"I want a box for under the tree." She says

How Should I explain this weekend? How about a Song.

LA LA LA LAAAA

(Sounds of me clearing my throat)

Sung to The Twelve Days of Christmas

On the Twelfth hour of working,

to build The Misses box

Twelve feet of trim,

Eleven different angels,

Ten drops of blood

(yes I did hurt myself... again)

Nine different designs,

Eight damn mistakes,

Seven "son-of-a-bitches,"

Six bucks? try sixty,

FIVE ICE COLD BEERS,

Four inches to wide,

Three trips to Home Depot,

Two punctured fingers,

ALL FOR A BOX UNDER THE DAMN CHRISTMAS TREE!

So It doesn't follow the actual song.

I doubt yours would be any better after a few beers!

More than just a fence!

Some of you may recall one of my first blogs about my weird neighbors here in the ghetto. Because of them it was our wish when we got married that everyone gave gift cards to Home Depot. Thanks to everyone that contributed we finally have a 6 foot tall cedar fence. Okay so it isn't 12 feet, but it definitely helps.

Truth be told that a year and a half ago when we bought the home I started thinking about installing the fence. There have been many hours laying in bed thinking of the best way to erect a little piece of privacy. I had talked to several companies to find out what it would cost for them to do it. I was so worried about setting the post wrong and having it look like crap. Maybe it best's to leave this one up to the Pros. Problem with the Pros their price was a little high for my tastes (plus they wouldn't let me pay with Home Depot gift cards). So after a few more hours of tossing and turning, finally the day came to give it a try.

For those of you thinking of attempting this, the one piece of advice I would give is measure twice and dig once. We rented a post hole digger that was a real back saver. The Usual cast of faithful characters where there. The first weekend was spent with my Pops, and Little Dickie. The plan at first called for setting the post along the back of the fence then removing the chain link that had separated us from the beer cans. Once the post were set I said "f*&K it. have they even offered to help or pay a Pennie? NO!" I then decided to leave the fence there and build ours so the good side shows only to us. That will teach them to leave that damn truck sitting with all that crap in it!

It was actually much easier than I thought. After an afternoon of playing in the dirt the post were set. The next weekend The Family-in-Law stopped by to help out. It didn't take long and all of the post were set and it was time to get some privacy. The next few days I had all the pickets up. The Boss let me use his staple gun so there would be no risk of me hitting my finger.

As you can see it turned out nice. No more looking at my dirty neighbors! Well, unless you are in our kitchen where you can still see that damn truck. I sure do wish they made wood fences that stand 12 feet tall. Thanks to everyone who donated to the cause and especially those that came by and helped. Now if I can just figure out a way to fence in the area to my carport. That way Jeter can run, play, and most important take a shit. Without me or The Misses standing by to make sure he doesn't go out front. I guess that is what will keep me up for the next few months.

What are they doing!

6 Months ago I had a physical that determined I was unfit for duty!

You would think after all this time they would be getting close to knowing what my fate is going to be with the Army. But No. A few days ago, a letter came that says essentially we just reviewed your physical (freaking just reviewed) and you need to go and get a few more test. Oh and by the way all cost associated with these test will come out of your pocket. Oh yah and these need to be back to us by December 25th (idiots, don't even realize what day they make things due). Pricks all of them.

Do they have any idea how hard it is to get in to see a Psychiatrist???? And no it can't be a psychologist I asked. 4 or 5 months if at all. I mean seriously. Anyone who knows me could tell them I am not going to open up to someone after one session (which is all my insurance will pay for). What a waste of time. I spent 5 or 6 sessions during my darker days of my illness with a therapist and she had no clue I was having conversations with myself and some really dark thoughts. I should just lie and say everything is fine or maybe I should mess with them. I think tonight I need to come up with a few other friends to talk to in my mirrors.

Next a neurological evaluation. I am very curious to see how this doctor is going to be able to determine what my memory was like prior to my bout with Bacterial Meningitis. Another very expensive waste of time. I guess they don't believe me when I say I don't remember shit. My memory wasn't perfect before, but it really sucks now.

Soldiers keep asking The Misses why I am not back training with them. The answer is simple. Screw them! Never did anyone call to see how I was doing. I have done everything they have asked and my packet is still 6 to 8 month away from being reviewed by a medical board. I have always stuck up for the military and would never talk bad about anyone that wears the uniform. But policies need to be changed. If it is this hard for someone to say I can or can't be a Soldier, how long will it take for them to figure out some of the harder decisions (you know Iraq, Iran, North Korea). I truly think my next public calling is going to be in the senate. Oh who am I kidding they don't do shit either.

I guess I am stuck playing their game.

What a perfect prayer

Anyone that has been to the folks house for dinner knows there usually isn't a lot of praying going on. As my pops puts it, say a prayer to yourself and its just as good. Yesterday for thanksgiving my nephew D offered to say the prayer for our food. Now I can't say it word for word but it went something like this....
"Dear Heavenly Father.
Please bless this food.... so no one gets sick.
And help us Sunday when we go hunting, may we all get a kill.
Amen"
PRICELESS

Octoberfest

Okay, so there wasn't a thousand drunk people laughing and peeing all over the place. There certainly wasn't big chested blonde's carrying six large beers to people. And there wasn't a German polka band playing in the back ground. But I think we had just as much fun. This weekend The Misses and I had my Sister and her kids over to carve into those behemoth pumpkins we had be growing all season. Instead of having the boring old hot dogs and hamburgers, we had all the classics from Deutschland. My little niece Miss B said it perfectly. "We had Beer and Brats, but Uncle Mark drank all the beer". The German potato salad was a big hit, but not many ventured to try the red cabbage.

Here is some pictures of the event (yes, that is my basement. Don't you just love the Flower wall paper with the faux wood paneling. It is on a very long list of things to do).Miss B and her Pumpkin. She was the youngest so she got to pick first. Luckily Big D was around to help her clean and carve. I don't think she could reach the bottom.Big D's son Hunter drawing his monster. My nephew Little D had a hard time coming up with an idea. I think he bit off more then he could chew with his pirate, so Sis ended up cutting most of it.

My nephew T and his girlfriend Naomi had a good time. Naomi was the drawer and T was the cutter.

The Misses sister M Dawg and her friend Kat stopped by to get their hands dirty.It was finally my turn to complete my master piece. Its been a long time since I played with a pumpkin. I thought the Misses would help a little more but she was busy playing host. She is just like my mom that way.This picture didn't turn out the way we wanted but you get the idea. My good friend Little Dickie and his wife Mrs. Little Dickie stopped by to have some food and hang out. To top the night off in true drunken Oktoberfest fashion we watched the UFC fight. The kids didn't make it to the end.

P.S. Jeda I'm not trying to make you feel bad, but I really wish your family could have been apart of this. You were missed.

