phone. They started using my phone for calls, messages and who knows what else. I was out of energy and they had me all drugged up and finally Sarah came in. I tried telling her what happened and she was at least concerned enough to ask questions. More so why I was so drugged up, not about my phone (which of course I didn't have) and why I was so upset. The nursing staff changed their tune like they got busted for something and she moved me into a different room and calmed me down. I soon fell asleep feeling more safe although I wanted my phone back, I was just happy to be away from all these whack-jobs and be alone with Sarah. When I was awake enough she told me that we were getting away from the hospital for awhile so I could get better. Mentally as much as physically I think. So we went on a short vacation. We didn't tell a soul where we went, and I wasn't exactly sure where we were. I do know it was warm, so I think we were either in Florida or the country of Turkey. Lol. I think Turkey because I couldn't read anything that was in my room. I didn't care. I was in a new place and I felt safe and content and the medical staff was super nice. They were sworn to secrecy too, so they had to check in at the front desk of where we were and then had to beep themselves in while only Sarah or me could open the door from the inside. Sarah had to leave every day for a few hours, and I think she was going to school, so I usually just slept when she was away.
I know I never stayed outside of the hospital. And my dreams and false memories had pretty much all passed by the time I left Bethezda for home in early May, but I can't tell where I really was during both of these stories. Why I 'thought' I was at either place: one terrible, one nice. I honestly couldn't tell you if I was treated poorly by anybody, but I have heard enough stories that I apparently didn't like some of my care givers. I know Sarah didn't appreciate some of them either but if she didn't, she would ask for me not to be seen by them anymore and they respected her wishes. I could probably
tell you less than a handful of all the names of all the medical staff that cared for me, and most did
treat me well, some of course better than others but that is ok.
Had some very strange dreams while in the hospital as I am sure most of you know by now from reading any of my posts. This one isn't any much different other than I don't recall any dreams where I had so many different people I knew being such a large part in my dream.
Sarah was pregnant (true) and just like her to have things planned out and now more so because I was sick, she wanted to get as many pictures of the final weeks heading up to Scarlett being born, the birth itself and time afterwards until I woke up. Her plan also was to not have her be born in New Richmond but get as close to my hospital as possible. Everyday was Halloween. People were in costumes all the time and I never was sure what some of them were and if they were patients, or mental or sick, visitors or just worked there, but we always had to keep an extra eye on them. It was always cold and rainy and even some snow mixed in almost every day. College basketball was well into March Madness and the NFL draft was all over the TV's. (Both of which were true, more or less.) I was always awake (in these dreams) but I couldn't leave the hospital for anything. The nurses would be able to set me up in the lounge and I would watch the NFL draft, the NFL playoffs and NHL hockey and college basketball all day. I know this isn't possible, not so much going to a lounge to watch this while I was comatose, but that all four of these sports were on at the same time lol. But hey, I had other dreams where I was a minor league baseball player on an otherwise all Puerto Rican team from Miami, where every time we hit the field we ended up playing soccer! But that is another story :)
Ok back to this posts dream.. Sarah's photographer for Scarlett's birth was my ex-wife and the hospital she was going to give birth to was in the Countryside Plumbing & Heating building conveniently located next to the U of M. Ever watch Bates Motel on TV? Well that was basically the setting of my hospital and Sarah's hospital during this time, one hospital (the hotel) right next the the other hospital (the home). Sarah would meet with some of the plumbers, I mean nurses at Countryside every day and would go over procedures and ideas on how the day was going to go. Her and Countryside's owner, Tim had everything planned out like a perfect 'wedding' planner would, because it WAS like preparing for a wedding. Sarah would come visit me and tell me how things went in coordinating the birth, and had it all down time day, exact time, how long and what pictures would be taken and so-on. She would do this every day until the day came.
Did I mention my drug dealers? Oh, yeah. So Eric M, aka the hardest working man in New Richmond, was the front desk manager at Countryside Hospital. I would see him every day and while he denied knowing me, he gave me 'prescriptions' whenever I needed them. Sometimes we would sneak out and leave my hospital room and meet up with other dealers. One, also doubled as my chiropractor, who I can't remember his face or name, and the other was my brother. Sometimes these evil three would meet at the same locations so we could get everything done at the same time and try anything out that needed to be. It was odd though, that these three never would recognize me, and I also never actually recall them ever acknowledging each other either. My brother would usually be drunk when I came over and was a little paranoid with his stash, so he had guns in the house and normally wouldn't leave his secret basement. (This is about as opposite as you can get with my brother :) My chiropractor was always trying to come up with these new inventions to help me use the bathroom, as far as preventing me from falling and things like that. Perhaps he never actually gave me drugs, but he was always around the other ones who did and I remember him trying them with me. There was one time I stayed back in the basement by myself when those three went out for a pick up and they didn't return for hours. I was sure they had gotten arrested or shot or something happened and I was going to be there all alone and die. They eventually did make it back but I don't think I went there any more after that. Eric and my chiropractor would now come to my hospital instead! After some days had started to pass my perception of each of their faces had changed just a little bit and I wondered if they were really the same people or if I ever really knew them at all to begin with. Pretty much an in-dream mind screw.
This would go on for some time. And then the day came where Scarlett was ready to show herself to the world. I remember near panic from everybody around, people running back and forth everywhere but I was supposed to stay in my hospital lounge. Talk about a long day. May not sound like it, but while Sarah was having all the fun next door, I was stuck waiting in a lounge eating doritos and watching sports on TV. I mean I think Buffalo Wild Wings made every game go into overtime! Every time something exciting was about to happen in the game, some nurse would have to come in and check my vitals and update me about Sarah. "She's still breathing really well, and it will be anytime now" is what they kept telling me. Blah, blah you make a better door than a window. I'm on 1/100th of a lung here and you keep interrupting my ball games, but fine, Everything is always about her..
Just kidding lol :) It was stressful of course not to be there and this was the probably the best place for me to be to relax, except I couldn't help think about having(?) to see all the birthing pictures once she was born lol. Eventually Dr. Sterba came to me from Sarah's hospital up the Bates hill and told me about Scarlett being born and I got to hold her for a few minutes before he brought her back over to cut the cord and other fun stuff.
Shortly after getting out of the hospital (still dreaming) we went to Ready Randy's and Eric was working and I gave him a wink, telling him thanks for hooking me up while I was sick but I didn't need anymore of his goods. He looked at me like I was straight out of a looney tune episode. Good times. That was about all of the dream that I can recall. My drugs must have been wearing off :)
I have my own conclusions for most of this dream to which may make some sense out of the craziness of it. Although I am not sure if I was actually aware of anything at the time, but maybe I caught just enough from loved ones or medical staff talking to me that some of it stuck in. For instance; I didn't have drug dealers or go to dealers homes, but I was given more than I would like to admit and sometimes I was brought different places or moved to different rooms. My 'chiropractor' was probably a pulmonary worker or someone like that who tried to make things better for me. My brother Jeff never has drank in his life and while he does take prescription medicine for having Cystic Fibrosis, he doesn't do, or sell, drugs either. Eric, was both a friend and an ex co-worker but I must have had a nurse that resembled him in some way which could easily have been the case. Countryside did a lot for my family and our bar during this time. Dr. Sterba is someone we know. Sarah and I watch every episode of Bates Motel. I know the Badgers made it to the Final Four and I missed out on that as well as the NFL draft and The Masters. Kind of funny thinking back on some of these dreams afterwards.
