This morning was another appointment with a neurosurgeon at University of Iowa. It turned out the guy I used to see took a job in Nebraska. I had a new guy. He started asking questions about my ailment’s history. I answered as best I could, but the history questions always bother me. I always feel like, I answered these questions the last time I was here when I was having problems, do you really expect me to remember them? Don’t you have the records right in front of you? If they aren’t any help shouldn’t your records be better? Not that I ever say it. So I just said, “Sorry, but I’m a lousy historian.” He replied, “I can see that.” Sometimes delivery is everything. That could have been a nasty backhand. Instead it was good for a smile. I liked the guy right there.

They set up a laptop computer next to the desktop terminal so they could compare the MRI films more easily. “Films” is really a misnomer now. Whoever does the original films just scans them to a CD. It makes sense. The original films can’t be lost, and the CD’s can be shipped at a fraction of the price. Incredibly, they were going to let me look at the films while they reviewed them. Oh boy, oh boy.

So he was paging through the films, and making comments on what he was seeing. He pointed out how on one you could plainly see how the optic nerve was being stretched. Then he asked if I was having any trouble seeing out of my right eye. I told him it’s still a problem that it points at my nose, but if I get it pointed at something it still sees okay. I can still read with it. He was surprised, considering how much tension the nerve is under.

When he got to one, apparently believing I’d learned enough to have some idea of what I was seeing; he asked me what I thought. I said it looked like a significant change. He agreed. It was a pretty easy call. Looking at the image was enough to make me sick. That was my brain, and it was obvious something was terribly wrong… again. And I could see it coming.

I hadn’t expected that much difference. When I’d gone to Mayo, and seen the guys at UIHC a year ago, they both said that yes, there’d been a little change, but surgery was to be avoided, radiation was the way to go.

Even as a layman, what I’d just seen on the films was a tumor fairly screaming, “I’m baack!”

The surgeon said he really didn’t understand why radiation was ever done. It was a patchwork procedure that didn’t address the real problem. Huh, what? But a year ago the surgeons were saying surgery bad… baaaad. Scar tissue makes another surgery baaaad. And this guy is saying- there’s really no alternative, you can see it on the films. It’s big; it has to be reduced again. Since it grew upwards instead of forwards the surgery won’t be in the same place. Scar tissue won’t be an issue. Finally, a guy who will tell it to me straight.

I asked him what would happen if I put off the surgery till later. He said, “You’ll start to have trouble with stumbling due to your left foot. Eventually your left foot will start to drag. You won’t be able to look down with your right eye. And you’ll start to have vision problems with it, possibly blindness.”

So I asked him if the surgery would alleviate the numbness on the right side of the face. He said no, the radiation was to kill the nerve, there’s no bringing it back. Then I asked, "Will the surgery regain the movement in my right eye?" He said almost certainly not. The nerve has been stretched and compressed for so long it will probably never recover.

Apparently the radiation stopped the pain, but at the price of half my face going numb, the one opportunity to correct my eye was lost, and apparently I’m about to join the unstoppable droolers and nasal drip club. And it only postponed another surgery by about a year. If I’d seen the films a year ago I don’t think I would have done the radiation. I would have said, “What about that stretched optic nerve? How long are you going to put off dealing with that?” Crap. Where was this guy when I needed him? But better late than never.

I can’t end a post in this much misery and desperation. How about … we revisit the family?

This morning the SuperNurse was back at work. That left Ms. Pikachu to wake me up. She’s as ruthless about it as her mother. Is that nature or nurture? It’s hard to tell, and they aren’t telling. It could be either the Mother/Daughter thing, or part of the larger Feminine Conspiracy, but again they aren’t telling. I’ll bet they even have a secret handshake.

Anyway. After Ms. Pikachu had her bowl of whatever I drove her and her friends to school. About as soon as I got in the parking lot they said it was good, they were fine, they could walk the rest of the way. I stopped, and I started to do my best parental whine, “Are you sure? It’s so far, I could drive you the rest of the way.” It was all of maybe a hundred feet. They smiled and said, no, no, it was okay and they got out.

When I got home I woke up the Trainboy. He got dressed, and when he got downstairs I told him he had a choice of oatmeal or eggs for breakfast. He chose eggs, scrambled eggs. Well alrighty then.

Along time ago when the earth was green, lived more kinds of animals than you’ve ever seen…. Forget that, it wasn’t that long ago, and St Patrick’s Day is already by. Anyway, I remembered that I used to like scrambled eggs from a recipe in one of Mother’s cookbooks. It called for Cream of Chicken soup instead of milk and… that’s all I remember of it. But that’s enough. That’s the important part.

So I went to the pantry and looked for a can of Cream of Anything and found a can of Cream of Herbed Chicken. Works for me, or at least it’s going to work for him. I broke two eggs into a bowl, spooned a dollop of the stuff into it and beat it all with a fork. Then it was nuke, stir, nuke, stir, nuke, and stir. And may I just say right here- scrambled eggs are one of the things microwaves do best. There is no point in risking scorching if you have a microwave handy.

