Doug I don't believe it... well friend, you better believe it

Do you know what this is?  It's my last incandescent light bulb, a 60 watt GE Reveal.  Way back in the summer of 2011, the news reported the US was going to stop manufacturing these types of light bulbs effective January 2012.  The next day at work, a couple people were talking about it and my friend Candace said "You better stock up, they'll be gone sooner than you think."

And then one night I got off the bus after work and saw a sign in CVS window, a 'Final Sale' on GE light bulbs.  For years I'd been buying the Reveal bulbs, they were the perfect tone of white/not too bright.  I went in, grabbed a cart and put around 30 4-pk boxes of light bulbs in it.  Every 60 watt Reveal they had in stock.

I almost did a blog about this 15 years ago, but when I saw the top of my linen closet filled with light bulbs, I thought it looked a little crazy.  Still, as everyone flocked to the newer bulbs I rubbed my hands together and went "Heh heh!"  and continued using my old school energy-inefficient bulbs.

Around 4 years ago, I stopped using them in my bedroom to make my inventory last longer for my living room.  And now, I'm down to my final bulb.  So until this one burns out, I will get to hold onto that old timey incandescent glow just a little while longer.

Speaking of the bedroom (and my lamp in there), do you see the denim floor pillow on the right?  I bought that pillow way back around 1990-91, when I lived in my first apartment in the city.  My sister Shawn often drove up for the weekend, and we'd go to Waterworks Mall, do some shopping, see a movie, sometimes have dinner there too.  

There was a Pier 1 Imports we always visited and where I got that pillow--they had some cool stuff.

I don't use the pillow regularly--only when I get a backache.  I'll take a book and sit on the floor and prop myself up against Old Blue.  It's very dense but squishy soft.

Over the years I've wiped it down with a damp washcloth, what else can I do?  It's not like I can throw it in a washer.  And then 2 days ago I was wiping it off and my washcloth snagged on something--a pull tab for a zipper.  I've owned this pillow 35 years and didn't know I could remove the cover.

It was difficult, but I managed to unzip and remove the denim cover and soaked it in some Tide and cold water.  The water turned yellow in a couple minutes.  The pillow insert inside was surprisingly white and the manufacturer tag read Pier1 Imports 1990, 100% goose down.  

Anyway, I guess Ol' Blue is good another 35 years!

I saved the best for last.  This one's a biggie.  Back in 2012, DC Comics announced Paul Levitz had written a GINORMOUS BOOK COVERING THE DIFFERENT AGES OF DC COMICS.

For you non-comic experts out there, older comic books are broken down into 3 ages:

The Golden Age, from 1935-1956

The Silver Age, from 1956-1969

The Bronze Age, from 1970-1984

I began reading DC comics in the late sixties, and stopped collecting them in 1984.  I still read reprints on occasion, no interest in the current stuff.

Anyway, I wanted this book--at the same time, I didn't want it.  Where the heck would I put it?  Fortunately, DC came to their senses and re-issued the book in a smaller format, broken up by the ages.  But they were still LARGE volumes and weigh 10 pounds each.

So look what I bought 15 years ago... love those foil covers.

I paid $59.95 each for them back in 2011-2012, and they've been in my closet all these years.  They've also become collector's items, the Silver Age book with the Flash on it?  It retails for $455.00 now. 

Believe it or not, mine are in mint condition.  They're still in their plastic shrink wrap.  (That wasn't my intention, I just never got around to opening them.)

And finally, here was a nice little surprise.  When I was removing these from their paper sacks for this blog post, I was surprised to see each book had an alternate cover on the reverse.  Nice.  😎

On my way to the Senior Center & the old Sewickley Hotel

Here is yours truly, Wednesday morning at 9:30 am and on my way out the door.  I was catching a bus to the Senior Center (my first time there since last September) for an hour's visit and then to Sewickley, to have lunch with the old crew at an establishment known as The Hotel.

It was so awesome seeing Bridget (one of the ladies who works at the center) and "Pat in the Hat", an 86 year old regular slash volunteer who hugged me and couldn't have been nicer.  As glad as I was to be there however, I was surprised how quiet it was.  I only saw the handful of people that were going on the lunch outing.  

Unfortunately, the friends I am closest to--Melvin, Gerri, Deb, Mary & Evvie--were all no-shows, darn it.  

I was glad when "Paul the Playboy" walked in though, and soon after Dennis too, who couldn't have been funnier or nicer.

