At The Hospital...Again!

I haven't been very true to this blog.  I have run low on life and music as of late. This year has been very perplexing to me.

The retirement money is gone. I've been living on it since losing my job in 2011. I have to say I have been pretty thrifty to make it stretch for three years. So I am not disappointed.  My hope is to keep the job I have and sometime in May begin collecting early retirement. I am 62 on April 30th.

The first part of 2014's January was a-fixed in a lot of illness. One evening I had some sort of viral infection and barely made it home from work. I had to take a day off and slept for 23 hours straight.  Then Linny got the flu. She suffered for half of January and did not start feeling better until about 10 days ago.

The weather is so bad this year. We had heaps of snow and then a couple of ice storms. I was unable to pull my car up the driveway.  I have fallen at least 7 or 8 times attempting to walk up the driveway.  I am so heavy that it is hard to pull myself up.  My left hand has two occurrences of frostbite. I had to give up playing guitar for awhile.  As of right now, my left palm has several weird callouses that resulted because of my falls. Part of my left hand has no feeling and some of it feels like I have band-aids on my fingers.

On February 13th I was taken ill. I was supposed to be at the dermatologists office at 9:45 am, but I was too sick to get out of bed.  By 10:30 am, I asked Linny to call into work for me and I went back to sleep. I woke at 11:30 and had projectile vomiting and I could not quit. Once it subsided, another round of vomiting hit me.

Linny called our doctor and was told to get me to the emergency room straight away.  The driveway was too slick and my legs to weak, but somehow holding on to a wheelchair I got into the passenger side of the car and off we drove to Saint Elizabeth's in Crescent Springs.

The triage nurse got me onto a stretcher immediately. I kept fading in and out. Linny told me the ER doctor said I was very sick and he was worried.

This was one of those times that I do not remember much. I could not get my thoughts together. Everything was a jumble. I was fading in and out.  Linny says I was singing show tunes.  I recall having some X-Rays taken and having an IV put into my arm. This was all done out in the hallway of the ER. They didn't have a room, even in the ER. I thought I was in an episode of House.

I finally was wheeled into a room and was told they had a bed for me on the cardiac care floor. Oh joy, I am back in the hospital, which I cannot afford and will be missing more work.My job only allowed to be absent from work for two days and here am I going on three. 

I was sent to the fifth floor and immediately a pack of nurses, nurse aides, IV techs and others pounced upon me. I was examined from stem to stern and an oxygen canuala was put in place. My lungs would not expand. I wanted to take a deep breath, but was unable.

More X-rays, probes of my arm to find a great vein, getting my weight at 5 am and peeing in a urinal (not the kind on the wall) followed.

The medical staff was amazed at my body, especially my torso and back. It wasn't great prior to arriving due to psoriasis and some measle-like rash. By now the rash had taken the entire territory of my back and sides and was turning into an itchy red mess.  

The first night the nurse sent for a resident to examine me. The young lady resident says I have guttate psoriasis. I asked is that why I have these petechia all over my chest and back. The reply was, "Why where did you ever learn such a big word." I was unable to recall the word guttate for the rest of the week and told Linny I had Guten Tag psoriasis. She said that is nice as it is the evening.

I seemed to be improving throughout that night and I was hoping to go home the next day. But no.

The following night was terrible. I was scared over losing my job. All the financial issues that go along with applying and seeking work, in my mind, came to a head. I was concerned about my mother too. Linny and I live with her and take care of her. I do most of the work at home, the shopping and food preparation. I was worried about my wife. Sometimes she does not deal well with my siblings. She is taking her last course for her Masters Degree and is devoting her energy to school.  



All my fears seemed to culminate that night while I attempted to sleep. I fought with something inside of me. I do not know if this was my inner self taking form, a demon or an Angel. I recall wrestling with this dark entity and was screaming as it was grasping me and trying to overcome my will.

I awoke the next morning with a new attitude. Screw it! Whatever happens; happens. I cannot change fate, so roll with it. I am a Christian. I am a Servant. God is in charge, looking for my best interest and I trust Him to take care of my family and me.

Linny brought some good news the next afternoon. My manager, Melissa, had contacted her and spoke with her for around a half an hour. Melissa was sending the forms to me for Family Leave of Absence which would protect my job. I needed to get them to the medical departments for a signature, before coming back to work.  This did not alleviate my concern over money coming in aka a paycheck, but I would not have to look for work.

All the time I was in hospital, my weight was decreasing; from 285 pounds to 260 pounds. As miserable as I am, I cannot eat.

