I am back at work after being in the hospital. My work email was the last unchecked place for any communication from Muse since she finally offered her rationale for how and why she ended things. I am annoyed with myself that somehow, in some way, that I allowed myself to hope she had emailed me here.

I am sitting here trying to get back into the swing of things, I am just pissed off. I am sure it is a convergence of all of the ‘adventures’ life has put in front of me of late, but her not contacting me has really upset me. I don’t know why she would, but I allowed myself to hope. I want to be angry with her, but it is my own dumb heart, not wanting to see what is obvious.

I react here, so that I can change the momentum. Talk it out. Allow for feedback.  It would be ever so easy to fire off and acidic email bubbling with passive aggressiveness over her dashing a last hope that she didn’t actually give. That would be wrong in so many ways. That is why I am really annoyed, I have betrayed myself and I want someone to blame.

Why does she have such a hold on me? I can’t feed into it. Is it healthy to try to highlight the bad things in order to move on, or is that just another way to lie to yourself? Should I try?

I don’t want to love her like this anymore. It pisses me off.

End of rant.

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I’m still standing.

It has been a week and a half since Muse last contacted me. She gave me the missing closure, and then stopped talking to me. The way it was done left me with many questions, the lack of response was her answer.

I knew there was a better than average chance that was her intent and I meant what I said about wanting to give her the chance to keep her family together.

With Easter on the cusp and then her daughter’s birthday the week after, it was exactly the opportunity to convert my good intentions into to good actions. Well a lack of actions to be precise.

The path was clear, if I was serious about giving her a chance to keep her family together, I would do nothing.

Life of course had it’s own plan for my time. If it were routine it would have been too easy of a test. No instead I had to have lots of down time with nothing but my thoughts.

That wasn’t enough, I was given a compelling sympathic ordeal. Just the kind of event she would want to sink her teeth in and examine. It was something I knew she wouldn’t be able to lay off.

I said nothing. I did nothing. Easter came and went, I did nothing. Her daughter’s birthday came, an event she would have excepted me to send something. I did nothing.

I love her daughter as if she was my own. I spent a lot of time with her and she is amazing. She also seems fond of me. It was difficult to let the occasion pass unmarked.

But that was kind of the point. If I marked it, it would have been for my joy, not hers, not her mother’s. The child didn’t expect  a gift from me, so she was not changed when nothing was sent. I could only negatively affect things by acting.

When Mr. Muse gave up on Muse around Christmas and sent me an email telling me so, I was not happy. She deserved better. More than that, that move meant I won by default. I would never know if she actually wanted me over him. If she saw my value. I wanted her to choose me. Now that is all I have to hope for. 

I am proud of sticking to my guns and not interfering with her life. I did a good thing by doing nothing. I am also very sad. I wish my abscence was felt. I wish I did matter to the baby girl and Muse.

I will always have a place in my heart for both of them. I will never give up on them. I hope he appreciates her, loves her and treats her right. What I will keep trying to do is wait for her to choose me. Maybe she never will and I will just have to live with that. I just don’t want to be an asshole home wrecker anymore.  It was a toxic situation and it brought out the worst in me. Her and I cannot exist as a secret. We are either all in or all out going forward. At this point we are all out.

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Pathology Part 1-Sunday Funday

“It’s so big.” “It’s huge” “I just heard about it and I wondered if I could take a look” “I have never seen one this big before” “That’s impressive”. All things I heard Sunday.

Those would all be so great to hear if I wasn’t in the ER at the time.

It is all so crazy. A week ago, I thought I had the flu, 2 days later I couldn’t swallow. Went in for a strep test. Barely positive, enough to trigger an antibiotic response. 48 hours of antibiotics and I felt worse.  Could not open my jaw, still couldn’t swallow 4 days after antibiotics, speech was impaired.

Finally a week after the fever and chills started I woke up in the middle of the night feeling like I had a tooth pulled while I slept without anesthetic. It ached for an hour. I had lidocaine left over from strep and that was about the only thing that kept me from sprinting to the ER at 2 am.