Anyway, there's not a lot to tell--we got to the bar/restaurant (more bar than restaurant) and sat at some pretty sticky tables for some burgers and overpriced pickled tacos.  I am not complaining though, I was glad to get out and be with friends again, for the first time in months.

The Sewickley Hotel is no hotel.  It's a lounge, a bar.  (But in a pretty hoity toity neighborhood.)

After they took our orders, Dennis high-tailed it out of there to check out the liquor store nearby.  He returned with a 1.75 liter bottle of Jack Daniels Honey Whiskey.  I guess some things never change!

Here was Pearl's order, a large Navajo frybread with shrimp toppings.  I wanted this too, but there were only a couple left and Pearl bought both (one to take home for her daughter who lives with her).

Here was my order, a trio of Barbacoa (shredded beef) soft-shell tacos with a lot of pickled cabbage.  I can't say I was in love with them, but they were very fresh, and different.  I was really hungry for something different.

When I was on my way to the men's room I came across this wall of Native American chiefs and headdresses.  I was really tempted to try one of those on!

Finally, on the way home, Dennis (who was pretty soused from his double Bloody Mary and Alabama Slammers) was incensed that the bar cut him off.  He slurred "I'm glad we went there Doug, but whoever heard of a bar turning down business from a paying customer?  We won't be coming back!"   Speak for yourself, Dennis!

Yes he drinks his share, but has a heart of gold and I enjoyed spending time with him.  The End!

A moment of mourning for Dana

Dana Faulk

A couple days ago, Dana Faulk, 55 was at a red light when the driver behind him began revving his engine and honking his horn, and yelling out the window.  He didn't think Dana was close enough to the traffic light.

A passenger in Dana's car said Dana was confused and didn't understand why the man behind him was yelling "to drive the %$#@^* up".

Dana ignored him, and when the light turned green proceeded to drive slowly on Corliss Street, a single lane road in each direction.  The driver behind him, Joel Ingram, 41 waited until there was no oncoming vehicles then drove up alongside Dana and shot him in the head, killing Dana instantly.  He then sped off.

Thanks to surveillance cameras at the location and various witnesses, police located Ingram at a gas station an hour later and arrested him.

Joel did not have a license for the gun he was carrying, and several people said he announced his intentions at the traffic light--what he was going to do to Dana once he caught up to him.  A legal expert said those threats could be used by the prosecution to charge him with first degree murder.

Joel Ingram, one less monster on the road

This local news story really struck a nerve with me.  He took Dana's life so casually, and in the process has probably thrown away his own.  Of course most of us have tempers too.  But to do what this man did--shoot and kill an innocent man for some perceived slight--his reasons are truly lost on me.  

This takes me back to 2009, when I was in a similar situation.  I was driving back to Pittsburgh one Sunday evening, after spending the day at my sister Shawn's house.  (Shawn, her husband Jim and my niece Sophia live 65 miles south of me.)

I always got on I-79 North, rode it for an hour to the Emsworth/Sewickley Exit, then another 15 minutes on Route 65 aka Ohio River Boulevard, first to Emsworth then to my neighborhood Avalon.

(Route 65 is jokingly known as a speed trap by locals.  The Avalon police seem to patrol it pretty well, especially on the weekends.)

So this one Sunday I turn off I-79, take the exit and as soon as I pull onto 65 a car pulls up behind me.  He gunned his engine a couple times--I knew he wanted me to speed up but I was sticking to the speed limit.  

Now he was getting angry and was on my tail, right on it.  He also had his high beams on and was honking his horn.  This went on for over a mile and as I had nowhere to turn, could only keep driving.  I was a nervous wreck.

Suddenly, an Avalon police cruiser seemed to come out of nowhere and pulled into the lane ahead of me, while blue lights began flashing behind as well.  We were both getting pulled over.  I was so relieved!

The officers in the car ahead walked back and told me to hang tight.  They conferred with the officers in the back, then one of them approached my open drivers window and said "The couple behind you say they know you, and were only trying to get your attention.  Is that true?"

What!  I could see them in my rear view mirror.  The man was standing outside his car, next to 2 officers.  His passenger (his girlfriend or wife or whatever) was still in the car, staring in my direction with a sort of pleading look and shaking her head.  I told the officers absolutely not, I never saw them before I got off that exit.     

He said they figured that but were still obligated to ask.  When I asked if the driver was going to get ticketed, the officer said he was under arrest for reckless driving.  He took down my personal info, than told me I was free to go.  

Dana's death has me sitting here thinking "What if no police had shown up that night?  What would've happened to me?"   I wish poor Dana had gotten the same rescue I did.  

