Friday, October 31, 2014


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 😉

Thursday, October 30, 2014

Battle of...

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..


Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Home bathroom

Quick one..

I probably still have my text to my Dad saved in my phone when I sent him a message that I stood for the 'first' time to pee.
Part of the 'deal' with me getting released from the hospital was that we needed to install proper bathroom handicap equipment. Sorry if there are technical terms for them, but I had to put in a hand brace on the edge of the outside of the bathtub and one in the inside. The tub was right next to the toilet that I had to install a brace on each side of that too, which was used as a dual purpose: for me to attempt to bath, and to sit on the toilet.
I had prescribed medicine for my leg swelling that made me pee a lot, but I was unable to stand. So, I needed to move from my wheelchair to the toilet in a sitting position. I would say for the first two weeks I used my bed 'urinal' to pee during the night because I just couldn't get out of bed in time and then to my wheelchair and then to the bathroom. Even after I stopped using the wheelchair it wasn't any faster hobbling in with my walker to the bathroom and I didn't want to wake Sarah or our new baby up so I'd pee in this plastic urinal. I got kind of used to using it at the hospital so it was sadly, almost normal. Well, Sarah said enough is enough, she told me to get rid of it and either wake me or get up and go to the bathroom. Made sense, I had to grind it out.
Well, soon after, not really sure how long, but I was fed up with sitting to pee. There were the braces on each side of the toilet, so one day, by myself, stupid I knew, I stood over the toilet and basically put some weight on the braces to keep me up and went pee. It was Amazing! I mean I drinbled some cause my legs were so weak and wobbly, but I did it alone and it was like I was drunk again lol :)
It was a great day. Have stood up ever since to pee. I am fortunate and thankful.



I remember near the end of my time recovering in Bethezda when I had my first shower.

Now I've been a guy since puberty that I would take two showers a day, and maybe more than that. We used to play hoops or softball for years and after being at the field or gym I would rush home and shower and change quick then meet up with my team afterwards! Now I am near motionless in this same friggin' hospital bed for weeks and not all happy with the everyday room service I am more than ready for a shower. So I don't recall the specifics but you have to schedule a shower. Ok, fine.. So I set one up for I think three days in advance, ugh three days, well what's three more days I guess at this point. Well I was so excited, so ready to freshen up, wash and scrub up and just finally feel a little normal again.

Ok, so the day comes and I'm ready for my shower. My favorite nurse comes in and she says that the shower is all set. Hmmm.. Never thought about this I guess. I can't walk, let alone stand and basically can't even sit up by myself very well, so how am "I" going to "take" a shower? Well I get undressed, which was I believe basically my man diaper and keep my gown on and we're off. I was hoping to get my favorite colorful beach towel for this long awaited event, but I think I had the same 3 foot off-white towel the guy across the hall that fell over trying to escape had yesterday. So, no biggie, I'll just take an extra long shower and forget about it, and worse comes to worse, I'll just air dry on the way back. Those gowns are so thin I will be dry by the time I get back to my room.

Well my nurse takes me by wheelchair to the shower room. Oh shit, what the hell is this..? If I remember correctly this 'shower room' is directly across from my floors' front desk area. It was like we were going into the janitorial room. Everyone there had to know where I was going, which, whatever, I'm taking a shower, not a problem. But, she opens the door and we go into this room, which is about half the size of my hospital room. But this is the "shower" room. Now I'm in this
weird wheelchair, apparently met for showers, and then she strips my clothes (gown was all) and
grabs my hose, I mean the hose and starts watering me down. Gee thanks. This sucks. K, warm water is a plus.. Everything else is a negative. The water touching my now depleted, half sized normal body feels pretty good but when the water's not, I'm freezing and I start to shiver. I can't stop myself from shivering and the best I can do is try to crouch over to help warm myself. My 'favorite' nurse is moving the spray water here, moving that there, spraying side to side, down and up, and everywhere cleaning me up with whatever soap they use, while I'm just clutched over praying for it to be over. Finally she is finished with me and starts drying me off.  I could care less about having 'my' towel or nothing at all at this point. She's still super nice and all professional and shit but now I'm more humiliated then before as she's finishing cleaning me up yet getting my same stanky gown back on.