I had a dream in the hospital where I was at an appointment for some procedure. Never really could put a finger on to where I was or what I was doing there exactly but it was at a mall style building complex where the waiting room was on one floor and the doctors office was upstairs. I was there with Sarah and she had to convince me to go like it was good for me to be there for whatever reason. She had some shopping to do and was to leave me there and come pick me up when I was ready. Ok, so I don't know if this was because all the new blood being transfused into me while being sick or what, but in my dream I could control my blood. More specifically I could control the temperature of my blood to where I could get it hot enough to burn someone by touching me or I could do the same to whatever I touched as well. Now I'm not going to go as far as Stephen King's 'Firestarter' ability, but if I concentrated enough I could mess some shit up or maybe even kill someone. Ok, so back to my appointment. I didn't want to be there, but Sarah knew best and knew that I needed to be there for therapy or whatever it was that I was there for. I was sick, weak and in a wheelchair, but I wasn't completely out of it. So I get called in and the nurse lady starts doing her check ups on me and I start getting really uncomfortable, anxious and nervous. She was going to do a blood draw and I stopped her, saying I wanted to be done and leave. She got upset and grabbed my arm and said she had to do this and it would be better and easier if I just relaxed. I could feel my blood temperature rising although I tried to hold it back, she felt the heat on her hand and jerked it away, but she also gave me a big crazy smile like she found what she was looking for and called in another lady to help secure me in my chair and put restraints on me. I tried getting to my phone to call Sarah but I just couldn't as I was too weak to fend off these two ladies. The Doctor came in next and started to tell me that he was only here to help and that I would be better off with his help which is why his nurses were forceful with me. He said if I wanted to leave, he would personally call Sarah and I could go. I said that I wanted to leave and to call my wife. He did, and shortly after I was untied and Sarah came in wondering why I wanted to leave. I said that I wanted to talk in private so we did and I told her that they were trying to hurt me and they want my blood for something. Sarah tried calming me down saying they were just running tests and the blood draw was scheduled and that everything would be fine. She said we could leave if I really wanted to but it would be weeks before we would be able to come back in. But, she also said she told the nurses that if she found out I was telling the truth there would be hell to pay. I reluctantly listened to her and believed her, feeling that maybe I was just overly medicated and paranoid, and realized the Doctor was actually nice to me, so I decided to give it one more try. Sarah said she would wait out side the door and to let her know if I needed anything. I went back in and the first nurse lady had the told-you-so shit grin going on and proceeded to draw my blood. Soon after the Doctor came back with the results and he was overly happy. I didn't understand what was going on as they didn't tell me anything or why. I then received some sort of shot that was really making me drowsy and I was afraid it was going to knock me out. The Doctor told his nurses to get my wife. I was really confused and I think I passed out for awhile as when I looked up they had Sarah in an exam chair and were about to give her a shot or draw blood or something I couldn't tell, but I yelled out Stop! I guess I came through sooner than they had hoped as they came to tie me up with more restraints as well as holding Sarah in her chair. They began to try and do some type of procedure on my inner legs, almost like some sort of tattoo on my groin or lord knows what. Sarah got upset and said to stop and it was time to leave. They ignored her and kept on prepping me up for whatever they had in mind. Apparently this office underestimated the degree of hell they were about to get from pissing off my wife as she looked at me and told me to get loose, it was time to go. Roger that honey! So, I started boiling up the temperature of my blood and I was soon too hot for them to touch me. The Doctor now in a panic and getting all aggressive called in for back up but Sarah had managed to trip him and managed to get free from the nurses yelling at them about how she should have trusted me. Now the room is packed full of this office's staff has all gone crazy and they are trying to kill us. Every time these people tried to grab me they would get burnt but that only made them stronger and crazier. Sarah is behind me now and has my restraints untied and tells me to stop messing around and to get us out of here now before we are killed. She starts pushing my wheelchair towards the door and I feel like I have lava flowing through me, so I would grab anyone I could and hold them long enough until they would burst out on fire and burn to death. Each
person I grabbed went faster and faster to thier fiery death until the last person standing was the
Doctor. He told me that if we leave we will only be found again and they will get what they want. Sarah swears back to him that today's not the day and it won't be you, then says F you, you're dead too and then says my name. I look him in the eyes and steam is coming off my bald head and I'm sweating purfusly as the Doc starts to scream in pain and hold his hands up to his face as his head starts on fire. Then we leave. We felt content with ourselves, like we made a great team and had each others back. (Minus the multiple homocides:)
I had other dreams spawned off from this one, and I remembered a couple others while writing this. Was strange dream in the fact that I was in my coma and knew nothing that was going on, like blood transfusions, being in a wheelchair, and doctor appointments.
This past Sunday we went to the Packer game at TCF Bank field and we spent the night next door at the hotel that Sarah spent many nights at while I was in the hospital. I think it is called The Commons, but maybe it has a technical name or whatever, but it was a little strange regardless. I mean she would stay there, 9 months pregnant while wondering how I would be the next day; alive, dead, worse, better, or if I would wake up in time to be there for Scarlett being born. She was born in New Richmond, and I didn't wake until 6 days after that. There were more times that Sarah and Scarlett would stay at this hotel now, waiting for me to come through. Finally, of course, I did. I'm not sure why I had a funny feeling in my belly being there, as I never have been to this hotel before or had even heard of it. Even after I woke up and had learned that she spent some nights there, I had my own visions of this hotel and dreams of what it was like to have been there. Not sure if my dreams or Sarah's reality was worse. I mean the hotel was very nice, clean, had free shuttle service, lobby with computer access and a restaurant as well as an Applebee's all inside thier doors. But as I know my wife, I know how difficult it would have been to either go all the way back to New Richmond and be in our empty home, or stay in an unfamiliar hotel with nobody she knew around while carrying a baby, pre and post birth. My dreams of course tended to be whacky, scary, and although I didn't know it at the time, untrue. I mean I thought there were 3 people out to kill me. I couldn't figure out why they wanted to, as they even felt some remorse in knowing they were supposed to, and while they tried multiple times, they didn't succeed in doing so, they 'only' whooped my ass multiple times and scared the living hell out of me. I soon had false memories of them not being able to find me but they knew that Sarah was staying at a near by hotel and we're going to go after her to try and get to me. Messed up, I know, and I have a more detailed story about that but I have decided to save it for another time. I think maybe this was in the back of my mind while we were there Sunday night. Huge thanks to family members who would visit her there, instead of always at the hospital. Granted, they visited me too, but she was there every day, and she needed to get away at least some of the time before she lost all her marbles. But she kept it together and even got released early after having Scarlett needing to come see me and hoping that having our new baby girl in my hospital room could help me. It had to have! Lots of things will trigger strange memories, lots of things will remind me of my dreams whether false or actual dreams. Lots of things will make me quest what happened, why it did, why it didn't, or timeframes of specifics. Most of these are helpful in remembering things, although the majority of my memories are no fun to relive. We may never stay there again, but if we do, I think I will have more of the same strange feelings in my belly that time as well.
