St. Patrick's Day Memory

St. Patrick’s Day was always a fun day back when I was a kid. I would figure out what I was going to wear so I would not be pinched all day long and look forward to lots of cool Green projects like coloring Leprechauns and pots of gold. Grammar school was so much fun. I miss those years.

The sad thing is that St. Patty’s day will forever remind me one very disturbing afternoon.

Georgie was a little guy and staying each day at a daycare on location where my wife worked. She was working as a Teacher’s Aide for hearing impaired kids. This particular location had a daycare available to the school staff so Georgie would stay there during the day. It worked out great because Jasmine could stop in and see him whenever she wanted or was needed.

One evening as my wife was cooking dinner and I was hanging out with little G, I quickly realized that the awful odor I smelled was thankfully not dinner but a very full diaper. I took him into his room and put him on the changing table. I could not believe what I saw when I took off his diaper!

“JAAAAAAZZZZZ!!!!!! GET IN HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!”

As my wife comes running into the room my brain starts spinning. What the hell did he get into? Do I need to call poison control? Oh my goodness, something is wrong with my baby!!!!

There in his diaper is what looks like Bright Green Paint. I was sure he drank paint or ate a marker or something. I had no clue. We were both freaking out. My wife had enough sense to call one of the girls who worked there at the daycare and find out if maybe the school was missing a Gumby doll or something. I cleaned him all up as Jasmine called. I kept waiting for him to start crying or spitting up green goo like the exorcist but nothing happened.

Suddenly I hear my wife coming down the hall crying. Oh no! As she turns the corner into the room and I am finally able to begin breathing again since I realize that she was laughing. Hysterically laughing.

“They gave him green milk to drink. They gave all the kids green milk for St. Patrick’s day!”

You have got to be kidding me? So here I am, ready to take my kid to the hospital to have his stomach pumped and this was all a St. Patty’s day thing? I felt so dumb but at the same time, I was kind of mad that the people there did not say anything to us.

Oh well at least all was okay. It is too bad that every year when St. Patrick’s Day comes around, I have memories of one thing.

Green Poo.

The Bomb has been Dropped!

I did it. I dropped the bomb.

I should say, I dropped Dr. F-Bomb. Sure he was good for many great blog posts but I have finally broken free and found a new primary care physician.

The reason I decided to make the change, besides not having a potty mouth doc, was for a particular Endo that I heard was really good. The Endo I have (or had) is not interested in my health at all. I can think of countless times that I should have left this dude but I just never knew where to go! The one good thing he did was get me set up with Minimed for my pump but that was after I said, “I want an insulin pump” so I do not know if he should get credit for that.

I remember the time I went in to see him and told him about my foot hurting. He said, “We’ll get you a referral for a podiatrist.” I asked him if he wanted to look at them and he said that that is what the podiatrist will do. He NEVER saw my feet! WTF right?

The last time I saw him he asked me if I have ever thought about getting an insulin pump. I pulled Master P out of my pocket and said, “I am already on a pump.” HELLO?

A good friend of mine sees an Endo not to far from my home and he loves this guy. The only way I can see this guy is to get a PCP that will refer me to him. I called the Endo’s office and spoke to a nurse there. I said, “Which doctor would you recommend me seeing that will refer me to Dr. Reece?” The nurse I spoke to was so helpful and kind that I am already feeling some love for this change. The nurses at the other office were always short and annoyed it seemed.

The change takes effect on the first of April so I am going to make an appointment to see this new doctor ASAP.

So long Dr. F-Bomb.

I hope you take good fucking care of yourself!

A Good Day to Remember

I will say this upfront. This is not a depressing post. Or what I should say is that, depression is not the place the post comes from.

It comes from my heart. Today would have been my fathers 59th birthday. To think that he has been gone for over 17 years is unbelievable. The pain of losing him still stings now and then. The now’s are further apart but they do still happen.

I am not sure if I have written about my father’s death here. It was a significant event in my life of course so I am sure it has come up. He died just over a year after my diagnosis.

Instead of giving you account of the awful night I heard the news and the days following that were devastating, I would much rather tell you about how amazing he was and how amazing God works in our lives.

