Aorta Day, 6 years later.

I didn't even think about it until the last day or so...but July 12 was the 6th anniversary of "aorta day."

Short version: in May 2010, I was running 290/180 blood pressure. The ER staffers were amazed I was walking upright instead of lying on a morgue gurney after a massive stroke.

Then, on July 12, that crazy-high pressure finally tore a hole in my aorta and tore the inner lining along the full length, all the way to where it branches to the left & right legs. Hurts like hell. First there's a horrible burning across the shoulder blades, then a feeling of metal bands constricting your body as the tear makes its way down. Everything goes haywire because blood flow is interrupted along the way--so your guts feel like they're knotting up (they're dying for lack of blood).

I did a week in the hospital . Lots of doctors, CT scans of the aorta every 6 months, on BP meds the rest of my life, a full-length aortic stent...and the physical fallout: swollen legs, get out of breath just walking out to my car, screwed-up sleep cycles, all permanent.

Long way of telling anyone reading this: KEEP THAT BLOOD PRESSURE CONTROLLED. I got "lucky"--there are two versions of aortic dissection. Mine goes down, away from the heart. The version that killed John Ritter goes toward the heart. Either one can kill.

Don't think you're too young, either. I was 42 when it happened.

(echoed to my Facespace page...)

Medical...bleah

When we left off in April, I was about to get the lower half of my aorta stented to reinforce its damaged lower end from a little below the diaphragm all the way down to the branch that leads to the femoral arteries and other piping below the navel.

No complications from that, other than losing all the improvements I'd made since the upper half was lined. Everything--the improved circulation in my lower legs that saw me lose a few pounds' worth of water weight, saw the swelling in my left shin and calf almost vanish in a matter of a few weeks (MASSIVE difference), had me walking better and feeling better for the first time in years.

Gone.

I was assured by the vascular doc's nurse that there wasn't a vascular problem.

Except that...there WAS. How else to explain a sudden reversal that immediately followed the second surgery?

Jet forward to this morning, when my new vascular doc (old doc moved to Texas) asked some questions about medical tests I'd had, the symptoms I'm having, and his answer was basically "We need to get you tested; this sounds like a vascular problem."

Imagine that.

He figures that one or both of the two big veins coming up from my legs and joining the Big Vein headed up to the heart might be pinched where the aorta branches to the legs. Makes sense to me: both of  the iliac branches are stented now, which stiffened them up and could be pressing against--and pinching--the veins against my spine, inhibiting return blood flow.

That is vascular.

So now I'm waiting to get scheduled for an internal ultrasound; a needle goes into a convenient vessel headed in a convenient direction. Needle's got a little ultrasound transducer. Doc can basically scan the length of both of the veins at that possible pinch point. If there's a pinch, he can throw a stent in to open the restricted area and get my tired-ass blood flowing again.

Tomorrow, dammit, I want it tomorrow. I'd settle for NOW.

This shit's old. Very old. I've gone almost a year with so little energy that I basically sit up on the edge of my bed and surf the Web on my old laptop because moving over to the desktop computer is too much. The laptop's so out of date (running Ubuntu Linux Heron from '08; can't even upgrade the copy of Firefox that's on it, can't install another browser) that in the course of the last 6 months it stopped being able to load Facebook, Twitter and Blogger. I end up reading a few political and news blogs and a few Reddit pages (AskReddit is usually entertaining), wear myself out, and go back to sleep for another couple of hours. I get over to the desktop every few days to handle email and all that. Today's one of those days.

I haven't had a solid 8 hours' sleep since the night before my aorta crapped itself in July of 2010. It's usually somewhere from 2 to 4 hours, wake up for several, and repeat. I'm getting REM sleep, but I don't know how the interruptions are affecting things.

The one thing I DID accomplish was eliminating my migraines. This is almost worth all the other crap and all it took was one of the meds I was already using. I stopped it for a few months to see if it would help with all the swollen leg and fluid-retention stuff. Nope, no effect there--but the gawdawful weekly migraines I'd been tormented by before Aorta Day came back with a vengeance. I was back to having my room utterly blacked out, no sound, no TV, no moving, no lying down. I was practically mainlining BC Powders, the only thing that would touch those headaches from hell.

Then I saw or read something about blood flow along the under side of the brain having something to do with migraines. I went back on those meds to see if there might be a connection. Three months along, the headaches are gone. I'd dance, but I'm too tired.

