Ewe! Cooties! An Easter Message

Good folks,

Happy Passover! Happy Easter!

Today we celebrate ancient miracles. Miracles which changed society, changed lives, impacted the world in ways we can’t even count.  Both groups of celebrants of these religious holidays were saved, both groups followed a man out of a spiritual desert. The progeny of both groups carried forth tradition which is still on full display today. We lift our hearts and souls up to the Supreme Being who made it and us all happen. It is a joyful day!

I like to think of the two denominations, Christians and Jews, like driving on different lanes on the same road. We’re heading on the same path in the same direction. We’re simply in a different vehicle, and more simply, one group doesn’t have Dashboard Jesus along for the ride. But we are all the same, all heading toward an uninterpretable afterlife, uninterpretable until you get there. And we are all trying to take the scenic route, slow-rolling to the answer. At least I am.   

I’m not a preacher or a pastor (obviously, see Dashboard Jesus reference above) nor even a good Catholic/Step-Jew (by marriage). I’m just a guy who happens to be in the same boat as the rest of you. Well sort of - this Easter/Passover we are all in separate boats paddling upriver a fathom apart – that’s six feet for my non-nautical friends. The good news is we get to have our immediate family and/or household members and animals in the boat with us, like Noah. Plus, we can still pull up to the dock and replenish our stores. We also can still communicate with others through the data-rarified air, the same air that carries the invisible germ that keeps us apart.

Count us blessed despite many of our jobs being deemed non-essential to the decision-makers who claim to protect our freedoms while infringing upon them.  All of our politicians – no matter which side you’re on – are trying to play savior. Are they leading us to the Promised Land or building the shiny golden calf before us? Are they trying to save us or their political aspirations? Only time will tell.   

But I’m not here to pound on the politicians. We should know by now the only action they know is overreaction. I’m here to talk about the strain this is putting on you and me. The strain of not leaving the house for significant periods of time. The strain of social isolation for social animals. But the worst is, the strain of our own overreaction – succumbing to the seed of distrust planted by self-proclaimed do-gooders against our neighbors, family, and friends. They've convinced us that we all are the infection, that we all carry transmittable death upon us.

Our media and our leaders are all trying to push us to this dire collective mindset to keep us caged. And when we do venture out to the store or some to work, we're now trained to treat all others like they've got the cooties. Social distancing is the adult equivalent of the Covid-Cooties©™. You heard it here first folks. And I know how childish it sounds.

The virus itself is bad enough but to set us all in isolation chambers and act like if we stray off our own Arks that our family will die and it will cause the annihilation of the human race? We aren't that individually powerful. I'm not God and neither are you. (How's that for obviously not a preacher?) Heck, we know now the virus is not that powerful. I get the need to slow the spread but this is a bit over the top (see previous paragraph about the only action is overreaction). 

Let’s inject a healthy dose of virus-free skepticism into this. We’re trusting the same damn doctor for guidance who in January said this thing really won’t affect the U.S. then by early March turns a 180 and hits the panic button. He’s now brought up the idea of people carrying an immunity idol with them when they go out of the house like this a TV game show. (Congratulations, you've won the Pandemic challenge. Now hold this so we can easily identify the good and the bad. It's Passover, has the good Dr. never heard of the yellow badges? No? The Scarlet Letter?)  I think maybe Dr. Fauci’s been taking a ‘drop of the craythur,’ before his press conferences. 

(For you who don’t know the phrase "drop of the craythur', look up Finnegan’s Wake and listen to the song. I recommend the Schooner Fare version. – Spoiler alert, Tim ain’t dead. And, if you’re reading this, neither are you. “Arrg, hold your gob, Doctor Fauci!”)

I'm much more fearful of the lingering Covid-Cooties fear. Hugs? Handshakes? Gatherings? Are they a thing of the past? The Task Force Doctor Fauci just the other day when asked about return to normalcy said, "you don't ever shake anybody's hands."  EVER folks, he's lost it.

I say he's stalling. He's at the helm of this pandemic ship and me thinks we have a drunken sailor. Drunk with power if not whiskey. Put him in a longboat till he's sober.

It's time to furlough the fear-mongers. Soon, we must turn the corner and outgrow this childlike game where we pretend we don’t NEED the human interaction that we crave. Let's also stop pretending we don’t NEED to get back to productive endeavors DESPITE THE VIRUS.