Then I brought them in to Trainboy. I was a bit apprehensive because he’s such a picky eater. It’s one thing he gets from me. He was a bit apprehensive himself, but took a bite. “Do you like them?” “What did you put in them? Pepper?” “Nope, chicken soup.” He liked them. He ate it all. Then I drove him to school. I asked him if he’d like me to pick him up with the tandem bike trailer. He said yes. Well alrighty then.

Then I was off to get my MRI cd’s and had the above-mentioned episode.

Shortly after I got home I headed off for the walk to Ms’ Pikachu’s school, and there she was- already only a block away from home. She was walking with the friend she usually does.

That meant there was plenty of time to hook up the tandem trailer to the bike. So I hooked it up and away I went. When I got there I waited by the door Trainboy comes out of. While waiting, several kids gathered around, looked at the tandem, and I heard, “Cool” several times.

One little girl asked if she could have a ride. That was tempting, but I wondered if the teachers would approve, or the child’s parents would approve. So I said, sorry, but I’m waiting for my son.

When the bike leaned over I knew he was climbing on. He always gets on by putting the left pedal down to step on it. You’d think he was getting on a horse. I could tell he was pleased. And away we went.

We went to the gas station to air up the tires since I couldn’t find our own pump. We got them aired up, and we back-tracked by his school, which was the long way home. He was happy on his trailer, and if it made him happy to be seen by the other students I could indulge him that much.

When we got home the SuperNurse was still SuperNursing and she was going to work till 9. So we had to decide what to do for supper. I asked Trainboy and got, “How about those scrambled eggs you made?” He likes them, he really likes them. But I’ve got two kids to feed, and we need to agree on something.

Ms. Pikachu wanted pizza again. No, we did that yesterday, try again. “How about Steak and Shake?” Trainboy agreed to that. And we have a winner.

Two of Ms. Pikachu’s friends were over so I said they could come along if their parents Okayed it. Their parents did, and were probably grateful for a little peace and quiet, because I certainly wasn’t getting any. On the way I said that while we certainly could eat at ‘Steak and Shake,’ if they wanted to we could eat at Bishops instead. I heard one of the kids ask “What do those places serve, what’s the difference?” My kids explained it to her.

At times like that I wonder if my kids have any idea how good they’ve got it. Not that I need their gratitude, but they should realize not every kid has parents with disposable income like we have. And not all parents like to spend it if they have it. But we do, and I do.

I had an oldies station on and it’s just amazing how good my 13 year-old Ms. Pikachu is at calling out the songs. A few notes and “Hey Dad, that’s Jive Talkin’ turn it up!” “Hey, that’s Three Dog Night, turn it up!” “That’s Simon and Garfunkle!” What are they playing? “Mrs. Robinson.” That’s nice; tell me if they play ‘The Boxer.’

The kids had a good time at Steak and Shake. On the way home I still had the oldies station on and they played Sonny and Cher’s ‘I Got You Babe.’ All three girls were sitting in the back seat, and all three sang along on the chorus. It was cute, it was fun, it was a moment to remember. Cyndi Lauper was right; Girls Just Want To Have Fun.

We weren’t home for very long when Trainboy said, “How about some more of those scrambled eggs?” Yeah, he likes them. How many do you want? “One less egg.” I still made them with two eggs, gave him half, and took the other half upstairs to Ms. Pikachu. “Here, try these scrambled eggs. Tell me if you like them.” “Scrambled eggs are nasty, I won’t eat those.” “I made them with chicken soup. I’m just asking you to try them.” Curious, she tentatively took a bite. “These are good.” She took the bowl from me. “You should teach Mom how to make these.” When the Super Mom got home I did just that. We may have to start buying more eggs.

So it was a day with sucky brain tumor moments, but it also had moments with the family that were just as memorable. They keep me a happy Dad.

Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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If Kerry loses- I predict, yes, I predict that Kerry will get serious in the Senate and work to pass legislation legalizing gay marriage. He'll then divorce Thereza, marry George Soros, and run again in 2008. He will lose again, and Soros will file for bankruptcy protection in 2009.

If Kerry wins people will say Dubya was just like his Dad, a one-termer, “Like father, like son ” and they’ll shake their heads. They’ll soon wish he was back in office. Everyone will quickly tire of Kerry due to his agonizingly slow decision-making requiring summit after summit and his inability to stick with any decision he makes. Everything he touches will turn to quagmire and it will be seared, seared into the country’s memory. He too will be a one-termer.
I admit I'm not a God-certified prophet, so don't stone me if none of it happens. But you read it here first.