***

I don't really have an ending, here, other than being hopeful that I can finally get my legs back in order. I haven't been to a fort since 2011. I'm not counting Fort Point in San Francisco, since it was CLOSED. Not counting Fort Pike in Louisiana, either, since it was not only CLOSED but fenced the hell in to protect it from generating any tourism money for the state.

Taking my grumpy ass to bed. :p

Medical Woohoo!, continued

Well, actually a bit of "non-woohoo" first: I had a CT scan on my aorta 4 weeks ago. They found a small leak around the upper end of the stent. I'm going in on April 6 to get the stents reinforced--almost a repeat of January's surgery.

Joy.

On the up-side, not only have I not regained any of the fluid weight that drained out of my leg while I healed up from that last surgery, both legs are emptying themselves of excess fluid the way they're supposed to thanks to the much-improved blood flow to my kidney and other innards. My legs are starting to look normal for the first time in years. Where I used to wear an 8-1/2 shoe before all the medical stuff started, I was stuck with cheap canvas size 12/13 shoes from the dollar store because no one else had anything I could stuff a hoof into. I've lost maybe 3 sizes on the right, 2 on the left. My lower legs are amazingly smaller.

Ten pounds total so far.

I've walked farther and better in the last three months than I've managed in nearly five years. First there was the 15 minutes spent at Lowe's getting a new bedroom door and doing it alone. Yeah, I got help loading the door onto a cart, but loaded it in the car, unloaded it at home, and maneuvered it into the house on my own without much trouble.

Haven't installed it yet. Got the flu a few days later, kept that for about a week, and haven't really felt like doing a damned thing since.

Still tiring easily, but not as badly as before.

Medical "woohoo!"

I'm all healed up from the two surgeries to reroute some pipes and shore up the inside of my aorta.

Gotta say, I'm feeling better than I have in a long time. Where I couldn't even take a shower without breaking it into stages with rest stops (room to bathroom, sit & rest, shower quickly, sit & rest, bathroom to bedroom...about 30 minutes), a few days ago I did it all in one round without sitting or huffing & puffing, all in about 15 minutes.

I made the 500 foot walk to a friend's house without having to stop and recover. Didn't crash onto the couch, either--though I did have to catch my breath.

My kidney doctor says my protein levels are much better, my other numbers very good, and he'll see me in a year.

My blood pressure is the lowest I've ever seen it. Still runs a bit high on the top number, but the bottom number is almost always below 100 instead of running between 105-118 all the time.

Say it, Homer:

Medical blah blah blah...

Been a rough three weeks since Jan. 5th's stent surgery.

The surgery itself went without any troubles. The recovery, though, has been a pain in the ass.

Incision's healing up nicely. Staples came out on the 22nd. I had about 2 weeks of "reflected" pain across my shoulder blades caused by the aortic aneurysm reacting to being bypassed by the stents. Percocet took care of that.

The major complication? Ever since the original aortic tear in 2010 and my bad kidney removal in 2011, this body of mine became a freaking sponge and collected about 100 pounds of water weight, especially around my waist and down both legs. Ever since the evening of Jan. 6th, when I tried to bandage the incision site right at the top of my right thigh, I started leaking like a sieve from there.

I ended up in the Emergency Room with a fever and got sent to Interventional Radiology to have a drain put in. I've got a 4th session with them this afternoon to see how things are progressing. They've treated the site with ethanol and Betadine to scar up and close off the lymph channel that's pushing all that fluid up into the incision area. The upshot of this is that I carry a collection bag, keep the incision clean, and hope that the next session will finish this off.

I have drained 6 quarts of "cellular fluid" (lymph?) since Jan. 6. Six freaking quarts. Fortunately most of that has been managed by the drain and baggies, so I'm not washing a dozen towels at a time trying to keep ahead of this crap.

The fluid loss comes up to about 8 pounds. Take THAT, Weight Watchers.

More Med Update

T-6 days to deployment...

Here's a neat vid of the "AAA" stent/endovascular aneurysm repair I'm scheduled for. Liking the spacey-sounding terminology--they "deploy" the stents and anchor them. The stents look like cat hairballs on a stick before they're launched, though.

 Some surgical squick, though, for the squeamish...

Minimally-Invasive Repair of Thoracic Aortic Aneurysm


MUCH better than the aortic-replacement surgery shown at the beginning of the video, with as much as 10 weeks of recovery.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

In the meantime, the subclavian-carotid bypass went very cleanly and recovery has been speedy. The doc used medical Superglue instead of sutures or staples, so I've been spared wound care.

