Don't Pay The Ransom, I Escaped!

 I'm recovering, slowly, from the three little surgical procedures. I'm to the point of having no pain some eighty percent of the time. I'm doing more "work" than I should really be doing but I keep looking around for someone else and, whoa! There's nobody else!

 The good news is that even lifting more than I should the surgeon says I'm healing nicely, even if my belly looks like I did ten rounds with Rocky Marciano.

 Later: Linda Lou woke up and chased me to bed, I had forgot we had to go to a northern suburb of Dallas for our grandson William's Blue and Gold Dinner. So I went to the kitchen and turned the crock pot off and put it in the fridge. I had this four and a quarter pound boneless chuck roast, complete with a big ol' mess of stew vegetables. It was to the point of coming apart with the big spoon so it ought to be just fine if I put it back on "warm" until suppertime. There I was, with a Lift limit" of five pounds, messing this this. Oh well, I'm a married man, an early death is my only hope.

 I'm kinda lucky today, I hurt myself a little wrangling grandsons at the B&G Bash. At the end they were giving the helium balloons out to the little kids, Josiah, Steph's middle boy, decided to run madly 'cross the room while looking at the balloon and ran into a chair with his knee and took a big tumble. I probably shouldn't have lifted him onto my lap. Oh well, I self-performed the "turn your head and cough" drill so beloved of recruits and nothing tore. Oh, and Josiah is okay after some grandfatherly cuddling and some Momma kissing it and making it well.

 So, anyhow, pot roast tonight and leftovers for a few days more. We took some cell phone pics and I hope some other pics will be mailed from the other participants.

 So, here I sit, long past a normal person's bedtime.  the short nap I took after we got home has worn out so...

Razor Fight At The Blue Moon Lounge

So National Cut On Peter Week is over. One small hernia repaired, three Limpnas, a Squamous Cell Carcinoma and a Basel Cell removal and I'm more or less repaired.

I swear, the toughest part of the whole recovery thing is that I'm not supposed to lift anything. Ever try to have dogs and be unable to lift? Or buy groceries? Or cook? Bah. The second toughest is that the Vicoden for the pain constipates the old guy and that's no fun when one's belly has been cut open.

Oh well, the Vicoden has gone into the emergency medication drawer and I'm back on my extra strength Tylenol. Let's not talk abot the extra strength joy of plunging a tilet with said cut up belly.

So I look like the third place contestent of the Razor Fight At The Blue Moon Lounge. Meanwhile the folks at the skin cancer surgeon's office are of two minds about me. Seein' as how these procedures are long, drawn out things involving a whole lot of waiting around they ave snacks there, for free. They don't telly anyone about them, though, unless they're asked. Well, I'm the guy who tells everyone the Secret of the cookies, crackers and soups. So now they're having to buy extra stuff. Everyone but the accountant is happy about me saving them the hassle of hungry patients.

National Cut On Peter With Scalpels Week!

 So all my docs decided to do everything this week.  Tuesday I was in far north Dallas at a very smart surgeons getting a Squamous Cell Carcinoma removed from my forehead. This is better known as a skin cancer, it's one of several varieties. This coming Tuesday I have to go back and get another little skin cancer removed from my left temple. This is a different sort.of sore which name escapes me but is considered less dangerous than the one cut out yesterday.

 Today, though, was the big adventure. I went in and had a little hernia repaired where my innards were trying to escape near my belly button. Then, because I cannot just get fat like a normal old guy, no, I get these little (and big) things called Lipomas. Well, anyhow I had three on my belly that had more or less grown together so, while the other surgeon (not as smart as the skin cancer guy) was there, he cut those out too.

 The reason one of the surgeons is smarter than the other is the guy doing the skin cancer removals just about never has to drop everything and rush to the hospital in the middle of the night. Also, all the the nurses, aids and receptionists in his office are stone cuties.

 So, anyhow, I'm sitting around with humongous bandages all over me, still coming down from the assorted and sundry drugs. The skin cancer was a local, I never went to sleep. Today, out like a light. Woke up, well, came to, having not been allowed anything to eat or drink since, I dunno, maybe April 1953 or so, ragingly hungry and with one of those no caffeine headaches. I griped and said I needed coffee and a sammich, they gave me ice chips and a little baggie of wheat thins. I did not kill anyone, though, I reckon I'm mellowing in my old age.

 Eventually they told me I should eat broth the next couple of days. I mentioned something about broth's tired gray ass. So the nurse talked about the possibility being uncomfortable if I ate real food and I told her of the certainty of being uncomfortable if I didn't get something to eat. I won.

 Eventually they helped me get dressed and after I proved that I could walk the sat me in a wheelchair and the cutie wheeled me out the door

 Linda Lou cannot drive yet, she can barely get in the passenger seat, the driver's seat, the leg on that side can't swing up there yet.

 So, Patsy, my neighbor was kind enough to drive me. When we escaped from there I took her to a joint called Freebird's World Burrito. It was my first visit although I'd been passing the place for months saying I'm gonna stop there sometime and check it out. Well, today was the day. Oh My Sweet Lord. To get a burrito first one pick the size and type of tortilla. They start with sort of large and go up from there through large, humongous, and feed all the starving children of Asia that my Momma was always talkin' about back when I was a kid. I ordered the large and by the time that chubby little Mexican cutie was done that thing was the size and shape of a can of Campbell's Chunky Soup.

 It turns out that, unbeknownst to me, Patsy's son in law's best pal started the chain and she ate at the one down where he lives about every time she goes to visit. She did not know of the existence of this one. Anyhow, two people can eat a pretty fair dinner for ten to fifteen bucks, plus the price of the beer, if one drinks beer, which I don't anymore. I do eat though.

 And I had no discomfort from the real food. I did get some major league comfort from eating.

 So, from there we went to our little bantam weight supermarket's pharmacy and I turned in my scrip for some Vicoden, I sat there reading one of their magazines until it was ready and then we came home. It's kind of an adventure when one goes over speed bumps when full of new incisions. But with one of the Vicodens (I'm allowed two at a time but it doesn't hurt that bad) I do not care. Oddly I'm not sleepy, even though my sleep schedule is all cattywampus. I'm getting up when I'm used to going to bed. It's lucky that I'm only a pretend vampire, all my doctor's appointments are during daylight.

 So, anyhow, I'm kinda goofy from the meds but I'm not eating broth.