We should be driven right now to figure out how to live, work, and play together without fear of this  virus. We’ll soon collectively remember that we balance fear of death against every aspect of our lives, inside and outside the home, every day, the same as we always have. We should and will soon reject the Covid-Cooties manufactured fear and the over-protective government intervention. It would be nice but we don't need miracles, just a start in the right direction.

And, today is a good day to start.

It is after all Resurrection Day! Celebrate the Good Lord. May manna fall from the heavens and fill your Seder plates and Easter dinner tables.  Have faith! Rise up! Resurrect your own spirit! Let whatever spirit guides you quell your fears.

And for now, endure the temporary purgatory of social distancing. I’m predicting it will bring us closer together once we shed our Covid-Cooties cocoons.  

And then, I will shake all your hands. 

Have a joyous day!  

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I’ve been looking for an appropriate tune to go with this pandemic pseudo-sermon. It’s tough to find one that directly flies in the face of foreboding but here’s one song that’s always served as a church-like experience for me:

Melanie’s Lay Down (Candles in the Rain)  

[Note: YouTube has several great versions.]  

We all had caught the same disease

And we all sang the songs of peace

Some came to sing, some came to pray

Some came to keep the dark away.

Smile up! And, be one of the ones who came to keep the dark away.

SHOCKING! Ancient Celebs Keep Lights On During Power Outage!

That’s how you have to deliver basic updates these days, sensationalism. Every news outlet bombards us with outrageous headlines and when we get to the story it’s, meh.

But this blog is never meh. It may be awful but never meh. So, thanks for clicking.

Menorah and dreidel display Miami Beach, FL

It is Hannukah folks, the Jewish celebration of lights in honor of a miracle at a temple a few thousand years ago. That’s what the headline is about. You can read my tribute to the first oil crisis here:

https://invasivemaneuvers.blogspot.com/2009/12/celebrate-celebrate.html

He’s making me click again, ugh, I hate that!

Both I and you know you were thinking it. This is social media folks, no need to go anti-social and not participate in the clickfest. You could bring the whole new economy crashing and it would be all your fault. So, click and read. (Yes, you have to read it too. You can’t just click and then hit the back button – Wouldn’t be right, wouldn’t be prudent. RIP George H.W. ) We’ll wait.

Happy Channukah to all! Hey, you spelled it differently again. As I stated in the initial blog post, [You didn’t click? You didn’t read it? Shame, shame, shame. That’s why the market crashed 300 points yesterday. I warned you. Don’t look at your 401K balance today.] we don’t know why but it is a Jewish tradition to spell Chanakuh differently every time you write it. In addition to the Festival of the Lights, it is also the Miracle of the Writes! At least eight different ways to spell it, one for each night of the enduring oil.

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But enough about celebrations, this is a health blog. Well sort of, kind of.

I had to venture to a foreign country for work last week. It was a bit weird but they didn’t even ask for a passport. It’s even more weird not to hear English spoken very often but to hear nearly every other global language in such a fairly small area. I’m talking about Miami Beach, FL folks. If you haven’t been there you need to brush up on Spanish, French, German, Dutch, Russian, and especially Cuban which is a whole lot different than any Spanish you may have learned in high school.

Also, if you go avoid the smoked pork chops. They are tasty, but the ensuing food poisoning will put a real damper on the rest of your trip. I got hit with a bit of the Invasive Maneuvers bug and didn’t even go to a hospital. Ha, take that girls! See, you don’t need to go have an organ removed every time you get a tummy ache. Do you hear me? Stop ejecting your vital organs!   

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We did our annual pumpkin rolling this Sunday just before sunset came down and we lit the first candle. Darkness descends in mid-afternoon bringing winter doldrums so when it’s light we smash vegetables for fun. There is nothing like tossing something out there and waiting to see what comes up next fall. That’s a Jersey boy’s version of farming, roll a pumpkin, hope for a gourd. It’s all about hope for the future.

And speaking of hope why are there so many people trying to bring the rest of us down with their negativism. I just read that people are getting so consumed by political correctness that they are rejecting such phrases as “bringing home the bacon” because it may offend vegans. Really? What are we going to replace it with, “bringing home the soy?” Who are these vegans that are getting offended? If this is what the vegan diet does to your brain then I say eat more bacon and stop getting offended at every meat-related term that’s ever been used. Heck I’m probably going to vegan prison for torturing pumpkins.