Med Update.

First half of the aortic repair was this past Monday. Everything went well. The doc snipped my left subclavian artery where it joined the aorta and rerouted it over to the carotid. I'm left with a couple of 3" incisions on my neck and collarbone. The doc went with glue to close everything up, so I'm hoping to stay out of Wound Care--unlike with my kidney (staples) and hydrocele (stitches) surgeries.

I did an overnight in the hospital to make sure I wasn't going to stroke out or something. I was pretty bored, very boring. I had a nice room (I got to see it the next afternoon, when I was dressing to leave) with an interesting view up 9th Avenue and across the airport. Couldn't see any of it. They warned me not to turn my head (might tear the glue holding my neck shut) and not to use my left arm (might stress the new arterial joint?). I was wired utterly awake but too tired to read, couldn't write (left-handed), didn't feel like moving or anything. Still better than my usual 7 or 10-day stays.

The next half comes in early January, when a stent will be run from my thigh, up the aorta, and positioned to close off the damaged inner liner of the aorta, and so closing off the full-length "pocket" that runs all the way from the aortic arch down to the south end somewhere.

More pieces of the Medical Puzzle--BIG pieces.

Big developments, lately--all thanks to my right elbow screwing up in June.

I went to my doc about it in July; he sent me to an orthopedic guy. The appointment came up in August, more than a month after my elbow stopped being a problem. But that doctor sent me along to Occupational Therapy for my non-hurting elbow anyway.

Part of the routine there was "riding" an arm/leg machine, sort of a seated cross-country ski thing. I could run that thing on a low load for 15 minutes non-stop, something I'd never manage just walking. This led me and my therapist to think maybe I should get into lower-body therapy to try building my stamina and walking strength.

Back to the ortho doc, who asked me a few questions about the symptoms I've had when I walk or stand. He recommended that I go to a cardiologist instead: whatever my walking troubles are, they don't start with my legs. Find and fix the big problem and we'll deal with this later.

My regular doc set up a cardio referral. At that appointment this morning, the cardio doc said my heart's fine, based on an echo-cardiogram this morning and the stress test I took over the past two days (more about that next). He's got me set up for lung capacity/function tests next week, since that's the next big possibility in all the issues I've been having.

In the meantime, I had a followup CT in October to see whether my aorta damage had gotten worse.

It did. Now I'm going to need surgery to fix it. The vascular doc sent me in for a stress test to make sure I'm good for the surgery.

First half will be a carotid/subclavian bypass, where two arteries are moved over to tie into the carotid. Four weeks after, a stent will be run up from my thigh and placed to close up the damaged "pocket" that started all this medical stuff 52 months ago.

Fred Phelps Dies...I Catch a Cold.

That effing bastard.

I just got back from dominating--DOMINATING!!--my local CVS. Walked in like a boss, made the place mine.

Well, yeah, I leaned on my shopping cart a few times and limped, but I did all this without crutches.

Forgot to mention that, did I? Sorry. Been off my feet for most of the last 29 days. I've only been able to put weight on them without howling for a little over a week.

My vascular doc says that the root cause is poor circulation in my legs; the valves in the big vein aren't closing properly, so blood tends to pool at the bottom end of me, especially in my left leg and foot. Most of the time, it just makes walking a hassle. But every few months one foot or the other will start hurting in one area--the ball, the top, whatever. Within days it spreads across and then up and it's the worst pain I've ever had. Nothing touches it. If that foot's on the floor, I can't pick it up; if it's off the floor, I can't put it down.

Almost inevitably, a day or two after one foot starts this crap, the other one joins in.

It's been one hell of a month. My left one started aching Feb. 19th (Wed.); the right one joined in the following Saturday. I stayed in bed as long as I could. Lost so much strength in both legs that I had to use a walker. That was an entirely new dimension of pain, since I still had doctor's appointments to go to. Getting from my room to my nephew's car took 15 long, long minutes. Getting back in took 40.

After the second week, I started being able to use crutches. "B.C." powders started helping with the worst of the pain. I've never had this stuff last so long, a month. It's usually a week, several days on crutches and a few weeks building my leg muscles back up.

The vascular doc says I'm going to need air boots and compression stockings. He's already done treatments on each leg to block off some under-performing veins, but the others need all the help they can get.