As young child I remember going to my grandparents house and they had holy water set up to dip your finger in and make the sign of the cross. This was the same practice as with the churches that I attended. My family went to two churches, both of which were catholic churches and the same clergy held responsibility on both locations. We prayed before bed. We set up the Christmas tree with the Star on the top, we had a wood carved manger that we enjoyed setting up and later as we grew older we went to Midnight Mass. Our family went to church every Sunday and most every other catholic holiday such as Ash Wednesday, Good Friday, and of course Christmas and Easter. We followed along with the sermon and sang along with the songs and participated in communion. We later had books to follow along with the sermons prayer. My brother and I went to CCD and graduated. I enjoyed this as a youth and learned much. Then I grew up and started asking myself some religious questions such as why is this in the Bible and why is that considered a sin. Late in my high school years I went to less and less church and didn't miss it. Many friends had broken families, and while different than mine, I saw no sin in how there lifestyles were. I went to college and basically gave it up entirely going to church and have ever sense. Now, I walk into a church for weddings or funerals. Major difference there.
About 15 years ago my good friend and I would always get into discussions about religion. Usually it was after several beers. Was he right or was I right? It didn't matter really at the time. I then started to ask him why he felt the way he did, and he said because that was how he was taught growing up. Sounded familiar. I used to be the same way, I felt the same way because that was how it was "supposed to be." He began to agree with me. Then I felt terrible. Who am I to "change" what someone believes. My friend and I went to the same church together as kids, although we didn't become friends until college. Did I ruin his beliefs, did I cause arguments with his own family? We continue to be great friends, but I've never talked to him about those old topics again. I really don't ever discuss religion anymore with anyone, and if I do, its with little prejudice and even less argumentative. Through it all I feel I have gained quite a bit of knowledge concerning religion. By no means am I going to be a Priest, write a book, or preach anything from what I've learned. However, I feel confident in my decision that I have made and feel safe and content with my place in God's eye. To me, God is who or what you feel you need him to be. Have I prayed to God? Of course. Do I often? Nope. But God does mean something, still to me and my family and loved ones.
My son has yet to be baptized like all the relatives in my family have. I have no intention of doing so. Some other family members have taken him to church. He likes it. This is great! It is a learning experience for him and I'm all for that. If he decides later on growing up or as an adult to do so, I'll be there in a heartbeat. My wife and I are expecting a child this Spring and I believe we feel the same way about the future baby. Growing up I had fun going to church. Later on growing up I started enjoying the historical factors of church and religion. Now it is not much at all a part of me. Too many bad things heard about members of the catholic church and corruption. I will not get into the Middle East or any other group that has wrecked havoc on this world.
I plan to never post about religion again. This is how I feel. This is what I believe. Nobody needs to feel or believe the same way, live life how you choose and may God be there how he is needed.
* Back in September of 2013 I started writing. I wasn't sure about a blog or diary or anything like that, but I just felt like it was time write. I enjoy it, and at the same time, had a little more time at that point. It didn't last very long as work got to be more busy during the fall/winter and with Sarah then pregnant it just wasn't something that was the right time to keep it going. So I stopped, and shortly after I got sick. I had almost forgotten about these letters I wrote, as I only wrote them to myself. But, I did save them in my email folder and came across them just today. This was the first one I wrote back then (and the only one I have reread to this point) so I am going to post them on my blog now, starting with this one. Enjoy! Oh, and they are all entirely unedited.
I will put an asterisk (*) on each post to show the difference.
Back in September of 2013 I started writing. I wasn't sure about a blog or diary or anything like that, but I just felt like it was time write. I enjoy it, and at the same time, had a little more time at that point. It didn't last very long as work got to be more busy during the fall/winter and with Sarah then pregnant it just wasn't something that was the right time to keep it going. So I stopped, and shortly after I got sick. I had almost forgotten about these letters I wrote, as I only wrote them to myself. But, I did save them in my email folder and came across them just today. This was the first one I wrote back then (and the only one I have reread to this point) so I am going to post them on my blog now, starting with this one. Enjoy! Oh, and they are all entirely unedited.
A chart found in an ancient royal tomb in China says it can predict the gender of a baby with 90% accuracy. Strange that the chart is in English. Strange that the pictures of the babies are clearly not Chinese. China has tombs? Well either way, I'm taking my chances with our doctor looking live at our ultra sound to tell and show me if we've made Ken or Barbie.
Why is it that the size of the growing baby seems to always be referred to that of a fruit. I look at my 6 year old and after all these years I see no resemblance of a grape, cherry, orange or anything citrusy or in anyway something I enjoy as a snack. 'Hey its week nine and your baby is the size of a prune'.. No wonder I'm gaining weight, because I am putting the fruit down and eating beef jerky.
Been there, done that. First results are back from the hospital visit and everything is looking good and going great. Healthy baby, boy or girl, it matters not. (OK maybe but I will get back to that later.) Why do names matter so much so early? I remember back in grade school playing that game where you pick where you'd live, how many kids, profession, kid names, spouse and all that crazy stuff nobody was ready for. I have no recollection of any names I ever picked or really any other 'answers' to the game, it was silly and something to pass time, and maybe, just maybe that one of the gamers was someone you liked and would pick our name. Now its different. Need to come up with a name. Now. I really don't see the hurry, I say wait until we get the gender results and then we can talk about names. When my 6 year old was born, we had no clue what names we liked. We didn't find out the gender either, but didn't come up with any list of names. The name just hit us and we loved it and can't see any name more fitting. Now, with this child we are going to find out the gender, but until then, I'm uncomfortable thinking of names. I hear some names and they just don't flow with my last name. I'm not naming my child something that will undoubtedly make it an easy teasing target for as a kid growing up. The 6 plus years since the last time I had a child seems a lifetime ago. Am I ready to do this all over again? Diapers, crying, no sleep, stress, money, formula, family, family, family, doctors, and did I mention diapers.
I am in a loving family. We all love each other. We are all looking forward to the new edition. Baby will be a blessing and will be loved forever.
Been there, done that.. Really? Have I mentioned that I am 38 years old. My 6 year old is from my previous marriage. I currently work 7 days a week. My kid adores my spouse, and has only known us to be together as we have been for well over 5 years. This is what I love. My family. I'm really adding another? Holy change, wow. Where will I find time, how will I be there to love and support and take care of all the things a parent and spouse is supposed to. I don't know. But I'm going to do it. Not always the right way I'm sure, but I will do it as happily and lovingly as I can. I know there will be time I will feel like scratching many eyes out. But it is up to me to stay strong and supportive.
7 months to go. Has it even set in yet...
Been there, done that? Oh.. By the way, I am a Dad. My 6 year old is a boy. He could be the last one to keep my family name going. When I decided it was time, all I wanted was a son. I have one, and I thought I was done, I didn't think I would ever have more children. Well I am now. My wife doesn't know, but if I had a choice, I would chose to have a girl. I don't want to tell her this because I don't want her to get her hopes up. I don't want to tell her because that's what the Chinese chart told her it'd be. I think about a girl because she'd be daddy's little girl, forever. I think about a girl because I think that's what my wife wants. I think about a girl because I want her to marry a great guy and have babies. My side of the family is very small. I almost feel like I have the duty, no the honor of carrying out my Father's name. A girl seems right. I thought my 6 year old was a boy and I was right. Am I right again? Matters not. But it does. Very weird feeling.
Baby names come later. Painting the baby room comes later. Now it's support and comfort to my wife, and to the growing fruit in her belly.