Do vegans realize they are killing fruit and vegetables to sustain themselves? How do the fruit and vegetables feel about that? Plants grow, they are therefore alive. Have they ever cut a limb from a tree? Did they notice the sap that runs from it? Or put a spicket in a tree and notice what pours forth? Maple syrup equals the tears of a tree. How do they feel about consuming the tears of a living being? Tasty isn't it? I like it with bacon.

Vegans are sustaining themselves by ingesting a formerly living thing. They are no different than meat eaters. They just choose a different previously living thing to devour. I am just as offended at a vegan’s food choice but I don’t try to change the language over it. Just eat your damn veggies and stop looking for ways to be offended or to ruin my meal because you think your food choice is superior.

And, more importantly if you are a vegan-sympathizer trying not to offend vegans by eliminating meat from the lexicon you are worse than the militant vegans. As you can see, I am sizzling over this! And it smells great. Leave my animal-protein-tinged vocabulary alone and pass the bacon! Extra-crispy please!   

Sorry, no apologies to my Jewish friends who choose not to eat bacon. After being brought down by pork chops last week, I nearly considered converting but then I thought I’d be left with just turkey bacon or worse, tofu bacon. Yikes! You must be out of your (hopefully next year’s crop) gourd!

Happy Black Friday!

I read President Abe Lincoln’s Thanksgiving Proclamation of 1864 this morning and am kind of in awe that it took 89 years to recognize and establish a federal holiday accepting the now traditional day of thanks established by the Pilgrims and their native neighbors. Other presidents gave annual proclamations of thanks but good ol’ Abe gave us a day off.

What’s also awe inspiring, and curious, is the language used. I don’t think I’ve ever used ‘vouchsafing’ in a sentence before but I’m adapting it into my regular vocabulary. Good enough for Abe, good enough for me. Yes, I call him Abe because he and I were that close.

“It has pleased Almighty God to prolong our national life another year, defending us with His guardian care against unfriendly designs from abroad and vouchsafing to us in His mercy many and signal victories over the enemy, who is of our own household.”

Unfriendly designs from a broad? Who was this guy, Nostradamus? 

Signal victories over the enemy, who is of our own household? Did Abe know of my future dishwasher and toaster-oven woes? (You really have to read all the posts to keep up folks - nudge, nudge, wink, wink.)

My buddy Abe dideth proclaimeth “… a return of the inestimable blessings of peace, union, and harmony throughout the land …"

https://www.presidency.ucsb.edu/documents/proclamation-118-thanksgiving-day-1864

It’s a good read folks but I’m not here to speak of proclamations, I’m here to speak of Fridays, specifically dark Fridays, so dark we’ve colored them black. I can remember a time when Fridays were Good (despite the connection to gruesome yet Holy death). I can remember a time when we thanked God for Fridays, back before we franchised it into mediocre appetizers and entrees delivered by overly-flared waitstaff wishing they were as attractive and successful as Jennifer Aniston (Office Space - classic movie reference). 

Now Friday is just the bleak beginning to the holiday rush which draws black ink into the ledgers of retail chains who routinely operate in the red. Friday’s overwhelming darkness is so dark it has crept all the way into Thanksgiving Thursday. The afore-mentioned federally recognized day of blessings-countings is being consumed by the ebony teeth of consumerism.

The local mall has chosen to open its doors this Thanksgiving evening to get a head start over other outlets in the quest to swallow your wallet like a black hole swallows a planet.

And what has all this got to do with Invasive Maneuvers?

Well, our young daughter, who is still in recuperative phase from her previous surgical invasion, will be missing the family dinner in order to feed the blackened panther which preys upon our need to save while overspending. She will be working at that mall in her black apron (almost nearly all black) handing out sweets like the witch in Hansel and Gretel, luring unsuspecting patrons into the dark ovens of the retail abyss.  

For goodness sake! Don’t be tempted. It’s a trick. Don’t take her candy. Don’t go into the light! (Beware, another movie reference!) I vouchsafe that it is not safe!

Black Friday is upon us! “Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage, against the dying of the light.” (Even worse a literary reference, ugh!)

Happy Thanksgiving!

And, Happy Black Shopping Till You're Dropping Day!