Great Weekend

Have you ever had a week where nothing went right and by the time the week was over all you wanted to do was get away. Well, that was my week last week. So me and the family (The Misses and Jeter) packed up the car and went to visit The Misses Grandparents in Idaho. The Grandparents live on 3 acres in the middle of potato country. Nothing to do but visit, eat, and catch up on your HGTV programs.
I think I feel so at home there because Grandma reminds me so much of my late Grandma Bawden. There isn't anything she wouldn't do for you and she truly makes you feel at home around her. I know it has been 10 or 11 years since Grandma passed away so the memory of what she looked like isn't fresh, but I would swear they could be sisters.
When I say there is nothing to do but visit and eat, I am in no way saying this as a bad thing. You can guarantee when you arrive there will be a hot meal on the table. It doesn't matter if it is 10 o'clock at night, it will be there. It isn't like it is left overs either. Grandpa is the first to sit down and dish himself up, because Grandma wouldn't allow him to eat until we got there.
Meanwhile Jeter I'm sure believes he has died and gone to heaven. Not only did he meet his new best friend Coco (their old black dachshund), but was also introduced to the feline species. There has been a couple of times he has noticed them form across the road or behind a fence. But he had never been close enough to get knocked on the nose by a furry paw. I really thought he was going to have a heart attack form all the running and playing. That night was the first night he slept the whole night through.
The first night is usually a catch-up visit. We talk about what has been going on in our lives and the lasted news around the family. Then it is off to bed. Grandma knows I am allergic to animals so she cleans her room and insists we stay in there. While Grandpa and Grandma pull out the bed in the couch. I could argue and insist that they don't do this, but there is no point. She wouldn't allow me to sleep out with all the cats.
Mornings are my favorite time in their home. There is always a big pot of coffee on when we get up. Then breakfast last for 3 to 4 hours. This is when we hear the stories of them growing up, and how they came to be the great people they are. Around 9:30 Grandma gets up and starts preparing breakfast. These past 2 or 3 years she has begun to loose her sight. But that doesn't stop her from doing what she loves. We always ask if we can help, but are always answered with a no. The food is wonderful. All Grandpa can say is "this is better then Christmas". Not much is said, it is like thanksgiving. It is always so loud before the food is placed on the table, then silence. After the food is gone, or I should say when we can't fit anything else in our stomachs we sit and visit some more.
There home is as welcoming as it gets. Their walls are filled with Grandmas beautiful artwork. Grandpa has hung them all over to show off how good she is at capturing the great outdoors. There just wasn't enough walls in there house, so Grandpa hung the rest of her paintings in his workshop in the garage. It is a bit sad to think of how hard it is on Grandma not to be able to paint like she use too because of her sight. There is a standing rule in her home. If you see something you would like when they pass away simply write your name on a piece of tape and place it on the back of the item. I just wish I had met them sooner to get my name on a couple of her painting. I shouldn't complain, The misses has been given her treasured china, much to the chagrin of TP (Sorry sis, you should have never told me the story. I us it with much love).
In my parents home in the hall is a picture frame full of all my dads military medals and pictures. In Grandmas home the hall has been decorated with the same theme. It is there hall of heroes. There is no question theirs is a military family. There in simple frames is the pictures of all the soldiers in their family when they first enlisted. Starting way back with Grandpa and ending with The misses. I like to look at the faces in the picture and see the pride and excitement in their eyes.
During the day you can do what you want. Lunch is usually a snack, we are still trying to digest the breakfast. Then there is more laying around relaxing (as The Misses calls it, I call it being lazy). This is the only time lately we can sit and do nothing. Then dinner and more great food and conversation. At night we sit and catch up on our HGTV and STYLE. I would choose to watch something different, but The Misses and Grandma like to sit and make comments on whether or no they like what they are seeing.
Finally, its off to bed. Knowing the next day will be more of the same. What a great way to spend a weekend.

Ouch!

Maybe I just need pain in my life!

I wont go into the details, but....it involves a big hammer, a large stake, and a swing that I put my all into.

And Yet Another!

In case anyone is wondering, I did have the pleasure of having my very inflamed Gall Bladder out. Going into the surgery the Surgeon had said in 95% of her cases, she was able to remove the gall bladder laparoscopicly. And as you all know with my luck I was sure I was going to fall into the 5% that had to have an open surgery. Well, I must have done something right in my past because she was able to take it out easily. I was out of the hospital the same day, and back to work the next week. Okay, not really work but at least answering phones and a little paperwork.
I really don't know what I did in the past that has lead to all this crap I am dealing with. Sure I have broken a few young girls hearts, but I have had mine broken too. I was a good kid growing up (except for those few little fires and a certain fit I threw in the Black hills). I don't do drugs (at least not the ones used without a prescription). I drink, but never as much as I could. Which gives me hope that I'm not an alcoholic..... Okay now that I think about it. Maybe there are a few things that have lead me to all this. I'm not going to mention them now, because to some of you I am perfect and don't want you to think otherwise.
At least I think I am finally on the mend. Last night I drank a beer and had a few slices of Pizza without feeling sick. Due to the overdosing of Lomotil and Metamucil my stomach problems are getting under control. I really think I am finally done with all this (knock on wood). I am sure my life is back to normal, if I actually knew what normal was. I was talking to my future brother-in-law Big D last night. We were talking about how I was doing and he said "You know I have never known you when you didn't have something wrong." He was right. He has been around now for 4 years. I think it is time for this to be over.
Since these blogs are mostly used to catch people up on what is going on in our lives. Here is my part. The Misses is busy. She is back to going to school full time, working full time, and playing army reserves full time. Which means I slip into her life for only part time (I'm really not complaining). I do what I can to help her out by doing everything I can around the house. It will all be worth it and much easier once she has finished school. Unfortunately there are way to many years left before that happens. Jeter is on the mend. It took him about 5 days before the cantaloupe was out of his system. What a rough 5 days. He just graduated from Puppy Class. He graduated at the top of his class (when there is only one dog in the class how could he not?). Everything we have tried to teach him he picks up very easy. Now if I can only teach him to shit in the toilet, life would be good. I think that comes in the intermediate class.
That's about it. I guess I should get back to my game of Spider Solitaire. Until next time GO YANKEES!

Poor Boy, Our First Experience of Parenting

I have heard that dogs can get their moods from their owners. If the owner is sick, the dog can acts lethargic and down in the dumps too. I just wasn't prepared for what happened yesterday. I should have know he wasn't going to be feeling well when I saw him in our Jungle chewing on a cantelope. I figured out what he was chewing on minutes to late. He had already tore into half of it. That was two days ago.
Yesterday morning when he woke me up to go out. He looked as stunned as I when the diarrhea came. He jumped as if something had just bit him on the ass. He ran straight for the door and I thought nothing more about it. At lunch the same thing happened. I thought back and remembered the cantelope and shrugged it off as a small case of the shits.
As I drove up our driveway after work, the misses was hauling Jeter out the door. She was up to her elbows in the soupy mess. I had neglected to tell her of Jeters problem. He had an accident in his kennel while we were at work. When she reached in and picked him up, it was already to late. She was covered. Our boy was sick. She sat him down and went in to clean up. He immediately made a dash for the lawn. As I stood watching him I noticed his poop was a deep red. Chills went down my spine. I called for the misses and told her about it. She took him to the vet.
While they were gone I thought about my pooping problems. Now I know they can tell if you are sick or in a bad mood, but there is no way he could sense the pain I am having there. A few minutes later they came back. The vet didn't think there was much to do. "It was like we had eaten 8 lbs of cherries at one time." They recommended a diaper to save our carpets and watch him for a few days. I didn't like the answer, but figured they knew what they were doing. I just hope it is a bad case of the shits and nothing more.

September 9th

For the past week I have been trying to come up with something to say about September 9th . It is now and will forever be the day I escaped from the grasp of the grave digger. This day I am sure is far more important then a birthday or anniversary. So how should a person celebrate such an event. A party? Maybe a nice dinner with the family? No I thought I would go and have another part of my body taken out. Yup, looks like another round with the Surgeon.

Time to say goodbye to my crippled Gull Bladder.

Made me think

Sunday night as I was watering the jungle the Misses and I call our garden. I started thinking back to when my Auntie C used to watch me while my parents were at work. My Grandpa Eddy use to plant a garden in their back yard. Most everyday he could be found with a wide brimmed hat and long sleeves bent over picking weeds. He always had a smile and a pleasantness about him you don't find in most people anymore. As I sat there watering I remember the trips we took with him. We (the three musketeers, better known now as the drunk cousins) took a couple trips up to his property to "help" fix up the place. I say "help" because we mostly spent our days shooting our BB Guns at whatever poor unfortunate critter came by. Grandpa didn't approve all the destruction we caused, but couldn't really tell us no.

Earlier in the day I was out to Grandma's to have a barbecue (I think this is why he was on my mind so much that night). The barbecue wasn't as big as they used to be. It used to be that any reason we could come up with was a good one to go out to their house to have some food and hang out. You could always see it in Grandpa's eyes, he was proud of what he created. A huge family with lots of love. Now days his kids have grand kids of their own. They are busy sitting being proud of what they created at their homes. Now Grandpa's house is reserved for Mothers Day and Christmas Eve.

