In which I share some serious stuff and wax poetic about my friend

Mitzi: Who's taking care of you after your surgery?

TK: Funny you should ask, 'cause my plans changed pretty dramatically about 5 minutes ago.

5 minutes before, I had just finished a conversation with my Mom. Not to be outdone by my spine surgery, Dad's having one of his own! Actually, we're having very similar, if not identical surgeries on our spines, except where I need 1 level worked on, Dad needs 3. His spine is waaaaay worse than mine, and his surgery will be as soon as possible in October. Mom will have her hands full trying to keep him on the straight and narrow abiding his post-surgical precautions at home when I'm due to have my surgery. Dad's not well known for doing exactly what he's supposed to do, or more specifically, what he's NOT supposed to do!

So, with that being said, I was going to try to figure out how to get to and from the surgery, and get some help for a few days, but not until after I stopped worrying about Dad. Seriously, in the past 5 or 6 years he's had both hips replaced, a rotator cuff repair, had his neck put back together, and has other stuff going on we don't talk about here. Like he needs THIS.

Then the phone rings. It's my Goose. She's worried about me. (She had no idea of the news I had just learned.) She and Wacky are going on a vacation that will end just before my surgery. She says, "You know, I could come to stay with you for a little while before I go back to Alaska." She goes on to tell me that she'll just push back her return a few days and be my ride to and from surgery, and be there to help me out for a few days after I come home. "Goose, I'll even wipe your butt if you need me to. I hope you won't need me to, but I'll do it."

And just like that, my logistical problems are solved.

So, if you don't have a Mitzi, I highly recommend you run out and buy one right away. I'm sure one's hard to find, and unbelievably expensive, but when the chips are down, that girl is worth her weight in gold.

The Labor Day weekend sport challenge...

1. Putt-putt golf
2. Bowling
3. Movies (what? Not a challenge? Whatever. Try taking a 2 1/2 year old!)
4. Lake

Yeah, it's like that.

Editor's note: I did NOT bowl. I was a spectator!

4 day weekend! 4 day weekend!

Oh, what, the rest of you worker-bees only have a 3 day weekend?

Despite all the crapola flying around here, it's good to be me!

and the survey says...

Surgery!

The surgeon was not happy at all with how my spine looks, especially after comparing x-rays taken this morning with x-rays taken at the end of June. Bad changes, folks, bad changes. So on Oct 28 (or sooner if there's a cancellation) I'll have an L4-L5 discectomy with a T-lift fusion. That should keep me not only from falling apart, but actually get me back to DOING some of the stuff I've been having to avoid, lest my spine explode. I'll spend 2 days in the hospital, then 12 weeks off of work, wrapped tight in a "chair back" corsette, which is exactly as hideous as it sounds. But after that? I'm Bionic TK, fo' shizzle.

Until then, it's more of the same. I'll have to go for a CT with some kind of injected dye so the surgeon can get an even better look at the current state of my poor little disc and all the trouble it's caused elsewhere.

Guess I'll have the holidays off after all!

Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh, life's a beach... then you have to come home.

And when you come home, you buy a stationary exercise bike from some guy who thought he'd use it but didn't (except for 3 times, which did him no good) and is willing to sell it at a bargain basement price if you'll come carry it away. You hand over the check, then wow him by fitting it into George Jetson because Tough Lucy Dodge's battery is dead. Actually, you wow him by instructing HIM how to put the new exercise bike (yet to be named) in, since you aren't actually allowed to lift more than 25# of it, which is more annoying than helpful at that point.

Then you go home and stall until you can go to bed early since you have to be at the surgeon's office at 8:00 in the morning, and that takes roughly 1.5 hours worth of driving. Then you realize that you've stalled longer than you intended to, and stop what you're doing so you can go to bed.

The end.

I'm going to the beach! I'm going to the beach! Whoo hoo!

One of my patients brought me a GIANT bag of tomatoes today. I mean, seriously, like almost 3 dozen organically grown beautiful tomatoes from her own garden... grown with love, I'm sure.

What the hell am I supposed to do with 3 dozen perfectly ripe tomatoes? Um, yeah, can't eat that many at once, so I gave lots of them away to my neighbors. Upon giving 4 to my neighbor Ruthie, she espouses how much she loves tomatoes and that she'll probably wind up eating all 4 tonight. Hmmmmmmmm, interesting. Maybe she'd like some more. Of course! So, Ruthie comes up to my apartment to grab them.

I walk up the flight of stairs to my apartment with Ruthie right behind me. I open the door and wonder HOW THE HELL someone got all of the stuff out of my apartment, painted my apartment white, and put bachelor furniture in. I pause for a moment (which was probably like 10 seconds too long) and say "Wait, this is NOT my apartment." I technically live on the 3rd floor. Which is one level up from the ground floor. Ruthie lives on the first floor, which is technically one floor below ground. I've only gone up ONE flight of stairs. I'm on the ground floor, not the 3rd floor. Shit! I backed quickly out of the door and shut it, but not before Ruthie could bust up laughing and swear she will tell everyone what I've just done. So I pushed her down the stairs. Just kidding. But seriously, that guy should think about locking his door. He wasn't even home. (Thank you 6pound 7ounce tiny baby Jesus.)

