Hey Joe

What Day is Today?

I'm not even sure where to begin. It's been weeks, and so much has happened. I'll try to hit the highlights because, based on all of the comments, I know you care. 

Dad was scheduled to be released from KFRC on May 23. Unfortunately, on the night of May 20, his nephrostomy tube (drains urine from the kidney to a bag) came out while he slept. He still had the stent/tube for draining the waste that accumulated from the kidney rupture. 

I drove up the morning of the 21, and Lisa joined me after work. The doctors tried to reinsert it, but were unsuccessful. They were going to need to transport him back to Kaiser Walnut Creek to perform a new insertion. This resulted in a flurry of discussions with the doctors about the need to take him off the blood thinners again. We did NOT want to put him in a situation to have yet another stroke. It was determined to put him on a blood thinner drip, which would be removed pre-surgery and reinserted an hour or two post-surgery, at which time he would be put back on his blood thinners. A transport ambulance was arranged, and we waited. 

After two transport delays and the coming of the night, Lisa headed home to get some sleep. I stayed with Dad. Transport arrived around midnight. We met up at Kaiser WC. After Dad was checked in, I left and got home around 2 AM.  The next day, we discovered that Dad had been exposed to COVID whilst at KFRC. For the next 10 days, we had to visit wearing complete COVID gear - masks, gloves, and gowns. It was ridiculously uncomfortable. But the nephrostomy procedure went well. 

So I'm tired of trying to recall all of this, and I'm sure you're tired of reading, if you even still are. Dad got discharged home on June 2, and we've had a 24/7 caregiver since. He's doing OK, but still struggles with cognitive skills. He gets confused a lot, never knows the date or day, and still neglects his left side. But he's mobile and eating better, so yay for small wins. 

Today we are at Kaiser in Antioch for a procedure and received some good news. They were planning to reposition the waste drain, but the CT showed that most of it was gone, so they were able to remove the stent and tube. So now we just have the nephrostomy to deal with, but hopefully we can move forward with figuring out the uretra blockage and deal with that so the nephrostomy bag can be removed as well. Then we just need to deal with the stroke issues!

ciao. 

 

 

 

Day 23 of Hospitalization

Dad is currently a resident of KFRC in Vallejo. For those of you who grew up in the Bay Area during the 70s and 80s, KFRC likely evokes memories of the famous AM radio station and its morning DJ, Dr. Donald D. Rose. When you think of the quintessential, wacky radio disc jockey, one who took advantage of sound effects and "honk honky" horns, Dr. Don was likely a pioneer of that obnoxious, yet fun-loving disc-jockeying of yesteryear. 

But, sadly, this KFRC stands for Kaiser Foundation Rehabilitation Center, where Dad has been a guest since May 5, working valiantly to recover from a stroke. I have not seen him since Sunday. A lovely, long-time friend, Anna, accompanied her yesterday. Anna drove 1.5 hours from Santa Cruz to Concord, picked up mom, drove to Vallejo, and stayed, visiting with Dad and Mom until late afternoon, after which driving Mom home before making the 1.5 hour return drive. People can be lovely at times, especially our friends.

Lisa and I are heading up there shortly. I don't like going more than two days without checking in on Dad. He likes the company, and I'd hate for him to think we've forgotten about him and just gone back to our lives. As if. He is our lives at this point. 

Frying pan, meet fire

The morning of his expected discharge, Dad had a stroke. He was sitting up in a chair and they found him slumped over. Long story short, he had a moderate stroke. He's having difficulty with his left arm and leg, but he can swallow properly and speak without much trouble. He's tired, both physically and mentally.  He's been in the hospital since April 21, and now he's going to have to spend time in a rehab facility. He just wants to go home. We all do. 

It's 1:00. I'm sitting bedside. My sisters and mom both had places to be. I think this is the first time I've been alone with him in the 12 days he's been here.  It's exhausting being in a hospital day after day. Still waiting to talk to the doctor. We're going to have to give a little pushback if he's talking about discharging him tomorrow/Sunday. We don't think he's ready. The doctor is a big, tall guy who, while nice in his way, is arrogant, flippant, and somewhat condescending.  And he talks too much, trying to be funny, but the jokes never land. He doesn't get that we just want the facts - how is dad doing, what he's concerned about, and what's the plan moving forward. We don't need a lot of bon mots sprinkled in. And mom can't hear him anyway. 