Some of my fondest memories of Grandma and Grandpa was when me and my Cousin "The Cutie" would head out to their house on a Friday evening. Sometimes we would take a pie, sometimes flowers, or sometimes nothing at all. It was such a great way to spend an evening sitting and listen to the stories of how Deon fell in love with her Eddy. They would always tell stories of the church dances they attended and how good of a dancer each of them were. I can still see him when I shut my eyes sipping on a coke. At the end of ever sip he would say "AAaahhhhh. A coke and a smile is all you need." And it really was.

After the barbecue I excused myself. I made an excuse about my stomach and told everyone I had to leave. Truthfully I was sitting there thinking about Grandpa and how much I missed seeing him in his chair. I have never dealt well with death. I can remember very well my Great Grandma in her final resting bed. And everyone that was there remembers the painstaking time I had trying to speak at Grandma B's funeral. I wish I had closure when it came to the great man that was Grandpa Eddy.

I was fortunate enough to come home for leave the two weeks prior to him passing away. I spent a lot of time with him. At that point it was hard for him to talk and get around. I am so thankful I had that time with him. He passed away the day I flew back to the Army. In my little world I like to think he waited for me to see him one last time.

As I finished up watering and looking at all the plants. I know I couldn't have done it without him. Sure I was far to young to remember any words of wisdom he had for me on gardening. But I have my pops and I am sure a good deal of what he tells me came from Grandpa.

To be honest I couldn't tell you where he was placed to rest. The tape with his funeral recorded on has never been played. I just hope when me and the Misses are old, our grand kids will stop by like The Cutie and I did (even if it is just for a coke and a smile).

God Damn HGTV & Extreme Makeover Home Edition!

If one more homeowner makes a comment about how something is done on HGTV or Extreme Makeover Home Edition I am going to throw-up on them.

People don't realize just what goes into these shows to make them look like they do. "But, I saw this cute idea on HGTV this morning..." Oh, I'm going to be sick. "I am sure we can do that, but it's going to cost..." "Cost more? But the insurance company is supposed to pay for the painting of this room." HHHUMMM I sigh, "Your insurance company is paying for the white color it was before. They ARE NOT paying for a faux italian villa scene on your wall!"

OR

"So how long is it going to take?" A question I dread hearing. "Well, I don't like to give an exact time frame or date we will be finished. But, probably three weeks." And then it starts. "Three weeks??? I saw on Extreme Home Makeover that it only took them 1 week to tear down a house and build a new one. Three weeks for this little loss?" Jeeeeezzus, do I really need to explain this? "Okay, it is only going to take 4 days but I have to work into everyone schedule." "But, why can't you just do mine first?" (F-ing East siders!!!! To those not from the land of zion you have no idea what I am talking about)

To Both of you..... Kiss my ass and find someone else!
But instead "Lets see what I can do, it's my job to make you happy." (Bastards!)

Why does fire fascinate us so?

Last night as I was watching the news about all the fires taking place here in Utah. It made me think back to my childhood and remember all the times me and my best friend AOC spent lighting fires. (It is amazing to think I still consider AOC my best friend even though we have seen each other so little over the past 5 years, but that is a story for another day).

One day after school AOC and I were sitting around watching Mr. Wizard (he was our version of Bill Nye the science guy). I don't know what he was thinking when he showed us that you could put a lit match out in gasoline. I can't remember why he was showing us this, but he actually made it work. You can imagine what to the two of us started thinking. Worst of all my mom and pops were away at work so we were home alone.

We both looked at each other and it was if both lights over our heads switched on. I went to the kitchen cabinet and pulled out a red plastic dixie cup (this would end up being mistake # 2, mistake #1 was this whole idea) and a book of matches. We went out to the garage and shut the door so no one could see what a mess we were getting into.

As I slowly poured the gasoline into the dixie cup we noticed the cup started to melt. AOC quickly lit the match and attempted to put it out in the pool of gasoline. By the time the match hit the gas it had created two large holes in the side of the cup. The match quickly ignited the gas and began to spread onto the floor of the garage.

We quickly looked at each other and stated to scramble to find something to put it out. I don't remember which one thought it would be a good idea to try and stamp it out with our feet (mistake #3) but this made the gas spread even further on the ground. Soon the fire had consumed all its fuel and sputtered out. I looked down and saw a huge black burn mark on the concrete. There was nothing we could do to cover it up. I don't remember what pops ended up saying to us, but in the end he was probably thinking he was lucky we didn't burn his house down.

I am sure you would think we learned our lesson but no, we were young and dumb. One day in junior high. After school we started talking about molotov cocktails. It didn't take long for us to think it would be a good idea to make one. In AOC's back yard was a small man made pond. Instead of throwing the burning bomb we thought it would be an even better idea to put it on a wood plank, push it into the middle of the pond, and shoot it with our BB guns. Maybe we did learn from our first experience with fire. We truly thought the water would contain the fire and put it out,

AOC put the molotov cocktail on the board. He lit the dirty sock that was stuffed into an old beer bottle we found. As he pushed it about 3 feet away from shore we began to fire at it. It didn't take long until it was hit. The gas pored out of the bottle and was ignited. The one thing that never crossed our minds was the fact that gas floats on water. The fire began to spread across the water straight toward the shore. Panic began to fill us. We quickly jumped the fence. AOC grabbed his parent garden hose and I grabbed the neighbors. The black smoke was starting to get thicker and thicker. AOC was running back to turn the water on as I was prepared to douse out the flames.

Luckily we were able to put it out before anyone noticed. We thought for sure we were busted. We ran across the street to my house and ran inside. Thinking back now I can't believe how dumb and lucky we were. I can only hope when I have a child he wont be as fascinated with fire as I was, and please let him be smarter then us.

A Cold Day in Hell

You've heard them all, it's a cold day in hell, or when pigs fly. You can choose which you like best but one of them must of happened yesterday. About a week ago I got a message from my Mom that said "You need to call your Father, and be sitting down when you do." I quickly dialed my parents back and my Father picked up the phone. All I was thinking was something happened to Grandma T or to Jeda and the kids. Instead I heard "Well, I did it." "Did what?" "I signed up for cable."


For the past 20 years I have been bugging my Father to sign up for cable. He has always said "hell no!" His hate for cable comes from his first experience with the old cable company. Back in the day cable would tend to go out for hours and hours at a time. It was during this time when my Dad decided to give it a try. After two weeks in which the cable went out three times. He ripped the cable box out of the TV and disconnected all the cable wire from his house. He took it down to the local cable company and placed it in the hands of the poor girl that was working behind the counter and proceeded to tell her where she could hook it up.

About three years ago when I moved out and was able to purchase it myself every time a good game was on, or a good series that was only shown on cable. I would call up Pops and ask him how he liked watching it. He would reply with a "what channel is that on?"

"Its on cable?" I would reply, knowing exactly what he would say next.

"Whats that?"

This has gone on for three years. I think it was when he came over to help around my house that he decided it was about time to get it. That day he was able to chat with his grand kids in Norway over the Web Cam. He realised then and there he was missing out on seeing them every week. Instead of every year or so.


It will be so nice to go over and visit and not have to watch a TV screen that is full of fuzz. And not needing to stand up and play with the antenna every time you change the channel will be great. The only problem is now we have to try and explain how to start chatting, install a Web Cam, and try and explain how the cable remote control works. Crap that is truly going to be like teaching an old dog a new trick. Good Luck Pops, and welcome to the 21 century.

Introducing Jeter

Ever since I discovered blogging. I was always so jealous of everyone with kids. Kids are always doing something amusing to write about. Well, its my turn.

This past weekend Alice and his wife, and the Misses and I went down to Phoenix to visit Alice's Uncle. It is almost a ten hour trip which for me is an eternity to be in a car without easy access to a toilet, but I made it. As we got out of the car I couldn't understand why anyone would want to make Phoenix their home. The heat was truly unbearable.

The reason for this long trip was to pick-up our new dog. Alice's Aunt and Uncle breads Boston Terriers. Alice had let them know we were interested in a dog and they told him they would pick one out for us to have. Luckily Alice's uncle lived in the mountains and it was about 10 or 15 degrees cooler. Which made it almost bearable.