I am not enamored of Bush, I don’t worship at the shrine of Reagan. I’m a registered independent, I vote both ways, and I have to put up with calls and mail from both parties. I try to keep an open mind, but this election is a no-brainer. I don’t like Kerry.

I don’t like Kerry because he did an abbreviated tour of duty in Viet Nam and talks about it as though he was a hero. I don’t like Kerry because when he got home he slandered all the men still in Viet Nam and gave aid and comfort to their enemy. I don’t like Kerry because men who serve together in combat say they become closer than brothers and over two hundred men who served with him say he’s unfit to be President. That’s pretty damning to me.

I don’t like Kerry because in the Dick Cavett interviews he came across as an arrogant brat, and I don’t like arrogant brats.

I don’t like Kerry because he seems to be a gold-digger. Maybe he’s not. But the first woman he married was rich. He divorced her because he fell in love with a woman with even more money. Marrying another woman who is richer is like marrying another woman who is considerably younger- maybe it’s true love, or maybe it’s just a guy being vain and self-serving. If wouldn’t seem so bad if he’d married the Heinz heiress first, and then divorced her for someone with less money. But beggars can’t be choosers.

I don’t like Kerry because I think he’s incapable of chief executive decision-making. If he’d been in office on 9/11 is there anyone who can imagine him doing anything but sitting on his hands waiting for UN action? Then he’d have summit after summit where nothing is established but America’s guilt, the need to apologize for hurting muslims’ feelings, and Israel would be sold down the Tigris-Euphrates. Screw that.

I’m happy that after Osama’s declaration of war on 9/11 we kicked the crap out of his organization in Afghanistan. The Afghani’s have had an election and Osama’s splattered remains are rotting in a cave.

Then we overthrew a dictator in Iraq that liked to subsidize terrorists.
Considering the gassing of Kurd villages is well documented the cry of "No WMD!" can only be made by those with eyes closed and fingers in their ears. Considering he had imperial ambitions that couldn't be tolerated- he'd already had a war with Iran, and invaded Kuwait, he was destabilizing a strategic area. Considering Saddam's payments to families of muslim suicide bombers in Israel, and muslim suicides flying airplanes into the WTC, his hands were bloody, the only question is how much blood. Mass graves with children, human shredders, he was an animal. Saddam was a dangerous, murdering dictator who had overstayed his time on the world stage. He had to go. Fortunately Dubya was the man for the job. Kerry would still be wringing his hands and assembling another summit.

Whatever you want to say about Bush, he’s liberated two countries that can now enjoy the democratic process. Kerry offers plans with no details, and has virtually nothing to show for his time in the Senate, but he does know how to marry rich. Flying between mansions in the Heinz Gulfstream may have it’s stresses but it’s hard for the little people to appreciate them. It’s humiliating for them to mingle with the little people- they can’t order at Wendy’s. And he still doesn’t have a clue what life is like for the bottom 98% of the countries population, or what it needs. When he was in Des Moines recently he guaranteed that if elected he’d hold a summit in Ames, maybe to come up with a five-year plan. He’s good at plans. He’s got a briefcase full of them that he doesn’t show to anybody. They help keep the crease in his magic hat. I would bet that every plan is just a sheet of paper that says, “Hold a summit.”

So I look at Kerry and everything seems to be minimal effort and maximum medals- a life of leisure and great self-importance. He doesn’t have a vision for the country, has no idea what he’ll do, he just wants to be President to satisfy his ego. But he can organize a summit. Unfortunately, that may qualify him as a maitre ‘d, but it doesn’t qualify him to be President.

And another thing- I am sick and tired of Bush being called a nazi. Until he commits genocide, tries to establish a master race, or invades Canada or Mexico to get a little lebensraum it cheapens the horror of what Hitler did. You might just as well call Kerry Chairman or Stalin for all the plans he has. If they are all five-year plans it would mean only his re-election would make them work.

All the campaign violence has been against Republican campaign offices. That would make the Democrats the brownshirts. To properly play the nazi role, while breaking windows and looting offices they could scrawl “Juden” with the rest of their graffiti. It would go well with the anybody-but-Bush claims that Bush is an idiot and a chimp.

Not only am I sick and tired of Kerry, I’m sick and tired of the Democrat party too. Last election I protest-voted against both parties, I won’t this time.
If the vote wasn’t so close I’d vote Libertarian or Nader.

7/8
This evening we went to a game of the local minor league baseball team. The only reason we went is because the Super Nurse’s employer gave the employees free tickets. The Thrifty Wife never turns down free, you can count on that.

I like to play baseball, but as a spectator sport it bores me almost unto death. While we were watching Ms. Pikachu said, “Dad, you were right. Baseball really is the game of the gods.”

By the time the eigth inning started everybody had had enough. Train Boy had played on all the kids’ activities, Thrifty Wife felt she’d gotten her dollar’s worth, Super Wife knew she needed to get the kids to bed anyway,

There was a veteran’s memorial on the way to the car. The kids climbed on the tank and Ms. Pikachu started to go nuts, she had conversations with herself. “Are we there yet?” ”If you don’t behave I’m going to turn this tank around!” There's never a dull moment with Ms. Pikachu.