The next morning I made arrangements for the boys and headed out. It had come full circle; Little man picked up the bug in the hospital the day of his surgery, a week and half later, I am bringing it back to the hospital.

Easter Sunday and the ER was empty. I went straight to a room in the back, no waiting, no triage.

It didn’t take long for them to see the cause of my pain. I had an abscess in my throat. Somewhere between the flu and strep, an abscess had formed and just kept growing. It stretched the skin, causing pain from the top of my head, to my ear, to my teeth, all the way to to the back of my throat. My dehydration had made it worse. For some of the ER staff, they had never gotten to see an abscess of this size. Lucky me. This is why I was in pain, this is why I couldn’t open my mouth, this is why I couldn’t speak, why I couldn’t swallow, why I still had fevers after 5 days of antibiotics. This abscess had taken up residence and blocked my ability to eat, drink, sleep and eat.

After the CAT scan and the tests and all of the nurses and Drs had a chance to examine me for my benefit and their’s, they came up with a plan. They needed radiology to weigh in on my CAT scan, however, their radiology person was at another hospital today. Then they would probably admit me and call in an ENT. The ENT would decide how to proceed. It was odd, they basically told me, they would drain it with a needle, but I had to wait to officially be told it would be drained with a needle. So I was put on pre-op protocol, no food (no worries, can’t swallow anyway) and no drink, not even water (wait what?) until the ENT comes in, which “hopefully” will be today. It is 10am. What do you mean “hopefully”? Come to find out there are not many ENT ER cases, so they keep pretty normal hours.

The waiting begins. I sit in the ER, fever starts in again, mouth is killing me, can’t focus. An hour goes by and radiology agrees I have an abscess and need to see and ENT. The chain of evidence, so to speak, is there for a reason, right now that reason seems to be to test my patience. The ER will admit me! Now I wait for a room. I am given pain meds and a tiny cup with foam q-tips things to keep my mouth wet. How quaint. Another hour goes by and I have a room number! Terrific. Pain meds aren’t keeping up, neither are the tiny foam sticks of moisture. People come in to check on me, no one is moving me.  2 more hours of this and finally someone comes to move me. It is around 1:30.

They woman who is supposed to move me to my room is older and very unhappy about life. Lady, I would be happy to switch places with you right now, something tells me you can actually swallow a bite of food. She starts the process of getting me ready to move. I gather this is not her primary role as she unapologetically fumbles through it, to the point she forget to unhook me from the wall before moving the bed. Ouch. A nurse across the hall witnesses this and laughs, then shares with a co-worker. For a moment I feel bad for her, but it passes when she stands in front of the elevator for 5 minutes without hitting the button. I have to prompt her. By her response, it is clear she didn’t believe me that she hadn’t hit the button. “I don’t think it will come any faster, but fine.” She hits the button, the doors open, she doesn’t even understand her mistake. Fun. I am 200 pounds (weighed the day and 207 actually which is the lowest I have been since college), that and the huge awkward hospital bed and my attendant is struggling to keep me from hitting walls as she pushes me down the hall. I am begging to understand why she may be upset about her job. She seems lost as we navigate the hospital. This all sucks. She finally finds my room and is met by my soon to be nurse. My attendant asks if I want to walk to my bed. “Sure” Versus what? I wonder. I get into my bed and watch the attendant struggle to move the bed back down the hall. I can only shake my head.

The nurse is welcoming and competent. She seems genuinely sympathetic and attentive. The plan is to make me comfortable while I wait for an ENT, however long that is. I get cable tv and my remote has a speaker. More pain meds piggybacked on my IV. I adjust the bed and very soon, I find myself nodding in and out. I am not quite thinking straight. I don’t want to be asleep, part of me is paranoid I will miss the ENT Doctor. Exhaustion wins (kind of) and I take about 30 10 second cat naps over the span of 2 hours.