Recipes for Disasters

Mandatory listening this week: The Eagles – The Last Resort “… you call someplace Paradise, kiss it goodbye …”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-VIIUlbJaKg

Prayers go out to all those affected by the California fires.

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Thanksgiving is coming up so I’m going to get political for a second. Wait. What? That isn’t that what Thanksgiving is all about. Just what we usually turn it into.

This is absolutely a non-political blog so don’t click away, this isn’t really political. I’m just offering up some food for thought to put beside your turkey and stuffing. I’m not going to go all crazy uncle on you…or am I?

Ponder this: No one who was in harm’s way asked the nurse who drove his pickup truck back into Paradise, CA to save his hospital patients if he was a democrat or republican. If you haven’t read that story please go do it now. I’ll wait …..

https://twitter.com/jacknicas/status/1062162154906742784?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw%7Ctwcamp%5Etweetembed%7Ctwterm%5E1062162154906742784&ref_url=https%3A%2F%2Ftwitchy.com%2Fgregp-3534%2F2018%2F11%2F13%2Fmeet-the-badass-nurse-who-drove-his-toyota-pickup-truck-back-into-paradise-to-rescue-patients%2F

Fantastic, isn’t it?

Think about all the other helpers out there. If you’re in need and someone shows up to help – police, fire, medical – I don’t think anyone is going to interrogate these folks before they help them to make sure they have the same views on the issue of the day. Or even the more mundane. Do we need to know how the cashier voted before she rings us up? Do we need to know the political views of the person handing out samples at Costco before we clog the aisle and cut in line to grab the last sliver of a pastry puff?

We are all alike. Please give thanks that while we can be worlds apart on some issues we are universally together in our blessings. Seriously, if we concentrate more on our collective blessings rather than our miniscule differences we may enjoy each other’s company a bit more.

This Thanksgiving don’t be the desperado. “… it seems to me some fine things have been laid upon your table, but you only want the ones that you can’t get.” – Desperado, The Eagles

Here’s Linda Rondstadt’s outstanding version:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ebL-6-fGJl0

Even the math-challenged can count their blessings.

That’s it, politics aside (and soapbox and pulpit), now let’s get into important topics.

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Our evergreen after going 12 rounds
with Old Man Winter

Speaking of blessings, we were blessed with barely a week of Autumn weather before Old Man Winter woke up from his Rumplestiltskin-esque nap and clobbered us like he was a young, spry prize fighter. An ice storm and January temperatures have taken hold and we’ve been told to get used to them. It almost makes me want to pack up and move to Florida, but I don’t think I can adjust to another state that doesn’t know how to count. At least I haven’t heard the phrase “hanging chad” yet. And, I’m not talking about Miami Beach speedos. Get it? Hanging Chad, speedos - yuk, yuk and ewe, did he really go there? Millenials, please google 'hanging chad' for bad joke reference.

That’s about as political as I get around here – bad jokes. You folks get enough political speak 24/7/365. This blog is here is to help you escape from that alternate reality. This is what’s really real!

And by real I mean, where else do you hear about real trust issues?

Poll question:

If you don’t trust your dishwasher to wash the dishes for you so you wash them before you place them in the machine, should you:

1. Get a new dishwasher – knowing it won’t change your methods?
2. Get rid of current dishwasher and use space to store more kitchen gadgets you don’t need?
3. Go full disposable/recyclable since you don’t really cook anyway?
4. Seek counseling for your trust issues?
5. All of the above except the one that doesn’t make sense combining with the others?

I’m glad we got that sorted out. Now we can talk about toaster ovens? In this house we are keeping the entire toaster oven industry humming. We go through toaster ovens faster than most people go through a bag of Pringles.

Ha! Almost got you.

We all know Pringles come in a cardboard can. How did the aluminum industry let that happen? And why don’t we open a can of Pringles the same way we open a cardboard can of Pillsbury biscuits? It’s not like you’re not going to finish the can in one sitting. (Grammar police start your double negative investigation now.) Pop’n’fresh Pringles has a nice ring. (I really need to charge for all the free advertising here.) And, there’s no need to pop ‘em into a toaster oven like those biscuits.

The toaster oven is the true workhorse of our kitchen. Why fire up the range when you can heat up the countertop device in less than half the time? Plus, we keep on getting bigger devices in an effort to make the real oven completely obsolete. We can get rid of that major appliance too, along with the dishwasher. Imagine the extra gadget space! Are you imagining right now? I am.