Then it was home. I’ve tried to catch up on the last few weeks blog entries tonight. It’s time to get some sleep

7/2
We drove back to Clinton to celebrate the Super Wife’s birthday, and to see the Doobie Brothers. She felt like talking so she, her Mom and sister, just went on and on. Fine, I understand that, but the concert does have a time set. They kept talking, I kept telling myself to just relax. She figured since there was an opening act there was no rush. Of course that is making the assumption the opening act isn’t anybody we’d want to see. I don’t know who the opener is. Maybe I’d like to see them. More stress. Relax. Relax.

They talked and talked, but that's okay, I understand. Women talk, they need to, and men interfere at their own peril. Relax. We finally got there when the opening act was finishing. They were doing a cover of a Jimi Hendrix tune. Not my cup of tea, so we’re good…until we get to the gate. We had assumed we'd get one-day passes or the like but got a rude shock. At the gate they said only four-day passes are sold, they are $25 apiece, and there are no discounts for the kids. It would have cost $100 to see them. We walked away.

Super Wife convinced me to go by myself and she and the kids would go on rides. The Doobies don’t do Christian contemporary so she really wasn’t interested anyway. Eventually I agreed. I really wanted to see them. It would be so cool just to hear them play 'Blackwater' within a stone's throw of the Mississippi and a steamboat nearby. But by that time seating was impossible. I stood on the road on top of the dike. The sound was good, but they were so far away I didn't need ear plugs. I couldn't even recognize who was who unless I looked through my camera's telephoto.

Nearby was a couple with a little boy. Not to be mean, but I just couldn't believe they would shell out the money for this. I assumed they were using somebody else’s passes. People are constantly warned not to do that, but be real. The card costs $25, it has space for four punches. If you bought the cards and didn’t want to see the Doobie Brothers wouldn’t you lend the cards to someone who did?

Daddy was engrossed with the concert. Mommy talked with family and friends. Their little boy was about four or five and reminded me a lot of Train Boy. I kept an eye on him as he played behind them in the street. His Mommy may have worried I was a stalker or something. But when a small truck came by I made sure he was safe, I told her I had a son myself and was just feeling very protective. She smiled and seemed appreciative.

I think you can tell if a woman is caring for children by the size of her purse. In addition to their own necessities they carry amusements for the kids. She had balloons, bubbles and only God knows what else.

A vendor walked through selling light ropes and a lot of kids in the area got them, but not the boy I was watching. He watched the others with that sad look of doing without and it just ate me up. I went after the vendor and bought a couple of light ropes. But then what? They might not take too kindly to a stranger buying their child something, so I decided to wait.

Eventually his Mom ran out of things for him to do. The boy tried to pick up a piece of broken balloon to play with, the Mom tried to take it from him. I stepped forward and I asked the Mom if she would take one of the light ropes to give to him. She smiled and took one.

He had the best time playiing with it like the other kids. He whipped it around. Then he threw it in the air and looked for where it dropped. Then the ends were put together to make a hoop and he bounced it on the ground. It would roll and he would chase it. The boy was happy for the rest of the concert and so was I. I don't know what was going on, but as she talked to other people I saw the Mom smilingly point me out to a couple of people. When the concert was over we smiled and waved at each other and that was that.

The Doobs played a good set, but I probably watched the boy more. I have no idea what his name was but for just a little bit I helped him to be happy. That made it the most memorable Doobie Brother concert ever.

7/1
It's 3:00 a.m., I have to call it quits. Work is in a few hours, and I'm leaving work a little early because the Doobie Brothers are playing Clinton Riverboat Days. Hard to believe that a band that used to play the biggest venues is playing Clinton. Regardless, they'll put on a great show. Almost all the original members are back together, they're just a little grayer. And you know that Holy Wife is going to love it when they break into 'Jesus Is Just Alright.'

BTW, ate at another Mexican restaurant with Super Wife. The kids stayed home to play a new video game. It was the first evening out without the kids in years. I had a taco salad, and it was good. But you know, and this is really going to sound hopeless- but I've recently eaten at the three best Mexican restaurants in town and my favorite is....none of them, I prefer Taco Johns. They make a super beefy burrito the way I want it. I am one hopeless gringo.

When we were at the Mexican place Super Wife mentioned to me that she was talking to the kids and she told them they hadn't gotten me anything for Father's Day. (Well, surprise, surprise, surprise!) She asked them what they thought I'd like. Ms. Pikachu chimed right in with "A new car!" She has her heart set on that Bonneville and lobbies hard for it. Super Wife asked me which car it was that I wanted and I told her the gold Sebring, but I knew it was already sold. That thing was loaded with everything. To be realistic a new van would make more sense though so I'm not bitter about it.