The ENT doctor comes in and he is in good spirits. He looks at my throat and immediately seems satisfied. “I get called in for abscesses that aren’t all of the time, you actually have one and it is massive.” He verifies some info, asks if I had ever had anything like this before, explains the steps to resolution. I think to myself, I am ready to go. A nurse brings in a cart, and he picks up what looks like yellow spray paint. It is topical numbing spray and evidently it tastes like rotten bananas. My Easter dinner is really quite a treat this year! He went on to explain it doesn’t do much, but he see no need to poke with a needle to give anesthetic to help reduce the pain of poking me with a needle. I am picking up what he is putting down. He sprays my throat, I don’t notice the taste, which is probably best. He asks me if I am ready. Seriously? no more checking and double checking and 15 different preps and blah blah blah? you have been in my room 20 minutes and you are just going to fix this here and now. I am almost stunned by the concept. “Yup” I said plainly.

He produces a fair sized needle and says the magic phrase “you will feel a little prick”. Mind goes juvenile for a moment, then he makes contact. I feel it pierce the skin, both sharp pain and a sense of relief hit me, the pain wins. I try not to move or wince. He fills the syringe with fluid from the abscess. “7 +ml on the first needle” he says. In my head I dread the word ‘first’ in that sentence. I can’t exactly argue or even speak, not that I would. Another needle pierces the skin and another 5+ml comes out, this time there is blood.

“Wow, you took that like a champ. You didn’t wince or even move. You should start to feel better very soon. I have taken 25 ml of fluid out of an abscess before and that was the record. I got a little more than 12 out of you and there is still more. That will be taken care of by the antibiotics. Not a record, but way above average.”

All of these odd compliments I have no use nor traditional forum for. However, I will take what I can get today. There has been few moments to celebrate so far.

My boys spent Sunday with the Il’s, running around and playing with their cousin. At least they are having a good day. They are too young to really know how long I have been gone and certainly not what I have gone through. I won’t get to see them again today. I am glad I saw them before I went to the hospital. It was worth prolonging the suffering to have breakfast with them.

Now to try and get some rest. My first night in a hospital bed. I hope exhaustion wins again, because this is the last place I want to be right now.



Featured post

Plan A

It was Presidents’ Day. She was home alone. I was losing her. I felt it. Our connection had been weaken because of the stress of the situation and life and it needed to be replenished. It was ill advised, but love is often ill advise if it is true.

I had become paranoid. She started to hide from me, the way she used to hide from Mr. Muse. By what she chose to say and what she chose to avoid, it was hard not to feel like I was again a back-up to him. We are supposed to planning to move in together in April, maybe May and she is being shifty about it.

I drove the 20 minutes from work to her house, uninvited, unannounced. I had been planning this for more than a day. I paid special attention when showering, grooming and picking clothes. I needed to make an impression. I always want to make an impression with her. She is beautiful and I wanted to be on par.

I reviewed Plan A in my head, the seduction. Plan B was if she was not home, that was fully conceived, Plan C was if she was not home alone, that one was more of a working outline. Plan C covered all manner of variables; if she was home with Mr. Muse, someone else if something incriminating was found, all of the panic that got through your mind when you know something is being kept from you.

As I drove, we texted and she sent pictures of her studying on her couch. So plan B wasn’t needed. Did this idea pop into my head because of Mr Muse and the Sunday drive by? Somewhere in a place I don’t like to think about, was I trying to catch her? Maybe. But I had Plan A.

Plan A was our kind of hot:

I call 5 minutes out and tell her that I am close, she can tell me to turn around, or she can leave the front door open, take a quick shower and meet me in her room. I brought a small tripod for my phone so I could film it all, hands free. She liked to be filmed. I walk into the room with the camera rolling, set it down so it can record the whole scene. I walk up to her and kiss her hard, forceful, but carefully pushing her naked body against the cold wall, I bring my hand up to her neck squeeze while kissing her and then run it down her body. I trace her sensuous curves with my fingers, being careful not to touch anywhere directly, just a whisper of a touch. I step back and she has that amazing look that is a mix of being turned on and being surprised.

“Are you mine?” I say holding a hard look and eye contact.

“Yes” she says in almost a whisper

“Are you truly mine?” I push.

“Yes” she says slightly annoyed at the repetitiveness, but still on turned on.