The kindness of some people, the meekness of others & my own red kryptonite

 A few days ago I was surprised to get this in the mail.  A Get Well card from the folks at the Senior Center, who apparently found out about my recent stay at Mercy Hospital.  It was a really sweet gesture, as I haven't talked to anyone or been back to the center in several months (since my long covid relapse last September).  

It was so nice to see some of these names... they really are a wonderful group, both the seniors and the ladies who manage the center.  Monday I was walking home from Kuhn's, and a white SUV pulled up alongside me on the street, honking it's horn.  I looked thru the passenger window and almost didn't recognize my friend Mary.  She rolled down the window and yelled "Get your butt in this car--now!"  Too funny!  Love her.

(By the way, I've known Mary since April 2023 and she's always had red auburn hair.  After this past Christmas however, the last time I saw her, she decided to stop coloring her hair and is now fully gray.  And it looks really, really nice on her.)

After I got in, she caught me up on things at the center and with herself.  Our mutual friend Evvie, another one I miss very much, hasn't been to the center because of glaucoma and cataract issues.  I pray she gets that resolved soon.  And Mary has moved out of her old place into a condo just a couple blocks from me.  Wow.

A picture of Pat's 85th birthday from last summer, there's my friend Mary in the stripes and my old pal Dennis in the back

I told Mary that I contacted the center last week and asked to be put on the list for the restaurant outing for "Rosa's Cantina" on July 15.  It would be my first outing since last summer.  

I've been getting days here & there of lesser long covid symptoms, which gives me hope, unfortunately these weird relapses won't quit.  I'm in the middle of one right now.

Have you ever heard of red kryptonite?  We all know how green kryptonite can kill Superman.  There's also white kryptonite, blue kryptonite, jewel kryptonite, gold kryptonite.  But the red stuff will cause Supes to tingle all over--after that, anything goes.  It can turn him invisible, shrink him to the size of a housefly, turn him into a giant, a super-baby, you name it.  

That's what long covid does to me.  I never know when or how it will strike.  The night before last I was sitting here sipping a cup of coffee and eating a cookie, and suddenly began smelling long covid.  (Burnt hair, old flowers, mildew.)  A mild prickling sensation began in my face.  A sure sign something bad was coming.  

The next morning, the bottom right of my face was terribly swollen.  It looked like someone had given me a fat lip while I slept.  It will take 2-3 days to go back to normal.

This past weekend while people were celebrating the Fourth of July, I was coming close to getting kicked out of the Tiffany.  We lost our AC on July 3, and with Pittsburgh dealing with a week long heat wave of temps reaching 100F, by that night my apartment was 90F.

Steiner was slow to respond but it turns out only 2 people called and complained about the lack of AC; myself and a woman on the 6th floor.  I knocked on several of my neighbors doors and asked if they were suffering from the heat (oh yes) and did they call in and report the issue (oh no).

One neighbor said he didn't want to cause trouble as his lease was coming up.  Another said she was afraid of putting a target on her back.  Another said she knew someone would report it... eventually.  I told them "You have to speak up.  You don't have to be mean about it, but if only 1 or 2 tenants say anything, they won't treat it as an emergency."

Geez, I feel like I'm living with a flock of sheep here!

My sister Shawn was kind enough to offer to drive up Saturday morning and bring me back to her house for the weekend, and I was sorely tempted, but I felt I had to see this through.  I'd been pretty irate with Steiner over 2 days, telling them we needed a certified AC repairman, we had older people living here, I know it's a holiday but we need this resolved right now, etc.  

I just hope I didn't put any targets on my own back!  And hopefully I won't be seeing these numbers in my apartment again for a long time.

As I approach 65, here's 25 things I'm noticing about myself

As I approach 65...

1. The earlier I'm going to bed at night.  When that 11:00 news comes on, I am ready to hit the hay.   

2. The more I prefer a hot breakfast (like eggs or oatmeal) over cold cereal.

3. The less I like swearing--hearing it or doing it.

4. The less I let other people's politics bother me.  I lost a couple good friendships over Donald Trump a few years back and regret it to this day.  

5. The less I like television sitcoms.

6. The warmer I like to be.  I used to run around (in my apartment) in my bare feet in the dead of winter.  Now I wear socks year round.  

7. The less I want to watch the local or national news.

8. The more I like to soak/doze in a warm, sudsy bubble bath.  

9. The less I like perfume or cologne on people.

10. The shorter I like the hair on my head.

11. The less I can tolerate loud movies or violence in movies.  Isn't there enough noise & violence out there?

12. The less embarrassed I am to talk about or show my body.  I almost asked my barber last week if she wanted to see my gall bladder scar.

