Now THAT was effin' weird

[thisnewday]

Woke up to the sound of SOMETHING going "Woo, woo, woo." At first thought it was one of the dogs having a nightmare or whatever it is that sometimes makes the furry ones whimper and twitch in their sleep. But one was sleeping on the floor next to the futon where I sleep and the other was out in the dining room. And the only thing close to where the noise came from was the air conditioner which hangs out over the driveway.

Anyway, now I'm up and the alarm is set to go off in fifteen because I have an MRI scheduled for 6:30 AM as part of the countdown to my July 11th surgery date. Also did the first of two "autologous" blood donations yesterday before coming home, grocery shopping, and making dinner for eight. My wife says, "You sure you're OK to do this?" And I said, "I donated blood, not a kidney." (Autologous means I donated it for my own use, per the surgeon. Which also means, apparently, that you get the juicebox afterward but not the cookie.)

Even at this hour, I'm feeling kind of psyched about this. If things go well, I might even be able to call the Red Cross in a couple months to put me back on the list for shelter volunteers. Or get a real job again. Or run away from home. Or all of the above. So, woo, woo, woo yerself...

Comments

[halfmoon-mollie.livejournal.com]

You've been being a pretty useful citizen working around your home, from what you've posted. I had no idea surgery was in the offing for you.

Keep us posted?

I always tell the people at the Red Cross that unless they have oreos they can keep their cookies.

[olbuksings.livejournal.com]

Yeah, it was originally scheduled for March 2007, which turned out instead to be the start of a year-long series of trips home to take care of my dad.

After that, I kind of needed a breather to get my head back into the game as well as to feel assured that he was situated so I could go through with it this time.

The worst part of it, so far, has been that trip down the MRI tunnel. I'd worked in stuck elevators, ventilating ducts, closed ceiling spaces, etc., and never had a problem. But ten seconds into that tunnel and... I can't even describe the panic.

Their answer was to put me in feet first, so my head was closest to the opening. But you're still flat on your back on a narrow table with your nose 2" from the top of the tunnel. And I still had to fight off the panic for the twenty minutes or so that I was in there.

Anyway, that's over and I'm two ticks into my list of pre-op appointments. I've got a good doc, the proceedure, a lumbar lamenectomy, is a common one, and there's a reasonable chance of a decent outcome.

I just want to feel a little better, do a little more, feel that a few doors are once more open to me at this stage of my life. One of my biggest disappointments was the year after Katrina when I had to take my name off the list of trained shelter workers being staged for possible service on the gulf coast.

So yeah, I want to mow the lawn and paint kitchen cabinets but I also owe this country a service dating back to the Vietnam era when, as a matter of conscience, I refused to serve.

Also, as I told the emergency response team where I used to work, I'm following in the footsteps of my second daughter who volunteered at ground zero the week after 9/11. Sometimes it's good to follow in the footsteps of your kids...

[olbuksings.livejournal.com]

*laminectomy*