We leave the room and I'm shaking like a tree leaf in December because I'm so cold. I could only wish that I never signed up for this day. Obviously being so close to the front desk everyone knew where I was and that I am unable to bath myself. I seriously felt worse this day than I did when nurses had to clean me after bathroom mistakes. So excited waiting for this and in turn it was

Thank you Bethezda and your nurses, you were (mainly) amazing. This was just not my best day :)


Monday, October 27, 2014

Drug Dealing

     Well I spent some nasty times in my days that I would like to soon forget...  I know of this time I went to pick up my car, wherever the hell this was and got stopped by some people I barely knew and they laughed at me, saying they didn't know why I would think I could just sweep in and get my car with no repercussions. I didn't know what they were talking about and the lady that was with took me to the side and we walked awhile. She seemed friendly at first put I was soon to realize the opposite. She asked if I remembered or not? I said no. She got irritated and pulled my shirt sleeves up and revealed tattoos I don't remember. Full tattoos, ones like I don't have or didn't know what they meant or where I got them or why. She then brought me to my car which was stuck in and chained up in some trashy garage. She said I owe for the drugs I sold, and for the drugs I used myself. And that I owe for for the money Iborrowed and money that's mysteriously missing. Said bring it back and maybe I would get my car. Now, I'm sure most of you have kept track over the past couple months, and realize this is all a dream. But I would like to reiterate in case of newer readers. 
     I can only assume I needed the car for what was inside it, or for no good, or both. Anyhow, this dream lead to travels all over trying to find ways to pay these people back. The longer it took, the more I wondered if they were right, I mean everywhere I went I either heard stories or met bad people along the way that I had dealt with.  
     Not sure what this has to do with anything, but they were part of the same messed up dream that I remember nonetheless. I had this car, same one or not I don't know, but I guess I had made a deal with a friend of mine for him to buy it from me for his kid. Apparently I screwed this guy over and took his cash but kept the car. He came after me with a shotgun into my garage and shot holes in the hood while I was inside. My girlfriend I guess at that moment was, well a hoe. She got all freaked out at the guy with a shot gun, and said she was going to kill him and then call the cops. By the time they had shown up it was a little later than I would have liked because this gunman had me tied up to a chair and kicked the crap out of me telling me to give his money back or I was dead. Well, my princess GF has switched bedmates already and has snuggled up to all horny with and is helping my punisher, which was bad enough but these assholes were drinking my damn Jack Daniels! Not sure how I made it out, but I think the cops came and arrested me. Lol. 
     The next dream I had I went to this gas station to grab some beers. (Not sure why these have cars in them all so far.)  Well, turns out that it was good timing. Not for a sale for my beer or anything, but it turns out it was my work shift at this gas station. Wtf, ugh. I'm like, ok whatever give me a break from some ass-whoopings and guns and shit and make a few bucks in the meantime. Well, not so lucky. Turns out it's a dirty store..weird! The cops have a stakeout going on watching over this place from across the street. Ok.. Be calm, check ID's, get through the day and get on my way. Wrong! So of course one of the cops comes in and it's the whole bs-ing like we're friends even though they somehow know I'm bad, which I guess I am at this point type of deal. He tells me to keep my nose clean.. Hmm or I will be locked up longer than Nelson Mandela. A little while later he leaves and I hear a knocking, but it's not from the back door or any door I see. Nope, turns out there is a secret passage door behind the cigarette stand that leads to a back room of the neighboring store. In there is a table full of guys. They clearly knew me, but I did know them, but, well I'm starting to get the picture, I guess I do. They tell me they are ready for some beers and booze, so I play along and say ok be right back with what kind? They look confused and say no, go out the front and go in as a customer. Oh..great. So I go out the front and see the undercover squad car but head back into the gas station (with no money) anyway. Look around and there are two people in there. One behind the counter that I actually DO know, and a customer that I know as well. I try shooting the shit a bit and they say they are in a hurry and to grab "the goods." Well, I guess I'm learning a little here now because I know what these two meant and what the guys next door want. Drugs, or money, or both. Well, sorry about this, but it is MY dream, but the walk-in beer cooler is under the floor. Not like downstairs, but it's IN the ground, you lay behind the counter and a trap door opens and you roll into water, yeah water, and it's a fully stocked "pool cooler" but I don't think any of the liquor bottles had liquor in them. So I get what I'm supposed to and come back out. The customer that I know grabs this stuff and I ask him if he can help me get my car back. He says yeah good luck with that and leaves, without paying. Where are the cops now! Great!? Guy behind the counter slaps me on the back and says, 'welcome for covering you,' grabs a 6-pack of beer and walks out. This sucks!
     Well I guess at this point I figured what else could go wrong so I go back to where this whole dream started and see if I dunno, see if I've gone through enough shit to get my car back. The tattoo chick is there and she is extra happy to see me. Like grossly happy. Didn't know why she was creepily nice last time, but I do now as I think she's my GF and, well she proves it. Well apparently I 'proved' myself to them all druggers as well and only had to do one more thing to get my car back.. Meet this guy in Texas and he will show me what to do, and then come back and the keys are mine. Well ok then! Oh, but my ugly ass, drug dealin' ho-baggin' GF is coming with......