I attempted to retain my boxers while at the hospital. However after wearing them for three days and attempting to urinate in the urinal while lying in bed, I finally had to assign them to a laundry bag.  I wore hospital gowns with ties in the back and my junk hanging out the bottom.

One evening I was attempting to sit on the edge of the bed and use the urinal. It was not working. I had my regular socks on and when I stood up, I slid to the floor. I attempted to get up by myself, but was too weak and too unsteady.  

I spent about five minutes admiring the workmanship of the tile floor when a nurse walked in to check on me. She went into panic mode and soon the troupes arrived.  I was back into bed, the charge nurse scolded the others since I was never provided with non-skid socks. From then on out I was branded a walker and confined to my bed, which had an alarm.

I have become less and less steady on my feet. I suspect I have a balance issue. Then again, lying in bed for seven days does not help mobility.

With my new found socks I was allowed to sit up in a chair and could use the urinal while standing up as long as there was a nurse or aide present.  Heck, sometimes I have trouble in the men's room standing at the urinal when another guy is next to me. 

So here I am with several twenty year old female medical professionals that tell me to stuff my weiner into the urinal and pee while they watched.  I just wasn't raised that way and it is going against my grain. Heck, I even had to poop while a nurse was waiting on me. It is embarrassing. I'll have to check out Youtube to make sure no one video'd me.

But you know what? Nothing seems to be problematic since every time I am asked to get up, my genitalia is hanging out for the world to view. I even get to stand up for a bath from a basin with the nurse aide washing my back and feet. 

The nursing staff is very happy that I put on my own ointment. No one is too crazy about touching that psoriasis guy's legions. I know they are happy because they give report in my room and tell each other, "Guess what? You don't have to touch that psoriasis guy's sores; he puts his own medicine on!!" Perhaps it was not in those exact words.




I got to walk around the hall about three times. Two times were with physical therapy and
once was with Linny. When I did get to walk I asked for an extra gown to cover my bare ass. I cannot believe I saw the physical therapy lady walking some old guy up and down the hall with his baggy old ass hanging out of his gown.

My daughter Elizabeth faithfully drove her Mom to and from the hospital. She even brought my granddaughter Zoe up to visit one day.  Rachael and her family stopped in to see me one afternoon. I love my girls. They both have grown up to be wonderful people.

My INR finally hit over 2.00 on Thursday and I was allowed to go home. Linny was dropped off by Elizabeth. Our car was in the garage since I arrived.  The weather has improved. The ice has melted, although I hear it may snow tomorrow.

I am still miserable. The rash on my body is no better. I am itchy and irritable and I am hoping that Monday one of the two doctors I am seeing will be able to heal me or start me on the process

The Hamster Christmas Story

One snowy Christmas Eve long, long ago when the O’Hara’s lived in Middletown Ohio we purchased a hamster for one of my daughters. To go along with the hamster we purchased one of those balls that you put the hamster in and watch him roll around on the floor.

The floor was covered in toys and wrapping paper and we were enjoying the hamster’s antics. So were the dogs. They were eying the hamster as he was looking mighty tasty.  

After a couple hours the kids were worn out and I was too. Linny was off work that night. She was a nurse at Children’s Hospital in Dayton and somehow she got to spend this night at home. The kids and I hustled upstairs to bed and Linny stayed up for some quiet time to herself.

The hamster was still rolling about, so Linny tried to reach in the ball and grab him to go into his cage. However the hamster wanted his freedom and jumped out of her hand. She cornered him under the couch and made a move to grab him. Instead, he grabbed her by digging his sharp front teeth right into her finger and not letting go.

Linny couldn’t get the wee beastie to let go and it hurt, so she did the first thing she could think of and that was to open the front door and fling the little critter off of her finger out onto the snow covered front porch.

She then closed the door, washed her finger and bandaged it. Feeling a little guilty she opened to front door to see if the hamster was still there, but guess what she saw?  There in the snow were tiny little hamster foot prints on the front walk that abruptly stopped and turned into tiny little kitty footprints.

She saw the cat turn and look at her as if to say, "Thank you lady. Christmas dinner was delicious."

One hamsters taste of freedom turned into one kitty’s taste of hamster.

What a sad day. John F. Kennedy was assassinated this day in 1963. It makes you pause to think what the actions of one man made the entire nation cry and morn.

It was especially a bad year for my family. My uncle Clyde passed away in the spring. In early fall my Uncle George died. One of my Dad's friends passed away. In December cancer claimed the life of my Grandmother (Dandy) Elizabeth Lacock.