I really, really need to get some sleep.

6/29
When I got home yesterday nobody else was there. Having no idea when they'd be home, and being hungry, I did the hunter/gatherer thing on the Happy Refrigerator Hunting Grounds.

This is going to sound odd, but I've hated hotdogs ever since Nader said they were America's deadliest missiles and said what was in them, but lately I don't care. So I got out a hotdog and nuked it (is that appropriate or what?) Then I loaded it up with sauerkraut because it was what I was craving. I also resolved that my next one would be with extra relish, extra mustard, and extra ketchup (out of onions).
No sooner had I taken the first bite than the wife and kids were home. They'd already eaten so it was all fine, no guilt. Sometimes I don't get home till almost 6, so if they're hungry they go for it too. So we're all okay.

Then Super Wife suggested we could watch, "I Am Sam." "Suggested" is just a diplomatic term for "The Queen Commands." It was a terrific movie. I don't know who won the Academy Award for Best Actor that year, but I'm pretty sure Sean Penn was robbed. Considering he played a retarded person, and not just an autistic like Dustin Hoffman had in Rain Main, his was a more impressive accomplishment.

I've never cared for Sean Penn. First he was a hot-headed brat. Then he ran around with Madonna and you knew that wasn't going to last because of the egos involved. Nope, I've never cared for him at all. But in 'I Am Sam' he steps forward as one of the best actors around and I look forward to seeing him again.

6/28
The kids had a 'Herbie the Love Bug' marathon yesterday. They laughed and laughed. When I was their age I laughed too. This time I just shook my head, it was all so unbelievable. You have to suspend disbelief to enjoy these movies, but a car driving on the ceiling of a tunnel is more than even a true believer can believe. You just know that the only way that car can be on the ceiling is with an anti-gravity device- nope, don't have those yet, or with a really sticky tire. By the time a tire got that sticky the car certainly wouldn't be winning any races. I'm sorry, buy I just don't think these films are very realistic. (You think?)

After everybody else went upstairs to bed I surfed the channels. 'When Harry Met Sally' was on. You know a movie is good when you can watch it again and it's still good. I just loved the line near the end when Billy Crystal says, "When you find the person you want to spend the rest of your life with, you want the rest of your life to start right away." Aaah, romance. When I saw Super Wife this morning I couldn't help smiling. I love her madly. Maybe for her it was same old, same old, but for me it was the first day of the rest of my life (sniff, sniff, gag).

Perhaps trying to, uh, dampen my spirits , She then sent a container full of her mother's leftover chocolate birthday cake with me to work. Getting it down over breaks and lunch will be a job, it's a lot of cake. When I got to work I went back to the conference room, hoping somebody brought something else that would give me some relief. Somebody brought.... chocolate cake. Oy. She and God are so close, they're both in it together.

6/27
Church, of course. Then lunch at HyVee, almost of course. Super Wife got more Chinese calendars, so I asked her why. She's going to write the ten commandments on the back of them, then give the scrolls to kids that walk by. She's a woman on a mission from God.

She went to work and the kids and I blew time. They played games, I went to Menards. When I got back my growing boy told me he was hungry again. Well alrighty, what do you want, the usual fast food or Steak and Shake. Steak and Shake it was. Train Boy decided to complete the story on the menu. His effort was fairly senseless, but he and Ms. Pikachu laughed a lot about it.

When we were done I drove to Autoland to see if the van with the TV in it was still available. It was. I didn't say anything, but when we first looked at it Super Wife said that if it was God's will to have it it would stay there a while. The Bonneville Ms Pikachu was nuts over was still there too. I didn't say a thing, but she knew. She fairly yelled, "So now do we get to buy them both?" She's sure she wants the Bonneville when she's 16. She figures it will have depreciated enough I can buy it for her.

She also told me she'd had a dream that I won the lottery and gave her a lot of money, "Good times Dad, good times!" The kid is an endless source of amusement.

6/26
Saturday was the Quad-City airshow. It was nice to have my sister, the Bummer, there. We arrived about the time it started so we just sat down and watched it.
It was hot, and there really isn't any shade on an airfield, so... we sat under the wing of an AirForce transport. I was happy for the shade, so I had no problem at all buying one of the t-shirts they were selling.

Up to now the airshow always had a military team fly- Blue Angels, Thunderbirds, or Snowbirds. I've seen the first two so many times I hardly care, but not having one of the big teams there was kind of a letdown anyway. But there were lots of parachutists.

After the show was done I thought I'd finally get to walk down the flight line and look at the warbirds. Super Wife said she was tired and it was time to go. So between the show not being particularly exciting and not getting to look at the warbirds up close I was disappointed.