13. The less I care about social media or trends.  What's an influencer?  Who cares?

14. The more comfortable I am with people 5-10 years older than me than people 5-10 years younger.

15. The less I know what younger people are listening to these days, music wise.  Taylor Swift... that's all I know.

16. The more I miss funny, beautiful actresses like Madeline Kahn, Teri Garr, Catherine O'Hara, Jill Clayburgh, Mary Tyler Moore.  I can't believe they're all gone. 😔

17. The easier it is for me to use words like "dear", even though I sound like a Mrs. Beasley doll.  "Thank you Kimberly, you're a dear."

18. The more patience I have for people like my special needs neighbor Sally who likes to tell me what she had for dinner the night before, condiments included.  She's a hoot... and a dear.

19. The less patience I have for salesman who knock on my door (like T-Mobile) who "just happened to be in the neighborhood" and want to check my internet speed.  I'm shutting the door now!

20. The less I can remember everything in my past.  I came across this picture in some old papers awhile back and have no memory of how I got it, or who took it.  On the back of the photo it says "Michelle Phillips and Doug Morris, lunch at Warner Center 1993."

I recognize my coworker and myself of course, but who had the camera?

21.  The less I mind living like a hermit.  (In fact, I worry sometimes I like it too much.)  When I was younger, I couldn't imagine spending the weekend alone.  Now I can't imagine otherwise.

22.  The luckier I feel every day I don't have cancer--as far as I know.  Mom & Dad both died from cancer and never made it to 65.

23.  The more attraction I feel towards chubby people.  Well, birds of a feather...😉

24.  The worse my handwriting is becoming.  I guess that old saying "if you don't use it you lose it" is true.  My mom had beautiful handwriting up until the day she died.

25.  The more I like my gray hair.  I wear it like a badge of honor!  

I reckon milestones are like gallstones; they come in all shapes and sizes

A couple days ago I called my barber Roe and asked if she could fit me in.  She said to come on up, and while it took a bit longer to get there (about 35 minutes vs my customary 15 minute walk) I still made it there and back on my own.  That's a half-mile trip each way and the most I've walked in 20 days.

When I got home, there was a letter from the Federal govt in my mailbox.  I thought "Uh-oh, Trump has declared another war and I've been drafted."  Fortunately I was wrong and it was from Medicare.  

I got my Medicare card, which means I've reached the government's benchmark for being classified a senior citizen, effective October 1.  

To be honest, I'm going to miss my ACA health insurance; not only are my premiums $45.00 cheaper a month than Medicare, I think I have better coverage too.  

Now I have to figure out if I want a Medicare Advantage plan.  It looks like I don't really have a choice.  Medigap coverage (keeping traditional Medicare and getting a supplement to cover the 20% Medicare doesn't pay) is outrageously expensive.

Are you on Medicare Advantage?  Do you like your plan?

At least I have insurance.  I've been getting pre-insurance "DO NOT PAY" medical bills for my 2 recent surgeries and 8 day hospital stay and home rehab visits, we are talking tens of thousands of dollars.  The gall bladder surgery alone was $22,700 and my ambulance was $1662.00 before insurance kicked in.  My final bill for that ride is $85.93.  Whew!

On another positive note, I went 4 days in a row with reduced long covid symptoms.  

I was all set to say 5 days, unfortunately my LC reared its ugly head an hour after I got up this morning.  But for the last few days I've been waking up feeling pretty normal.  So the LC may not be gone just yet, but for something that's been ongoing since last September (with zero let up) this break in symptoms seems pretty significant.

I hope I'm not jinxing things by speaking up too soon, but 4 consecutive mornings of relative calm?  I can't help but feel hopeful.  

Still debating whether I should attempt this "nicotine patch" therapy.  I think I'll wait a couple more days and see.

Finally, this isn't important in the slightest but it's still a milestone.  This is my 800th post.    

Back in 2006 when my friend Ross suggested I start a blog (we belonged to an online message forum and I enjoyed sharing stories about coworkers, weekend cooking, etc) I said I'd give it a try but probably wouldn't write more than a dozen posts total.  Who'd want to read about my humdrum life anyway?

Well, to the few out there that do it's been a great motivator.  Thanks everybody.  😏

There is something to be said for old friends and real healing

My friend Kim H and myself, home from the doctor

The day after I posted my blog about spending a week in the hospital, an old friend (Kim H, who reads my blog) contacted me and said "What can I do to help? Pick up prescriptions from the pharmacy, go shopping for you, cook some meals you can warm up later, take you to your next appointment... let me know."