After all the crutching around these last few weeks, tonight's shopping run was the first time I've gone without them or that walker. So, like I said, I dominated that store.

Medical Update

After chasing my vascular doc around for a few months, I finally saw him face to face a few weeks ago. Good news is that the aortic dissection is "stable" (he had me get a full-length CAT scan of the aorta back in April). All I have to to is keep my blood pressure under control to keep it from getting any worse.

It's still bad, running from the top of the arch all the way down to the iliac branch. It's just not getting any worse (at this point, that would mean dissecting back toward the heart, which is what killed John Ritter).

It'll never heal, either. That's the big one for me; I'd been led to believe that it would.

That other embarrassing medical issue hasn't come back, so that's something.

In the wake of the San Francisco trip--or, the "Hiking the Airports of The World!" tour--I'm even more convinced that my leg troubles are from the aortic dissection. Now it's time to get out the anvil gun and get my little collection of medical specialists to listen.

Medical stuff.

March 13  marks 14 weeks since all the "fun" began--hydrocele surgery, an abcess and fever and 10 days in the hospital (and a second surgery to fix the abcess), 3 and a half weeks of antibiotics dripped into my arm (2-1/2 of those after I was out of the hospital), and 10 weeks (so far) visiting the Wound Care Clinic daily, then tree times a week, and now once a week. The remaining injury is a few millimeters across instead of inches.

A lot to go through to be rid of a mostly cosmetic (but still humiliating) problem.

My kidney doctor says that whether or not my remaining kidney can handle the iodine contrast dye, as long as I only get one CAT scan a year to monitor my damaged aorta it should be fine. There's not really any choice, since it's one of a few ways to see the damaged inner lining of the aorta.

I got that scan--contrast and all--a few days ago and will see the vascular surgeon next week to see what he thinks should be done. I really don't want it to be surgery. All I know right now is that it's "stable."

Good Times, Bad Times, You Know I Had My Share...

Lots of medical stuff happening, finally.

Ever since I got bumped from Florida's "Medically Needy" program in July of 2011, I've been coasting along on the MediPass program instead. In theory, at least, I've got the same coverage, except that everything has to go through my MediPass doctor, who I only get to see every three months.

If I need to see any of my established doctors (vascular surgeon, urologist, kidney mechanic), I have to call (and call and call and call) the County Clinic and hope that I'll get the Physicians' Assistant--or that she'll reply to my voice mail. So far, I've never gotten a successful referral by phone. I always end up having to wait until the next actual physical face-to-face can't avoid me this time visit with the County Doc.

I'd been trying to get a referral for a urology visit since this past May, but it wasn't until I was in the room with "Dr. County" (or "Dr. Useless") that I finally got two referrals--one for a CT scan to see what my torn aorta has been up to, one for the urologist. I got the CT referral in two days.

The urology referral took more than two months.

CT scan results were bad. My remaining kidney can't handle the iodine contrast required for a vascular CT, so all the CT showed is that my aorta has enlarged significantly from the top of the arch down to the pass-through in the diaphragm. Without the contrast, there's no way to see the dissection.

I had a copy of the report sent to the vascular doc, but I can't go see him without...a referral.

Remember all that horseshit from Republicans screeching about the evils of Obamacare, that it would mean the government getting between you and your doctor?

Well, the reality is that Florida's MediPass system--currently being misadministered by Republicans--is between me and my doctors.

So I have yet to hear back on my calls trying to get someone to write me a referral for this one.


Stuff really started rolling in November, though.

First, Nobel Peace Prize Winner President Obama kicked ass, took names, and humiliated a bunch of billionaires and Mitt Romney. Nothing to do with the medical stuff, but gawddamn it still feels good.

I got a call from the urologist's office, went in, and started the ball (hehehe) rolling to say goodbye to my little friend after a bit more than three humiliating years. Surgery was yesterday. Sore as hell (feels like I took a knee to the groin), can't sleep, walking like a crab, sitting very very carefully. I keep having to reassure myself it's finally gone. For anyone thinking of the do-it-yourself approach, it's just not worth the effort. Aside from the risk of infection, the damn thing will just keep coming back. I've been there, with no medical coverage and unable to pay for much more than a single doctor visit. I was told that the doc's fee alone would be about $1500 for less than an hour's work. Then there's the anesthesia, the hospital fees, and all that. That was in May of 2010, before high blood pressure damaged my aorta and put me onto Disability and Medicaid. Until then, I was making just above minimum wage and couldn't afford my company's medical coverage. Sucks that I had to go through all that to be able to get treated for a hydrocele. Here's hoping that the Affordable Care Act will get everyone at least a start toward medical coverage they can actually pay for.