I was disappointed, but not the kids. While I had watched the show Super Wife took Train Boy to the kids area. He got to play on some of the kids stuff and climb on a tank. Yes, even the Army is represented at the airshow. Ms. Pikachu asked me for a couple bucks to get something- all I had were twenties. She was comfortable with that. She and her cousin, Jessica, took off and they were a couple of giggly girls.

Afterwards we ate at Cracker Barrel. I like eating there. The Super Wife likes eating there. We wanted to eat there. Ms. Pikachu complained. We asked her why she objected to eating at Cracker Barrel. She said she'd once had a bad experience with their mashed potatoes. Too bad, you can try them again. Maybe it was a fluke. She had no further complaints, but that is not to say she was quiet. She's never quiet.

6/23
Super Wife and I put up the basketball hoop. Train Boy came out to help so we had him turn nuts that were easier for him to reach. When it was done we had him squirt water into the base, and he was very precise about the amount he put in. It seemed like there should have been enough water in the base, but he said, "I need to count to twenty." So the base has enough, plus twenty seconds, of water. It should never fall over. I was sure we were wasting our time putting it up anyway though. Of course as soon as it was up the kids were only too happy to shoot baskets.

Then we went to Target and Ms. Pikachu went manic again. It's funny for awhile, then it gets tiring. Eventually she smiled and said, "Dad, did you know that when you're annoyed your voice gets deeper and you talk slower?" Good for another laugh, but I'd had enough. I said I would wait for them in the van. She followed me for a ways and kept begging, "Come on Dad, pull my finger! Well, won't you at least smell my thumb?" (She'd been trying on shoes) She's just nuts, and a lot of fun, but sometimes I've just had enough.

6/21
Last night the the combination of carbohydrates I ate and the meds put me right to sleep. I never made it out to look at digital cameras, never got on the computer, didn't get Patricia's basketball hoop up either. I just slept. It was raining cats and dogs so it really didn't matter anyway.

When I woke up this morning everyone was still sleeping. Going upstairs on the creaky steps might have woken everybody up, so I stayed downstairs. I had a quick bowl of cereal and went to work, still wearing yesterday's clothes. It's hard to tell if anyone else can tell, and sometimes I don't want to know. That was as close as I get to living on the wild side.

The procedure went surprisingly well. And I did sleep a lot. Anybody that knows me knows that for a few years the facial pain prevented me from laying down- I had to sleep sitting up. Once you get used to that you can sleep in any position. The Valium enhanced my sleeping abilities, as if I needed the help.

The halo was held in the back by two bolts pressing very hard against my skull. Sitting in the waiting room I was still able to lean back against the wall and sleep. Yes, I was given shots to numb the areas around the bolts, but it was really weird to lean back and feel the bolts. Not that it mattered, I slept. During the procedure, I slept. I cannot help but think that two Valium is one two much.

I also wonder why people even want it. Nothing happened while I was under the affects of Valium that made me think, “Whoa, I’ve got to do this again!” Maybe it works differently for other people, I dunno. My gut feeling is that I just don’t have what it takes to be a drug addict.

The procedure itself was nothing dramatic. I lay down on a table and my halo was locked into place. From the neck down I could have done a horizontal hula, but the head wasn’t going to move a millimeter until it was over. All the medical people left the room and then a device that looked like a gray-colored plate went back and forth over my head. Back and forth, back and forth, you are beginning to get sleepy, very sleepy. You have already slept half the day away but you will still take another nap. Nobody said they needed me conscious.

When it was done the Super Wife walked me to our car parked at the curb right outside the radiology unit. We had parked on the ramp, so I was confused. She explained that she’d found out radiology patients could get a sign that would let them park there. Cool.

This is being posted too long after the surgery I know, I happen to be doing it now because I was doing so well I started to cut back on the medications I was taking. It seemed like a good idea. Today the nerve let me know it wasn’t ready for it.

I took two pills in church, like always, to be ready for lunch, just in case. But apparently my Tegretol level has dropped too far for that to work. It must have taken at least 20 minutes to eat a hamburger. It was not fun. It was too much like old times.

I’ve been taking more meds today, but it’s not working yet. I’m typing this at 4:30 a.m. because around 3:00 a.m. it gave me a slap that was nasty enough to wake me up and bring back the fear. I took some more pills and hopefully I can still get some sleep. God I hate this, just when I thought it was over it slams me again.
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We got to the U of Ia bright and early. The NASCAR Wife put on a fine display. I think she blew the doors off a doctor in his Porsche. What a thrill, I was hoping she didn't get me killed before the procedure. They duelled up the road and she trapped him behind a dump truck, traffic did the rest.

I was given valium to help me sleep, imagine that. They put the halo on while I was basically out of it. Everybody says the guy who did it was quite sociable, I have to take their word for it. Again, I was just conscious enough to say, "THAT ONE HURTS."

To clear up any misconceptions- the halo wasn't really a halo. I thought they'd put a halo on and I'd get to start crossing and blessing people, it's not like that. It's more like the frame for a football helmet. If that sounds weird it's because it is.