The box for this new one says it will fit a large pizza and a whole hog. Or, something like that. Advertiser’s claims are about as reliable as politicians’ promises (Hey you, I said no politics). According to the packaging, this device, which in reality barely holds two whole slices of medium-sized bread, claims to be able to fit that previously mentioned large pizza. Large meaning, not bigger than an infant’s hand.

Warning!: Do Not stick your infant’s hand into the oven to measure!

This big little machine can also convection! Ooh, ah! No one is really sure what that means but I’m sure it’s there to confuse you when reading recommended cooking times. Honey, I’m trying to roast a pig and the package says 12 hours at 225°, so with the convection setting I can set at 250° for an hour, right?

Please note: the manufacturer’s warranty is void if you attempt to roast a pig carcass without the optional walk-in rotisserie attachment.  There goes my gadget space.

All this because we prefer to routinely try to burn down our lovely abode with a cheap cooking device rather than wait for the oven to heat up. Yes, we’ve had several flare-ups! Don’t tell my insurance agent, his level of trust in these devices is about equal to Renee’s trust in the dishwasher.

Happy Thankgiving! And, despite internet recipes for cooking a 20 lb. turkey in the microwave, please don’t, that’s what your toaster oven is for. 

Uncommon Nuisance

I’m glad to say our household has achieved normalcy once more. Cassidy, who was reticent to have surgery, is near full recovery. She is simply awaiting stitches to dissolve. She is now cleared to embark on other adventures of a more recreational nature, hopefully without the worries of abdominal distress.

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This weekend marks our annual celebration of those who served our country in the armed forces. I for one could not be more grateful to those who have literally and dangerously stepped forward in defense of this nation. 

My father, pictured below, was one of those who was welcomed into adulthood by screaming Army sergeants trying to mold Depression era high school graduates into fighting machines. He dodged bullets on the beaches of France. He slogged through the Battle(s) of the Bulge and plowed together with General Patton to Germany to stop a menace which too few now remember.

I think of my Dad often and the horrors he witnessed and the hardships he endured. I juxtapose that against his picture here and the "Love Johnnie" message. This is the man and the smile I remember. He never showed me the other man he had to be while wearing that uniform.   

My Dad and the brave reluctant heroes who saw their friends die beside them by the hundreds and thousands, came back home to raise families, to go to work. They were dealing daily with real trauma beyond my and most of our comprehension.

Each day our WWII vets battled the internal demons of that war which would never leave them. Each day they rose and did what they needed to do to be productive members of this society. Others saw the same in Korea, Vietnam, Kuwait, Afghanistan, Iraq and in battles around the globe. They too carry with them the horrors of war. I salute them all and those who are serving today.

This is a snippet from a song I wrote years ago:

The spoils of the war

Were tucked away in an attic drawer

But he never once spoke of the enemy he saw.

Just another hero of The Bulge

He taught me never to divulge

What you see, what you hear, and what you’re carrying within ….

Dear Vets, may God bless you all, and may the weight of your carriage be lightened by our sincere gratitude for your service.   

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On a lighter note:

While reading the news this morning I found out that “maintaining a common nuisance” is a crime in Indiana. Some malicious and thieving deviants were arrested and charged with various offenses and one of them was charged with the crime above. 

At first, I thought I may have to avoid the state to the north due to my nuisance-like behavior with this blog, but it turns out that since I’m not carrying controlled substances while doing it, I have nothing to fear when visiting the Hoosier state. I have also checked with my legal counsel and found I am more of an uncommon nuisance and could therefore easily beat the rap if so charged.

Whew! What a relief.  I’d hate to run afoul of the law while reporting to you the maneuvers of my curious clan - which are in no way to be confused or connected to the klan of the above-mentioned deviants.  

We are an all-loving, all-inclusive blog here.

Have a great weekend! And, please, go thank a Veteran.

Biorythms

We move holidays around here willy-nilly. Threat of rain and the annual sugarfest was launched a day early in Louisville. Strange because Fall is falling late this year. 

I know it’s November but this Van Morrison October delight is still the best Autumnal tribute I know. Fantabulous! [Sorry about the ad.]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6lFxGBB4UGU

Halloween, now's that's some real corporate welfare. We designed a whole day around giving out stuff we know is bad for us just to support the candy manufacturers. And don’t pretend you didn’t save the best stuff for yourself. I know you’ve got a stash hidden somewhere in that house. You turned the porch light off a bit early hoping that trick-or-treaters would slide by thinking you’re not home so don’t have to dish it out your Chunky bars to the beggars.  