In the "even better" column, a week ago I got a notification of "Case Action" from the Department of Children and Families advising me that I'm back on the "Medically Needy" program as of January 1, 2013. I'll be able to just go to my regular doctors again, flash my Medicaid card, and that's that. No referrals. I've also gotten a mess of medical insurance paperwork, brochures, booklets, and such that I need to go through. Apparently I'm eligible for Medicare coverage of some sort. I don't think it's Obamacare related, given that the chucklehead governor of Florida is still trying to weasel the state out of participation even after voters killed, killed KILLED a mess of state constitutional amendment proposals, including one that would "override" Obamacare (hahahahaha). Whatever it is, it's a State program. Wouldn't be surprised to find that it's linked financially to Governor Chucklehead, the way the drug-tests-for-State-aid clinics are.

Nice little boondoggle he set up: if you want any State aid (medical, food stamps, etc.) you have to submit to a pee test. You pay for the test yourself. If you pass it, the State--not the clinic you paid, but the State--reimburses you. Chucklehead co-founded a drug-testing company called Solantic back in 2001, then handed it over to his wife just before he took office in Florida. Chucklehead (even indirectly) makes money off you, the taxpayers pay you back.


Good news is, only 2 more years of him. Maybe by the time he's gone I'll have read through all those brochures and such.

Ain't Dead Yet.

I went in for a routine check-in with the Medicaid-approved county doctor Wednesday. Getting there was too much of an adventure.

I hopped in the X-11, all ready to roll. The engine made a few turns, slower and slower...and then nothing. Since I'm not driving the car as much as when I was able to work, the battery tends to lose its charge over several weeks. I was already running late, but I knew what was coming next.

My little '92 Tracker isn't doing so well. It starts right up, but the front brakes freeze up for lack of exercise. I tore them down and greased them a couple of years ago, but keep forgetting to do it again--until I need to drive the damn thing.

I hopped in the Tracker. The front brakes took a few seconds to let go, but they were still dragging as I got on the road. After a few miles of that--and me having to keep it in third gear so the engine could overwhelm the dragging brakes--the brakes suddenly freed up. I was still seeing wisps of smoke rising from the front wheels at every red light.

I really, really need to get working on that. There's a lot of stuff I need to do, both on the Tracker and on the X-11. I used to be Johnny On the Spot with this shit, before all the medical crap got in the way. Now I don't even know where my goddamn tools are and can't exert myself. Don't want to zip that aorta further open.

I was relieved, though. I'd been imagining crawling the whole way--halfway across town--at 35 mph, in third gear, and missing my appointment. Now I was cruising along in 5th. Still running late.

Got to the clinic. There was a big banner covering the entrance, directing patients to an alternate location a few blocks away (though I didn't know it was that close). The clinic was heavily flooded a few months ago. Took maybe 10 minutes to find the new location.

My left shoe decided that it was time to lose its sole while I was looking for the right doors to go through (I picked the wrong ones and went all the way through the wrong building looking for the admissions desk).

Finally found the right place, did all the signing in and waiting. As it turns out, all the crap I went through to get there was worth it.

My cholesterol and blood sugar are good, liver's good, remaining kidney's working fine. I'm supposedly going to be getting referrals from this doctor (everything has to go through him) for a CAT scan (to check how my aorta's healing up) and for a visit to the urologist (to finally--FINALLY!--get rid of that humiliating hydrocele I've had for three years).

Anniversary Time Again...

Made it to another July 12, my second since the big Aorta Meltdown of 2010.

I started out with a 40% chance of making it 10 years with the dissection; wonder what the numbers are for the next 8 years?

I do feel a lot better than I did in the months after it happened. Still have the mobility issues, high blood pressure, swollen feet and lower legs, sensitivity to heat, and fatigue. Still got some memory and cognitive stuff that makes me wonder whether the high BP did some damage.

I'm 14 months past having a carcinogenic kidney removed--the culprit in most of my problems, since it was driving the high blood pressure that popped my artery.