'Til next time


Sunday, October 26, 2014

Social Media

I remember back in my first year of college when we were to get our assignments on-line in most classes. At that time I didn't really understand what they were talking about. I mean I think I had email at that point but that was all I knew, nothing else about the Internet. When I was 24 I bought myself a bar. Cell phones were now popular but I said no way, no need. I used the bar phone for anything I needed. Well a few months into the business I decided to give it a try. Within a month I was encouraging friends to get theirs and helping others with phone issues. I got rid of all my phones and never looked back. Then I had the same original attitude with Facebook, iPads, Twitter, iPods and other newer things. But, now love them all and use them quite frequently. (Not Bluetooth) My life has changed recently (obviously) as I have a little more free time on my hands and have started doing more of my hobby: writing. And mainly more specifically, writing in my new blog. While for one I am shocked at how many viewers I have so far but also know I can generate way more followers. I am, however, so far feeling like I am not generating more people. Does anyone have suggestions on how else to expand my readers? Thanks. And thanks to you faithful readers! This is fun (and good) for me.

I use Facebook
Google+ (Recently)
Twitter (Really recent)

Saturday, October 25, 2014


     Well, like we all know by now, 2014 has been rather rough. In no particular order: we've moved three times, I got sick, really sick, exchanged our vehicle for a mini van, lost more hair, closed the bar, lost my job, lost the bar (ok, we didn't lose it, but we aren't open anymore), have changed a million diapers (not just my own), I am in my last year before hitting 40, had to learn to walk, chew and swallow again, and as well as having brain damage causing me to have among other things short term memory loss, the Packers DIDN'T win the Super Bowl, the Brewers faded, and I missed the Badgers' run to the Final Four, as well as the Masters, I still am unable to drive, have to pee much more but can't when I try, I also take more drugs than Chris Farley, missed dart regionals and dart league, we live in my folks basement, and my fantasy football teams stink. And now this.... I somehow lost another of my favorite things.. My ability to drink beer. Son of a bitch! Yes, I feel like it is an ability. Not sure, guessing it has something to do with my medication. Stupid disabilities. 
     About two months ago I was out with Sarah for my birthday and I had beer. Note, I didn't say I had one beer. For those of you who don't know me, I like me some beers, and usually a bunch of them. So this sucks! Any-who, so I get home from my birthday night and I get sick. In all my years, I'm not one to get sick, so there was some concern about it cause I wasn't sure if I had thrown up my medication or not. We have been going to Rooster's Roadhouse lately on Friday's for thier great fish fry and have three beers with dinner. Well last Friday we went and I ended up getting four beers. Well on the way home, I started now feeling good again, now this time I didn't get sick but still didn't feel right. Last night we had dinner at Phil's Hideway and had a couple beers there and then back to NR for a couple hours and had several more. I didn't get sick when I got home but I got sick today, after lunch. That sucked cause I lost my lunch and got hungry but didn't want to eat and my belly has been ill the rest of today. I see my Doctors this week and may consider a smaller dosage of meds, or flat out starting to wean off some of them. Not just cause of the beer, but hey, it is important:)
     Now, clearly I know there are more important matters in life than me drinking beer. (Should leave that to a different post:) Plus I don't want to sound like I'm whining about the shitty '14 year. I mean I did dodge death, and my family is together that now includes a beautiful baby girl to go along with Sarah and Ryan. But, still, a guy can get a little grouchy about not being able to enjoy his beer! I think I should write an apology letter to Anheuser-Busch. I mean they never wronged me! 
     In the meantime, these medications still hasn't taken away another love: booze! Lol. I can still enjoy my cocktails.. less calories, and not as filling as beer. Less calories is good cause I am getting too close to my weight of where I was when I got sick. I do not suggest my diet though, not fun gaining 40 and then losing 90 while in a coma. Fingers down the throat are better. And, since exercise is tough, really tough on my feet there is not much else I can do but wait. 