I should go now. Wife is sleeping. She doesn't need me, but she does. She sleeps better with me there. This is important. I know this and several other things, I just have to follow through with it and be the person that she fell in love with. I need to be the person she wants to raise a child with. I need us to be there for the 6 year old. He needs us. I need to take weekly pictures of growing baby, I need to check my phone app on baby changes and be interested in how the little teeth grow, that my fruit pees, that the sex will be developed and known to us soon enough. Diapers. Ugh.
I am scared. But I realize what it takes. And its amazing.
I decided to change the title of this post from Freddy Krueger to Reoccurring Dreams.
Ever have those reoccurring dreams? Maybe where you are running from something or someone trying to get to a safer place and you just can't ever seem to get there? Maybe because you are stuck in the mud, or your legs aren't working or it's just too far away? I've had these, but have never been 'caught' as far as I can recall. Another dream I have had over and over coincide with my job throughout the years. I'm at work behind the bar (pick a bar lol) and its busy. Super busy. And nothing seems to be stocked or everything seems to run out but people just keep coming in, by the dozens, piling up on each other ordering drinks and food. The shift has just started and place is packed and a mess, and I know I have a good ten hours ahead of me before I can even clean. Then nobody leaves, so busy it takes 3 or 4 hours to get people to leave after bar close and the cops say it's ok to keep serving and serving. Wouldn't call it a nightmare but I have had this dream numerous times throughout my years. I do believe dreams have meanings behind them. While my busy bar dreams seems relatively easy to figure out, others may not be so simple.
Case in point:
Theses dreams I had were after being in my coma. I was somewhat aware and knew a little of what was going on with me and where I was. I was in Bethezda recovering, I had yet to start any rehab so my muscles were extremely weak so I couldn't move much at all. But when I slept I had several dreams and in this case I had this dream three times, each just a little different. In the first two I died, and in the last one I lived. But, it wasn't just me who was dying, it was everyone, in the world. I am not for certain if the killers were zombies, or vampires or some mutated something or what, but they were out to end human life. The thing was though, as soon as all our lives ended, we would start all over. We would start where we left off as far as age, communication and family, but there was nothing else on Earth besides normal nature. It was up to us as humans to find a way to grow again. And if we didn't do it correctly it was just a matter of time before we would be wiped out all over again and have to start over from scratch yet again. What a mind screw that would be, huh. Just imagine.. Everyone in the world started from scratch, other than what we knew, remembered or could retell to make the world great. It didn't get deep into politics or religion or war, medicine or computers, just basically living and figuring out how to live again. As it turns out, it was my job to let the world know about sports. Apparently that's my genius side lol. I didn't ever talk to the others, but I knew there were some out there that had the same burden as me, to let the world know how it was and what we need to remember and teach our children. However, I felt the best step was to not allow this to happen in the first place and to defend ourselves! But as I am laying almost helpless in my hospital bed the only thing I could remotely protect was myself. But I needed help. Selfish, sorry.
Most people didn't realize what was happening and why everyone was dying around us, but apparently I knew, and I tried telling my nurses. I was in some sort of assistant living apartment where nurses and doctors would watch and care for me and visitors were infrequent. The first nurse wouldn't listen to me, granted I couldn't really talk as I had my trachea making it nearly impossible but I could whisper some, warning her of what was going to happen if we didn't do something. Well, strange I know, but she thought I was crazy and put my to sleep. When I woke up (still sleeping/dreaming) she was gone and most of the lights in my apartment were out. My TV was still on and I was watching a football game and I started trying to remember as much as I could about the history of the sport in case this was the night I was killed. Then the front window breaks and in come 'the bad guys' whoever they were. I tried calling for my nurse but I am sure she was dead and I tried to get away, well this was pointless as I had nowhere to go even if I could. Then it happened, they killed me, dead. Well, here is my second chance now I guess, as I am in the same position in the same room, but my nurse was new. Again I tried telling this one what was about to happen and that it already did once, and surprisingly, not, she thought I was crazy too and put me to sleep as well. Ok so this time after I came through I decided to do as much research as fast as possible on sports, and as a homer would be, most of my research was on who I liked or respected as professional athletes
growing up. I tried to get as much as I could from Lombardi to Barry Sanders to Aaron Rodgers,
Babe Ruth to Mickey Mantle to Barry Bonds to Ryan Braun, Wilt Chamberlain to Jordan to Lebron
and even Gretzky and Tiger. I tried to remember as much as I could as quickly as possible so I could
do my duty to spread the knowledge of sports history to the world so us and our children could grow knowing the past, even after we all died off. Well, again the bad guys broke in and again I was watching sports on TV and I tried getting away but I couldn't and I was killed again. This time seemed worse and more painful for whatever reason and it also really scared the shit out of me more than the first time. Ok, so now I'm back again, this time I know my nurse. He has helped me before and I am concentrating on telling him the truth and getting him to help us all survive. He wouldn't belive me but he would actually listen. Maybe because he knew what I've went through and while highly sick and even higher medicated he knew I wasn't actually crazy. He didn't do much at first just listened. This went on for two days. I thought I was getting him somewhere on believing me and helping and we could fight back together. Well the lights started to get dim in my room and it was night out, this is when my nurse started getting nervous. Maybe he actually believed what was happening around the world and that it was coming to the end. He reluctantly came to me and asked what I wanted to do. I wish I could remember what I really wanted to do, can only assume it was to leave and go someplace safer and get word out that things were true, but I don't recall. I just know that he didn't want to do anything but wait. Wait until the lights came back on and move along his day. I did what I could to grab his arm and whisper as loudly as I could 'yelling' that if he left this room he would die and so would I and the world as we knew it would as well. He was about to give me shot to relax me and put me to sleep when windows down the hall started breaking. We heard people screaming and dying and he quickly went and locked the doors. He came back to my bed and said he believed me now and asked what to do. I'm thinking too late dipshit, but I tried to stay focused. I mean, hey, maybe 3 strikes and I really am out, no coming back. We tried to start a fire to set off the sprinkler system but that didn't stop anything, they were getting closer and closer and were at the door now trying to break in. It was loud and scary and my nurse was panicking as much as me. Just as they broke the door down I grabbed him with all my strength and collapsed the bed curtains around us, covering us up and I yelled to him do it!! I guess he knew what I meant because he
knocked the hoses off one of the medical tanks which ignited and blew the apartment up, everyone
inside included, besides us. He finally believed me and at the last minute he saved me and himself
and all of us!
I never had the dream again. The next time I saw this nurse (for real) I called him over and thanked him. I really did. He looked confused of course, and I couldn't talk well, but I thanked him and gave him a thumbs up. He said you're welcome but asked why. I didn't try to explain, but just told him that he saved me, thanks for believing me. Yeah, crazy :) plus I don't know if hospital room tanks blow up like that but hey, sue me lol.
Like I said before at the beginning of this post, dreams make sense more times than not, at least for me. I like to think about what my dreams were and what they could mean throughout my life. I don't always come up with the answer, and wouldn't know if I were right or wrong, I believe though that it is helpful for me. This dream..? I'm not sure. I do know some nurses were more helpful than others and took great care of me and my family while I recovered. Angels!?!