The night before me and the Misses laid in bed and was very excited, it was almost like Christmas. We had been talking about getting a dog for about 6 month and it was finally here. Alice had mentioned that these dogs were very good. He said they were friendly, cute, and best of all house trained. As we walked in Bella the mother of our dog came to great us with a huge smile on her face. Her tail was wagging as she stopped to let me and the Misses pet her. Her puppy was in the pen asleep. The one thing we noticed right away was there wasn't any barking. Altogether there was about 6 Boston Terriers there and none were making a sound. We later found out the only time they do bark is if a cat wanders into their yard. Then the males take off after them with a couple Yelps just for enforcement. I couldn't wait to send our puppy out the door to chase the godforsaken cat that keeps shitting in my yard.

The Misses bent down and picked up the puppy. He looked at her and sniffed her face and then gave her a sloppy kiss. She was in love. We had already decided on a name long ago. I wanted it to be "P.O.S" for Piece of Shit, but the Misses quickly vetoed it. We decided on Jeter. I didn't like the fact that I was bringing something in my house that had the word "Boston" attached to it. I thought the only fitting thing to do was name him after my favorite ball player from the Yankees, Derek Jeter.

Hopefully there will be many amusing situation that will give me more things to write about. Hopefully none of them will involve a stain on my carpet of a hole in my sofa. So it is with great pleasure that I introduce to you the newest member of the Taylor family, JETER

I Love You, and Absolutely I Do

It finally happened, and I have to say it was better then we hoped. For the better part of a year through all my sickness the Misses has been planing our wedding and I have to say she did a wonderful job. Our only argument throughout the whole process was where to host the wedding. We decided to have it up in the beautiful mountains of Alta, Utah. The whole cast of characters were there. Jeda's family made the long trip over the pond, which made the event better with her beautiful kids.

Reverend K created a great Wedding Sermon, to my great pleasure there was no exchanging of vows (I hate public speaking). Although I have been told, I don't remember instead of just "I do", I elaborated it to "I love you, and absolutely do."

The evening ended with a "first dance", no really I think it was the first time we had danced together. Thank you to everyone who put so much into this event. Especially The Best Friend, I couldn't have done everything for the Misses without your help. And Alice, thanks for being a true friend.

Oh yah, to the drunk person who charged $80 worth of booze to a room you weren't staying in.....They made us pay for it. Your Welcome!

Friends?

I am feeling fairly rejected today. For the past three month I have been talking to my two close friends about going Golfing the Friday before my "Big" day. Both sounded excited to be apart of it....back then. Now that the time is here, I have been given the "Dude, I can't get off of work Friday." And "Sorry bro, I am taking Saturday and Sunday off for your wedding, so they scheduled me to work that day."

Truth be told I have been expecting this. Ever since I have been feeling better, one of the only active things I can do is golf. So most every Saturday or Sunday I have been setting up tee times for the three of us. But wouldn't you know they haven't been able to make it. They always have an excuse, sometimes a good one but most of the time not. Lately I have just stopped asking them.

Recently there was a mishap involving one of my best friends couch. Since then, she has said "I have no need for friends like that in my life!" This has become my new philosophy.

My 2 minutes and 40 seconds of Fame.

Recently the local news station heard about my story and seemed it was a good candidate for their "2 Inspire" segment. If you would like to see the end result, here is the link:

http://kutv.com/local/local_story_162004218.html

For those of you that receive my blogs address from Chanel 2's web site, and want to read my story it starts in February on the right hand side of your screen. The 1st chapter is named "There is Nothing Funny About U.C."

The End? Chapter 12

Finally you have been brought up to date. The Soldier is hanging in there. He is back to work and finally getting back to where he was prior to the bout with listeria (bacterial meningitis). It is time to close this chapter. It doesn't mean you wont continue to read about the funny, or sad encounters he has. He hopes he hasn't left too much out. The Misses seems to think it is pretty close to being accurate.

"Where does the Soldier go from here?" You ask. He will continue to fight. Someone very recently wrote a comment that said something about the Lord not giving you more then you can handle. It is true. The Soldier has no doubt that anything that is thrown at him he will make his best efforts to "get some wood on it." Hopefully he will get a break for a bit, just to catch his breath.

There are so many people that have helped me through all this....

I owe so much to Dr. H. There isn't a better Doctor out there. There have been many times he has let me come in to his office on lunch breaks to give me more drugs or just listen to my problems. Thanks just isn't good enough, but will have to do.

Dr. Bubba the Colo-Rectal Surgeon. Thanks for the hugs and all of your advice. After 6 years my stomach finally doesn't hurt. Hopefully I wont have to have another surgery, but if I do I know I will be in the best hands possible.

Dr. Airforce, you gave me a glimmer of hope for Army Doctors. Thanks for the laughs!

The folks at PDR. You are like a second family. The Misses and I could not have made it without your support. I am sorry for all the time off and stress I put on you.

To the Misses family. Thank you Sir and The Missionary for the blessing. I wasn't "there," but I know it helped. To Annette, the Kids, Grandma and Grandpa. Thanks for the concerns and well wishes. I couldn't ask for a better family-in-law.

To my family. I hope I didn't scare you too bad. I owe you all so much. I will never be able to repay you for all you have done. I love you.

Mom and Pops, what can I say. I love you very much. Mom thanks for the 6 phone calls a day. There is no better mother. Pops, I know you were worried when you called that day on your cell phone (something you have ever done). I hope you are as proud of me as I am of you.

And finally The Misses. I truly owe you my life. There is no doubt that you were and still are my Guardian Angel. I am so thankful you have stuck around through all this. I Love You!

Ranger 6 Delta Out

Chained to a toilet...Part 11

I am sure the 6 people that are reading my blog with regularity can't wait for the next instalment. Truth be told he is having a very difficult time remembering. The last few chapters have been mostly written by The Misses. Sure it is the Soldier that is making the horrible grammatical mistakes but it is her telling him what happened. So from what he has been told this is what happened next:

The Soldier woke up the day of the surgery happy as pig in Sh*t. No more bag!!! There wasn't as much fan fair with this one. He didn't have to drink any of that nasty "go juice." There was no crying on the couch. It was time to move on to the next chapter of life.

He went into this surgery not knowing as much about it. The surgery to remove his colon he spent hours on the internet researching. He was under the impression that they would reconnect his plumbing and everything would be great. Little did he know his life was about to change.

When he came too he was back in a room with the usual cast of characters watching over him. The first thing he did was feel where the bag once was. A feeling of joy went threw his body. The surgery was a sucess. The surgery had lasted three hours. Dr. Bubba was able to connect the small intestine to his rectum. He was given another PCA pump but was in significantly less pain. That first day nothing much happened. He was able to make a few laps around his ward and even able to eat some green jello.

The next day he woke up to some familiar chills. He immediately remembered the second day after his last surgery and how sick he was. Lucky for him he had the same nurse that took care of him the day he was sick. He pressed the button and in she came. She quickly gave him a basin and up everything came. It didn't hurt as bad as last time, but it still brought tears. She pumped his IV full of medicine to make him stop vomiting. The rest of the day he spent lying in his bed.

That night things started moving again. It is hard to describe how different it feels when he needs to use the bathroom. He no longer could hold it. When it is there, it is there. That day he probably went to the bathroom ten to twelve times. He really wishes he would have known that the night before would be the last night he slept all the way through without getting up. That night he was awaken to the need to go four times. It was the fifth that would embarrass the hell out of him.

The Soldier had been having night sweats for about a month. When he woke up and he was soaking wet he thought it was the night sweats. He got up and went to the restroom and that is when he noticed his gown. He had an "accident." Are you freaking kidding me? What am I 2 years old again, he sat and thought. He went back into the room and was mortified. There was a huge stain. He quickly gathered his bedding and took it off the bed. Now for the hard part. He grabbed his IV stand and went to the nurses station. There sat this cute 18 year old CNA. While looking at the ground he whispered to her. "I think I had an accident." She stood up and said "it happens all the time. No need to be embarrassed." No need to be embarrassed! He wasn't a child and this doesn't happen all the time! He thought. She walked into the room with him and she smiled. "You didn't need to take down the bedding. That is what I am for." She stated. "Yes, I did have too." He mumbled. Unfortunately this would be the first of many "accidents".