Good thing I'm not dependent on Republican scum like Dave Dreier and his buddies in the house who voted for the 33rd useless time to "repeal" the Affordable Care Act. Dreier the Death-Panel Dirtbag apparently thinks "let them die" is a good approach to health care:

“While I don’t think that someone who is diagnosed with a massive tumor should the next day be able to have millions and millions and millions of dollars of health care provided, I do believe there can be a structure to deal with the issue of pre-existing conditions.”

All my treatments have totaled much less than millions of dollars. Maybe $200,000, maybe a little more. Maybe I should apologize to Dreier for the imposition; it took a lot of nerve for me to grow that tumor in my kidney without thinking of people like him and their desire to save medical expenses at any cost, even that of a life. I fed the damn thing, cultivated it. Should have named it David.

I've made it two years IN SPITE of fucking Republicans and their psychotic desire to kill off any sort of health assistance for people who can't afford it. The hospital was a huge help, with its Compensated Care program that handled most of my bills for the first 7 or 8 months. I made it into Florida's  Medically Needy Medicaid program only to have it jerked out from under me within 3 months (Governor Scumbag doesn't think kidney cancer and a torn aorta make me sick enough; but then, he doesn't think a huge tuberculosis outbreak rates keeping the state's only TB hospital open). For the last year, I've been on MediPass, going to a county clinic as needed.

Not much of a believer in karma, but I sincerely hope that every one of those useless, evil wingnuts has their fortunes reversed and they end up worse off than I am right now. They need to learn some humanity and some humility.

All in all, I'm doing well enough. I won't be running (or walking) marathons or much of anything physical (no lifting more than 30 pounds, no stress, and like that), but I've got busy stuff I can do. I'm surprised that I haven't spent much time being depressed (those few times have been when my knees or feet keep me trapped in bed...very dark thoughts, then). I can still pay my own bills and (most importantly) I can drive the X-11. I'd be in a really bad place, for lack of that one bright spot to focus on when shit gets dark.

Hacker, Sham, Fraud revisited

Still thinking about the "hacker, sham, fraud" post of a couple of weeks ago.

I'm still trying to wrap my mind around the notion that an accomplished professional musician like Neil Peart with more than 40 years of playing under his belt can think of himself in such terms (if only occasionally), or as a guy guy who just hits things with sticks.

It occurred to me that he's an excellent example of the flipside of the Dunning-Kruger effect.

From the Wikipedia entry:

Kruger and Dunning proposed that, for a given skill, incompetent people will:

1. tend to overestimate their own level of skill;
2. fail to recognize genuine skill in others;
3. fail to recognize the extremity of their inadequacy;
4. recognize and acknowledge their own previous lack of skill, if they can be trained to substantially improve.

 Think of notable incompetents such as...oh, Republicans. George W. Bush, Michele Bachmann, Sarah Palin, and Newt Gingrich are stellar examples of the Effect; each exhibits arrogance and absolute certainty (what Will Ferrel calls "unearned confidence"). Add in fundies, creationists, Teabaggers...wait, I already said "Republicans." Nevermind.

Anyway, the flipside of the Effect is that someone competent tends to underestimate their own abilities. It could be a cultural thing (the Wikipedia entry notes that studies tend to focus on Americans, and that East Asians tend to exhibit the flipside effect, but doesn't mention Canadians specifically), upbringing, or (as in Peart's case) a nerdy outcast childhood. Peart notes in his book "Roadshow" that he was inept in all the jockish arts and suffered for it at the hands of the jocks. Something else we have in common.

He applied himself to drumming before he was even a teen, an age where I was barely even aware of music, let alone playing it. By 1978, he was 26, had been in Rush for 4 years, and was considered a phenomenal musician (and the band had released its 6th studio album); I was a resentful 11 year old saddled with a 6th-Grade Beginning Trumpet class instead of the drums I'd wanted to sign up for.

That's the branching point. He'd found his niche; I hated mine. My mother forced me to practice: she had her sewing machine set up in an alcove outside my bedroom door and tortured me with that practice crap (she'd been the one who "selected" trumpet for me). Just to stick the knife in a bit deeper, she managed to mention how expensive the goddamn horn had been, and how my grandmother had paid for it.

At some point over Summer break, I managed to slam the case lid on it and render it unplayable. I can't really say it was an accident, but it did finally get her to stop bothering me about that farking trumpet anymore. Hell of a whipping for that.