So next time that creeper down the road says they dated the Queen of France, danced on the moon or invented the shovel, maybe they just need to be heard. Maybe there is a hidden message they are telling you. Or call the cops cause they are whacked and we don't need that shit :)
This beautiful little girl of mine is quite the special blessing. She is a wonderful treat to see her everyday and watching her grow. I feel her love all the time. Seems like a long, long 7 years ago when Ryan was this age. Because of everything that has happened I get to spend way more time with Scarlett than I was able to with Ryan. I am sure I have tripled the amount of diapers I changed in my life now and it's not all bad, I mean the smells can be near devastating to my nostrils but she is usually rather cooperative in helping in the process. She is very close to crawling and actually can go backwards which is funny to watch. She travels around in her play walker like a 3 year old would walk and knows where she wants to go.
I can't believe how much my two kids love each other. They hold hands and Ryan tries to teach her how to hug. I'm in no hurry having her grow up any quicker as I really am enjoying being able to hold her in my arms and have her sleep with me and be such a cuddle bug. Sometimes she has a little attitude but it usually is overly dramatic and comical as she, well usually gets what she wants anyway! She's been saying "dadda" for a good month now. I'm sure it's just sounds but hey, I am not going to argue! Sarah was looking at some pictures on the computer the other day and one of them was a picture of just me at our wedding and Scarlett looks and says "dadda" and that was super cute.
I feel like we have a connection in the time we have been in this world together. She was learning how to deal with life outside her 9 month home and sleeping all the time. I was a totally different person who was trying to learn to talk, walk, swallow, etc. I awoke from my slumber and missed her Birth day by 6 days. Hopefully she doesn't hold that against me when she gets older :) I can see her being 16 and ask to borrow the maxi-van to go hang out with her friends and to use twitter10.4 or whatever those crazy kids will be doing then and I'll be like, 'baby girl it's a school night, so I'm sorry but no you can't borrow the maxi-van tonight, maybe tomorrow.' And she would be like, 'Dad, stop acting so dope, you are sooo un-cool, I'm almost an adult, besides remember that time you slept for 6 days when I was born?' Then I'd cry and be like, 'here's the keys, be safe with the maxi-van and tweet me later, and don't tell Mom.' And she'd be like, 'can I take the porche?' Lol.
Anyway. Love this little princess and so happy to have her in my life and an awesome addition to the family.
Dad if you're reading this, remember, it's just a dream(s)....
a.) I've mentioned in other dreams where I have been involved with elevators in one way or another and each time is about me not wanting to go for that ride. This part here I am in about the worst shape I can 'remember' and I have this in a quote because I feel like it wasn't exactly a dream, at least not entirely. I'm not sure if this is before, during, or after my ampho treatments or being on the ventilator or just from sleeping in my coma but I felt like absolute hell. I was in terrible pain.. beaten, bleeding, gasping to air, shaking, cold and holding on to life. But I was fighting, with whatever I could physically or maybe more so mentally find any strength to hold on, I was. Then my Dad comes to me, I can't open my eyes because of the pain, but even if I could I probably couldn't see anyway from all of the tears in my eyes. I can visualize his face though. It was strained and saddened yet strong and clear. Just like his voice. He talked to me like he was proud. Dad has been proud of me before, but this was different. This was the proudness for what he got to witness and be part of as well as being proud to watch me grow. Now he had to watch me not live. It was his time to tell me that I should be proud of myself and that I fought as hard as I could. It was time for him to tell me to let go and stop hurting myself. It was time for him to tell me to stop hurting my loved ones and others battling for me to live. Like always, I was stubborn, and scared shitless. I wasn't ready, but I also wasn't able to do anything about it. I just lay there, painfully in my hospital bed, listing to my Dad. He told me a few stories, stories I've never heard before. Didn't matter if they were true stories or made up or something from both sides like us smart ass Moore's do. I cried and I listened. Went on for lord knows how long. Cry and listen. Then I threw up. Felt like I threw up everywhere but I only recall the taste in my mouth, lasted forever and I kept on vomiting in my mouth. Then Dad said it was time, time to move on to the my chapter. Then I was on to that damn elevator. Soaked in my own blood, sweat, vomit and tears I went, trying to yell out but I couldn't.
b.) The other part of this involves me not being in as much pain, but rather me being very very cold and motionless while strapped into my bed. Not sure why I was strapped because I couldn't move anything anyway, other than my eyes. I had thought someone had tried to kill me by breaking the elevator or pushing me down into the next floor or however this person did it, but either way I had fallen and broken my back. My thought was I fell down that damn elevator and ended up breaking nearly every bone in my body and was paralyzed. I guess this elevator ride had taken me up to the very top floor of this tall building. It wasn't much of a floor, but more like a utility room with an iron ladder from the opening of the elevator down to a smaller area (almost like the empty elevator shaft itself.) Then it became almost a 'who-dun-it' mystery. Ever played the board game or seen the movie "Clue"? Somewhat like that. I had a memory of each and every person who could have caused this accident or purposely tried to kill me. Then I see the elevator door open and out comes my Dad. I was really confused and frightened. Didn't I just see him? Didn't he just say goodbye? Well, maybe that was just a dream! He came over to me with even more concern on his face and he asked me what I was doing. I told him about the 'plot' to kill me. He looked interested to me and quickly became like my murder narrator. I would whisper to him each person who could have done this and he would give me legitimate reasons why that couldn't have happened. Couldn't tell you any names or even any faces for that matter, but there were at least a half a dozen people who I questioned. Each time, Dad came with a valid reason why it didn't or couldn't have happened. I soon began to believe him, and started to realize that not only did I not have an accident, I didn't fall at all. I just didn't, die. I'm not sure if I felt like I lied to Dad or let him down or what was going on, but I do know that I cried some more, and started to realize how sick I was, that I never fell and broke anything, and worse so, how hard this had to have been for my Dad. I know I ended up throwing up in my mouth again, and I swear I really did (in actuality) because the taste was so real. All I recall after this was saying goodbye to my Dad and getting into the elevator again. I wasn't scared now, at least not like before and my eyes had dried. The now, for whatever reason, much nicer elevator doors shut and I could feel it was moving. I was heading to my death. My battle was over and I couldn't fight anymore. The last recollection I had was grabbing my bed restraints and pulling them towards my chest in anger. Wait, I can move....?
Once again Dad, if you read this, it was only a dream. Don't feel sadness. If anything you talked me through this. Like only we Moore's can.
P.S. No I am not saying I did or didn't see the light. But I didn't.
But, I'm thankfull that it wasn't my time. Too many fighters and prayers for that I guess :)
*SORRY IF YOU HAVE READ THIS POST ALREADY. I DECIDED TO CHANGE THE NAME TITLE
I remember having this dream while in my coma where I was really sick and staying in the basement of Fenway Park, the home of the Boston Red Sox. Attached to the field was a catholic church. The basement was basically the back room of the home team's locker room, so I could hear the games and hear everything that went on in the locker room, including team prayers from the neighboring priests. After every game was a big party, every single night, even with the priests. Nights would go into the early hours of the morning all the time. Most of the players would finish partying here at the Park and then go out downtown. These guys would come back to the park drunker than hell every night and sleep until right before they took the field. I always wondered if they went to Cheers lol. It was either Spring or Fall because it was cold, but the players seemed to be partying like it was Fall and maybe even the playoffs. The basement was a shit hole. Lights rarely worked, water would drip everywhere, and most of the players slept there.