Besides the accidents at night the other thing he was dealing with is the amount of times he would have to go to the bathroom. During an ulcerative colitis flair he would use the bathroom between 8 and 12 times. As bad as he thought that was this was worse. After the surgery he was going to the bathroom 12 to 15 times through out the day and night. At night it was 4 to 5 times. For some reason he thought that once he had this second surgery everything would go back to normal. He was sorely mistaken.

The goal for someone in this situation is 5 times a day. It could take up to 2 years to get there. The pouch Dr. Bubba created would eventually stretch. It would never get to the size of a colon but it would stretch so it could hold a little. On one of his check-ups he discussed this with Dr. Bubba. He told her if he had know he would be going this much he would have just stayed with the ileostomy. She understood his concerns. If it stayed like this he would never be able to mountain bike, hike, or do all the things he use to love. It isn't like he could just stop off the side of a trail and go to the bathroom. He would need porcelain or something resembling it close by at all times. Dr. Bubba told him if after two years his pouch didn't expand and he was still using the bathroom this much. She would go in and undo the connection and he could go back to the ileostomy. As much as it sucks to think about living with the bag attached to his stomach the rest of his life. Being chained to the toilet is much worse.

His poor bum was so chafed. The Misses gave him the idea to use baby wipes instead of TP, and to put diaper rash ointment on after to provide a barrier. Maybe he was a child again.

Pee Pee in a Cup...

Some of you, I am sure have never had the privilege to experience the Army Piss Test (Drug Prevention Program).

Yesterday as I was going through yet another physical (this one is to determine if I am physically fit to stay in the military). I had the pleasure of peeing in a cup. Most of you are thinking whats the big deal? You take the cup, carefully aim and fill it up....... Not so easy when they have someone whom you have never met with the instruction to watch the stream exit the body and enter the cup. As I was standing there, shaking with all the pressure I could muster up. I thought back to Basic Training and what they taught to fire my weapon with deadly accuracy.

"Steady, Aim, Breath, Squeeze!" I can still hear the Drill Sergeant screaming in my ear. Never did I think that it could help in other matters.

Instead of a STEADY fighting position. It was time to take a deep breath and STEADY your nerves. Its never good to have a slight shake when you are trying to fill-up such a little cup.

Instead of getting a good sight picture while AIMing your weapon. It is very important to get a good AIM, lord knows you don't want any on your fingers.

BREATH. They teach you to control your breathing and fire when you are on that slight pause as you exhale. Here too, you need to BREATH. All the pushing in the world is not going to make a drop come out. You need to calm down and BREATH.

And hardest of all, SQUEEZE. Guys you know what I am talking about. There is nothing more painful then stopping in mid stream. But as with AIM you don't want any on your fingers.

I will have you all know, if you too follow these simple instruction. You could be an Expert at peeing in a cup like me.

Great...Whats next?

"How about you sit down on the exam table so I can check your reflex's." The VA physician says to me.

"Yes sir." I reply as I am getting on the table.

"Just relax your foot" as he starts pulling down and shaking my foot. "The twitch you had the last time is still there, but it isn't as bad."

I begin to wonder, what the hell he is talking about? I vaguely remember the last physical he performed on me 6 months ago.

"Just relax and close your eyes" he begins to lightly scratch and tap on my face. As he taps on the area right above my upper lip, I hear him utter under his breath. "hhhmmm Interesting."

What the hell is so interesting? I begin to sweat.

"When you are a child," he says. "And you feel something press on your lip, you make a sucking motion with your lips." I open my eyes and see his lips scrunch together as if he was a baby about to latch onto his mothers breast. "As you grow older you loose this tendency. But when I tap on your upper lip you slightly still make the motion."

"So, whats the big deal?" I reply nervously.

"Well, the big deal is between this and the reaction your foot makes. There seems to be something going on in your Central Nervous System. I don't want to scare you but...... This could be a sign of Multiple Sclerosis or other Central Nervous System Disorders."

You don't want to scare me? Jesus Christ! Has he not been listening to my story? First I am misdiagnosed with Irritable Bowl Syndrome. By the time they catch on that it is in fact Ulcerative Colitis, it is too late. Then I take a medicine that has some serious side effect (none of them being Bacterial Meningitis), and I get Bacterial Meningitis. Don't scare me???

Lord, please don't let the stars be aligned just right for this one too. Ulcerative Colitis and Bacterial Meningitis has taken a lot out of me. I am too tired to start fighting something else.....

AAAhhhh, Screw it! Bring it on. Ill kick the shit out of it too!!!!!!!!






Pssssst. Don't worry! He is just an Army Doctor, and what do they know. IBS???? Idiots.

One Down...One To Go Part: 10

As the Soldier came too, he found himself in a familiar place. Laying in a hospital bed with the Misses and The Parents sitting staring at him. To be honest he doesn't remember much. He had a PCA pump with heavy narcotics hooked up to him. Every 6 minutes he could press the button and he would receive a lovely dose of drugs. The problem with this great machine is it didn't have an external timer. About three minutes after receiving a dose of drugs he would start pressing the button and the machine would make a loud BEEP. Unfortunately the beep didn't mean he was receiving another dose. It just meant he wanted one. He would keep pressing the button until finally he received a dose of the narcotics. Then 3 minutes later the viscous cycle would start all over again.

The Misses couldn't stand to see him in such pain. That night as he tried to sleep she laid in the chair next to him and pressed the button. This is very illegal, but as he would fall asleep he would wake up in such pain that it would take a half an hour to get comfortable again. So she laid there next to him pressing his button all night.

The next day the Soldier felt good. The night before he had gotten up and made a lap around the hospital floor to help his body start recovering faster. He still had the PCA pump but wasn't using it as much. Maybe every 10 minutes instead of 6. All in all the first day wasn't too bad.

The Surgery went well. Dr. Bubba had told his family that the Soldiers colon was very diseased. She said, if he hadn't had it removed it would have eventually killed him. The Surgery had lasted 8 hours. This was longer then Dr. Bubba had expected, but as she was finishing creating the J-pouch the staples had come undone so she had to suture it by hand instead. Other than that everything went fine. He had an incision that ran 5 inches straight down from his belly button. His Ileostomy was on his right side parallel to his belly button, and there was a drain on his left side.

The second day started off bad. He woke up with chills running down his spine. He pressed the nurse call button and as soon as the nurse came in he got nauseous. The nurse handed him a basin and up everything came. Now you can imagine the pain that was associated with this. His stomach was already sore. The pain immediately brought tears. The nurse quickly started giving the Soldier medicine to relieve the nausea. A few minutes later the pain was over. Unfortunately an hour later he got sick again. He spent the rest of the day in bed. Dr. Bubba came in and let him keep the PCA Pump another day. The nausea was probably from the effects of anaesthesia.

Two days later he was released from the hospital. Fortunately for him he had The Misses. She was given a demonstration on how to change his ileostomy. He really didn't think he could do it on his own. He never did well with icky situations. In the beginning the ileostomy gave him real problems. Because he had lost so much weight through the last year, there wasn't much fat around his stomach. Every time he bent over or twisted the ileostomy would get a little looser. Finally it would come right off. Usually the ileostomy should stay on for 3 to 4 days before it needed to be changed. The first couple of weeks it would last at the most two days.

Changing the ileostomy was a real chore. Not so much for him as it was for the Misses. The worst part of the changing process was getting the bag off. When he says "came off" it usually meant just a small section would come loose. The rest of it was "glued" on. To get it off took a lot of alcohol swabs and a lot of time. His skin was beginning to break down around the stoma (the stoma is the opening in the skin where the biproducts of his meals would come out). Every time The Misses would touch it with the alcohol swabs pain went through his body. He knew it wasn't her fault. They were changing it exactly how they were shown. He was just too damn skinny. All in all it would take about 40 minutes to change the bag. Then he would have to lay still for another 30 minutes so the glue would stick.