No stash for me, I just wished I could have found a house handing out full pints of chocolate porter, instead, “I got a rock!” Cheers anyway!

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On a side note: (Ooh, I like these side notes, especially when they fall right in the middle.) 

Do any of you remember what you were doing ninety-three years ago? I know at least one person who does, although she is only twenty-nine (that’s Kentucky math folks). I don’t know how she does it but at her age if she wants to be 29 she can be. She was born in the Roaring 20’s, lived through the Depression, World War II, World War III (better known as raising six kids) and has survived 40 years past the absolute worst thing to happen in this world, the Disco Era. She can choose to be any damn age she wants. Whenever anyone was bold enough to ask her age, she replied, “29.” So that what she is and that’s all you need to know about that. Happy Birthday, Mom!   

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Recovery and recuperation, R&R, that’s also what it is all about. The patient, Cassidy – remember this is a post about Cassidy and her gall bladder surgery - has done well this week and is nearly back to her normal routine.  The follow-up with the Doc was all good. “Ahead of schedule,” he said. Me, (using my best Foghorn Leghorn voice) “A fine, I say, a fine kettle of fish.”  

Cassidy threw a wrench into that family tradition established by Renee and decided not to stay extra in the hospital. In fact, we slid her into the car while her head was still bobbing from anesthesia. Not kidding, I kind of got the feeling the nurse was trying to get rid of us. I told you about the post-op Ralph episode which was a slight delay, but as soon as Cassidy could open her eyes and meekly answer, “I guess so,” when asked, “do you want go home?” Renee and the nurse were stuffing her into her street clothes and dropping her into a wheelchair, orderly at the ready.  

During the follow-up Halloween morning, I got nothing from the surgeon except they confirmed there were stones in the bladder, using medical terminology. I saw right through his act and asked him anatomy questions, especially that one about Cassidy having a different anatomy which he shared right after surgery. A bit stoic in his answer, “oh no big deal, we all have somewhat different anatomies.” Yea, I get it doc, we’re all different, blah, blah, blah. But, will Cassidy’s different anatomy, which is only different because we’re all different (eyes rolling), going to leave her with other health issues because she’s just a bit different than the rest of us are different? Following? Quick answer, “no,” responded the doc, to the issues part, not your following part.

How about adhesions, doc? Her mother is susceptible to them – internal scarring which can choke other organs. Laparoscopy surgery, he said, so adhesions should not be an issue in the future. Once those four little holes heal - well three little holes and one not as little where they sucked an entire internal organ through - and the stitches dissolve, there should be no complications.

So Cassidy is now back to work. We had a quiet Halloween night due to trick or treating being moved to the previous night and the only thing even remotely invasive that happened is … me nearly getting run over by a deer.

Huh?

Did he just say he nearly got run over by a deer? Why yes, I believe he did.

Most folks have deer encounters in their vehicles, not me.

Yep, whilst sitting and reading upon my front porch Halloween near dusk, one of those previously mentioned vehicles stops abruptly in front of the house avoiding said deer who decided to cross the road without looking both ways. The deer then, freaked out by the car, picks up speed, and heads down my sloped lawn pointed directly at me at top speed.

This deer, a doe, a female deer, chose at the last possible second to make a hard left a mere hair before barreling into my armed only with a Kindle self. You can still see the hoof prints in the mulch if you care to come and look. She headed to my backyard and the safety of the woods beyond. I headed for my bedroom and the safety of a clean pair of shorts.

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The big doe on the left, I think that's her.

It’s time to go now, I’ve got to participate in the semi-annual Festival of Time Confusion. I love these two days each year we Americans try to convince ourselves that we can manage the rotation of the earth by changing hands on the clock.  We are all-powerful. We will show you Earth!

This is not about farmers needing more time to harvest crops or other nonsensical reasons you have heard since you were babes in the cornfields, it is about power. Human beings have this strange need to try to control things which they know they cannot. I will say one thing about this, I enjoy the Daylight Savings Time where the sunset occurs an hour later than Standard Time. Why don’t we just adapt Daylight Savings time as the new standard? Please write your Congress-person (it was an act of Congress which instituted this six-month foray into useless time management) and let them know we need to stop the disruption to our biometric rhythms twice a year just so they can feel the power over time. This ad was brought to you by me and I support my position.