It was another 10 years before I seriously tried learning a new instrument (forget about the stupid "gonna be a keyboard player" crap from high school)--and this time it was because of Rush. I threw myself headlong into the guitar, sponging up every lesson, struggling to twist my left hand fingers around to form chords, trying to get from one unfamiliar chord to the next, then to get my hands synchronized. Competence came slowly, a finger at a time. It took several months for me to strengthen my fretting hand to the point where I could hold barre chords or bend strings; vibrato eluded me for more than a decade, even with lightweight strings.

I didn't care about the difficulty. All I wanted to do was learn to play Rush songs. I even put up with a pissy guitar teacher for maybe 6 months. He could play, but he didn't have much of a sense of humor and expressed disdain for every guitar player I was interested in ("Alex Lifeson's okay, but he's mostly a major chord player," quoth the pissy Jazz Snob). Shortly after we started working on "Tom Sawyer," I got tired of him and moved on.

He'd given me enough by that point for me to start working out songs on my own, so there's that. I sponged again, listening to the "Moving Pictures" album so much I wore the music off Side One of the tape. I bought every book I could find, (not much out there in 1990) and as my ear and experience improved I needed the books less and less. At one point, I could play (to some extent) maybe half of the Rush songs up through the "Counterparts" album. Hardly a guitar god, but still an accomplishment for anyone who's self-taught.

Twenty-two years later, I'm struggling with the "hacker, sham and fraud" thing and now I think I've figured out why: there's no challenge in it anymore. For the first few years, I soaked up all those new skills. I'd get a thrill from learning a new solo (and playing it well), or for having the stamina to keep up with a demanding song (the second half of "Jacob's Ladder") or one of their long-ass album-side epics (2112, Hemispheres). These days, though, if I'm in the mood to grab a guitar, I end up playing the same dozen or so Rush songs, the same set of Metallica songs, the same Stone Temple Pilots bass lines. I just want to play (Fun! Fun!), don't want to learn (Work! Work!).

My recent medical issues don't help; uncontrolled high blood pressure can cause brain damage--and I've gotten somewhat paranoid about that even after getting it squared away. I get fatigued (physically and mentally) easily, forget words and names, sleep a lot...learning a new song (or relearning stuff I've forgotten) seems more like a Task instead of a pleasure.

Still, when it comes to the Dunning-Kruger Effect, I know I'm closer to Peart's end of the spectrum. Like him I'm aware of all my shortcomings--maybe too aware, or just less driven to get past them. If half of being smart is knowing what you're dumb at (seen on a T-shirt), maybe half of being competent is knowing what you suck at, then doing something about it.

Life in a cage

Zoos are depressing. I don't like to see animals mewed up in cages. I understand why it's necessary, though, when a bald eagle has lost most of a wing, for example. It's the more humane choice.

Doesn't mean I have to like it, especially when I see myself in a cage.

For more than 18 months I've been trapped in a body that doesn't work right, relying on a handful of pills to keep my blood pressure from blowing out my aorta or popping arteries in my brain. I can handle most of the day-to-day crap, such as diuretics that have me running to the bathroom like clockwork and leave me thirsty as hell. If I don't take them, my feet and lower legs swell up.

I'm having trouble with the lost mobility, though. I fucking hate it.

From Day One after my aorta self-destructed, I haven't been able to stand for more than a few minutes at a time or walk more than a few hundred feet without having to sit. Something as simple as taking out the trash leaves me winded; going to one of the "big box" stores is such an ordeal that I won't go unless I can get in and get out quickly. Even then, once I make it back to my car I sit there wheezing and panting for several minutes--on a good day. On a bad day, it's the same, but I can barely move my legs to drive the car.

Forget about going to Fort Pickens or the others. That's the worst part. I haven't been back to Pickens since last February.

I've been trying to tell various doctors that there's a blood-flow problem with my legs, starting at waist level. They all tell me to exercise. "Take a walk around the block."

Around the block? I can make it to my friend's house down the street--on a good day. After 18 months, that's still as far as I can go before my legs give out. It's not getting any better.

I spent a few days last week visiting my nephew in central Georgia; we went to a little park called Dauset Trails, which has a modest zoo and meandering trails and boardwalks. I spent most of my time either sitting on benches and resting or walking--or tottering--to the next bench. I glanced at the otters, stared back at a pair of glowing green eyes in the dark black bear hideout, felt sorry for the eagle that could no longer fly, and concentrated on making it to the next bench along the trail. I ended up parking myself on the last one while the others went off to look at deer and antelope.

By the time we made it back to the car, I was ready to lie down and not move for a few days.