“I want to you to get yourself off, now. I want to you to touch your clit while you look into my eyes. Do this until you cum for me.” I maintain eye contact and give her a dirty little smirk. We talked had many times about her desire to be dominated, to be choked, to be claimed. I knew what she would respond to.

Silence. No movement.

I take her hand, brush it by my already engorged dick, and guide her fingers to her pussy, saying nothing. Then I step back.

She starts to slide her fingers back and forth, slowly. She tries to look down, but I catch her gaze and bring it back to mine.

I slowly trace my fingers around the bulge in my jeans. Her face lights up a bit as she switches between looking at me and looking at my dick.

She picks up the pace. Her knees quiver and she sinks momentarily under the wave of pleasure. She soldiers on.

I slowly undo my belt.

She gasps and keeps going.

Unbutton my pants and the pressure of my hard dick trying to break free, makes the pants unzip a little on their own.

She stares, waiting for more.

“Pinch your nipples”

She has a quickly disappearing startled look, then she runs her hand up her body and starts to play with her tits.

I reward her by unzipping all of the way. Even the blackness of the underwear can’t hide the pre-cum.

“I want you in my mouth” she says seductively.

“If you are good, I will fuck your mouth” I say coldly.

She gives me a look, as to say I am playing with fire. My comment makes her realize the power she has and her motions become less about function and more about her spectacular form. She is showing off and it making her get closer to a hard cum. Her knees buckle slightly again.

She moans a little, then a gasp. I show her the top of hard dick, it glistens from the pre-cum.

She takes her hand away from her tits and grabs the headboard next to her. She starts to convulse as she gets hit by wave after wave of tingling, heart pounding pure fucking joy.

She collapses on the bed, slowly pulling her drenched fingers away. She is spent.

“Lay down, on your back, head in front of me if you want your reward.”

She takes a moment to process and recover and assume the required position.

I take my clothes off, take my dick in my hand and touch her lips with it. The wet stickiness transfers to her luscious lips. She licks it off of her lips, then my licks it off of my dick.

I pull her further to the end of the bed, so the her head is slightly hanging off, a better angle for my dick to enter her small sexy mouth.

I slide my cock into her mouth, I can see her eyes watering as she takes all she can. She bring her hands up to hold and guide.

I gently thrust again, truly fucking her mouth.

I pull out and lean over and slide my fingers into her pussy. I bring the wetness to my lips. My favorite flavor.

I gently thrust again, pull out and start to massage her tits. They are amazing. Quite honestly a perfect set.

I thrust halfway, giving her the ability to control the motion. I play between her pussy and tits while she sucks my dick and plays with my balls.

As I play with her clit, she moans around my cock. the vibration is subtle but amazing.

She takes her own fingers and touches her pussy, then her wet fingers go back to guiding my dick. I can feel the now lubricated finger resting against my ass. She pushes in and I thrust my fingers into her pussy in anticipation.

I cum, hard. She has an aftershock as I fill her mouth and my fingers play in her tingly pussy.

“Get up now” I command.

She has trouble wanting to move, but complies. She is dizzy from being almost upside down and from being spent.

I take her and direct her to stand, ass against me and lean over the bed. I force her body to curve up so that her ear is aligned with my lips.

I take my still hard, throbbing dick and slide into her till she has all of me, while I bite her neck. A move that takes practice and perfect timing, but feels amazing. Fight your bodies’ urge to melt after cumming into a wanting mouth.

I slowly pull out and sway with the rush of the blended orgasm.

All the way in again. Wait. pull out slowly.

I slam in again, move my hand to grab her throat.

out and one more I enter her fully, I move my other hand to her pussy. She chokes out a gasp.

I pick up the pace, my hand hard against her throat, kissing her shoulder, playing with her pussy.

I feel her body start to give out. I guide her forward to the bed, use one hand to hold myself up, slide back in her and reach around to give her tits some attention.

Now I am fucking full speed, full force. Every motion is giving my all.

I ask her if she can cum for me.