Of course, Ruthie LOVES my ultra cool apartment stylings and gets the full tour... including stepping over the dog vomit. (Oh, I forgot to mention that Pooh King had another moment and had puked all over the carpet. Cool. Thanks for that. I think it's revenge for the resumption of the diet.)

Lock your doors, people. There's a prowler out there... and it's me.

I'll have the surgery for $250, Alex...

What to do when the head of neurosurgery isn't a surgeon? Get evaluated by the surgeon he personally recruited to his spine center. Next Wednesday.

I go back to the neurosurgeon tomorrow. While I'd like to be optimistic, I'm really not. I am basically back to square one despite the two epidurals. At least after tomorrow's appointment I'll have a plan. Scary or scarier, I'll have a plan.

I'm meeting Spellbound for lunch afterward. It will be great as I've read her blog for a long time and I'm excited to finally meet her. PB thinks I'm a bit wacko for bringing internet friends into my real life, but it's worked out okay so far. No bloody axe-murderers or anything like that. :)

Otis has gone in-freakin'-sane lately. I think he's smoking crack and downing X while I'm in the other room. He's taken to drag racing around the apartment like his ass is on fire. What a nut. Oz and Pooh King ignore him, while I openly question if he's gone crazy while trying to put everything he's knocked down back in it's proper place.

And the biggest kicker? I joined Facebook. Yep. Facebook. It will steal my soul, no doubt.

Oh, and I forgot... Pooh King went for his annual vet checkup last week. It seems he's put a few pounds on since I have had to decrease MY activity level, so he's back on fat dog medicine. For the first time ever, the vet asked if I wanted 6 or 12 months of anti-heartworm HeartGard for him. "What are you saying? Are you saying my dog isn't going to live for another whole year? OH MY GOD! YOU'RE TELLING ME MY DOG IS GOING TO DIE SOON! WHAT IS HE DYING FROM?!?! HOW LONG IS HE GOING TO LIVE? WHAT CAN I DO TO SAVE HIM?!?!?!" Ummmm, no, he's not dying. It turns out that some people like to buy 6 months at a time because it's a hefty chunk of change to buy 12 months at once. I bought the 12 months... it's kind of like an insurance policy. He's not ever allowed to die.

(That's The Force sharing raisins with him. Not to worry, he ate less than 7.)

Aaaaaaaaaaaah, mawaige...

I would have pictures, but the camera died.

There was fine dining, fine beverages, and lots of dancing. A good time was had by all.

Best of all? Jeff and Meg got to celebrate "Look Good Naked Day" at long last. Those crazy kids.

More to follow.

So, you only have to throw away everything in your freezer once to always make sure your freezer door is closed. Imagine my surprise when I came home today and the feezer door is open. Again. I had to throw away the little I had in there. Again.

Guess what? I probably never left it open to begin with. The fridge is dead. RIP. My guess is some mechanical problem caused increased pressure inside and it blew the door open. Twice. Now I've lost a lot more stuff, but I'll be getting a new fridge.

It will need a name.

The Best Redneck Tans of the Beach

Now THAT is a farmer's tan! I thought he was wearing a shirt at first, but no, on further inspection, that's all man-meat.

This dude has the 2-day burn going. Day 1: With wife-beater shirt. Day 2: Without wife-beater shirt. Day 3: You think I stuck around for that? Yikes!
Okay, this guy didn't have a redneck tan, but PB swore it was Dustin Diamond, aka Screech, of "Saved by the Bell" fame. You decide.
I'm not entirely sure what look this dude was going for, but he was working hard for the ladies. Look, Dustin Diamond's head even popped up... and so did my middle finger.

Funny stuff, folks...

Patient: You should be a therapist for the Olympics.
Me: Nah. I don't think that's my speed.
Patient: Really? You could meet Michael Phelps. Don't you want to meet Michael Phelps? Everyone wants to meet Michael Phelps.
Me: Nah, not really. Do you want to meet Michael Phelps?
Patient: Well, yes! But only because everyone else does!

Later, when leaving WalMart...

TK to WalMart goodbye-er (also the greeter): Good night!
Goodbyer: Yep! See you tomorrow!
TK: WTF?!?!?!?!

I am an Olympic junkie. Seriously. I cannot get enough of the Olympics. I will watch anything. ANYTHING. But even I can't believe that table tennis, handball, and badmitton are a part of the Olympic Games. It just doesn't seem that it can be true, but alas, I have watched. I watch, therefore it is. I should have been more serious about badmitton... like, in the 4th grade, when I played it last.