I was seated in my elementary schools library when Principal Sam King placed the radio next to the intercoms microphone just in time to hear "The President has been shot."

Soon after word came over the radio, President Kennedy has died from gunshot wounds.

I was only 11 years old, but recall thinking this cannot be right. Here it is 1963. We are civilized and these thing don't happen anymore. Maybe back in 1865, but not now.

We were told to return to our classroom. Miss Bohn, my favorite teacher, was sobbing. About ten minutes later we were told to go home.

My family stayed glued to the TV. We saw Jack Ruby gun down Oswald as it happened.

What a terrible, terrible time.

I pray it never happens again.

For the Ladies - A Trip to the GYN

I was due for an appointment with the gynecologist later in the week. Early one morning, I received a call from the doctor’s office to tell me that I had been rescheduled for that morning at 9:30 am. I had only just packed everyone off to work and school, and it was already around 8:45am. The trip to his office took about 35 minutes, so I didn't have any time to spare. As most women do, I like to take a little extra effort over hygiene when making such visits, but this time I wasn’t going to be able to make the full effort.

So, I rushed upstairs, threw off my pajamas, wet the washcloth that was sitting next to the sink, and gave myself a quick wash in that area to make sure I was at least presentable. I threw the washcloth in the clothes basket, donned some clothes, hopped in the car and raced to my appointment.

I was in the waiting room for only a few minutes when I was called in. Knowing the procedure, as I’m sure you do, I hopped up on the table, looked over at the other side of the room and pretended that I was in Paris or some other place a million miles away.

I was a little surprised when the doctor said, “My, we have made an extra effort this morning, haven’t we?” I didn’t respond.

After the appointment, I heaved a sigh of relief and went home. The rest of the day was normal .. Some shopping, cleaning, cooking. After school when my 6 year old daughter was playing, she called out from the bathroom, “Mommy, where’s my washcloth?”

I told her to get another one from the cupboard.

She replied, “No, I need the one that was here by the sink, it had all my glitter and sparkles saved inside it.”

Never going back to that doctor again……….. never.

Child's View of Grandparents.

An elementary school teacher was teaching writing to her class and came across this priceless gem. Thankfully she shared it with others. As a grandparent, I am sharing this with you exactly how it was written.

We always used to spend the holidays with Grandma and Grandpa. They used to live in a big brick house but Grandpa got retarded and they moved to Batemans Bay where everyone lives in nice little houses, and so they don't have to mow the grass anymore!

They ride around on their bicycles and scooters and wear name tags because they don't know who they are anymore.

They go to a building called a wreck centre, but they must have got it fixed because it is all okay now. They do exercises there, but they don't do them very Well.

There is a swimming pool too, but they all jump up and down in it with hats on.

At their gate, there is a doll house with a little old man sitting in it. He watches all day so nobody can escape.

Sometimes they sneak out, and go cruising in their golf carts!

Nobody there cooks, they just eat out. And, they eat the same thing every night --- early birds.

Some of the people can't get out past the man in the doll house. The ones who do get out, bring food back to the wrecked centre for pot luck.

My Grandma says that Grandpa worked all his life to earn his retardment and says I should work hard so I can be retarded someday too.

When I earn my retardment, I want to be the man in the doll house. Then I will let people out, so they can visit their grandchildren.

Arrest at Airport - Alleged Member of Al-Gebra

Breaking News: Teacher Arrested at Airport

A school teacher was arrested today at John F. Kennedy International airport as he attempted to board a flight while in possession of a ruler, a protractor, a compass, a slide-rule and a calculator.

At a morning press conference, Attorney General Eric Holder said he believes the man is a member of the notorious Al-Gebra movement. He did not identify the man, who has been charged by the FBI with carrying weapons of math instruction.

'Al-Gebra is a problem for us', the Attorney General said. 

'They derive solutions by means and extremes, and sometimes go off at tangents in search of absolute values‘They use secret code names like "X" and ”Y" and refer to themselves as "unknowns" but we have determined that they belong to a common denominator of the axis of medieval with coordinates in every country.

As the Greek philosopher Isosceles used to say, "There are 3 sides to every triangle."

When asked to comment on the arrest, President Obama said, "If God had wanted us to have better weapons of math instruction, he would have given us more fingers and toes."

White House aides told reporters they could not recall a more  intelligent or profound statement by the President.

It is believed that another Nobel Prize will follow.