“oh yes baby, keep fucking me”

I go harder and faster till she starts to shudder again. She is cumin again, or maybe she never really stopped.

I slowly pull out and bury my face between her legs, so I can taste her again. She is so sensitive that she jerks away, but not before I get what I wanted. Her taste on my lips, her scent on my face.

I pick her up and lay her down on the bed, head on the pillow. Turn off the camera, clean up and crawl into bed with her.

“You will always be mine” I say and kiss her ear.

Plan A was hot.

Featured post

Pathology Part 3-finale

Daylight flooded my hospital room. It was a new day for most, as I hadn’t slept, it really didn’t feel that way to me. I knew I would be visited frequently by hospital staff, so I got up and put myself to work.

It was time to clean up the room, gathered my stuff and reassessed what I needed. I followed that with making myself as presentable as possible. I couldn’t shower, could’t change my shirt, both because of the IV. I stuck my face in cold water, tried to reduce the severity of my bedhead and brushed my teeth, which felt wonderful.

Next I ordered breakfast, easy foods. Scrambled eggs, yogurt and juice. Sadly, I still was not able to swallow, still was dealing with thick saliva. I choked down the eggs, they were cold by the time I finished, the yogurt was cool and easy to swallow. It went better than the dry chicken from the night before.

Next on my list was to log into work and adjusted my out of office for one more day. I realized I had no idea what to set it for. I still could not speak or even normally swallow. Normal actions caused me to violently cough. Just one day at a time I guess, I had hoped to go home today and I will take it from there. I emailed my boss an gave all of the appropriately vague and professional information on my status. Check out their short term policy when you have time, I thought to myself. Work had really bad benefits and I worried this would, end up being my vacation for the year. One thing at a time. Focus what you can control.

It was time for the nurse to come in and check, the nurse tech came with her. They introduced themselves. The NT took my vitals while I spoke with the nurse. I asked what the plan was.

“Your blood work is a slight concern and they may keep you another night. The white blood cell count was a little out of range.

The hospitalist will be in later during rounds to talk to you.

I see you have eaten, how did it go?”

I responded with a ‘so-so’ motion.

“Your throat is still bothering you huh? I understand, it is to be expected. Try to take it easy today and get some rest. Call me if you need anything.”

Everyone left. I was feeling frustrated about being told I would be there another day. My blood was taken in the middle of the night, when I hadn’t slept and hadn’t eaten. I wanted to argue with someone, but there was no one to argue with. It occurred to me that I was making myself busy because I thought I would be leaving soon. Now that leaving had been put into question, there was less need to prep.

With nothing to do, I had time to feel tired. The room had a couch in the corner and it looked decent. Hell a bed of nails would look decent right now. I grabbed my cup, paper towels, blankets and pillows, unplugged my IV and set up camp. I figured out how to arrange myself and my stuff so that I could lay face down and not set off any stint alarms. I barely remember laying down on the pillow and I was out.

The doctor came in and echoed what the nurse foreshadowed. It was a little shocking that I didn’t feel like arguing anymore. Trust the people to know their job as much as you can was something I told others. I took my own advice. Don’t be afraid to ask questions and press, but in the end they are in that role for a reason. They also used one of my favorite tactics for bad news; hint at the bad news, give the person a chance to absorb it before actually delivering it.

With nothing to do, but rest and replenish, I laid back down. I spent the rest of the day drinking smoothies and water, reminding myself how useless cable was and napping. The boys came to visit after school and we ate McDonalds. At that point, nothing had really improved. I still couldn’t swallow or speak. My boys got tired of the hugs before I was done needing them, but that is just how it works sometimes.

Along with the boys, I received fresh clothes and my own shower stuff. The hospital provided less than hotel level toiletries, but I wanted to smell like myself again. The boys left and I was along again. The nurse unhook the IV, wrapped the remaining tubing and puncture site in a waxy paper and sealed it. I showered for a long time, shaved, and got ready, as if I was going out. A little reminder of normalcy, even if it was only going to be shared with the nurses.