Meanwhile, the cats have taken up hummingbird watching as though it's an Olympic sport.. When the evenings are cool (as they have blissfully been for a few days) I let Oz and Otis out on the porch for some fresh air. Hummingbirds showed up last month to feed on my petunias. I immediately ran to buy a hummingbird feeder and Mom taught me how to make hummingbird food... it's easy, really, just sugar and water in the right ratio. Anyway, the cats are in love. And I do mean love. It's as though I've installed the world's coolest television and I'm running "Meet the Hummingbirds" 24/7. They don't want to eat the hummingbirds, just watch them. From inside they sit at the window like they're watching a movie in a stadium theater. When outside, they take up their positions to watch at the drive-in.

Their inside posts...

Can you see what Otis sees?

Ozzie's favorite outdoor view... Just above the rail that's between the chair and the plant stand, you can see a blurry hummingbird. Those little suckers are fast!

Otis is more of a camo-man, preferring to view the birds au naturale.

The hummingbirds remain unphased.

We celebrated PB's birthday on Thursday. The Force had a virus and a fever, so the plans did not go off as, well, planned. We're making up for it this weekend, though. I got PB a new charcoal grill to celebrate his birth. I mean, really, what says "Hey, I'm glad you were born" like a monster grill that has an elevating charcoal pan, a special door for adding more charcoal, a separate pan for ashes, and a built-in bottle cap opener? It must be love. I mean, between him and the grill. We couldn't cook out last night because the grill has to be properly "seasoned" before we can use it to actually put food on. I had no idea. So we oiled it, loaded it with 40 briquettes (not 39 or 41 mind you, they had to be counted out!) and let it burn... without a tasty piece of meat on it. It's a waste of cheap charcoal, I say. But, the plan is to throw some tasty steaks on it tonight and take it for the inaugural 'que. Should be great.

In the meantime, I'm attempting to get my apartment in order after approximately 2 weeks of neglect. I think I have no less than 4 loads of laundry, clean and dry, sitting on my bed waiting to be folded or hung. I hate that part.

Well, that's one way to defrost a fridge...

For two days, I've been chained in the dungeon that is my current job, and then I've had to stay for a continuing education class. Let me tell you, being at work for 13 hours a day is NOT what I'm used to doing. I understand that plenty of you out there do it every day. But not me. I'm crunchy after 10 hours. I don't wish to stay there any longer. So having an after-hours class has been rough.

My wonderful petsitter has been taking care of the tail-wagger and mouse-chasers, and for that I am eternally grateful (and somewhat empty-pocketed). Today, after draggin' ass through my 13 hours, I arrived home to my very happy pets, and the following note:

Hi TK,
Just wanted to let you know that when I got here tonight, the freezer door was open. So I shut it! Hope everything is just a little thawed and can be saved. (etc, etc.)
Awesome Petsitter

Shit. I guess I won't be seeing PB tonight. I look in the freezer. Nope. Anything not eaten tonight is lost, and I have some serious cleaning to do. I chose the steak I would eat, got rid of the freezer-burned stuff, and cooked some big fat chicken breasts up for Fluffy. Pooh, Oz, and Otis all got special treats, too.

Did I mention the fabulous new cat-waterer I got for Oz and Otis? Oh, yes, it's quite something. Since they don't like to drink from their own water bowls, and instead only drink from Pooh's dish, I figured they might like it. Well, mostly I thought they'd like it since they're always chasing the water that runs out the bottom of the plants as I water them, and trying to drink it. Hmmmm, they like moving water? I'll just buy this ridiculously over priced indoor-safe cat watering feature. Great! It finally came in the mail. I read the directions. I removed the right tapes. I put the carbon filter in correctly. I primed the pump. I filled the tank. I got it hooked up and watched it run. Then I watched the cats plaster themselves against the wall to get around it. Tonight, I watched both cats drink out of the damn dog water bowl.

I would have a stiff drink, but there's no ice.

MIA...

Has anyone seen 6 hours worth of my paycheck from EnduringCrap? And who absconded with 5 hours of my PTO? Anyone? Anyone?

I hate these people.

Well, that was nice while it lasted. I was doing really well until about 8:00 last night when the tingling started to come back. Yeah, it's back. But, at least the doc knows that the second shot went better than the first, so that gives us some idea of what's going to help the problem.

Meanwhile, I have a new favorite quote from a patient. This middle aged lady was in the clinic after falling off a chair and hurting her knee. In telling me all the events around her injury, she included the fact that at one point the leg had swelled profusely, prompting a visit to the ER. "Yep, they did this test on me to see if I had a clog in my leg."

All I could imagine was a little Dutch boy somewhere, with one little wooden shoe missing, trying to dance on one leg.

I'm sick like that.

Oh, so thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis is what 1/2 of everyone was talking about. Much less pressure, therefore much less pain than the last shot gave me. Then my left leg went numb and I was pretty wobbly. Then the wobbly went away and I was allowed to leave. The numbness was gone by the time I got home, and for the first time in months, my left leg isn't tingling and my right butt cheek isn't hurting. Now, my low back is still uncomfortable but at least my legs are okay. It's kind of nice, actually.

So, thanks for the finger, toe and tail crossings!

Injection #2 at 10:30. All fingers, toes and tails crossed, please. :)