Obamacare - The Data Hub

The Affordable Healthcare Act is full of surprises. One of these is The Data Hub. This is a comprehensive database of personal information established by the Department of Health and Human Services, which has been charged with the task of implementing ‘Obamacare.’ In a Government Accountability report, the Data Hub is to provide “real-time access to federal data and third party access to sources needing to verify consumer eligibility.

Based on the current news of abuses of information by federal organizations, The IRS, The NSA and other agencies this is bound to make a reasonable thinking man/woman nervous.

This Data Hub would include our personal information such as income, financial data, family members, immigration status, incarceration status, our social security numbers and all of our private health information. These facts will be stored in dossiers. Sources of this data are coming from the IRS, the Department of Homeland Security, the Department of Defense, the Social Security Administration, Medicare and Medicaid and the Peace Corp. Any eavesdropper or fraudster with hacking capability could access the confidential personal records of the entire United States of America.

The Department of Health and Human Services guarantees this data will be safe and secure. Yeah right!

The Data Hub will be used daily by ‘Navigators’, which according to the GAO are community and consumer nonprofit groups. The Navigators will let the citizens know which health exchanges award grants and provide impartial information to the lot of us. They will direct us to the appropriate agency for further assistance.

What does this mean? Thousands of Navigators will have unfettered access to the Data Hub, however there are currently no guidelines on what qualifications the should have, how they will be hired, trained and monitored. This is frightening and appears to be a violation of our personal privacy and civil rights.

Reaction to the George Zimmerman - Trayvon Martin Verdict

I am amazed at the reaction to the verdict in the Trayvon Martin trial. Good friends of mine are tearing their clothing and gnashing their teeth. Had George Zimmerman been of the same race as Martin, this would have been just another blip on the nightly news.

The fact is a jury is instructed to consider just the facts presented by the prosecution and the defense in making a decision and in a capital case find that Zimmerman’s claims were true by 100% beyond a reasonable doubt. In fact most of the public is not privy to all the facts that came out during the trial. Obviously the jury concluded there was not enough preponderance of the evidence to find in favor of the prosecutions argument.

From all accounts, under the state law of Florida, this should never have gone to trial. No one should be charged with a crime unless prosecutors themselves really believe that the person committed a crime.

The case was so weak that the local Sanford District Attorney refused to bring charges against Zimmerman. On orders of the governor, an outside District Attorney, Angela Corey, had to be brought in to handle the prosecution. In fact Sanford Florida Police Chief Bill Lee was fired because he refused to charge Zimmerman with a crime. However show trial moved forward to satisfy “the will of the people.”

The prosecution and their experts’ language consistently showed a lack of certainty. Prosecutors are not supposed to bring cases where the best they can say is that something might “possibly” have happened or that there was a “chance” that it did. In this case the prosecution’s own witnesses could not get definitive statements from their own witnesses.

The lead detective on the case stated that he believed Zimmerman’s version of the events, going as far as to say the voice crying for help on the 911 call was Zimmerman and that Martin’s father lied about the voice on that call.

Comments by Al Sharpton and President Obama have stirred up adverse race relations and demanded vengence.

The national media bears culpability for sensationalizing this trial and fixating on the race. NBC and The Today Show went so far as to doctor the recordings of the 911 tape.

Pictures were shown on TV and in news stories of a 12 year old Trayvon Martin, when in fact Martin was a well built six foot tall former high school football player. The media even went as far as describing Zimmerman as a “White Hispanic.” You can draw your own conclusions about that racial remark.

The defense was prohibited from any mention of Martin’s prior arrests or the fact he was smoking marijuana when the altercation took place.

The facts brought out in the case, even from an eye witness proved that Martin was on top of Zimmerman, holding him down, beating him and attempting to grab his gun when he was fatally wounded.

I concur that Zimmerman should not have followed Martin, especially not while in possession of a fire arm. Zimmerman had a right to report suspicious activity in his neighborhood, but should have left well enough alone after contacting the police. Bringing the gun was a bad idea.

However the situation escalated to the point that there was no option for retreat.

Now the national media and the Federal government, including our President, want to bring civil rights violations against Zimmerman, based on the fact that things did not go as they planned. In my humble opinion this is a politically based ploy to satisfy the desires of the masses. Perhaps this is a just a bone to throw by the government to keep the more raucous and vocal dissenters from rioting and damaging property.


This is my opinion of the matter and I most assuredly respect your opinion.

Dream number 12098

The first thing I notice is that I am inside a medium size room. The walls are covered with 1960’s style faux wood paneling and the floor is green indoor/outdoor carpeting. I pay no attention to the ceiling, but it is probably a tiled dropped ceiling, judging from the light.