After the shower, before I would be tethered again, I took a walk around the hospital. Slowly people watched as I walked through the halls. This was not only to get some exercise, but some perspective. Rooms and rooms full of people in some level of pain or suffering. Where did mine rank? Very low I surmised. I spent this much time on the planet, did some very ill-advised things and this was my first night in a hospital. This visit wasn’t even life threatening. It was just moderately painful. It left me feeling pensive, but optimistic.

I spent the rest of the evening zoning out to FX movies and catching family members up on the events. My ability to swallow and speak had still not improved significantly. There was a noticeable build up somewhere between my nasal cavity and my throat. It was not uncomfortable as of yet. The nurse had come back in and reconnected me to the IV and took my vitals.

I prepped the couch again. While I showered, they had refreshed the bedding, on the bed, and removed everything from the couch. Subtle…

I got ready to fall asleep. When they connect the IV, they didn’t add the padded wrap. That proved to be problematic as I set off the stint alarm 3 more times trying to find the right position. The tech nurse mentioned that it was uncommon to have an IV in the arm, versus the hand for an admitted patient. Lucky me. That would have been helpful yesterday. Oh well.

I had been drooling heavily in my sleep, a direct result of the spit having nowhere else to go. I grabbed  a few towels in preparation for this and wrapped my pillow in one. I drifted to sleep listening to The Maze Runner, no concerns over being pulled into this movie.

Sleep came quickly. It was interrupted by sputtering coughs and expelling. Somewhere along the way, I became aware something had changed. My mouth had a copper taste, my face felt both warm and cold and very sticky. My throat felt different, less pressure, but it had a new ache. The room was black, but I could see on the towel was covered in something darker than just saliva.  I flipped on the light and there was blood on the towel and it had spilled onto the floor. The fluid was thicker than usual, indicating it wasn’t just blood.

A call to the nurse was next. I sounded different. At first it was all phlegm, but once it cleared I sounded more like myself than I had in days. The nurse came and didn’t seem that surprised. They had expected this kind of expelling at some point. Thanks for the heads up, I thought. Knowing I would be spitting blood at some points seemed an important thing to mention. She helped me clean up, got more towels and refilled my water. Once everything was situated again, I laid back down and went to sleep.

I woke up a few more times expecting to see blood and was not disappointed. I adjust and replaced towels as needed and soldiered on. The next morning I was eager to wash my face and brush my teeth. There was quite a bloody mucus Jackson Pollock left behind. All of that and I felt…amazing. I could swallow! There was still pain, but it was from the needle punctures, not because of raw and swollen skin. I could drink without choking or it going back up my nose. I could eat food and get it to my stomach without nibbling away at each piece. I almost felt normal again.

The doctor came, checked me out and told me I was going home. Shortly after that the nurse came by with discharge papers, prescriptions and instructions. I listened, signed and was cut loose (pun intended). I packed up and headed out. 50 hours after I showed up with what I thought was severe strep. Lots of recovery left, 12 antibiotic pills a day to take, my throat was still swollen and irritated and my mouth was not clear quite yet. I was able to speak clearer, but not I still had a ways to go till I could articulate and project as an adult.   I was unable to return to work till I gave my throat a chance to rest and heal.

I started the previous Sunday by taking my boys to the zoo. I started to feel off that night. 9 days later and I had told myself it was muscle strain, then the flu, then was confirmed for strep, and now have successfully navigated a bronze medal abscess and my first overnight in a hospital.

I could use a little boring for awhile. Something tells me that is not in the cards.

Pathology Part 2-The Overnight.

The abscess had been drained of 12+ ml of fluid, there was still some fluid left. My throat was inflamed and swollen as well. While the pain from the skin being stretched and pulled too tightly was gone, I was fixed yet.

I was still unintelligible when trying to speak, I still was unable to swallow. Most of my conversations where nods, head shakes, or texting my answers. A new wrinkle, my saliva had become thick like syrup with a foamy aspect. Some reaction to the the cocktail in my arm mixed with the turmoil in my mouth. I could not think of a worse combo for someone with a painful swollen throat to endure, and endless supply of gag-level fluid filling my mouth.