P.S. I was joking about the fingers in the throat. 
Double P.S. Just because beer has a problem with me, doesn't mean I have a problem with beer! 
Triple P.S. I miss Chris Farley. 

Thursday, October 23, 2014

Sports Dream

     I had this dream, not sure if it was reocurring or that it was just a long extended dream. Could have been either but I am leaning it towards just being a long dream, as I was after all, in the coma for a long time. This dream was pretty vivid. One of those dreams where you feel you are a part of it, sort of like another dream I had that I wrote about the theatre, where it almost seemed like I was part of a movie. It takes place in present time, in New York City. The city and I am sure for whatever reason in this dream that the entire nation, and probably world is in shambles. Buildings destroyed, people dead or dying, hospitals broke down and police, fire and rescue departments all a mess or worse. The Military and the Government are nowhere to be found. I don't know if it has been from a war, terrorists, natural disasters, or in my weird dream mind; aliens, Godzilla or vampires. However it happened I don't think anybody really cares at this point. Most survivors have their share of scrapes and scratches but are relatively fine. We all seem to be aware of the probable fact that we are all going to die because of what whatever is going on. About all we know is what is left is important. And what we do know that is left, or remaining standing is the baseball stadium, Yankee Stadium. Now I am not a Yankee fan, but I appreciate the history and lore of the Yankee's and baseball in this country in general. It has been played in the states for a long, long time and has meant a lot to many people.
     This is where the plan in my dream comes in. We need to get to the stadium. All of us. Whoever is left, able to get there at any means, needs to get to Yankee Stadium to watch the baseball game. This clearly would be the "Greatest Game Ever Played" just because of the significnace alone. We don't know what will happen if we make it to this game, or what would happen if we don't, but we had to try nonetheless. The game is to be played at sunrise in New York and the two teams are remaining players from the Majors. Mainly American players, but some from other nations around the world as well. The game is as much to get people united as it is to show importance of the world not giving in, to whatever has happened. The worlds greatest sport, in the worlds greatest nation, one game to unite us all. (Ok that sounded like the Lord of the Rings a little, sorry.) It is sundown now, we are several miles away and have little light and no great direction and really terrible terrain. And we are off, off to Yankee stadium, to get to this game. I don't even know who I am with, but I do know that most of us are friends.
     As we are on our way with our flashlights as our only source of light we just start walking in the direction we believe is the correct way. Everyone in our group agrees, this is the correct way to get there. None of us argue about anything. Most of our homes have been destroyed and most of our families have been lost, left back, or have died during this worldwide devastation. But amazingly enough, nobody is angry or even all that sad. It is like we all just know what we are supposed to do and that we all need to get along.
     A few hours have passed and we meet up with some people. They are more injured than we are but are able to travel with us but they decide to stay and help others on their way. One of the younger boys starts walking with us and I ask if he's coming with. He says no, but wanted to tell us that he heard that Joe Buck is announcing the game and that if I saw him to tell him hello because he was a big fan. I said sure buddy, if I see him I promise I will. Then I asked him if he was the only announcer for the game? He said no, some other guy, first timer, named Jeff Moore. I just kept walking with the boy and said thank you. He gave me and a few others a fist pump hand shake like most kids seem to have learned and goes back to his family. We keep walking with some of our flashlights dimming but it didn't matter, the stars were out as bright as they were in the country where I grew up as a child. I have been quiet for awhile now and my friend asks what's up. I said that boy told me who Joe Buck's booth partner was. I said that it was my brother, and that he finally made the big time of announcing pro ball. He was happy for me and my brother but asked me what was wrong. I said how happy I was, but that this will be his first and last game.