A couple of days later, we went to a big indoor flea market; my nephew had told me about a vendor who sells die-cast cars (Hot Wheels, Matchbox, etc.). I wanted to see whether the guy had any Johnny Lightning Citations. Just like at the Trails, I spent a lot of my time walking for a minute or so before heading for the nearest bench. I couldn't stand long enough to look through all the cars, but he didn't have a Citation. Also like the day at the Trails, I found a chair in the food court while the others went off shopping.

This shit is past old.

Nick of Time for the Kidney...

All the way back in January, Florida's Thief Executive was making noises about hacking away at the Medicaid Medically Needy program (the same one I and many other Floridians are dependent on for coverage) and privatizing Medicaid so that his buddies can make some money.

I signed up for it in January, got my Medicaid card in April, headed for the kidney surgery as soon as possible after that.

I got a notice that apparently I'm no longer "medically needy" enough, popped aorta notwithstanding. Coverage ends July 31. If I don't do anything, I automatically get signed up for a county managed care program on Sept. 1.

I got lucky, getting the worst of my medical issues out of the way (that aortic dissection could still kill me, or at least leave me paraplegic, if I don't stay on top of it). But I wonder how many people out there won't be so lucky when Governor Scumbag's hack-and-slash approach gets to them.

Considering what the bastards have done across the country, it's a wonder there are so many people who vote for Republicans.

As far as the kidney incision goes, it's gone from a gaping, scary looking hole in my belly last month to damn near closed. I've gone from daily Wound Care visits seeing them every 2 weeks; from a thick "maxi pad" bandage to the vac to a little bandage. It's starting to itch a bit along the top end and my belly's still striped from all the tape adhesive...and about all I really want these days is for this to be done so I can take a kayak ride before winter.

Happy Anniversary?

July 12th marked a year since my evil kidney made its bid to kill me off once and for all.

The 12th also marked 2 months since I ended its nefarious plans once and for all.

It's been a hell of a year. I've still got the recliner, but haven't slept in the thing since sometime in August or September, whenever it was that I was able to sleep lying down again. It's just taking up space.

Not much else has changed; I'm still taking a half-dozen pills a couple of times a day to keep my blood pressure under control, the tear in my aorta is still a danger, and I still can't walk or stand past a certain point. I haven't had a migraine since December, though, which is a definite plus. I used to get crippling headaches at least once a month until I started taking the BP meds.

The doubled/blurred vision I was having until a year ago is gone; my left eye used to go blurry past 20 feet and I could feel some pressure in it.

The wound-vac is still attached like a remora to my belly, the incision ever shrinking, and my remaining kidney producing like gangbusters.

Finally, some answers about my legs.

Ever since I got out of the hospital in July of last year, I've had walking troubles. I've been trying to explain the problem to my regular doctor, but he keeps impatiently--and incorrectly--finishing my sentences or telling me not to "complicate" things. Getting my blood pressure under control was Job One.

Fine. That's handled. With the meds I'm on, I can regulate my BP down to the point where my fingers tingle and one arm and the other leg go numb when I'm lying down, depending on which side I'm lying on. Let's fix my freaking LEGS now, huh?

If I stand for more than a few minutes, walk for more than 500 feet or so, or bend over (say, while I'm working on my car) for very long, I have to sit. I don't get a choice: if I don't, I start hyperventilating and wheezing, my pulse races, my BP goes up, and my legs start to let go. They're not getting enough oxygen and not able to get rid of fatigue poisons.

If I sit for very long, everything below the knee starts to swell and cramp up. Sitting in my car for most of 13 hours last Saturday didn't do me any good.

Both problems are all because of poor blood flow. I've been trying to tell this to that doctor and a couple of others for the past 10 months, but they don't seem to listen. They only want to focus on the aortic dissection and kidney problems--but neither of these is nearly as important to me in the here and now.

Today, during a pre-op meeting with an anesthesiologist (kidney's coming out one week from today!), I described my symptoms to her and she confirmed what I've been thinking all along.

A Big Effing Deal

Went to my regular doc this afternoon for a followup.

Not a long visit, but one I'd been looking forward to for several weeks after being scheduled for an abdominal & pelvic CAT scan/angiogram. My last one, back in December, showed that the tear in my aorta had grown. Only a quarter-inch more and I'd need surgery.

Doc didn't even mention the CAT scan, so I had to chase him down (fortunately he didn't go far) to ask about the test.

The tear has healed up some. That's the big effing deal!