Like I said I was super sick in my dream here and could really not get out of my bed to do much at all. I remember times when it would get so loud inside late at night that the cops would come and knock on the front door and everyone would hide. They were not very good at hiding because they couldn't stop laughing. This was comical to me because I've been that drunken idiot once or many times that I thought things were funny when they were not, even if it was serious. I used to get so scared because I wasn't doing anything wrong and didn't want to go to jail. Well that soon changed for me because the cops basically just laughed as they would come and 'inspect' the place and tell the players to try and keep it down and be ready to party when they are off duty to whoop it up with them. I don't think they ever saw me, or maybe they just didn't care about the sickly dude in the corner.
One of the team trainers would give me medicine. I think this is the same guy I have had in other dreams who would give me medicine. He is faceless though so I can't be for sure, and that is for another day. Anyway. Sometimes I wondered if he was there to help me or to shut me up. Not sure. Not like I'd narc on them for whatever, but I was just laying there day in and day out in my bed trying not to get into any trouble. Sometimes I would take his medicine and I would be out for hours. Sometimes I would take his medicine and it would fill like days before I woke up again. So this trainer, was really nice and maybe he was trying to help, as sometimes I would feel better and he would even ask me to join in on the festivities from time to time. Maybe in my 'sleep' I would converse with some players because they started talking to me more often and even offered to help me with things, while others asked for suggestions or help concerning their game. I still didn't feel right actually partying with them as I wasn't drinking then let alone vertical most times and obviously because I wasn't a player, and not even a Sox fan lol.
However, with respect, I decided to offer assistance in helping them party so I could feel included while the players, and cops and priests could have fun too. So, of course, I built a bar! Duh. I couldn't really work since I didn't have the energy so I hired Sarah and she would work most of the hours. I would clean up after the night (morning) was over and I would set up during the game so they would be ready to party as soon as the game got over. Tips were great! It was fun, they would now party it up inside Fenway instead of going out and getting into trouble. Drinks were about as cheap as could be and we continued this on until I woke up. Bummer. Sorry, no idea how their season ended or what else happened in my dream. Dang!!
Go Brewers lol.
Been thinking lately on how I would have felt to not be the one who had gotten sick. And not boo-hoo why me stuff cause shit happens. But I think it would be more difficult if it were not me and was a loved one. What if it were Sarah? I'm not sure if I would have known what to do.. Close the bar? Keep it open and try to fill shifts? Work as much as I could but visit every day and sleep there every night? I really don't know. What would it have been like if I had to see her day in and day out not knowing what the hell was going on or how long before she would wake up and recover. Or if she would at all. I'm sure I would try and do all of the above and try not to get frustrated with everything and the doctors as they would try and tell me stuff and I'd probably be clueless in whatever they'd be telling me. Sarah had a journal going and took notes from the doctor and nurses. What if I were the one pregnant? Ok not that. But still. She dealt with family members, started a FB page, benefits, etc. My wife is slightly stubborn but she never seemed to lose focus on anything, me, baby, the bar, finances, scheduling, everything. I would hope that I would do the right thing, the stuff that she would want me to do. I would hope that she would be proud of me in whichever route I decided best for our family while still being by her side. This isn't supposed to sound selfish, like I would only be thinking of myself here, but I was in a coma for like 6 weeks, what would I do...? I just would hope that it would come natural and she would be happy with what I did. She was more than amazing during my time and still since then. For instance, she said she knew why I wasn't feeling well for a week and decided to stop me from taking a specific medicine so she weened me off of it and it helped with almost everything. Now, my issues are related to different medicine and she has been the one talking with my multiple doctors about changing that as well because while she can't really tell my pain level, she can tell my mood and color and other things.
My son has been battling a cough recently and he went to the doc yesterday and he assures us that he did NOT have blasto or even pneumonia, what a relief, my god. Not that we really thought it was but it is in the back of my mind every time he coughs and every time anybody gets sick. I've been out now since May and while I am very lucky to be where I am, I couldn't have done it without Sarah. For many reasons. I know I should tell her in person more but sometimes this is easier.
This week has been one of recovering for me. Last week flat out sucked. I didn't know what was going on with me. I was super extra tired with no energy and my feet hurt more than they had in over a month. I was getting those shooting pains back in my lower legs and feet, I was sweating at strange times and I was a little more grouchy than normal and I cried my eyes out twice. I asked Sarah if any of my pills had estrogen in them! Well, like I said, this past few days this week have been much improved, and my family has mentioned that I seem way better in every way including my color. I guess I must have been going through withdrawals. Fun! I'm weening off my pain pills and my gabapentin for my nerve pain and I think that is a major factor. I perhaps ran my course through them and they probably were not doing anything for me anymore and were only causing side effects. For one, my peeing is getting back to normal, not having to wait and wait for it to happen the last few days has been a nice change. Duh. I'm really hoping that this change in med's will help me out and make me feel better, although I am still prepared for my feet not heeling for several months or longer still. This pain and numbness doesn't help my balance so I use my cane and or hold Sarah's hand most of the time while walking still. I just need to make sure I don't miss taking any of my med's because it throws me off for at least a day. We see my neurologist again on Tuesday next week I believe. So...
As of Tuesday:
6:00 AM (3x daily)
Hydrocodone (Vicodin) - 325 mg 1.5 pills
Gabapentin - 600 mg .5 pill
Sunday I am lowing my Hydrocodone to 1 pill and quitting Gabapentin for each 3 dosages.
Daily Vitamin - 1 pill
Vitamin C - 1 pill
Intraconazole 100 mg 2 pills (need to take for at least 1 year)
Potassium - 20 mg 1 pill
Cymbalta (anti-depression and pain) - 20 mg 2 pills
Lyrica (anti-depression) - 50 mg 1 pill
Vitamin D3 1 pill (Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday only)
(Same: lowering and quitting)
Another "better" thing now is I am taking med's 4 times a day instead of 5 before.
I do not feel depressed by the way. Never really have. Granted, this isn't fun of course and things sure have been tough in many ways. But I do not feel overwhelmed or anxious or stressed and really not depressed. Yes, I get tired, and getting outside and enjoying say the grass on my feet is tough on me, but that is more because it hurts than not wanting to go outside. My doctors and some family have recommend taking some med's for this to be on the safe side, so I figured I better so I don't go do something stupid :-)
Read an article this morning that showed all this cases of mainly minors who were on prescription pills that went whacky and that kind of freaked me out. But don't worry folks, I'm normal.. unless you know me lol.
As a young kid I remember listening to Kenny Rodgers, Dolly Parton, the Oak Ridge Boys and a few other country artists. For about the next ten years, however, I really disliked country music. Then in the early 90's, right around getting into high school I heard of this Garth dude. Garth... Really? Well I thought I'd give him a try. I really fell for 'The Thunder Rolls' and always watched this video on MTV of all places. I didn't have cable at home back then but spent a lot of time at my friend Chad's house where when we weren't outside doing something active we would be inside watching TV including a lot of music videos and eating pizza. I swear this video was in the top ten for the entire year!
Didn't totally get into country music the next few years but I still paid some attention to Garth. He was quite the entertaining artist and I think I bought a CD of his, or maybe it was still a cassette tape lol. Then I remember many, many after bars in the late 90's including watching his live performance at Central Park with Billy Joel. That was super cool. Thanks Don!