The waiting is the hardest part, as someone once sang. 

Limping back

So, days after publicly verbalizing my plan to maybe, possibly return to somewhat regular, though inconsistent blogging, I find myself spending a week (as of today) in the hospital. 

I'm fine, thank you for your concern. It's my father. After not having felt well for more than two weeks, we finally brought him to the ER. Diagnosed with pneumonia, he was admitted and began a course of antibiotics. Three days later, with little to no improvement, we and a family doctor friend began insisting on a CT scan. Kaiser finally agreed and discovered that Dad has a ruptured kidney that was leaking waste into a cavity behind said kidney. There appears to be some sort of blockage in the left "tube" that transports waste from the kidney to the bladder, hence the rupture. Two stents were inserted, one into the waste pile (urinoma) to drain it, and the other directly into the kidney to bypass the bladder.     

Mom no longer drives, so I've been shuttling her to the hospital every morning, talking to doctors, and doing my best to stay, if not consistently productive, at least available to my employer. Sitting in cafeteria chairs and family-infested waiting alcoves is strangely exhausting, as is the waiting, attempts at productivity, loud hospital room televisions, and mom's worrying. 

On the plus side, we have a wonderful network of friends who have stayed in touch and continue to make offers of assistance for whatever we may need.  My sister is flying in tonight to offer some relief on the mom front, which will be nice. I haven't really been home much except to sleep and shower. Oh, and we had a new driveway being poured on Wednesday, which required coordination with the contractor and the writing of large checks. 

This blogging stuff is hard. No wonder I went on a long hiatus. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Skynet Wins

Well, it's over. I mean, really over. 

My sources tell me that John Connor has been killed. Skynet wins. The Terminators win. Arnold wins. 

All we have to look forward to is a bleak, post-apocalyptic world where we'll live lives of not even quiet desperation, in burned-out buildings, while the machines hunt us down one by one.

It was inevitable, really. I mean how many times could John avoid the continuing onslaught of increasingly sophisticated cybernetic organisms? First the T-800, then the T-1000, followed by the T-X, the T-5000, and finally the Rev-9. When the T-1000 was ordered to exterminate John, he was only a kid. An annoying one at that. There's no way the T-1000 could fail, and yet it did. And against an inferior T-800 no less!  Complete poppycock.

Anyway, I'll be making a Costco run for bottled water, rice, canned goods, and toilet paper. I knew I should have opted for a bomb shelter instead of a scooter. Oh well, no use crying about it now.  Guess we'll head east and try to lose ourselves in the mountains. Don't try to follow us. The guns loaded and I'm a pretty good sho.., wait a second. Being told I got the wrong John Connor. 

Never mind. 

Putin is Apparently a Closet Neil Diamond Fan

Listen up. A breaking report has just crossed my desk. 

It appears that, despite his, fascist leanings, total disregard for human life, and general assholish nature, Vladimir Putin loves Neil Diamond.  So much so that he recently bestowed a state decoration on Jonathan Livingston Seagull, the beloved bird from Diamond's 1973 album and a feature film of the same name.

As many will not likely recall, Jonathan Livingston Seagull (JLS) "tells the story of a young seabird who, after being cast out by his stern flock, goes on an odyssey to discover how to break the limits of his own flying speed."

Diamond's soundtrack about the plucky seabird cast out of his flock for daring to go beyond the barriers of normal sea-gullary was a huge hit for the Brooklyn-born composer. With such religious-leaning hits as Be, Skybird, and Dear Father, the album was appropriated by Catholic churches in the 1980s and used to indoctrinate teens into what was referred to as the Be Program, a weekend replete with the lighting of candles, the spilling of guts, and the belief that we teens did, in fact, matter. 

Anyway, on Monday, Russian President Vladimir Putin bestowed a state decoration on JLS - the Russian Order of Friendship, a reward presented to Russian and foreign nationals whose work, deeds, and efforts have been aimed at the betterment of relations with the Russian Federation and its people.