The pain wasn't horrible. It really hurt to sneeze, cough, and lay down, but other then that it was manageable. He spent a lot of time laying on his couch. The pain meds he was on kept him in a haze most of the day. He was begging to feel a little more useless. Laying around all day while The Misses was at work bugged him. After 3 weeks of doing nothing it was time to go back to work. Dr. Bubba had suggested that he didn't work until 8 weeks after his second surgery. But he figured he could sit and answer phones as easily as sitting watching TV.

Christmas morning the Soldier woke up and was feeling okay. The reason for doing the surgery in early December was to be able to enjoy Christmas. As he sat there opening presents with his family, he thought about just how lucky he was to be there. After presents and a little food he was helping pick up all the wrapping paper when he felt his bag start to leak. The Misses came down and helped change the bag. The Misses did everything she was supposed to and he got in the shower. He must have done something wrong because when he got out his bag wasn't feeling right so they had to change it again.

A few hours later they left to go visit her family. As they were sitting there watching her family he felt a warm burning around his stoma. He went to the bathroom and lifted up his shirt. Sure enough he had started to leak. He cleaned it up as best he could and went and told the Misses what was going on. They didn't have anything to change his ileostomy so they went back to his parents house. He felt really bad that they had to cut their visit short.

After The Misses changed the bag it was already time to go to his Grandma's house. They took a few wash cloths, just in case and went to visit with his family. As they were sitting around playing a white elephant game he couldn't believe what he was feeling. Another leak! He went in the bathroom to see just how bad it was. He didn't want to cut this visit short too. The leak was bad. He went back to the party and told The Misses he had sprung another leak. They didn't have a choice, they had to leave. As he was sitting in the car on the way home he was holding the wash cloth over the site. The bag had come completely off. It was a mess. When he got home he went straight to the shower. He couldn't believe it had come off 4 times in one day.

The Skin around his stoma looked horrible. The stomach acid was slowly eating away at it. The next day The Misses called a nurse that worked at her hospital and asked for some advice. She gave the Misses some ideas to help make the seal around his stoma better. After her advice things seemed to get better. He was able to wear each ileostomy bag for 3 to 4 days, and the skin around the stoma was starting to heal. There were a couple more bad days but all in all they started to get used to it.

He actually started to enjoy not being chained to a bathroom. He still needed to be close to one, but it wasn't the same. He was able to empty it anywhere that had a toilet. Before if the bathroom wasn't clean there was no way he was using it. He would sometimes wait days if they were on a trip and he couldn't get comfortable. And the best part was he didn't have any pain in his abdomen. Finally after 6 years he felt good again.

At the 6 week mark he had to go in and get a pouchogram. If he thought the colonoscopy the army gave him was bad, this was worse. He went to the hospitals x-ray department and was given a gown. He went into a room and laid down on the table and a doctor came in. The nurse prepared a huge bag of barium and connected the bag to a long hose. When he arrived he had no idea what he was in for. He thought it was just going to be another x-ray. Oh was he mistaken. The doctor inserted the tube in his poor bum and began filling his pouch up with barium. Once it was full he thought it would be over and they would take the tube out. No! They left it in. He had to roll on the table to his left and right. After rolling around with the tube hanging out the doctor left the room. He was gone for about 5 minutes the whole time he was in pain. Sweat was running down his forehead and he was begining to feel sick. Te doctor came back in and had him roll around a couple more times so he could take another look to make sure nothing was leaking. Finally it was over. Everything looked fine. The final surgery was scheduled a few days latter.

The Countdown: Part 9

And the countdown begins....

In writing this new part, the Soldier realized just how extensive his memory laps were during this time. The events come to mind but only when someone reminds him of them. To sit here and type the events is almost impossible. I apologize if some of the events get mixed up, but then again this is a story and unless you were there you wont know the difference.

The IV infusion was the last option. He couldn't keep taking the high doses of steroids to control his U.C. outbreaks. Dr. P.J. would no longer give him the I.V. Infusions so there was nothing else medically for the doctors to do.

It was time to meet yet another doctor. This time it was a Colon and Rectal Surgeon. Dr. Bubba (the name has more to do with the instruments used, then the shape of her body) she came very highly recommended. She looked fairly young to the Soldier, but had a lot of confidence. She is also very personable. She made The Misses and the Soldier feel very comfortable with all her answers to the questions they had.

The first meeting was a get to know you session. She asked the Soldier and The Misses to explain what had happened. She could not believe what he had gone through with the listeria. The meeting ended with another finger in his bum, only she took it one step further. She asked her assistant for some metal torture device. He really didn't know what it was, except it was short, gray, and very cold. After she finished the examination she set up another appointment a week later. She wanted time to get his medical records and talk to Dr. PJ. Before they left, she mentioned that it may be time to look at the surgical options.

Later that night Dr. H called. He knew the Soldier had an appointment with Dr. Bubba so he called and talked to her, then called the Soldier. He was worried and wanted to make sure The Soldier was okay and didn't have any questions. The Soldier in a choked up voice told him that she had mentioned the surgery. Dr. H assured him that if he was to have a surgery in that area that Dr. Bubba would be the one to do it.

This was a pretty tough time in the Soldiers life. He was still experiencing constant migraine headaches. He was working, but not really. He would go to work around ten and leave by two. The headache would just get to bad to be at work. Then he would go home and lay on the couch. Every once in a while he would get tired of laying there and venture out to dinner with his family. His head would end up hurting so bad he would have to leave before the meal was finished.

The next meeting came and it was if The Misses and the Soldier was in denial. When Dr. Bubba came in and said she was afraid it was time for the colon to be removed, she could tell The Misses was very upset. As the Soldier sat there in shock Dr. Bubba went over and gave The Misses a hug. She was visibly shaken, much more then the Soldier. This probably had a lot to do with The Misses job. She worked everyday with people who had their colon removed and saw all the complications this potentially brought. When he asked when they were thinking of doing the procedure she said she would like to do it the first part of December. That was two weeks away. He had thought for the past two years or so that it would probably come down to this, the colitis never responded to any medications except extreme amounts of steroids. Even though he had thought it would come to this he wasn't prepared to hear what the doctor had to say.

Dr. Bubba gave them a pamphlet on the surgery and it answered all their questions. It was going to be a two part surgery, the first one being the worst. They (Dr. Bubba always preformed the surgery with another colorectal surgeon just to be safe) would go in through the abdomen, remove the entire colon and create a J-Pouch out of a small portion of small intestine. Through the years this J-Pouch would expand and slow things down for the Soldier. After the first surgery he would have an illeostomy which is a small opening where things (you know, leftovers) would drain into while the J-Pouch healed. This surgery would take about 7 hours and about 6 weeks to heal enough that Dr Bubba could go back in and reconnect everything.

That night they were meeting his parents for dinner. They sat down and were looking over the menu when he decided to tell them. He had already looked though the pamphlet and searched the Internet, so he was able to answer most of the questions they had. He thinks it went so well because they new it couldn't be worse then the listeria.

For the next two weeks he went to work everyday and searched the Internet for everything he could find on the surgery and the illeostomy. He was at work mainly to get out of the house so he didn't sit and think about it all the time. For the most part he was holding up okay. The Misses after the first shock calmed down and was very supportive. You could tell his mom was worried. After the bout with listeria she would call him two or three times to check-in. After she was told about the surgery she would call four to five times to check-in. Usually this would bother him, but he understood it was as hard on her as it was on him.

Two days prior to the surgery he had to start "prepping" for the surgery. He had "prepped" for several colonoscopies so he knew what to do. This one was much worse. He had always preferred the small bottle of elixir over the 1 gallon bottle. He figured it was like a shot, just hurry up and get it over with. For this prep he had to drink three of the small bottles over a 12 hour period as well as take several pills.