I asked the night nurse how to deal with it and other than spitting and rinsing, she had no idea. She saidI could ask the doctor in the morning. Fantastic. I just want to sleep and I have to get up to rinse and spit as needed now.

I tried water, sprite, and juice; no change. I brushed my teeth and tried mouthwash; no change. I tried standing over the sink and spitting till it ran out, it didn’t run out. I decided it was just the way it was and resigned myself to get as much sleep as possible.

The hospital bed had and auto-adjust function. Like a sleep number bed with sensors and mind of it’s own. Surely invented for those who would spend days or longer in bed, it filled and adjusted the bed to reduce pressure sores. I am sure this helped many people, but I found it annoying. It was not quiet or subtle. They had me at a 45 degree angle, I just trusted that was for a reason.

The IV was in the crook of my right arm. It had a alarm set up in case I moved my arm into a position that restricted flow. I quickly became aware that any comfortable  sleeping position was somehow one that restricted flow. The alarm was quick to go off and loud. The nurses were not equally as fast in coming to reset it.

The sheer emotional, physical and mental exhaustion overcame the annoyances, my body found a path to sleep. I am not sure how long I was out, but I remember waking to the feeling of drowning. My body jerked forward into violent coughs, for a second I was disoriented. The saliva mix had settled down my windpipe as it did not have easy access to my esophagus. I was drowning in my own spit. I got up, gathered my IV and walked t the sink. I leaned over and cleaned up my face and washed my mouth out as best as possible. I grabbed extra towels and went back to bed.

New strategy, lay more upright. More acute than 45 degrees, maybe I would not try and breathe syrup in my sleep. It was harder to fall asleep. The pillow was stiff and I kept sliding to the side. I was so far forward my body wanted to slump upright. I still was able to fall asleep, only to wake up the same dramatic way.

“Alright brain, I know you are tired, but if we solve this, you can rest. I need you”. The angle is not going to fix this, let’s try a different position. First I tried to lay on my right side. And there goes the IV alarm. It was like being penalized for an uncomfortable spooning position. Arm can’t be straight, arm can’t go under my pillow. Nurse seems irritated I keep setting it off. Trust me friend, I don’t want this damn thing going off either. I am so exhausted.

All we have left is the left side. It worked a little better, however the IV cord was at maximum length. As I tried to get comfortable I felt a bit of sting and looked down an saw a red, clear mix flow down my elbow and onto the bed. I had ripped my vein open a bit. “Fuck it, it isn’t gushing. I will wait till she comes back.” I closed my eyes and was able to manage some sound sleep. There are no clocks, I am too tired to reach for my phone, I have no idea if it is midnight or 5 am.

I was woken up by the nurse tech coming in.

“Need to get or vitals and take some blood. Oh you have great veins.” Seriously? WTF. Why is now when you take blood? I mean thanks Nurse tech Johnson, I really do spend time making sure my veins are great for just this occasion. Thats the third time in 24 hours I have gotten that same odd compliment and I still have no clue what do to with it. Oh you need it out of my left arm? Top fucking notch, no reason to leave one side of my body intact! Are we done, great, now go, damn.

Left side is less comfortable to sleep on now, but fathoms better than the drowning option. So I try and get comfortable again. She didn’t see the ripped vein, oh well, too late now. I drifted off to sleep after overthinking things for awhile. I was angry and trying to figure out what kind of schedule they kept for these things. That was boring enough to settle my mind.

I assume it was the fact my left arm was throbbing a bit under the tape, but my body auto-corrected while I slept and I rolled to my back again. Fuck, I am drowning again. I am just going to stay up. I think I would rather have sleep deprivation than fear DROWNING IN MY FUCKING SLEEP! Sleeping is hard enough for me, I can’t turn my brain off. I don’t need 3 extra hurdles to manage, one of them being drowning on my own spit.

Of course when you want to stay up, you body relaxes and take over. I spent the rest of the night crashing asleep, then crashing awake. What a day, week, month, blah. Life has really been testing me lately. I am sure there is something to be learned, I just don’t care at the moment. I will care when I have slept soundly.