     We can see a dim light coming from the distant eastern sky as the sun was creeping up. Must be about 4AM or close there after, so we probably have about 3 hours before the game. We all see this and can assume we all realize this, but we don't panic, we don't rush, we just plug away like we have been; step by step through all the broken brick and all the burned down streets, trying not to stare at the dead. Now we realize that in fact we have been going the right way because we see the stadium in
the distance. I start thinking about all the history.. Babe, Gehrig, Mantle, Reggie.. all of whom I never
saw play. It didn't matter, it kept me, and I have a feeling the others, maybe not even baseball fans, hope. Hope in what, I for one didn't know. But I did know that we were not going to stop now.
     As we approach the stadium, about two blocks away, we start hearing some music. Can't say for sure what it was, but it was beautiful. Now we are stuck. Damn one way roads. The end of the road is blocked off by and recently knocked over building and we have to turn around or go over. We decide to go back a block and go around as the building is to dangerous. Then we stop. We hear more music, except it's not music, it's singing. And it's not just signing, it's the National Anthem. We all stop and look at each other. Those of us wearing them, take our hats off, and then start walking towards the broken down building and start climbing. We climb and we fall, we get up and climb and fall some more. This building wasn't going to stop us. Bricks would shatter and fires would start but we kept going, climbing until we reached the top. Stadium in full view. Beautiful. Now we trek down this broken building. Slowly, carefully, but we don't stop and I'm not sure anyone took their eyes off of Yankee Stadium. The Anthem is over. It is almost game time.
     We reach the bottom of the building, we are on the street looking up at the stadium. We are much closer now and can see that the stadium has taken it's toll from whatever disaster the rest of all of us went through. But, with bits and pieces no longer holding strong on this building, it still stands high. High above the rest of the city, and it's more beautiful than ever. The place is crowded, people going in every door, but there is no chaos, no vendors, no police, not even ticket collectors because there were no tickets. As we get to the door the building we crossed behind us crumbles to the ground and a huge cloud of smoke blows across the building. I for one hardly noticed. I heard my brothers voice, heard him from the loud speakers from the game booth. It was awesome. Now I hear Joe Buck. It is time to get to our seats. Wonder if there are any seats?
     As we get inside the stadium, still listening to these great announcers, the sun begins peaking out of the horizon. Brightest sun I can remember seeing and it wasn't even fully out yet. We find some seats, wherever we wanted to, and we just happened to be within a few rows of the announcers booth. Then a loud "Play Ball" comes from the field and the teams take their positions. I look up to my brother as the sun shines down on the entire, packed stadium. I am not sure who was more happy,
him for making his dream of announcing, or the fact that I made it. The game starts and my dream
ends. I tried 'falling back asleep' to remember, or if I was in fact still in my coma, I did what I could to 're-dream' my dream and see how it ended. Not who won the game, but how did we survive? Or did we even survive? And did I get to say hi for that sweet boy? The dream never came back. Once I did wake up, when ever that was, I remembered my dream, and still remember it, but I can never finish it. Maybe though, I did. Maybe I made it. Alive.