That's weird.  I didn't know birds could claim citizenship. In any event, congratulations on the honor, JLS, and to you, Russia. You've got one hell of a seabird there.

What's that?  The award was actually given to Steven Seagal?

Never mind.  

Giving New Meaning to the Term S*it-faced

 

^{(Marco Goecke, shit-slinger extraordinaire)}

BERLIN (AP)  So reports have just reached my desk that the German ballet director, Marco Goecke, recently bagged up a steaming pile left by his "elderly dachshund" and took said bag to a premiere at the opera house where he confronted dance critic, Wiebke Huester, and asked what in blazes was she doing there.

Without waiting for an answer, Goecke whipped out his sack of shit and smeared it in her face. He was reportedly screaming, "this is compliments of *insert dog's name here* and a blow struck for all dancers who have been cut off at the knees by your blow-hardery, hurtful critiques."

I may not have that quote exactly, but the spirit of it was definitely there. One cannot smear another's face with feces while simply saying, "I don't like you," now can they?

There was also some mention of Goecke being butt-hurt over Huester's recent critiques, claiming that her review of one of his productions was "responsible for people canceling season tickets in Hannover."

On Tuesday (because he had to enjoy at least get 48 hours of satisfaction), he issued a public apology for his "absolutely unacceptable act”  He went on to add that “In retrospect, I am clearly aware that this was a disgraceful act in the heat of the moment and an overreaction."

Come on, Goecke, don't back down now.  Smearing shit in someone's face is absolutely an overreaction, not to mention reprehensible.  You don't get just to toss off a "Hey, sorry about that. I was off my meds that day and didn't have any coffee" and expect the victim to say, "All good, chap. Oft is the day I've wished for a bag of shit."

Anyway, this reporter feels a story like this can only increase theater attendance.  In my experience, they're always a bit of a shit show.

Hope Springs Eternal

And so it comes to pass that Mackenzie Scott, the billionaire ex-wife of Amazon founder, Jeff Bezos, has filed for divorce from her husband of 18 months, Dan Jewett. 

While media outlets have not been informed as to the reasons behind the divorce, this reporter has heard mumblings of "repulsion" on the part of one party with regard to the other party's "gums and teeth."  Comments suggesting that one party "could eat corn through a picket fence" have apparently been bandied about in the back of limos and darkened restaurants. 

Reports have also surfaced that one party, a former science teacher, was known to have held "frat-like" parties in the couples' lavish home and that the "corn-nobbler" would often come home to discover numerous pudgy, shirtless men passed out on floors, couches, and settees in the east wing of the estate, which had been littered with "sports" pennants, "foam fingers," "beer-can-sipping" hats, cargo shorts and white, New Balance running shoes. 

News of the divorce has hit hardest amongst middle-aged, middle-class men who saw Jewett as a conqueror who gave hope to the belief that anyone of us could bag a billionaire divorcee. Alas, hopes and dreams are shattering all across this great land of ours today. 

Mackenzie, call me.

 

Who the F cares?

I'm happy to report that Yahoo News is keeping us abreast of the hard-hitting news of the day.

 

No one gives a s*it about the daughter of a C-list actress who was caught and jailed for being a lying, cheating POS who thought the laws didn't apply to her.

 

Do better, Yahoo.

 

The Management

 

Rise of the Machines

I write this from my desk, back in the office, which blows mightily.

After working from home for two+ years it is utter bullshit that we've been forced to return, albeit only three days per week. But two years is a long time to be away. Lifestyles change, and we discover new and better ways to live our lives. Downtime at home can mean laundry, grocery shopping, dinner preparation, and dozens of other tasks that would normally have to wait until evenings and weekends. So working from home (WFH) has improved our quality of life and now they're saying, "Too bad, so sad. We want you back in the office where we can keep an eye on you." 

The likely truth of the matter is that there is a long-term lease on the office space and they need to justify it to the board of directors. But the reason they give us is that our office culture is better when we can work together and collaborate. The irony is, with everyone WFH on different days, we're never all here to collaborate. Even my own team is only all here two days a week, which frankly is plenty of in-office days. 

Time for a revolution!  Ehh, I'm too tired. This getting up at 5:30 am is killing me.