My dad was funny. And I mean, twisted funny. He was the guy who asked small kids, “Is Mickey Mouse a dog or a cat?” as a joke to himself. He once had me make him an entire cassette that played “Can’t Touch This” over and over. On both sides! So he could listen to it again and again. One time he dressed up this little kid in my Charlie McCarthy dolls clothes, sat him on his lap and told him to open his mouth when he squeezed the back of his neck. He said he was going to have the first REAL ventriloquist act. He also told all of us that he was going to change his name to R.R. since L.L Cool J was so hip.

He was bizarre, smart, funny, affectionate, strong, kind, encouraging, and what his fellow Sheriff’s referred to as “a good ol’ boy!” We were not allowed to greet him or leave without giving him a hug and a kiss. And none of us ever disagreed.

My father cried only twice that I know of. Once when his mother died. He picked us up early in the morning after we found out and he said simply, “your grandma was a great woman.” And wept. That was the first death in our family that I remember and it was a difficult one since I was my grandma’s only grandson and we were close.

The other time I didn’t actually witness it but I heard it. It was the day after my diagnosis. October 3rd 1990. My dad was out of town on training and I called him the next night to talk to him. I don’t remember all that was said but what I do remember is him saying, “I’ll see you soon. I love you” through tears at the end of our conversation. I could hear the fear in his voice. The concern about what this meant for my future. I cried for a long time after I hung up. I understood a little better that the road ahead was going to be long and tough.

My mother and father did not get along. I do not remember them ever speaking to one another after their divorce. Most messages between the two of them were sent via us kids. Not a very cool way to communicate but my guess is, most children of divorce have been there before.

One night my father called the house looking for me and my mom answered. She told him I was gone and could call him back later. He asked her how I was doing and she told him. In fact, they ended up talking for over an hour. My mother said that it was best conversation she has had with him since they were married. They talked about all 4 of us kids. How proud they both were of us. How much fun they used to have together and even reminisced back to days when they were dating and funny things that happened. My mom can’t talk about this conversation without crying. She said it was awesome and made all those years of being angry seem so ridiculous. That made her night and his too.

That conversation happened the night before he died.

I am still so thankful that this conversation happened. It has made those awful years when my parents were not speaking seem like they didn’t exist.

Anyhow, give your dad a kiss and an extra long hug the next time you see him. I know I will when I see mine again one day.

A Night to Remember

Sometimes it takes people a while to look through their SD cards and find pictures they have taken. Especially when the pictures are from a evening filled with alcohol. That is the reason why this post is coming to you now.

So way back in December my wife and I attended a formal employee Christmas Party aboard the legendary Queen Mary. Since my wife and I rarely get to “dress up” we decided to go all out. I rented a tux and she wore a beautiful dress. I will say it, we looked hot.

So after dinner and festivities at one of the five star restaurants we all headed down to the Observation Bar for drinks and fun.

Once we got in there, I was handed a shot of tequila and then another. And another. The nice thing was that my company had booked rooms for all of us at the hotel so no one had to drive home. We all took advantage of that. At one end of the bar a singer was entertaining everyone. There were at least 400 people in this place. It is a big lounge and it was packed! This guy was singing songs from Elvis to old Motown stuff. It was all older mellow music and it was sounding pretty good especially after a few Rum and diet Coke’s. I should tell you that he was by himself and singing along with accompaniment on CD.

As I was about to do another shot of Patron I hear, “George Simmons” on the loud speaker. I turned to look at the stage where the singer was and I see my boss standing in front of the stage with the singer motioning me to go up there. In fact he shouted, “Get your ass up here!”

Great.

So I walked up to the stage and the singer asked me what I wanted to sing. Now remember, this was not Karaoke night so there is no screen and no lyrics. After going through all of his CD’s I settled on The Gambler by Kenny Rogers. I know it and I figure, everyone in the bar will know it.

And they did.

It was so much fun!

The funniest part was the strangers that were taking pictures of me probably figuring I am some star that graced the Lounge with the gift of song. I have no clue but I saw several cameras flashing and no one I knew behind them. It was funny.

As soon as I was done, the singer asked me to sing another. I told him, “dude I don’t want to step on your toes.” And he said, “This is great. I get to take a break and I still get paid.” So I sang “Old Time Rock and Roll” by Bob Seger.

Everyone dug that too!

It turned out to be a very memorable night! And no hangover!

w00t!

You Tube Tuesday #63

Imogen Heap is one of my favorite artists. I love her voice but especially the way she creates music. I hope you enjoy her unique style. It is almost more fun watching her perform then it is hearing her music.

Enjoy!