Father Jon is anxious. He tells me that Father Chris has left and he is now in charge of the Church. We’ve moved the Church to this building. Father Jon is very concerned about the situation and the fact that he has inherited the head position.

I tell him not to worry, that God will take care of all things. I say just trust God, listen and obey and all will be well as I walk out the door. The building looks like a small white frame cottage that is surrounded by asphalt.

Suddenly everything changes and I find myself in bed. Only the bed is one of many beds in a row. Am I in a hospital? I don’t know. A lady in a gray dress with a white apron comes over and tells me it is time to get up and go shopping. I agree and I am whisked into a supermarket.

I look up and down the isles and find what I am looking for. I pick up a box that holds 24 cans of evaporated milk. I was told by the lady in gray to bring this back so we could use it to make ice cream. I head to the checkout. The store is strange. It is one that I do not recall being in before.

The cashier scans my purchase. I do not recall paying, because I am whisked back to the bed room. Perhaps it is a hospital ward or an infirmary. I don’t know.

Upon presenting my evaporated milk to the lady, she scolds me. “This is made with water! It clearly states this on the cans. We need the kind made from milk. Go back!”

I feel foolish. I thought all evaporated milk was made with milk. Silly me.

And then I find myself in a metropolitan city. At first I believe it is New York, but I am not certain.

There are lots of very tall buildings and lights. It is gloaming time and I find myself in a group. But I am talking to a young lady I scarcely knew from my high school day.

She was the younger sister of a friend. Her name was Lynn. She is very shy. She tells me that I promised to take her shopping. Alright! I think I only spoke with her once or twice and that was over forty years ago.

We walk along and I ask her about what she has been doing lately. I am so confused because I am sixty-one and she would be in her mid fifties, but we look young. I no longer have a beard. I am a fresh faced kid with dark combed hair and she is frightfully thin and has short red, wispy, curly hair.

She eventually overcomes her shyness and tells me all about herself, and then suddenly we find ourselves in a car driving down a country road.

I pull over to look at the map. We must be in a Bavarian town because one road that forks to the left states this is Stradivarius Road. The map guide says this is where the famous violins were made. It looks like fun, so we take a drive down the road. I am very disappointed since what left of the town is reminiscent of Covington Kentucky and nearly all the homes and shops are vacant and have foreclosure notices.


I am thinking how sad and wondering where the stain was put on the violins when I am awakened and notice it is 4:50 am. I get to sleep another hour and a half. However I can’t go back to where I had been.

Lions Save Ethopian Girl

From the AP:

ADDIS ABABA, Ethiopia  — A 12-year-old girl who was abducted and beaten by men trying to force her into a marriage was found being guarded by three lions who apparently had chased off her captors, a policeman said Tuesday.

The girl, missing for a week, had been taken by seven men who wanted to force her to marry one of them, said Sgt. Wondimu Wedajo, speaking by telephone from the provincial capital of Bita Genet, about 350 miles southwest of Addis Ababa.

She was beaten repeatedly before she was found June 9 by police and relatives on the outskirts of Bita Genet, Wondimu said. She had been guarded by the lions for about half a day, he said. “They stood guard until we found her and then they just left her like a gift and went back into the forest,” Wondimu said.

“If the lions had not come to her rescue, then it could have been much worse. Often these young girls are raped and severely beaten to force them to accept the marriage,” he said.

'Some kind of miracle', Tilahun Kassa, a local government official who corroborated Wondimu’s version of the events, said one of the men had wanted to marry the girl against her wishes.

“Everyone thinks this is some kind of miracle, because normally the lions would attack people,” Wondimu said.

Stuart Williams, a wildlife expert with the rural development ministry, said the girl may have survived because she was crying from the trauma of her attack.

“A young girl whimpering could be mistaken for the mewing sound from a lion cub, which in turn could explain why they didn’t eat her,” Williams said.

Ethiopia’s lions, famous for their large black manes, are the country’s national symbol and adorn statues and the local currency. Despite a recent crackdown, hunters kill the animals for their skins, which can fetch $1,000. Williams estimates that only 1,000 Ethiopian lions remain in the wild.

The girl, the youngest of four siblings, was “shocked and terrified” after her abduction and had to be treated for the cuts from her beatings, Wondimu said. He said police had caught four of the abductors and three were still at large.

Kidnapping young girls has long been part of the marriage custom in Ethiopia. The United Nations estimates that more than 70 percent of marriages in Ethiopia are by abduction, practiced in rural areas where most of the country’s 71 million people live.