My gosh, she is one of a kind. 

Here's the story on Kim.  We became friends back in 1988 when we both worked downtown at the Allegheny County Dept of Aging.  She had just gotten married, I had just started working at the agency, but we were close in age and clicked right away.  I left Aging in 1998 for greener pastures, and we stayed in touch with Christmas & birthday cards and the occasional phone call or email.  But we haven't gotten together in many, many years.

Anyway, I thanked Kim for her generous offer but when you've lived alone as long as I have you want to take care of yourself.  Several days into things however, I realized I wasn't doing so well.  That's when I made my first home grocery order, and contacted Kim and asked if she would go to my doctors office with me for my 10 day post-surgery followup.  She said of course, and that's us there at the top, home from the doctor on Thursday.

The doctor's appointment went very well.  He removed the last of my bandages, listened to my lungs and heart, checked my oxygen level.  When I told him I didn't feel I was recuperating fast enough, he said "You've been home from the hospital 10 days.  I told you at checkout you'd need 6 weeks to make a full recovery.  Stop trying to be a Steeler."  A Steeler!  I said I was sorry and he said "Mr. Morris, many of my after-surgery patients arrive here in wheelchairs--you're doing great!"

He did make a couple revisions to my recovery plan though.  I have PT & RT (respiratory therapists) coming to my place again on Monday, darn it.  Enough!

I didn't bring up my long covid-nicotine patch idea, darn that too.  I'm going to hold off on that until I'm more my old self.

Afterwards, Kim took me grocery shopping at Kuhn's, then helped carry my stuff upstairs and stayed and chatted for an hour.  We talked about old friends, her grandkids, what our families have been up to.  I enjoyed her visit so much.  

When I was walking her to the elevator, I was thinking how much I'd missed Kim and wished we were closer like the old days.  As the doors opened and she stepped on, she said "I think we need to be better friends and be a bigger part of each others lives again."   She must've read my mind!

A wonderful ending to a great morning.  Kim, if you're reading this... thanks again. 

Meanwhile, life goes on: Thinking out Loud, June 2026

A couple days ago my sister Courtney sent this photo of her & her husband Robert's 3 dogs--Stormy, Shiva & Ace, following her into the basement of their home in Cincinnati Ohio.  For some reason it reminded me of that big dog licking Richard Mulligan's face in the opening of that '80s sitcom "Empty Nest".  

"Life goes on, and so do we... how do we do it is a mystery..."   

I'm sitting here in my customary spot on the floor in front of my couch on a cloudy afternoon, no plans of course (except what I'm making for dinner--a pot of chili) and feeling better than I have been in awhile.

From the neck down, I am healing up nicely.  My four belly incisions from my gall bladder surgery aren't pretty, but no longer hurt.  My stomach's monster swelling has gone down, and last night (for the first time since the surgery) I was able to lie flat on my back at bedtime.  

From the neck up however... the long covid pushes on.  Burning eyes, dry mouth, pressure in sides of my head.  But there is improvement. 

I feel I need to apologize to anyone reading this, as I have a difficult time keeping mum about my health issues.  I've driven a couple people in my life away since the whole long covid thing began, and I'm not sure I'll be able to get them back and frankly I don't think I even want to.  But at the very least I want to thank all the friends and visitors who take the time to come here and read my blog.  I feel guilty sharing so much here, but it sure helps to get it out.  

On a lovelier note, here's a recent photo of my niece Sophia with her beau Luke.  Is it just me because I'm her uncle, or is this young woman as beautiful as I think? 

Heavens.  And speaking of family (and long covid), the morning my whole gall bladder adventure began, I was talking to Sophia's mom (my sister Shawn) who asked if I'd heard about nicotine patches being a possible aid in reducing long covid symptoms.

I did, but never really looked into it until that call.  There's no official studies of course, or documented findings, but some researchers claim 7mg of nicotine daily for 30 days seemed to help a number of cases.  So I figured, why not.

I'm not crazy about the notion of wearing a nicotine patch again (I quit smoking nearly 20 years ago) but at least it's a very small amount of nicotine and right now I'm willing to try anything.   I have an appointment with my surgeon this Thursday (I suppose he wants to review his handiwork) and if everything looks okay, I think I'm going to begin the nicotine patch regimen next week.

Well, that's all I have for now.  After a week of eating oatmeal, bananas & chicken paste I am craving something red.  I'm anxious to see if I can tolerate a bowl of chili without too much inflammation or oral pain.  I normally add a lot of spices to my chili--garlic, ground red pepper, chili powder, etc. but not this time.  My body is way too tender for anything more than ground beef, tomatoes and beans.   Thanks for stopping by, it's much appreciated.