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Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Mrs. Dad or Mr. Mom....?

OK. Little something outside my normal writing here today. It's been about two months now that Sarah has been (back) in school. I'm extremely proud of her for several reasons. 1. She (we) just had our first baby. Scarlett was about 4 months old when classes began. It was and of course still is hard for her to leave her baby so soon for multiple hours a day. She trusts me taking care of her, but she wishes she was home with her and is very good, and stubborn, about things going her way about Scarlett. 2. Our home has changed. We got pregnant in one home, moved to another, I got sick in that house, came home now with a new baby and soon after moved to a new home. (Ok smarty pants, the house we got pregnant in was ours, I didn't get sick "in" the next house, the new baby was mine and we already had been living there, and then the latest house is my parents:)  3. We are not working, so our income is, well, I try and sell things on on-line garage sales. I'm doing pretty well, but that's obviously about as much fun as it is profitable lol. 4. She takes care of the finances and schedules all the appointments, including my trips to the cities for check-ups, and she is our driver until my feet are better so things like grocery shopping, etc are mainly her responsibility. 4. She takes care of me. I can't do much for chores other than help where I can before I have to at least get off my feet for awhile.
     So yes, with all this crap doing on, we did not have much choice but to move into my parents house. They are awesome and as accommodating as possible. They added 4 people to their house and a cat where they already had a dog and two cats, plus a ton of geese and turtles :) and they personally really haven't missed a beat. They are both retired but they do several things like my Mom helps out at church and the hospital and my Dad is on the School Board and pours a mean drink. (Not there:)
     Now, finally I'm getting to my point; or even my question for any and all of you. How do any of you stay at home daddy's or mommy's work things out? If this were the 1950's I'd be screwed! Since me personally in this case is living in someone else's house, my day to day 'chores' seem strange. In the past I've either been single and taken care or most the chores the best or could or now with Sarah its totally new in our situation. Not only am I NOT working for the first time, I am NOT even ABLE to work. We had agreed earlier while deciding on Sarah's school that she would be a full time student in the tough nursing program and I will be the stay at home Dad. I was all for it. I mean I missed a lot of Ryan's first year of his life, so now for almost a month I had him all day which never happened during the week because I was always at work. Not no more! So I have 2 kids now full time at home with them, and I really honestly enjoy it. I mean I'm basically stuck in the house (can't drive) (in basement)but it still was nice to not be working and being satisfied not working because of my kids! Sarah did, and still has considered dropping out of school to get a full time job, but I tell her not to. I am not sure she really is serious about it but either way, I only think it would be a short term solution for a longer issue for the future. Ryan is in school so he's not home all that much and we have him with a 50/50 custody, Scarlett is almost always with me in the house. Now in my parents house, we sort of have our own 'living area' besides that we share the laundry room and the kitchen, and one space in the garage. My issue is that this is really my first time living this way. I'm not really sure how to 'clean' most of the house as it's not ours. I mean we still have unopened boxes from our move and sharing laundry and the kitchen works, but again it's not mine. Sarah is a really great cook and has her way of making things her way while I mix things together and hope they turn out. Sarah and Ryan get home at different times so we have difficulty setting a supper time. Most of the time Sarah ends up cooking before she does her homework. Am I lazy? Depressed? Physically unable?
     I, personally don't think I'm depressed at all. I am actually enjoying most all of my life (style). But I do sometimes feel lazy. Before I got sick, and most my life, I was a work-aholic. Like I said it is weird, not only sharing part of the house with others, but those others are my parents. So I am taken care of probably more than I need to by them. I mean it's not like I sit in the basement eating Doritos and playing Atari while my folks watch the kids. That wouldn't fly. I do however have to go places from time to time and get on my 3-wheel scooter and go to town quick for the store or whatever. So obviously there are times my parents watch one or both of the kids. I think that while financially we would struggle to move back out on our own, but I also think that it would be better for all of us, my folks included. This way I could clean my (our) own stuff that I probably got messy anyway. Would
get my own supplies, vacuum and laundry among several other things. We will see. This was as much
a vent, personal discussion, and "chat" with myself and my wife once she reads it, that I needed.

     Any suggestions on not being lazy and or how to be a good and productive stay at home daddy??
I would enjoy doing laundry and cleaning up. I do enjoy being with my kids. I do enjoy being home at night with Sarah. I do enjoy being with my family when for, well basically forever I worked at least 5 nights a week and everybody was in bed by the time I got home. With old schedules pre-illness I would rarely be able to go straight to bed because I usually wasn't then tired enough to sleep. I would stay up and catch some TV. Or, about two years ago I was in school getting my marketing degree and all but one class was on-line so most of my schoolwork was done from bar close to well, whenever in the early AM. Needless to say mornings sucked! And my 'days off' I was usually up earlier than planned and was tired all day. I guess getting sick was a blessing on my sleep.. Kidding. But it has changed. I get tired early, and am ready for bed really early, even on the weekends. Sarah and my schedule are actually relatively close now for the first time in like 7 years! Weird..
     Alright, thanks for listening everyone. Feel better about several things. I know I jumped all over here today, but I am home 'alone' with the pets and the daughter so I needed some adult time here :)