The first bottle went down as well as can be expected. The stuff is nasty, thinking about it now makes him gag and gets the shivers. About 40 minutes later things were moving like they were supposed to. He was on a clear liquid diet at that time. About 4 hours later it was time to take the second bottle of go-juice. He stood at his kitchen cabinet and stared at the bottle. He got sick just thinking about it. He picked up the bottle and started swallowing. It took him several tries but he got it down. His poor bum was raw by now. He spent most of the next couple hours reading a book on his new favorite seat. 6 hours later it was time for the third and final bottle. He couldn't stand the thought of taking another swig. He figured this time he wouldn't think about it. He would walk in grab the bottle and just swig it down. Easier said then done..... After the second swig he got sick. He put the last swallow in his mouth and struggled to get it down. As it slid sown his through his gag reflex came and up it came. He was done, thank god.

That night he took a sleeping pill and he was out. The next day he was woke to a new sensation. For the past three months he woke up to pure pain in his head. This morning was different, the headache was gone. He didn't know what he had done differently, but it was gone. Something in him thought it may be his mind telling him he was sick and shouldn't go to work. He wasn't the type to sit at home. If it wasn't for the headache he would have been back to work a few days after the hospital stay for listeria. Maybe his mind knew how sick he was and the headache was a way to keep him home to recover.

That day he sat at home alone. The Misses was taking some time off so she worked those three days before. He couldn't eat or even have clear liquid. He wasn't hungry he was just nervous. That night him and The Misses talked about the surgery and the illeostomy. He was tired of being chained to a toilet. He thought it might not be a bad idea to just stay with the illeostomy and not have the second surgery to reconnect the plumbing. The thought of not using the bathroom was a nice thought. She understood what he was saying and told him it was his decision. She would support him whichever he decided.

The morning of the surgery he woke up from a dream that it was already done. He quickly realized it hadn't and got in the shower. He knew this might be the last time he was to shower this easily for a while so he took his time. He was alright. He hadn't broke down and was feeling pretty good. After the shower he laid on the couch and watched ESPN Sports center. Trying to take his mind off what was going to happen.

Then the phone rang. It was his sister. She was just calling to wish him luck. As he sat listening to her, he got a lump in his throat. Then he couldn't breath. As he sat there and tried to answer her questions it got worse and worse. Pretty soon he was in tears. His sister promised him he would be okay as she fought back the tears and told him she would be there when he woke up.

The next thing he knew he was at the hospital in the preoperation room. He was laying on a hospital bed in a gown waiting for his turn. A nurse came in and introduced her self. She was there to find the best place for his illeostomy. She had him stand up and sit down several times. As he did, she watched his abdomen and eventually found the spot that would be the least irritating. As she made the final mark the Soldier got worried. For some reason he thought it was going to be much lower. The mark was on the right side of the abdomen and about even with his belly button. At that time he realised if he kept the illeostomy he would never be able to take his shirt off again.

Up until that point he had decided not to have the second surgery. He was so tired of going to the bathroom he had made up his mind to keep the illeostomy. Once he saw how high it was going to be his mind started racing. He was never going to be able to swim again. He had no doubts that people with these probably did swim, but he couldn't. How comfortable would he be with the Misses? It would be to uncomfortable for him to have people looking at it. It was then and there that he decided to have the second surgery.

The next thing he knew he was in the surgery room. Dr. Bubba was there and assured him she was on her "A game". The room was cold, and they had the radio blaring. He doesn't remember the song, it was an oldie but a goodie.

The next thing he knew he was in a different room with his parents and The misses watching over him.

A Headache From Hell: Part 8

The next three months were a blur for the Soldier. His days revolved around T.V. and pain killers. To some of you I am sure this sounds like a good way to spend some time. To the Soldier it was hell.

He was sent home with a PICC line. This was an IV that went in under his left bicep and traveled up his arm and down directly into his heart. This PICC line was attached to a small machine that pumped antibiotics to him continuously. The pump and antibiotics were stored in a small backpack or "purse" as he called it, and once a day he would have to change out the antibiotics.

The purse was a real pain in the butt. It had about a four foot tube that connected him to the purse. Everywhere he went it came too. On several occasions in the middle of the night he would get up and forget about it. As he made the second step from the bed the purse would fall to the ground. Luckily the PICC line was sutured in place or it would have pulled right out.

As big of a pain this was the headache was much worse. Everyday for the next three months he had a migraine that wouldn't go away. The pain was located right between his eyes. It made any light unbearable. He spent his day laying on his couch with a blanket pulled over his head. He would lay there in and out of consciousness and listen to the TV. He never went anywhere without his sunglasses. Most the time he wouldn't even take them off when his head was under the covers.

Dr. H did every thing he could to get ride of the headache. He tried every combination of narcotics he could come up with. The Soldiers medicine cabinet was looking more like a pharmacy then a cabinet. At least once a week for those three months he would be seen by Dr. H. He believed it was associated with the trauma his brain had went through. Once everything settled down in his brain the headache should go away.

The pain was constant. The pain killers weren't doing a thing so Dr. H started him on Migraine medicines. These didn't touch the pain either. He was given a 10 day supply of Imatrex. These 10 pills were supposed to last a month. After 10 days the soldier went to the pharmacy to get a refill and was told that he couldn't have any more. So Dr. H prescribed him another migraine medicine, but it still did nothing.

About two weeks into the headache him and The Misses started to notice his memory didn't seem to be all there. His long term memory was fine, it was his short term memory that wasn't sticking. Him and The Misses would have conversations at night and the next morning when she would ask, he couldn't remember a thing. Night time seemed to be worse then mornings.

For thanksgiving that year they went to Las Vegas to spend the holiday with The Misses family. One morning they were sitting at a table in a restaurant and The Misses family were complaining about the fire alarm that went off during the night. The Soldier looked at The Misses confused. He didn't remember a fire alarm. They went on to tell him the fire alarm went off and everybody including him was outside for about an hour.

Even worse then that memory laps, one afternoon the Soldier came home for lunch and The Misses was there. They were sitting on the couch eating lunch when she turned to him and said "last night was amazing." "What?" he replied. "You do remember last night?" She said quietly as a tear rolled down her eye. Nothing. He remember nothing. As he drove back to work his eyes welled up. He couldn't believe he couldn't remember.

Mentally, this was probably as low as he had every been in his life. Something was wrong in the Soldiers mind. One night The Misses came home late from work. When she came in and gave him a kiss he accused her of having an affair. The Misses was furious and stormed out of the room. The Soldier went into the bathroom to brush his teeth when something strange happened.

The mirror in the bathroom was divided in three sections. If you looked at it right, you could see three different images of yourself. According to The Misses she got up when she heard the Soldier talking to someone in the bathroom. As she stood next to the door he was looking at one of the images and having a conversation with himself in the mirror. As he would look at a different imagine in the mirror he would have a different conversation with the image as if it was a different personality. She knew what he had to said to her earlier wasn't from the "real" person she was with.

When he walked out of the bathroom she was standing there. He apologized to her and gave her a kiss. Then he moved around in back of her and started talking as if it was a different personality. The misses was scared, but understood what he had said to her wasn't what he meant. He was not right in the head at that moment.

That night The Misses said the Soldier was laying in bed when he asked her a disturbing question. "Do you think it is weird if every time I close my eyes I see a rope around my neck and me hanging there?" He asked out of the blue. This really freaked The Misses out. The next morning she asked if he remembered anything about last night. Of course he didn't.

He called Dr. H that morning and was seen that same day. He explained what The Misses had told him about last night. Dr. H listened and started to talk to them both about the images he would see when he closed his eyes. He was worried about the Soldier. He prescribed him some medicine. Then he talked to The Misses. She wasn't a patient of his, but he was worried about her too. He decided the Soldier should start taking some medicine to help control his emotions.

At this point it had been a month since his hospital stay for listeria. His headache was there everyday for three months. Some days were worse then others. He was taking pain killers every 4 hours and if during the night he didn't wake up to take the pain killers the headache the next morning was almost unbearable.

Thankfully the medicine Dr. H prescribed really helped the Soldiers mood. The images of suicide slowly began to go away and to his knowledge he never had another episode of talking to himself.

Disabled? Me???