I have Frankenstein's stomach, other weirdness and for 19 things there is a first time

Wednesday morning I got a call from someone named Colleen, my "case manager" at UPMC.  I almost didn't take the call but I'm glad I did, she was knowledgeable and honest.

She had a pretty good understanding of my week in the hospital, and asked what my stomach was looking like.  I said it looked like Frankenstein's stomach, with red slashes and covered in green, blue and brown bruises.  

I said it was also tender to the touch and EXTREMELY swollen. I've eaten so much less since this whole thing began yet my stomach feels and looks like I was 9 months pregnant.

I'm not making this up--I came very close to sharing a photo of my monster belly here but was too embarrassed.

She told me the average patient gains between 10-15 pounds following surgery and a stay in the hospital (from being sedentary and receiving IV bags of various nutrients 24 hours a day).  As for all the swelling and soreness, I have a lot of enflamed organs right now. 

I told Colleen that I was just concerned why I'm not feeling lots better.  A few people have sent me articles or videos on what to expect following gall bladder surgery, people often go home the same day or the next morning, not a week later.  She said "Yours was emergency surgery, not elective.  Plus you underwent two surgeries two days in a row.  And then you got those infections and the pneumonia, so your outcome was different."

I asked her how soon I can begin doing some light exercising again (I always liked to do arm & leg stuff while watching tv) and she said "Nope, none of that.  You can start taking some light walks in 2-3 weeks."   Oh well, I'm still being forced to sleep upright because of breathing problems.

Colleen said I also run the risk of getting a hernia right now, and to avoid picking up anything heavier than a gallon of milk for another 3 weeks.  Easier said than done.

The surgeon wants to do a follow-up with me on June 25.  I hope I'm well enough to go, my dear friend Kim has graciously agreed to go with me.  

As long as I'm doing a health update here, I'm still wrestling with these long covid symptoms.  The left eye and temple inflammation have been subdued for over a week now, but still lots of soreness and weirdness inside my mouth, tongue & gums.  Things like chocolate, salt, tomato sauce are like eating red pepper.  It sucks, but could be worse.

And finally, something I never thought I'd do--I bought groceries online today from Walmart.com.  There was an extra $15.00 added to my bill for delivery & driver's tip, but all the items I requested showed up at my doorstep.  (And no broken eggs.)  A nice convenience but I like my walks to Kuhns.

This past week has been a thing

Before I say anything else, I wanted to thank everyone who expressed concern at my vacancy from these parts.  It meant a lot to see your comments appear on my recent blog post, and to get personal emails from ones like Margaret, Sharon, Robin, Siobhan, Tom... Thanks again everyone.

By Thursday I was showing some real whiskers

Last Sunday (June 7) I'd just finished washing up my dinner dishes, and was here in my living room on my laptop, putting the finishing touches on my next blog.

It wasn't anything too special--some family pics, some chili I'd made, and a radical idea my sister Shawn had passed along for treating my long covid.  Maybe I'll go ahead and post it anyway.

Around 6:20pm, I noticed I was taking quicker breaths.  I thought "Please God, don't let this be a gallstone."  It's usually the first symptom.  I've gotten them on occasion the last 4-5 years.  The pain is off the charts, you pace back and forth and breath hard, but it's usually over in 90 minutes.

So the pain did set in, and I shut off my computer, filled up my hot water bottle (to hold against my stomach, it helps) and basically just stood there as the tsunami started.  It gets so bad, you don't dare move a muscle.  Anyway--90 minutes later it felt even worse.  This had never happened before.  I told myself I'd call for an ambulance if it didn't improve by 11pm.

The view from my hospital bed this past week

I didn't make it to 11pm.  By 9pm the pain was so horrendous, I could barely gasp my name and location to 911.  They had a couple paramedics here in 5 minutes.  Several of my neighbors watched them strap me down on a stretcher while I cried out like a maniac, a couple even followed me and the paramedics outside.   

They couldn't have moved faster in the ER.  Pumped me full of drugs and asked if I had a history of kidney or gallstones.  Yes.  I spent the next 6-7 hours getting chest x-rays, CT-scans again & again, an ultrasound and then an MRI.

The resident physician said "It's gallstones alright, but you have a ruptured gall bladder.  You've got stones everywhere.  We're concerned about your bile duct as well.  You're looking at a couple surgeries here, and if we don't do them soon... those drugs in your system will only help so long."