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Tuesday, October 21, 2014

My son Ryan

This is not a story or a dream or a hallucination, nor is it necessarily about blastomycosis. It is, however, about my very precious son, Ryan Jeffery Moore (which is normally how he tells you his name:)  I should say this isn't about a dream because he is a dream come true. I'm not trying to compare him to others or say I love him more or this and that. He is just so very special to me, my wife, our baby child, the rest of my family and about everyone else that knows him.
     I believe I mentioned before he was born on April 12 and weighed 4lb, 12 oz, so 4-12, 4-12. He was such a cute little thing and as for me personally not to have been around babies much, looked as if he should be carried around in my hoodie sweatshirts' pocket. He had a small birthmark on his wrist and a little bit bigger one on his elbow and foot/ankle. These turned out to be a little bit more than a birthmark. We asked Doctors and then specialists and it basically came down to being some extra cartilage buildup attached to his bone. They said it is not hurting him or his movement at his young age but to be aware of it. 
     That fall I got in a car accident. Ryan was 5 months old, and I had just dropped him off at my parents and decided to take the back way to work at Ready Randy's. Coming up the final hill before the stop sign I suddenly see someone passing another car. The speed limit was I believe 45 and I immediately hit my brakes and tried to hit the ditch but it was too late. The collision knocked me in the back seat directly on top of the empty baby seat. Thank God. I tumbled out of the car and tried knocking the cobwebs out and shortly tried to stand, and I fell. Great. Ambulance ride, head all scarred up, neck hurt and legs, particularly my left one hurt like hell. Well my ankle was broke, had another small crack in my tibia and I had a small fracture in my neck with whiplash. Passed all my head scans and was released. Had to go back once the swelling went down to get two permanent pins put in my ankle and wrapped and braced up. They had to put me under and also give me that shot in the back that birthing women get, I forget the name, and when I woke up I couldn't feel some 'manly' parts for several hours :-0
     For the next few months I took care of Ryan but the bedrooms were upstairs. I had to go up and down on my ass holding him. Stupid? Probably, since one time I was by myself and fell and put a hole in the wall with my head. These were not the memories with a baby that I had foreseen!
    That Spring his mom and I split up. I decided to move out and get an apartment. I was back working by now, mainly to full strength and with my busy schedule the times having him were difficult. By the time Ryan was 1, Sarah was now in my life and I had trusted her to see him and even more take care of him. Over the next several years she has taken as much care as I have for this guy. A little while after that we decided to get his foot looked at again. The growth in his foot had gotten worse and looked sore, looked like a bad pimple but it was tough and tender to the touch and made it difficult to wear shoes. The orthopedist decided to cut this out of his foot. When he went in for surgery they saw that it was all tangled up around the bone and ligaments and had hoped they got it all out. After surgery they put a cast on him. Poor little guy gets some tissue cut out and gets a hard cast from toe to high ankle, I get two pins and get a brace with a sock. I sure didn't think that was fair to him. But, like always, he had a great attitude. I swear the next day he was 'running' around. Nobody wanted to laugh at him but it was so cute, he would skip-hop-run-bounce fast around the house it didn't seem to bother him. When the cast came off, his foot had gotten infected. This sucked and he again was a trooper about it all. Even after he got all healed up it took him awhile to run normal again, with out that hop in mid-run. 
     First grade comes around and he's heading into the Spring and I get sick. I am not sure he quite understand's the entire process and how close he was to losing me, but he tells me often how strong I am. I know at some point in my coma that I knew I had to get better, necessarily not spiritually or hearing words of loved ones or the medical staff or even God, maybe a combination of them all but I really felt like I couldn't not be there for my family. Wasn't my time to go. Still Ryan had to have gone through a lot. He came to see me once at Westfields and once when I was unconscious, but that was it for about two months. Two months minimum in between people seeing me was the minimum, even family and Sarah who came every day up to when Scarlett was born I wasn't myself, I was knocked out, put out, in pain, sleeping, dying, recovering, tubes in every body part, just flat out not looking like myself for several months. 
     His attitude would remain at a high level and his teacher conferences were (mostly;) great. With all these things I wrote about and some personal things I didn't mention that he has dealt with as well I am so proud of him every day and want to thank him so very much and wouldn't go a second without saying I love him. Well I think you catch my drift :)
      One day when he is allowed to meet girls at 35 and gets married I think I will read him this story, and put everyone to sleep like his (grand)papa does! Love you too Dad :)


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Monday, October 20, 2014

Hospital(s) pictures.