After the halo was on they fed me breakfast/lunch. I love this place. Then I napped for three hours or so. When I woke up the wife told me, "there's a computer over there, you could send and check e-mail." I can't do much though, to type I have to close my right eye and that's a pain in the butt. That's just a figure of speech.

I just scratched my head and my head is still numb, that's almost interesting. I think I'll go take another nap.

On the one hand I hope the procedure works, on the other hand... I hope the procedure works. If at any time I start smelling bacon I'm going to push the panic button, because I am NOT the other white meat.

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06/04/05
Around noon Train Boy asked me if we could make a model. “Dad could we go downstairs and pick out a model?” Not “Could we go to a store and get a model” but, “Could we go downstairs and pick out a model.” His little question lets you know I’ve got quite a stock of them. I have a wall of them actually.

I was delighted he’d asked, and hoped I’d be able to help him build one with my impaired vision. He passed on all the big kits; he knew they were too much to do. “How about those models?” Tanks. Possible, but a little involved. How about one of these SnapTite kits? They don’t require any glue or painting. I’ve got a Stealth Bomber and a Wart Hog in SnapTite. A-10 Wart Hog it is.

I showed him how the instructions progressed and tried to let him do as much as possible. Around 1:30 he pronounced, “It’s starting to look like an airplane and it isn’t even dark yet.” He was happy, I was happy. Until the snag.

He was trying to put on a bomb and broke the mount. It wasn’t surprising, they can be hard to do. He was so frustrated he walked off. I told him I’d glue it and do the rest of the bombs for him.

The Super Mom looked at the box and said “Hey, the box says ‘For 8 and up’ so you were doing pretty good.” She’s a wonderful woman. Then I broke a bomb myself, and it was more for him to feel better about. I got them glued in my cross-eyed way and laid the plane on it’s back. I sat on the couch while I waited for the glue to dry and fell asleep. When I woke up Super Nurse had left for work, and Train Boy had finished his model. Good for him.

Later in the evening I asked him if he was hungry. “A little bit.” Then what would you like? “I don’t know, let’s check out the kitchen.” The older he gets the more he sounds like his older sister.

His favorite, Ramen Noodles, are out of stock. How about other soups? No. How about Easy Mac? We have a winner. The only thing I do better than the Super Mom is Easy Mac. I always make it with milk.

Then it’s Mucha Lucha on the Cartoon Network and time for bed.


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06/03/04
I am always willing to waste my time. The wife is not so willing. Today looked to me like another fine day to watch TV. She declared it was a perfect day to take a walk. She just has a need to do something healthy or ‘familyish.’

So we loaded everybody into the van- her, her sister, five kids, and me. I’m sure we were illegal, but we were bonding. On the drive to the park it felt a little cool, but that was okay, walking would be slower and warmer.

When we got to the park the first thing we did was walk through the non-petting, non-feeding, petting zoo. The kids were happy to look at the duck, chickens, pigs, donkeys, am I leaving any out? In a very short amount of time they learned the differences in how their droppings smell, and perhaps, why chicken doesn’t taste like hamburger.

When we got to the trail area Ms. Pikachu ran back to me, and with a smile, reached for my wrist and said, “Let me help you Dad.” Nothing like treating me like an old man, she was having too much fun.

Of course, once we got on a trail it was like being in a jungle. There was very little air movement. Nobody else seemed affected. Perhaps the difference was I was wearing cargo pants, and a vest over my shirt, hmm, could be. Sweat poured off me like I was in a sauna, but everybody else seemed fine. If I ever do a list of life’s rules, one of them will be, “There’s never a water-filled cactus around when you need one.”

Of course, another little problem I had was that being cross-eyed my depth perception is lousy. Walking a trail with it's ruts and roots is a royal pain.

Eventually we escaped our bonding experience. Everyone else seemed happy and
bonded. I just wanted water, and some quality time in an air-conditioned environment. When we got home I drank all the water I wanted to, and the Super Nurse put an ice pack at the base of my neck- very effective.

The rest of my day was spent in front of the TV- what a waste.
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Did the U of Ia thing. The radiologist things the gamma knife is a go. So on June 8, I report back to have it done. I hope it works. If it does I can stop taking all the medication to stop the pain, and I won’t be dizzy from the side effects. Hopefully, the ear noises will stop too. That still doesn’t get me my right eye back though.

The Super Nurse thinks a muscle can be shortened to deal with it. We’ll see.
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05/26
We went to the circus. Originally we had first-row tickets. However, the Super Wife came to realize that Ms. Pikachu had a band concert at the same time, so she exchanged them for the next day and it cost us, whoa, whoa, yea, it cost us- third row.

We got there shortly after it started, what else did you expect? There were people occupying our seats. Since they were sure they belonged there, some variant of squatter’s rights apparently, we had an usher…usher them.