Night nurse comes in again, needs my temp, blood pressure and blood/ox. She is a blur. She sees the IV and fixes it by making the bandage bigger and padded somehow. I can’t even process her in front of me. My mind is gone. I manage to ask her what time is it.

“5am, I will be back soon to introduce the day staff, you will see the hospitalist today, I don’t see that the ENT felt the needed to see you again. Did you get any sleep?”

“No, not much”

“Okay, I will let the doctor know. Maybe he has an idea.”

“Fantastic, thanks” as I nod off again. I just can’t keep my head up.

I can tell the sun is starting to rise. I manage to fall asleep and I stay asleep. When I wake up, I see that the board in my room had been change and new names had been added. I guess they let me sleep at the hand off. Some actual consideration for my sleep level. Wow, I feel honored.

Welcome to Monday…

ups and downs

It is really hard being in the hospital. Lots of quiet, no peace.

Another long night of not much rest. Having people come in to get vitals and blood, and to check on me. Uncomfortable furniture, sleeping hooked to an IV, odd hospital sounds. I bled quite a bit last night. Very surprising to see. Evidently part of the process. Not very comforting.

I am getting sent home today. I can’t wait to get out of here. Still not back to normal, that will take another week, but on the mend.

It has been an exceptionally hard 2 weeks. I need to go home and hug my boys.


This is the first time I have woken up in a hospital as a patient. I have been in the supporting role for each child’s birth, the first more than the second. I have visited extended family, grandparents and my uncle in the hospital. I have taken both boys to the hospital for surgeries, one just over a week ago. This is the first time the focus has been me. I don’t like it.

I know I am here to get better. To heal after a freak complication. I am sure the hospital bed and its auto inflate/ adjust feature was been tested and researched and found to be top of the line. Their wifi is strong and free and the cable selection is robust. I don’t like it.

It is quiet and no one is asking anything of me. I can control the remote and turn it on and off when I want. I don’t like it.

I can sleep when I want, wake up when I want. I just don’t like it.

I want to go home, be with my boys, go to work, get back in a routine. It feels like ages since I have been in a routine.

That escalated quickly…

Started the day with pain. Called the ask a nurse line. Got directed to the ER. Poked and prodded, CAT Scanned and tiny swabs dipped in water to help ease some pain.
Waiting to be admitted to an actual and then off to surgery, eventually.

Blogging under prescribed morphine, that is a new one.

Just my turn to be in the hospital it seems.. Have to be as brave as the boys were.

Happy Easter, I don’t think i will enjoy this easter meal, if I can even eat…

a thank you

I sent this to her earlier in the week. Just titled “thank you”. Thought it was worth including in the blog.

I can’t get you out of my head. I think about you and what we had quite often. 

You are not the first adventure I have had in life. You are far and away my favorite. I am a capable, fun loving guy. I have few true needs and have let the winds of fate direct my sails much of my life. I was not blessed with knowing my purpose in life. I finally found mine thanks to you.


This adventure taught me so much about myself. You taught me so much about myself. What kind of person I was. What I deserved. Thank you.


There were critical moments that life was telling us to take the leap and give each other a true chance. It was telling us that we just should have a little courage and we will be rewarded with a life time of each other’s love. We couldn’t see at the time how opting for the known instead of the unknown would play out.


Meeting you was the best thing that could have happened to me. I wish life wasn’t so hard lately. More so for you. It would be easy to lump the 2 in together, but that wouldn’t be true. Life is random and hard and merciless and the only thing you can do is to find someone strong to help you weather it.


Everyone needs their “something beautiful” to carry across life and I was without that for a long while. Then I met you. We had so much love and happiness for each other at the beginning. It is still there, just buried under the stress of life, oh so much stress. We just needed the guts to follow what our hearts were telling us. After all, not listening to our hearts was what was making us unhappy at home in the first place.


I hope our adventure is not over. If it is or isn’t, I do want to say thank you.


Thank you being my favorite adventure.

Thank you for being my something beautiful

Thank you for helping me find my purpose.


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