The last indoor concert I was at was the Kid Rock-Metallica concert in '98(?) at the Metrodome(?). This will be a little different, as I don't suspect having cases of beer in our hotel room bathtub, nearly falling down the stairs at the concert, missing the opening show because we were at like our tenth bar, and several other things that this post is Not rated for :)
I'm looking forward to this concert and I know Sarah is super, uber excited. I am by no means a cowboy, will not be chewing snuff, wearing tight jeans or a cowboy hat, but I do expect to enjoy this day. We have his 'live in Vegas' show on DVDS and that is really cool, and I suspect this will be just as fun and even better.o
(10/7/14) Just getting back now, it was an awesome show!!
So I woke up from a nap this afternoon and jumped out of my bed with excitment because I remembered a dream that's been on the tip of my weird ass brain lately. Ok I didn't exactly jump because that's about impossible. In rehab I used the pool and they had me do 'jumping' excersises which made me feel like a young Michael Jordan, and I kind of felt like that. I have so many dreams that are still hiding somewhere in my head that just won't come back out, but for whatever reason many did today, but mainly this one specifically. I thought of this one in my nap and I got to my computer as quickly as possible to start this post out so I wouldn't forget it.
Ok, so this may not be as exciting for you as it is for me, but hopefully you'll enjoy nonetheless. It is weird and kind of all over the place, but hey, my story lol :)
Well I titled this post "Split Personality" which isn't medically correct I'm sure, but for quite awhile I didn't know where I was and sometimes wondered who I was. There were multiple times where I believed my nurses were people I knew, and specifically women I personally know. Sarah, my Mom, my ex-wife and my sister-in-law were all my 'nurses' at one point. Every time I saw each one they were extra nice and talked to me. It was interesting as they were nice, but they didn't seem to know who I was. I thought maybe because I couldn't talk. Much later on I wondered if they were even ever really there.
When I came through from my coma I remember Sarah telling me about the bar and how someone paid our bills and then bought it from us. Then said we were in a huge amount of debt but she found a friend of hers that if we lived with her and her boyfriend but kept it secretly from her landlords she would pay off our debt. With one catch. We were to choose a baby of hers. Now, this baby was unborn and I was the one who had to choose which baby by - well by grabbing the baby from inside her before the child was born. This lady knew how to 'give us' a boy or a girl by some type of medicine she took. I didn't really know what the hell was happening, and I wondered if I was the right person... I mean Sarah saved me, but am I the same person as before or even at all? I know that whenever we talked about this baby grabbing I would get uncomfortable and Sarah would ask me if I was ok and if I trusted her. It was constant, she kept asking and I didn't know what else to say, or at least try to say then, yes. Well apparently I was out of the mix or did not get the memo because this was, well frankly, weird as shit. I think this had something to do with me wondering about how many kids we actually did have when I was really awake. I remember seeing pictures on my wall in the hospital and was confused about Scarlett and her multiple, multiple twin sisters.
Well, back to my 'familiar' nurses. I remember the time when Michelle, my brothers wife was just my nurse, she was MY nurse, as I was a Doctor and had my own practice. She came in one day to set up the room and to go over the scheduled appointments. Well I was still immobile in my bed but felt the stress of her and my other nurses who came into work and I couldn't get out of bed to see anyone. As the day ended, they cleaned up and closed up shop and I tried to apologize knowing they were upset but I just couldn't do anything about it.
My ex-wife was another nurse I thought I had and she, I thought, pretended she didn't know me. It was rather weird. I would try and ask about Ryan and she would just play nice and do her job and leave.
Sarah was my nurse most often and she, I thought, would be on duty at all times and sleep in the room next door. While 'on duty' she wouldn't act like she knew me, but would just be professional and nice and try to make me as comfortable as possible which I think just made it worse because I was so confused. Was so, so much different when she was 'my nurse' rather than my wife, but was still F'd up in the beginning because of the baby thing like before.
I guess my Mom wasn't seen as a nurse, but she was there a lot and always told me how great I looked. She told me some other things but that's another post. For whatever reason when I saw her, I would walk into the room where she was and she would meet me and hold back tears saying how great I looked and how amazing it was that I made it.
I didn't know who was who, or why these people I thought knew me wouldn't recognize me. Also, every one of these ladies had the most perfect smile and teeth. They were just pristine. I don't think any of this story were dreams, I think I truly thought I was awake and saw all of this. Sarah calls this 'false memories.' Trippy shit to say the least!!
Amazing I didn't get locked up for craziness. I think after awhile I just knew how messed up the things I was saying/seeing I would just not tell anybody about them. I am happy I remember this part
of my time in the hospitals.
Saw two of my Doctors last week and been on the phone with the third and been trying to figure out the best route to go with me as far as my medications go. I started weening off two of them and started two completely new ones in an effort to help with my neurology. For awhile I thought I had improved in a lot of ways, now I'm just extra tired, been sweating easily and am just flat out of energy and my feet have been really sore and have a heavy feeling as well. The Cymbalta medicine I started about a month ago apparently is not supposed to be taken with my newer Zoloft and was told to stop it immediately. This combination could cause seizures and high BP and death. Fun. Then another says to hold off on another and to wait until we reevaluate my meds. So which is it lol. I went to bed last night by ten and didn't really do anything productive until after 3:00 PM which was after two naps anyway. Now I'm about ready for bed again at 6:00. I know the change in weather and more so the change in time can affect people and moods but I never have noticed this before. I mean many times in my life I worked nights at the bar and it would be dark before even going in, which I usually liked, I mean I didn't usually like being at work when it was nice and sunny out! I'm trying to adjust to NOT being a night person and do more during the day, and I'm rather enjoying it. Sarah checked my BP when she got home and it was higher than normal so hopefully that gets better soon.
I don't really have much else to say right now, just needed to vent sometimes I guess.
I'll be back to my normal posting soon, thanks for your patience! And for listening!
Been a few days now since I've written anything so I thought I better check in :)
Just wanted to say happy 2 month birthday to my blog! It has been an interesting ride so far and I feel better about a lot of things that I have learned about myself on the way. Thank you readers for making this even more enjoyable for me. I now have as of today about 16,000 page views. Now I'm not sure if that is good or not but it seems like it to me! Have a fun and safe Halloween everyone and I'll be writing again here soon.. To the next two months and beyond, cheers 😉
So I am not sure where these dreams take place at, but for whatever reason, I feel like I am on the southern east coast somewhere, maybe even close to a beach. It is cold though, possibly it is winter, I am unsure, but I do know it is a long time ago. I have had other dreams where they were taking place somewhere around the Revolutionary War time, like the one about the movie theater. But this is different. Each of these dreams I am always laying down on some sort of hard bed or even a table and one time I was a a cement slab. I am freezing cold, but can barely move and can't keep myself warm. I am only wearing a gown, like a hospital gown, but I am not in a hospital. I am usually in a house, shed, barn or some type of room with only one window and there is a female with me who is trying to wake me up. She is telling me and shaking me and insisting that I need to get up, and I need to fight as they were coming. She never would explain who was coming or what they wanted, but I needed to wake up and prepare for a fight, for our lives. There are now others in the room and they are looking out the window and saying it's time to go, to leave me there because I would only slow them down. Who the heck is outside? Our room is now nearly surrounded and our time is about out. I just cannot move enough to go with and can really not even get up off of my back.