They moved my bed to the Observation Deck, and Monday morning at 11am  Dr. Singh introduced himself and told me he'd be cleaning out and repairing my bile duct.  (He told me mine had several "scary large" ones.)   I don't want to spend a lot of time on this one.  When I came to, I was in my appointed hospital room, nauseated, dizzy and burning all over uncomfortable.   I pulled back my covers, and was literally soaked from the stomach down in urine and feces.  Boy did I cry out for a nurse, and a young man named Starling rushed in with a bucket of water and suds and assured me this happened all the time.  I later learned the doctor may have poked my intestines which caused the avalanche.  

This looks nice a nice view outside my bed, but I had to give this up and sleep in a chair a couple nights later

Tuesday morning, I was weak as hell (but cleaned up at least) when I met with the surgical team who would be removing my gall bladder.  They told me the procedure would be done laparoscopically.  Several inch long incisions would be made across my torso and belly (4 in total) then using cameras they'd go in and tug that monster out.

What they DON'T tell you is that they pump a ton of carbon dioxide gas into your belly to "swell you up", to have better access to things.  It is very painful and takes 2 months on average to return to normal.

My surgery was on Tuesday at 2pm.  They said it went well but I woke up in such horrendous pain I regretted having it.  They filled me up with IV bags of antibiotics and other solutions, I swallowed dozens of pills, but by Wednesday morning every inch of me hurt and I had a very high temperature, over 104F.  I was informed an infection had set in.

By Wednesday night, I felt like I was drowning.  I couldn't catch my breath.  A pulmonologist was brought in, ordered another CT-scan and said "You have post-op pneumonia."   She gave them new antibiotics to pump into me and said I'd have to sleep upright in a chair for awhile.  Here it is, 4 days later and I still cannot lie down.  

They wheeled in a special "hard seat" leather recliner, I sure could use one of those now.

Saturday afternoon, my surgeon came in my room and said "I know you're not in great shape and Pulmonology wants you to stay here awhile longer.  But I think you can heal faster at home.  We'll send you home with all the antibiotics and pain killers you need.  Do you have an upright recliner similar to this one for sleeping?"  I said I did not.  He said "I'm sure you'll figure something out. "

Mercy arranged for a cab to pick me up, and when it arrived I was still so weak a couple of orderlies had to lift me from my wheelchair and place me inside.  (That cab driver did not look happy.)  When I got home, I apologized profusely for the delay and took 10 minutes crawling out of his vehicle.  It took me nearly 20 minutes to get upstairs.

I shuffled into my apartment Saturday night, shocked how barren & plain everything looked.  I have some healthy savings, this place needs fixing up.  Anyway, I'd give anything in the world to lie down right now but when I do my chest gurgles and I can't breathe.  I sure hope this clears up soon.  I'm just glad I have plenty of groceries in the house (not that I have any appetite anyway).

They gave me a couple of breathing apparatus to exercise my lungs, and told me no baths and no lifting anything heavier than a gallon of milk for the next 2 months.  They also gave me a bag of blood thinners, water pills, antibiotics, Oxycodone.  I refuse to take any more of those opioids.

That's it for now.  Thanks for letting me share my story with you.  I am wiped out.

There will always be ones who feel like Family

The other night I was listening to a podcast on YouTube, "The Jim Masters Show".  He was interviewing Gary Frank, who played son Willie Lawrence on "Family".

Family aired on ABC, Tuesday nights at 10pm from 1976-1981.  Critics praised the show and it won it's share of Emmys.  But the show tackled a lot of heavy subjects at the time (breast cancer, divorce, homosexuality) that the network never liked.

Anyway, Gary is 75 now, born in October 1950.  Listening to the interview (a long one, 2 hours) I found it both comforting and sad.  Gary's a withered figure now, bordering on frail.  He claims he was an alcoholic and chain smoker until he turned his life around at age 67.

Gary went on to do guest starring roles on other shows until retiring from acting in the 1990s.  But he spent his childhood in a poor, abusive home and to this day identifies more with his twentysomething character Willie on Family, then his self in real life.

He makes no apologies for it, and is both grateful to be part of that wonderful show, and heartbroken still that it was canceled by ABC in 1981.  He talks of every cast member like they were his real family.  He deeply loved his tv parents Doug & Kate Lawrence (played by James Broderick and Sada Thompson) and says they treated him like a son.

FYI, James was the real life father of actor Matthew Broderick and died of thyroid cancer just one year after the show ended, in 1982.  Sada died of natural causes in 2011.