Now excuse me as I go immerse myself in two months of bad Christmas movies and 24/7 worse-than-bad Christmas tunes. Happy November!

Back At It!

I’m back at it. I don’t know how long it will last but this blog has been silent for too long. But then again it was really good not to report on invasive maneuvers happening to my immediate family members.This time around it is my one and only child. Cassidy went in for surgery on October 23. Organ removal, I guess, runs in the family. I really wish she decided to inherit another trait.

Important note: Cassidy and Renee specifically asked me where the blog post about the surgery is. Be careful what you ask for.

Here goes:

Cardiac Clearance
Morning of October 23, approximately 6:00 a.m.

You do everything that is asked. You advise the staff of previous conditions yet, on the morning of surgery, the hospital decides they have to hunt down a cardiologist at six a.m. to get cardiac clearance. Cassidy is now waiting on the tarmac like a commercial airliner waiting on the tower for clearance for takeoff, or more like an Apollo rocket waiting for launch. Houston we've got a problem.

They've called the surgeon and told him to take his sweet old time getting to the hospital since we are officially in a holding pattern. I hope we don't run out of gas.

But I haven't told you why we're here. Our patient is Cassidy this time. The young lady, yes, no longer a child, has decided to dispose of an internal organ. She's also decided to use a surgeon. In this day and age it's frowned upon to yank the thing out all by yourself. The whole healthcare monopoly could come crashing down. Rich doctors would be forced to toil in other employment less suitable to their educational level, kind of like our college graduate who can only find a job in retail in a city where the percentage of college graduates is at 7.5%. (Ugh, that’s a whole other blog.)

But I digress, and as you should well know by now digression is my specialty. I'm a Doctor of Digression, take that you MDs and Phds!

The organ in question here is the gall, as in bladder, not just the bladder, no one wants to yank that, but the gall bladder, which apparently shares the ranking of the appendix and tonsils as unnecessary. 

I've still got all three so they're necessary to me but you can go and get them yanked to your heart's content or at least to your insurance company's pre-approval.

Cassidy's got the gall sludge and most likely stones. They can't be sure about the stones since they can't see through the sludge. We found out about the sludge after a brutal attack of pain had the girl standing on her head. When she informed us in the morning of her pain and prayers to the porcelain I immediately diagnosed it as her gall bladder. Yes I'm that good, in case you didn't know I sort-of work in healthcare so I'm practically a doctor. I’ve also had the experience of Renee going through the same pain thirty-plus years ago.

"She's a go! Cleared for surgery. " That's what the nurse just said. This was after Dr. Mayonnaise (that's not his real name but it does rhyme with a popular brand of the stuff), the anesthesiologist, reviewed the echocardiogram and said the surgery is low risk for the patient.

For those of you just tuning in or have completely forgotten (it has been ten years since our last surgical excursion), Cassidy was born with a few heart problems - pulmonary stenosis, which in layman's terms is a bum valve, and holes. Yes, I said holes. The holes were not the serious problem, this was surprising, a little leakage can be tolerated and they can heal on their own. A bum valve won't heal on its own though, so they blew it up, literally with a balloon, twice. Once at four months old and the second at three years old.

So for the rest of her life special precautions must be taken before any surgical procedures or teeth cleaning. I bet you didn't you know you could die from clean teeth. They don't warn you of this while they're handing out the free toothbrushes in grammar school but they should. It's got something to do with bacteria from your mouth traveling to your bum heart. Antibiotics are a must prior to any procedure and the doctor will administer these along with anesthesia.

Cassidy also gets anti-heartburn meds in case the anesthesia is too spicy. They offered Cassidy meds to relax also which she declined. Renee on the other hand was begging for them. Mothers are like that, more nervous than the child.

The surgeon just stopped in and explained how he will blow carbon dioxide inside the patient. This is to make room while they poke around. The proper medical term for this is giving you a fizzy wizzy, I looked it up (or made it up, whatever, keep moving). I wonder if this will improve her bubbly personality. For me it's good news that my daughter is being carbonated like a keg of beer. I wonder what psi they're using? And on a side note, the lady at the next table in the waiting room just exploded her tonic water. Let's hope this doesn't happen to Cassidy when they pop her top off or however they open her up.

