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Wow... it's been a while. I have a good excuse, though...

After summer school on June 22nd, I wheeled (I used a wheelchair while at summer school this year, because I can move much faster in a wheelchair) to the restroom. I can tell you I was in a stall without letting you know in too much detail "which I had to do", because when you can't put weight on on leg, it's best to sit down for both numbers.

As I hopped twice and sat back in my wheelchair, I felt very winded. This had been going on for about 14 hours or so, and I was thinking it was because I was getting a chest cold (I'd had that feeling in my chest since about Monday...). I turned to open the stall and wheeled backwards out of it, and then it happened...

The entire world started going away. I was short of breath and I'm not in the best of health anyway, so my first thought was, "I'm going to die right here in the bathroom at school."

The next thought was that scene in the movie "9 to 5" where the custodian finds the dead body in the wheelchair in the bathroom and says "We've got another stiff in the john." I'm thinking I might change this title to that exact quote, once I get it off the DVD.

Job one for me was to stop myself from passing out. I just told myself it wasn't allowed and started wheeling my way out. As I went out the door, I thought, "This is going to end in the hospital."

I saw Adam, the Social Studies teacher on our team, walking down the hall away from me. I called out "Anderson", in what I thought was a loud and clear voice. He told me it wasn't, and what I heard sounded like I was far away when I said it.

I called out a second time and he heard me. He asked what was wrong, and by this time I was feeling a touch better, so I said I wasn't feeling well, and that I almost passed out.

We discussed, and another teacher showed up. Since I hadn't eaten since about 6:30 or so the night before, they opted to get me some food and drink. The other teacher, John, brought me a drink and started mentioning the emergency room. Adam had to run help someone who needed something from the gym, and I only vaguely remember telling him, "I'm fine now, thanks."

I called my doctor, but his office was closed for lunch. When I told John I had to call back in 10 minutes, he got a little more adamant about the emergency room. I figured he could see what I looked like better than I could, so I agreed.

Once we were outside in natural lighting, he asked, "Do you think we should call 911?" I asked him what he thought, since I wasn't very objective at that point (part of me didn't want to cause such a big to-do).

So, 911 was called and I got to spend time in the ambulance as they got all my vitals. At this point I started figuring whatever it was (I was somewhat convinced it wasn't a heart attack, because it didn't FEEL like one), for some reason it was important to me that I keep making dumb jokes. I thought if I was going to die, I wanted the last people to see me to think I was funny.

Backtrack: Before the ambulance arrived, John loaned me his phone and I called my sister. I told her I was short of breath and light-headed, and was heading for the emergency room. She asked if she should head that way, and I told her not to worry about it. Apparently, when I got in the ambulance John hit redial and said I was making it sound less serious than it was and asked if she was going to the emergency room (if she wasn't going, he was).

They checked some stuff in the ambulance, and then took me to North Kansas City Hospital. It was after all the flurry of doctors and nurses around me, when I was alone there in room number 5, that I realized why I should have asked my sister to come: When you're in the emergency room, thinking you may die at any minute, you don't really want to be alone.

Ruth showed up about the same time the x-ray folks showed up, and I nearly bawled my eyes out. Fortunately we don't share emotions a lot in my family, so I kept it somewhat under control.

The next bawl-fest was when the doctor said, "We've ruled out all the big stuff." Again, a short-lived one.

Lyndsey showed up sometime in there (John called her), and Tricia showed up some time after that (Lyndsey called her). Due to how both of their fathers left this world, they weren't in the best shape when they arrived.

Tim the principal showed up. He'd arrived at the school and heard all the news and came to see me. Alice and Patrick showed up (Tim, the principal, called her).

Leigh showed up some time after that.

For the purposes of my internal clock, by the way, everthing at the hospital happened at 1:30 in the afternoon. I was shocked to learn it was evening when they wheeled me to ICU. But I get ahead of myself.

A gaggle of doctors came through. Dr. Ryan (the emergency room doctor) told me I had a blood clot in each lung. They figured it came from my surgery on my leg. Apparently this sort of thing happens 20% of the time. He went on to tell me about treatments and how they didn't want to use TPA because bad things could happen (internal bleeding, blood on the brain...). I agreed those were bad things.

Dr. Bowlin arrived. He was taking over for Dr. Ryan. He told me the same things, especially the part about why we wanted to avoid using TPA. Okay, I'm officially sufficiently frightened of TPA at this point.

Dr. Hawa (I might be making up that spelling) arrived and said the same thing, making sure that I associated TPA with a bloody, brain-damaged death.

Then they checked out my chest with the EKG/Sonogram thingy. Well, apparently the right side of my heart was trying so hard to push blood past the clots in my lungs that it was almost twice the size it should be. Normally there are 25 thingies of pressure on it, but I was at 70 thingies. "Use of TPA is indicated," Dr. Hawa says after he explains this to me.

"So you're gonna use the scary drug?"

Welcome to bawl-fest number three. (I have to clarify, these weren't actually bawling fits, but tears appeared in my eyes in front of other people, which never happens).

To wrap this up and save more for a later post:

They put me on TPA in addition to the Heparin they already had me on, and I was afraid to go to sleep that night because I didn't want that to be the last thing I ever did.

I just got out today, and I'm happy to say I feel pretty good (other than being tired, because a hospital is THE WORST PLACE to sleep... especially when they keep coming in to take your vitals and your blood and fix the lead that fell off and so on and so forth). I'm going to see my leg doctor here shortly, and we'll see what he says about me walking on it.

There's much more to this tale, but I want to eat lunch now. The clots are gone, and I'm on Coumadin to keep my blood thin until I've been active on this leg for a while. Thanks to lots of people (a list will be coming), especially John, who made me get this looked at.