Here's how the Lawrence family's home looked in 1977, and how it looks today.  A real house in Pasadena, it was rented for the show's 6 episode miniseries.  But when the network decided to make Family a series, they built a duplicate of the home's interior to make it easier for filming.

I suppose I'm sharing this for a couple reasons.  For one, Gary Frank has released his autobiography (using the picture of himself that sat on the Lawrence family's piano for 5 seasons, for the book cover).

I'm sorry to say I won't be reading his book.  He admits it's a pretty tough read, and holds nothing back.  I think I've heard enough.

The other reason I'm sharing this here is because frankly, I'm surprised I didn't do so years ago.  Family just happens to be in my Top 5 All-Time Favorite tv shows.  Did you watch this show?  Bonus points if you loved it too.  

Even though I had 5 brothers & sisters, I grew up watching this show alone.  Like I said earlier, it aired on Tuesday nights in the 1970s at 10pm.  My older brother was watching his own tv in his own bedroom.  My younger sibs were all in bed by that hour.  Back then, our retail mom worked 2 nights a week, usually Tuesdays & Thursdays, and didn't arrive home until after 10pm.   So I pretty much watched (and dearly loved) this hour-long drama on my own.

I have to say, as much as I loved my own mom, I dearly loved Sada Thompson as Family's mom and still do.  I wish more than anything she could've reprised her role.  She wanted to, but ABC was never interested in any reunions or tv-movies.

I own the first 2 seasons on DVD, but they never released the entire series.  FYI, that dvd set at the top is now an expensive item.  But the very good news is, the entire series is available to watch on Tubi.

Last night I watched Season 1 Episode 2, "Mondays Are Forever".  (Kate has a lump in her breast and suspects it's cancer.)  The show was not only ahead of it's time, it was a wonderful time capsule of the era--on Saturday nights, the Lawrences enjoy sundaes while watching The Mary Tyler Moore Show.  And youngest daughter Buddy's best friend is moving to Detroit, but Buddy can't phone her.  Why?  Because it's long distance and the charges are 16 cents per minute.  

I miss Family, I miss Mary Tyler Moore too--but I sure don't miss those old phone bills.

C'mon, this is what $52.76 is supposed to look like?

This shouldn't have surprised me, but it did.  I was at the market, adding these up in my head as I went along.  I estimated the total was going to be around $38.00.

Wrong.  When the cashier rang me up, she said my total was $52.76.   How is this even possible?   

At least a couple of these items I rarely buy.  The large-size raspberry jam was $6.50, the aluminum foil was nearly $7.00.  Those 2 items will last me 3 months, easy.  

I still don't see how the items in this photo came to over $50 though.  (The title says $52.76 but one of the items isn't in the picture, a box of Rice-A-Roni.  I set it by the stove for my dinner.)  

Anyway, I'm only responsible for the care and feeding of one.  I honestly don't know how families out there are even doing it.  At least the Rice-a-Roni was only $1.59, but frankly I think that was overpriced too.  

I don't want to sound like one of those old men yelling about bread once costing 10 cents, but I remember when this box of rice was 29 cents.

A few random images from a random Wednesday afternoon

Truth be told, I'm not really up for doing any writing right now.  But I wanted to put something new on here, just to say hello.  I hope everyone is doing well.

1. This morning's breakfast (and yes, I'm quite fond of black pepper).  I enjoy guacamole with everything.  

2. This is my sister Shawn & her husband Jim at a friend's wedding 2 weeks ago.  Speaking of weddings, these two recently celebrated their 26th anniversary on May 20.  They're the parents of my 21 year old niece Sophia, who recently returned from a trip to Italy.

3.  I signed up for a Netflix account this morning.  (I love Sally Field as much as I do my family.)  Do you know I was one of Netflix' first members in the 1990s? They had an obscure website advertising "We have over 500 dvds!"  Half of them were foreign and that's why I joined.

Anyway, I quit a long time ago but I'm anxious to check out what they have now.

4.  I'm so out of touch with things, I just noticed I never updated my wall calendar (on the right) from April and May is almost over.  Meanwhile, my dining room wall is pleading with me to hang some artwork on there.  I think I found something I like, more on that soon.

(My friend Patty saw the photo above and said I needed a third chair.  Here it is Patty, around the corner!)

5.  And finally, here's my early dinner.  I got the recipe for that macaroni & beef from a 1940s Readers Digest in my dentists office umpteen years ago.  It's made with cream of celery soup, ketchup and Worchester sauce and beats Hamburger Helper every time.  That's it for now, thanks for stopping by.