The Home Town Edition of the Greatest Show On Earth is a one-ring show. That’s okay really. The three-ring editions can be a little overwhelming. There were the mandatory elephants, horses, trapeze artists, clowns, and dogs.

There was a strength act named, amazingly enough, ‘Hercules.’ Strength acts never get me to excited, but they seem to be a great hit with guys whose greatest acclamation is “four-wheelin’ man!’ Or maybe it was his two cute assistants with their skirts slit up to there. I did my best to remain gentlemanly.

Hercules did have some audience participation. One of the guys out of the audience was first made to stand in front of a cannon before it fired, as though he was going to catch the cannon ball. I thought he could have had a little fun with it, turned sideways, and opened his mouth as though he could catch a cannon ball in his teeth.

The kids had popcorn and snowcones. Right there you know it was a successful show. Afterwards I asked the kids what they liked the most. The dogs. All the money put into that show and the kids still love the dogs. At least there are adults there that took the kids that go, “Now there’s some overhead.” Which is to say the real talent is screwed, but that’s nothing new.
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05/24/04
It is 5:30 in the morning and I can’t go to sleep, might as well blog and catch up a little. Talk about bad habits. Bad habits, and my hands shake when I type. It’s a side-effect of the meds. Thank God for spell-checkers and a wife that doesn’t mind proofing.

7:30
The wife asks if I was up all night. No I wasn’t, I went to bed, tossed and turned, groped her a little, gave up and got out of bed. I did not tell her the part about groping. She then asks, “Is it possible you’ve gotten your days and nights switched around?” Maybe, and is it possible you’ve gotten your groped and not-groped switched around? You don’t seem to remember.

I’ve done a few posts for the last few days.
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For 5/23
Yesterday, that would be Sunday 05/23, I did not wear a shirt to church, I wore a sweater because it was rather cool. As we walked towards church Ms. Pikachu said, “Pretty spiffy sweater dad.” After we sat down in a pew she leaned over, brushed her cheek on my shoulder and said, “It feels pretty spiffy too.” The day’s Secret Word was obviously ‘spiffy.’

After the service, when we got back to the van she said, “You look pretty spiffy for a guy over 40 dad.” “But you are working on that bald spot and your hair is getting thin.” We picked up some Chinese to bring home. As we got it ready she brushed her nose against my sleave and said, “There’s nothing better for wiping your nose in a hurry than your Dad’s sweater.” She enjoys tormenting me.

Meds had me tired so driving back to visit the cousins wasn’t an option. I slept all day. Train Boy woke me up around 6:00 and said he wanted a hot dog. Well that much I can do. Nuke ‘em and puke ‘em. Ms. Pikachu apparently took care of herself. I fell back asleep. That may explain why it’s 5:30 in the morning and I can’t sleep.
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05/22 Saturday
Another big storm passed through. The kids did not want to drive back to see their cousins if that meant me driving through the storm. I don’t know what their problem was. Dad is cross-eyed. Driving back would be blinding glare. It could be harrowing past experience. It could be we’re raising kids smart enough to survive.

The Super Wife informed me there was water in the basement from yesterday’s storm, and that we need a dehumidifier. We had one before. It lasted about ten years. If you ever get water in your basement- you need one. We hadn’t had water in the basement since we put tubes on the downspouts to lead the water further away from the house. That is neither here nor there; we need another dehumidifier NOW.

Wal-Mart would surely have them, so would Super-Target. Instead I went to K-Mart, they need the business. This makes me wonder if mercy-shopping is any kind of a trend. They had two- a smaller one, and another that seemed to move about twice as much air for another $20. I love easy decisions.

In its big, bulky box it weighed at least 35 pounds. I carried it until I picked up a few more things. Then it was apparent I really should have gotten a cart. I can’t explain why, but I’m quite averse to getting a shopping cart, it’s like a sign of weakness to me. So there I was- dragging this box with my right hand and clasping a few other things under my left arm, looking like I should be yelling “Sanctuary, Sanctuary!” Despite my horrific appearance the checker was cordial.

To tell you the truth, I wanted an I-Cee. K-Mart has that I-Cee machine as you go out, and I wanted one. All I had to do was walk over and get a cart to carry all the stuff. I could not. Don’t ask me why, I just could not. You could ask, just because you’re as obnoxious as a twelve year-old daughter, “You’re too shy to get a shopping cart?” Let’s not go there. You could persist, “You’re too vain to get a shopping card?” Dear God when will the torment end? Is it not enough that I did not get my I-Cee?

Got it home, unpacked it, plugged it in, and it has been doing a fine job. Which just goes to show that China gets some good work out of their prisoners, and there’s no reason we can’t do just as well. I feel another blog coming on. I should satisfy some I-Cee cravings first. There’s a gas station not a half-mile away that satisfies the needs of the weak-willed.

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