Oh yeah, did you figure out that the blood clots would have to have gone thru my heart to get to my lungs? That took me about 24 hours to work out, and I freaked out a bit at that.

Okay, enjoy your day. I'll post more soon, I hope.

What mood?

Oh, and by the way... I'm thinking this horrible empty "no 'good-bye' moment" thing is a large part that has made me such the anti-social creature that I've become over the past few years. Also, it might be part of the aging process.

But I do find it hard to get motivated to hang with folks. It seems sorta what's-the-point-y. Only the persistent ones seem to get me to hang with them. I need to work on this.

Scott's birthday was this past Tuesday. I meant to go visit him. This week was just too crazy. It took me 10 years to go the first time, so I'm sure he didn't expect me to show. Plus there's the whole "being dead" thing. Jhoneric said he go with me next time, though, so that's a bonus.

Anyway, this is mainly for those of you who think I've written you off or whatever. I'm just in a mood. It'll either go away or it won't. Nothing personal. If you keep contacting me, you'll have more success, though.

Again with the Happy Easter.

Happy Birthday to Me!

And a Happy Birthday to my first cousin (once removed), Casey!

Well, here I am, 38 and all. I have no vehicle. I rent my home. I have no credit rating to speak of. Bask in the glow of my success!

So, about the car thing. Mine went BOOM on I-35 last Sunday. It was great. White smoke everywhere, me flying down the road at 65 m.p.h., trying to move over to get to the next exit.

Good times.

But, on the "life-don't-suck-so-much" side, I have friends who are willing to help me get home and offer me a temporary vehicle and sell me their old vehicles. These aren't all the same friends. I just mean I have friends who are willing to help. Hooray for them!

The JAWNZ (since Jhoneric spells his name J-O-H-N and Jon spells his the way I just spelled it, I don't know how to refer to them in writing... you can say "the Jons" or "the Johns" without anybody knowing how you spell it... but writing it is more tougher) gave me a couple of terrific birthday gifts. Lyndsey also gave me a couple of fun gifts at our weekly dinner on Wednesday. And both of her kids drew me birthday gifts, which makes for nice fridge art. Almost all the kids at school signed a card for me (and the ones who couldn't will be doing so over the next few weeks, if they like), and I've received several cards from friends.

And I haven't checked the mail yet today!

Now I'm going to go call Casey, because I haven't wished him a happy birthday for several years. But since our birthday is on a Saturday this year, I have plenty of time to sit down and do that. I'm a horrible first cousin (once removed).

I have a birthday celebration tomorrow at the Hart home, and some things to take care of today... so all in all a nice birthday weekend, methinks. I'll try to report back later to confirm that.

And now, a word from our bowler...

Lisa and I won first place in DOUBLES in the tournament this weekend! Woo-hoo!

That is all. For now. More on Jon and Jhoneric and Julie and Stacy winning first in TEAM to follow later.

Nightmare...

Okay, it's so seldom I have a nightmare that I have to share it... but be warned, it might not be for the faint of heart. It's kinda icky in places.

The first part of the nightmare was about me visiting this guy I hardly know at all. I was at his house and these giant tornadoes attacked the city. We were watching it all out his bay window (I've never seen this guy's house, but I guess I think he has a bay window). The tornados were possessed or something, because you could plainly see faces on them, almost like they were being projected onto them.

Anyway, tornado, tornado, scream, crash, scary scary, but then that part of the dream ended when I left this guy and his family and started walking down the road.

The paved road became a gravel road, and I saw a car coming (did I mention it suddenly was the middle of the night?) and decided I should hide from it. It was like a Hummer or something, and they didn't see me. But as I was leaving the tall grass where I'd been hiding, I realized the road was no longer a gravel road, but more of a worn path. This was made more strange (and creepy) by the fact a voice said, "Be sure to choose the right path."

I decided since disembodied voices don't speak to me often, I should make this my primary guideline for the next few minutes... and of course the next thing I know I turn down a path that became a street decorated for Halloween... but in a creepy way. I can't explain how it was creepy. There were scarecrows with jack-o-lantern heads, and other whatnot.

But the really creepy part distracted me from the what-makes-this-so-creepy?-ness: I looked down and there was what appeared to be either a mauled baby or an aborted fetus.

And it wasn't alone. There was another one just a few feet ahead of me. Then I realized there was sort of a trail of them. So I start following this trail of small bloody bodies, and I'm totally freaking out (I mean the more lucid part of me... in the dream I was just simply terrified). I get to this tree and they've been like nailed to it or something, making the trail go up the tree, and laying on a branch is this big fat guy, all bloody and bloated and WAY obviously dead... and he'd been cut open, too. It was hideous.

When remembering this dream yesterday (I had it night before last), I thought I woke up there, but thinking about it, I remember there was a part after it where I had a total freak-out... I was freaked that I'd SO obviously chosen the wrong path, after the nice disembodied voice had advised against it, and I was freaked out because: ick... dead bodies galore.

I remember a brief bit about trying to find someone to tell me which way to the right path. And then while I was freaking out, I think that's when I woke up.

I'd like to blame the nightmares on the beverages I'd ingested while hanging out with Jon & Jhoneric Friday night. However, I had a mini-nightmare last night. Nothing like that one, so I won't bother to share it.

I must be nuts.

The quest for a bowling curve

Jhoneric called last night and talked me into going bowling with him and Jon. A good time was had by all. But... my high score was 122, methinks.

I don't feel so bad, because I made the decision to try to learn how to bowl with a curve... I'm feeling pretty good about it today (although the pain in my arm and shoulder is not-so-wanted).

Anyway, I didn't want to leave everyone to think yesterday was a totally down day.

Oh, and we played darts, which I lost both games of.

BUT... I kicked hind end on that Martian pinball/video game!