This is all a little sloppy, but I don't really know WTF I'm doing even though this took me better parts of two entire days. Very strange to go over this and to see the shape(s) I was in. Some pictures and all the video's wouldn't download and they are not in chronological order. Sorry. Enjoy what I have....

Day 1 at Westfields in New Richmond. Blue jeans and tennis shoes, both of which fit differently now.

Still at Westfields with Ryan. Don't really remember this.

I guess I wanted some sunlight.

Felt like shit.

Trying to breathe as best as can through this but it was tough and couldn't get much out of it. This vest would rattle my chest with the hopes of clearing out my lungs.

I am at Regions here. It is my little St. Patrick's Day celebration. Don't really remember this either.                            

I think they are checking my lungs here, and/or bronchoscopy at the U of M. 

This was right after they took me off the ECMO machine

Me & wifey

Sleeping and super sick at Regions

This here is a cooling blanket at Regions

Not the tree that I prefer! Both of these at Regions

They needed to try something to get me better, so I was moved onto my belly. This is called pronation. The very last resort they had at Regions.

Really starting to swell up. U of M on ECMO The dark red tube is deoxygenated blood and the bright/lighter color red is oxygenated blood going back into my body.

Thanks for the awesome shave job...

Feeding tube picture. Goes through my nose and stomach down to my small intestine.

Some of the meds at U of M

This is my savior (one of many) the ECMO machine.

Looking good! Not.

Killer stockings.

Those god damn boots.

Blood in...dialysis for kidney failure

Blood out..

Golly gee, wonder why my feet kill!

If you look closely, you will see my head..

Yep, there it is. 

Inside of my bronchial tree. (Inside of my lungs) during a bronchoscopy

Last time I was healthy, I think..

Shamrock plant. I wanted to drink out of it. It was kind of special none-the-less.

One to many to count..

Holy crap I'm fat!!

Hold on... :)

Looks comfortable.

I'm no Doc, but cloudy is bad.


Look at my neck. Oofta.

Few less shit on me. But I think this is the first picture of whatever is in my neck.. trachea 


Hey, I'm sitting up! (with help:)


I am pretty sure this is where I am getting transferred to the chair. I'm really messed up and I have no idea. 

Rash from allergic reaction..



My nose is free! (but I have no idea)

Awake! Slightly stoned..

Suup man...

On way to Bethezda. Think I tried kicking my way out of the ambulance.

I have a baby!! 6 days old...?

Both resting :)


Still fat lol.

Don't remember this. My hand look large!

No I'm not dead here.

Sitting up, still not on my own!

Not sure of this one either, but it's for rehab. I had know idea what I needed rehab for, I just wanted to sleep.


Wake up!

Ok kids, don't do drugs. Although I'm not as fat here now lol.

See above.

I'm not sure who you are with the camera but yo, whassup?

Hey, a baby!?!

Sir, this is not my bed..

Um.. Amen?

Ok, ok, I'll stop asking about your watch.

Hey, I'm sitting! Where the F am I!?

John Kuhn autographed Super Bowl Jersey...somewhere..

Yeah, right here!

Kids... Don't smoke crack.

See above.

Sup bra!

Whoa.. not me!

DUDE, I'm going to kill that big red ball.

This I do remember, and it was harder than hell !

Holy mother of all that's holy, I'm standing!! (with a dude and two handle bars and about to crash, but who's counting!!)

Um, this is not my Harley??

Aww.. my Packer blanky :)

Look at the spider!!

Oh, guess not.

Dude, that IS a spider, and I can't walk!

Fresh hair cut. Several scars. With baby Scarlett and packer blanky. 

Real food! They put dye in it to see if I was going to aspirate into my lungs or if I could swallow it.
Gross. But hey, look at the sunflower!

I don't remember how to play this game, but look at my hands! WTF. 

Me and Ryan!! Finally! And kids....

...Don't do drugs.


Hey! New diet.. not recommended. 


Yes, I am wearing a diaper. Hi Glenn!

Making progress :)

Very strange..

This is tough...

This isn't..

Yes, I do have a pink fan.

You want me to do what?? But i got new digs..

More hair than me...

...oh well :)

Going home!!

Later that night.. I look a little confused lol. Probably cause I was!!

I promise E-Mey that was my last water with you, haha..