These people outside are now outside the door trying to get in, breaking the windows and slamming the door with whatever they had trying to knock it down to get inside. I am not sure where the others went, or even how many there are of us but I am still laying down and this lady is still here, crying and crying and pulling on me almost off onto the ground and then they get in. For whatever reason, for whatever strength I had remaining I reach my feet and start fighting. This girl and I are beating them back however we could, picking up their weapons and fighting them, killing them, and driving them out, but more and more keep coming. It was almost like every time another came in that we killed we got stronger and stronger and were killing everyone in sight, blood is flying all around and we are standing on top of the dead just fighting back. Either we now have killed them all or they have retreated, but we are the only two left in this room. That's not dead at least, and the few remaining holding on to life we would finish them off too. This fight was now over, and I collapse to the ground and pass out.
I wake up and I am in a bed. Apparently in a home. An old home, like really old, but beautiful. I had to be at an important or rich person's home. The light in the room was by candlelight and the sheets were linen in the bed that I was in. People were talking in a room outside of mine. It was more yelling about something but I couldn't tell what. I look around and then at myself, I am still in my gown but have some really old hand made pants on up past my ankles. And I was covered in blood. Thick blood everywhere was almost caked into my skin, it looked black. I could still barely move.
The yelling in the room next to me was getting louder and clearer and I could hear some of it was about me. I felt just enough strength to get up off this bed and see if I could make it to the room and see what was happening. There was an old wooden, nicely constructed cane by the bed and I grabbed that and used it to help stagger to the room. I walked through the door and everyone went silent. The lady that I was fighting with earlier was sitting in the corner, all cleaned up, but still sad. Someone spoke up and asked who I was and where I am from. I..I.. I, guess I don't know..? That's a good question, who the hell am I and where am I and what is going on I asked. They all looked around in even more confusion and this guy yells out, "then there is no way we can trust him!" I am thinking trust me for what? This lady stands up and says, "but he fought, he fought with me and we killed a bunch of them!" Another man says that it doesn't mean he's with us, he could be with somebody else. Then the huge front door swings open and it's boy who screams out, "they are coming!" Then everyone drops what they are doing and they open up these closets and secret doors through-out this large house and they all grab a bunch of guns. I don't know much about guns, but they are old guns with gun powder. They grab tons of guns and other weapons and pack up their things and run out the door. I ask this girl who I fought with and she tells me we are in Virginia and that the war has been long fought and we don't know who we can trust and if we can win. I asked who we were fighting and she just looked at me confused and said we had to go before they got to the house. But, it was too late, they were back, and I lost all my strength again and fell over. I didn't have anything left.
The house, like before is now under attack again and this time it is on fire. I am on my back trying to stay awake but all I can do is look up and around at this room in this house. It was bigger than I thought. Had to be a mansion. Who's house is this I still wondered even more now. I looked at the ceiling and there were huge paintings hanging all around and there were more all over the walls and more paintings of people and faces that looked familiar. There were a few statues I saw as well and a bunch of flags. Very old American flags. Beautiful blue American flags with a few stars and a few stripes on them. This same girl is back, again trying to get me up, dragging me closer and closer to the door but I am too weak. I told her I couldn't get up and to save herself. She kept pulling at me and slapping my face so I wouldn't fall asleep but nothing would work, and then the room begins getting engulfed in fire and smoke and the house is falling apart.
I try one last time to get off my butt and at least to my knees to crawl out of this place. I can move a few feet but am still a long ways from getting out. The gunfire is loud outside and people are screaming and crying and dying. Even if I get out of here, where would I go? I crawl a few more feet and get to the door with this dedicated gal pulling me up from my shoulder, and then I fall to my face. I'm done. "Go," I said with my weakest voice and maybe my last breath. Then something falls while on fire and hits me in the head and I am knocked out.
I start coming through, but everything is cloudy, and loud. I can hardly see anything. I think I am outside now, and it is during the day but it is really foggy out and the loud noise I hear is gunfire from every direction and explosions all around and near me. Then I realize that the fog is actually smoke, and I am outside, I am in some dirt field, laying down in a ditch or something similar. I try getting to my knees and moving somewhere, anywhere to see where I was. But I had no idea of any direction let alone where to go. I struggle on the ground for what felt like hours until I am grabbed from behind. I am hoping it is this girl that has been helping me, but as I turn around it is one guy with a rifle and another guy next to him with another rifle and he asks who I am. I didn't know, but I said that I was with them. Not sure if they believed me or not but they grabbed me and pulled me away, telling me to get up but I couldn't so I wasn't sure if they were pulling me to safety or to harm. I get to this place that seemed a little more safe and a guy comes up with pulled back pony tail and asks who I am. Again, I say I don't know and I don't know where I am. He then says that I'm worthless and for them to kill me. Whoa, wait! Is there anything I can do to prove you I am not the bad guy!? He walks close to my face in front of his man ready to shoot me in the head and grabs some old papers from his pocket and says angrily, "sure, show me where these are and you can live!" and he begins walking away and says kill him. I say I do know where they are! Everyone freezes. I look around and say, I just saw everything on your paper at the home I was last at. He comes back at me and says prove it. So as best I can I begin to describe what I saw, paintings, faces, flags, etc. The men all look around in amazement. "Show me this house." Well, I woke up here, I don't know anything that is going on or where I am, I don't even know who I am. I only know this lady has tried to help me while we have fought off others while her people felt I wasn't trusted. But I did however, see this room, full of those images on your papers. What does it mean, I asked.. They look around some more and he grabs me and pulls me over to this hill. He pulls me carefully up this sandy hill and says to keep my head down but to look across the field. Explosions are still going on everywhere around us. I look up and try to see across all the smoke and fire at this rubble. I say that I don't see anything. He yells for me to look again, so I look, squinting to see what he's talking about and then I see on top of this rubble the same things I saw in his pages. Except more, but they were broken and torn and on fire or already burnt. A few stood out, almost like billboards: an American flag, a picture of a man on a horse and a large metal Budweiser sign (don't ask:) and then it started to hit me. I am somehow stuck in a war between America and whoever we were fighting, I am only assuming the British, but I kept quiet as I didn't want to seem crazy.
I am not quite sure who I was with or what fight we were in or any plan, but this group of men had seemed to change their mood and looked at me like I had made some difference. Like they suddenly had a goal in sight, instead of fighting blindly. I didn't know what else to do but to go along with them, as besides anything else I knew, I at least was American! Let's Go! I soon learn some of the strategy and how they now knew that we could win. Whatever I saw in the paper from this guy and from whatever was across the field had a connection, and we had to get there. By boat.. (don't ask:)
The rest of my dream was us fighting to get to this boat, and each part of the way I would get a little bit stronger, stronger and stronger to where I could now walk on my own and then was eventually given a rifle as well. Also, as every step we got closer we would see more and more American symbols: some of which were in this home I saw, some I remember from my time and place, or at least what I saw in my history books or on TV. A few days later we got to this boat. There were many, many more of us now and we were all determined to get on the boat (ship) and get to that rubble across the field (water). This is where this dream ends. I have others similar, but this was all I can remember of this one. I don't know a lot of what this one means. Well, I am sure that the girl was Sarah, fighting for me, struggling to get me to go with her, fighting together. I don't know where she went after the house fire.. maybe to go have our baby lol. I don't know who the others were in the dream or even who we were really fighting as nobody's face was familiar and I am not sure where we were going. I 'think' that the painted face we saw pictures of was President Washington, but I am not sure. Maybe the house I was at was the house that burnt down before the White House was built... Who knows, or why the hell I dreamed that. Maybe I was just bored in my dream and needed some excitement without any monsters or whores or Russians :)
Hope you enjoyed..