They are re-prepping the Operating Room (OR) since the surgeon took another patient while we were waiting patiently to hear from the cardiologist who we never heard from but they decided to trudge forward anyway (that’s a mouthful of run-on). So then what was the holdup doc? Did I tell you they had weeks to work this out prior to today?

Cassidy giving us the look when asked
 about religious objections

Another Side-note: They ask a lot of questions of the patient but the one that is most questionable, especially remembering that this is pre-scheduled surgery, is, “do you have any religious beliefs which would prevent you from having this surgery?” Huh? If I did wouldn't I have figured that one out long before I scheduled surgery? Would I be here having you hook me with an IV and feed me pre-op drugs if I was going to raise religious objections at the last moment? I'm sure there was a lawsuit that prompted this but the whole question is objectionable at this phase of the process.

Another even Sider-note: It's amazing what you hear in pre-op. (Renee and I were allowed to spend time in pre-op while they palpitated over a solution to the heart question.) In a purported HIPAA compliant world, I overheard some real stories from other patients I was not supposed to hear. I won't go into too much detail but when a patient tells you they are a recovering addict and are scared of the meds why the Hell would you tell them you will be sending them home with high octane Schedule II opiates? Not every patient needs the highest level of pain meds after every procedure. Doctors have to stop pushing them and start listening to the patient.

Enough of the soap box, they just came to roll away Cassidy to the OR.

10 a.m. And the waiting room is pretty darn full, a whole bunch of people going through the same thing we are. I have become an expert at waiting rooms. Maybe I should set up a business where I coach people how to properly wait. Some folks have no idea. I won't turn this into a gripe session but c'mon people you are not at home, don't dress like it or act like it.

We are at Baptist East Hospital, which I refer to as The BHeast (pronounced beast, h is silent). The mix-up with the anesthesiologist this morning is one of those reasons. Another is the cafeteria. It is closed from ten to eleven a.m. daily. Why? And no posting of the cafeteria hours in the surgery waiting room? You hike across the BHeast only to find locked doors. Brilliant! Because no-one ever gets hungry mid-morning when they’ve been at the hospital since 5:45, staff and public alike. As a seasoned veteran of hospital waiting rooms I had plenty of snacks but it would have been nice to have a choice.

11:38 surgery is done.

We met the surgeon in conference room A. Surgery went well. The surgeon mentioned Cassidy's anatomy being different. One minor duct usually about the size of an inch long thread was the size of his pinky so he had to staple it vs. clamping. He didn't expect anything on Cassidy to be bigger than average-sized humans due to short stature. [Cassidy is 4’8” and that’s as tall as she’ll ever be. She has been diagnosed with Noonan Syndrome which is notorious for stifling growth.]

He said the gall bladder was rubbery which is an anomaly. It was scarred and near grey. (How does an internal organ develop scarring on its own?) The gall bladder was in bad shape apparently for a while, he said. It's a good thing it came out. Cassidy has probably been ignoring pain for a while before her 1st acute attack.

We'll cover that scarring question and the different anatomy in more detail next week during the post-op follow up.

Cassidy is in recovery and expected to go home this afternoon.

1:30 pm they invite us back to see the patient. She is of course groggy. The nurse says she had a small chat with Ralph after they have her a pain pill. They administer zofran for nauseau. Nurse says they gave Cassidy crackers with the meds but Cassidy had no memory of this. One thing I've learned over multiple surgery escort missions is you don't administer oral pain meds on an empty stomach. Messy situations usually follow. This is a hospital don't they know this? Da BHeast strikes again.

The Zofran didn’t take so they administered phenergran, it’s stronger and also makes you sleepy which is great when you are trying to get the patient properly awake to release them to recuperate at home.

After watching Cassidy sleepily nibble down a cracker and take a couple sips of sprite they released her to our care and we were home at about 3:45 p.m.

This is an unusual situation for me. With Renee the minimum stay was always a week. Same day release was never an option. Luckily Cassidy is not following her in that regard.

I’ll follow up on Halloween after we see if there is anything scary that comes from the post-op visit with the surgeon. He should have the pathologist’s result on the rubbery gall bladder and stones. And hopefully we can get some of the other important questions above answered. You know like cafeteria hours? Oh, you thought I meant about the patient, well who wants to know that?

Happy Hallows!