For reasons most of you know, I have been spending a lot of time reading the U.S. News and world Report. The Latest article that caught my eye kept me awake last night. The cover story Cheating Our Vets talked about the big discrepancies the Military Medical Evaluation Boards (MEB) and the Veterans Affairs Medical Boards come to when dealing with giving wounded and unfit soldiers disability classification. It pointed out several instances where the MEB gave a Soldier a 10% disability rating, but the VA gave the same Soldier a 90% disability rating. In one instances the MEB issued a 0% disability and the VA gave 100%.

For those of you who don't know these ratings are a huge deal. When a Soldier is hurt and can no longer preform his duties as a Soldier, the military issues them a disability classification. The goal for most Soldiers is at least 30%. At 30% you get medical retirement benefits that include a monthly allowance, health insurance, life insurance, and many more benefits. If they are classified under 30% they are given a one time payment that depends on the severity of the illness and the length of service. Then they are sent on to the VA in hopes of getting a little more help.

After reading this article I have given up any hope on receiving anything but a kick in the ass and a thanks for your time from the MEB board. Since I didn't loose a limb and am not horrible disfigured I can guarantee I wont receive anything above 20%. I have found that most, if not all of those getting a rating above 30% have lost a limb of some kind. With me only losing my colon and a little bit of memory it doesn't look good.

I don't want you to think I am trying to swindle money from our government. That is definitely not the case. It just pisses me off that I wouldn't be in this situation if the army wouldn't have screwed up in the first place. Instead of putting in an MEB packet I would be putting in a Sergeant First Class promotion packet.

So what can you do? For me, nothing? But the next you talk to your senator you might want to mention the fact it is a disgrace the way we are treating our wounded Soldiers. Really I don't need any help, me and Jenn will be fine. Really the only thing I would like, is for them to apologize for misdiagnosing me. But an apology is one thing the army doesn't do.

It really makes me angry to think about all those Soldiers I saw and helped at Landstuhl not getting what they deserve!

Something A Little Lighter....

It really is a small world. At work today one of the big corporate boss's was here to make sure we were doing everything by the books. I had met him before, but honestly I never really liked him. He is from Texas and truly believes his shit doesn't stink. Last night he went to dinner with The Boss and they talked about me and all my problems. Today when I got to work he was sitting at the desk next to mine and was typing some emails. I sat down and began to check my mine. A few minutes went by and he began to talk, "I understand you have had a few problems."

"Well, it has been a rough year but I'm alive and that's all that matters" I replied.

He turned around and reached in his wallet and handed me a card. I thought it was going to be another wonder drug that somebody claimed cured everything. Instead it was an Emergency Alert card. I began to skim through it and stopped when I saw "complete colectomy".

"How long ago did you have the surgery?"

"I had it about 18 years ago."

He went on to tell me his story. He had been fighting ulcerative colitis for 6 years when he got toxic megacolon. We exchanged our funny stories about the illiostomies and how much of a pain they were.

Then I asked if he had any major problems after the surgeries?

"Really there are only two things I really miss. The first is camping. I tried in the beginning but it was just to hard to get out of my sleeping bag when I really had to go, and most places don't have a toilet close enough"

"And the second?"

"Well," he said while looking around to make sure nobody was listening. "I can't fart standing up!"

The Letter: Part 7

Because the Soldier was not coherent. Instead of trying to write what happened this is an email The Miss's sent out to their friends (sorry it's so long).

"I unfortunately have some bad news. The Soldier is okay now but was sick for a period of time. Many of you know about The Soldiers chronic illness of ulcerative colitis. Well, he has had some complications. He has had several major flare-ups and in order to get it under control he was placed on the steroidal medication prednisone, again. He was also placed on a maintenance therapy medication called Remicade which is pretty much the last resort prior to surgery. There are some serious side effects of this medication. One being a decreased immune system. So because of this medication, combined with the prednisone The Soldier was pretty susceptible to getting sick. So he did.

My birthday was on Sunday. That following Monday The Soldier got a fever and was very sick for a couple of days. Tuesday he had an apt to get a dose of his Remicade and the doctor there didn't think much of it. Thursday he was still running fevers between 102 up to 104. He went to his Internal Medicine Doctor (Dr. H) and they took some labs, did a chest x-ray but everything came back pretty close to normal. So they said he probably had something viral and antibiotics don't treat viruses so they just sent him home. I was pretty upset. They didn't even give him an IV. I knew he was sick and something more was going on.

Friday he woke up with a pounding headache. I wanted to take him to the ER but if you know The Soldier you know he wouldn't let me. Especially because he just went to the doctors the day before. So I went to work. Friday night when I got home he was still very sick with a temp of 103 and a headache he could not get rid of. We tried everything, Excedrin, Percocet. Being the nurse I am, I had IV stuff at home and hooked him up to a liter of LR. I was a little nervous to do so though because of the pressure in his head. I hoped I wasn't going to make things worse.

The Soldier was laying on the couch and when the IV was over he wanted to go to the bedroom. He sat up but was very nauseated. I got him a bucket. He started vomiting and then dry heaving. He was trying to talk himself into getting up to go to the bedroom. I don't remember what question I asked him next, but what he answered scared me to death. All that came out was gibberish. He was stuttering and he wasn't able to put a sentence structure together. I told him we needed to go to the hospital now. At this point it was 11:30 on Friday. He was pissed he didn't want to go to the hospital. Even though what he was saying didn't make sense I could tell that much. I told him he had to trust me on this one and went to get his shoes. At this point, if he was going to fight me I was going to call 911 and I told him that, so he didn't.

He let me put on his shoes, I grabbed his wallet on the way out the door for his insurance info and we headed to his truck which was parked behind my car. Even with all this happening The Soldier was able to ask me, "Are you driving?" I said "yes, and we're taking your truck cause it's behind my car." He sighed in disgust. I had to chuckle a little. The Soldier hates the way I drive. I got him into the car. As he was climbing in he hit his head on the roof. I felt horrible, his head hurt bad enough already. We drove to St Marks Hospital which is where all his records and doctors were located.

When we got there I asked him if he wanted me to get him a wheel chair, of course he said no. We walked very slowly towards the doors. I was afraid he was going to fall over on me right then and there. As we walked through the ER door, I said look there is a wheel chair, lets go get it. He said okay. That was the last conscious decision The Soldier made or said to me for the next 36 hours or so.

I told the receptionist the seriousness of The Soldier's condition and the triage nurse was there as well so we were seen right away. While we were waiting for the doctor and after explaining what had happened several times to the triage nurse and then the ER nurse, I called The Soldiers parents just to let them know we were at the hospital, but I didn't elaborate on what was really going on. At this point it was about 12:30. Believe it or not The Soldier was seen by the MD sometime between 20 and 30 minutes after we got there. The doctor walked in turned on the light (it was turned off because it made The Soldiers headache worse) and said, "Hi Soldier." The Soldier moaned in response. I just mentioned to the doctor, he wouldn't be able to respond to his questions. He sat down and asked The Soldier what was going on. The Soldier looked at him and attempted to answer but again came the stuttering and the gibberish. It sounded like The Soldier was trying to say something about a football. The doctor looked up briskly at me (as if to say what the hell is going on) I explained everything that had happened, all his signs and symptoms. The doctor said, "okay we are going to get a CT and a spinal tap," then walked out. As he walked out I heard him ask for The Soldiers nurse. He said "We have a very sick man on our hands, we need a CT and a spinal now!"

As scared as I had been up to that point, and I knew something was very wrong, I had kept my wits about me. When I heard the doctor confirm my fears, then I started to break down. I called my mom and dad. They said they would come to the hospital to meet and support me. I felt a little better. I also called The Soldier's parents back to let them know exactly what was going on. They were on there way too. The Soldier's parents showed up first. The CT had already been done and they got there just in time for the spinal. You could tell The Soldier's head was hurting him pretty bad and the position he needed to sit in for the spinal was not a comfortable one. His mom and I held his head and back in place with the nurse, while the doctor did the spinal tap.

Then followed the waiting game. My parents made it there but they couldn't put that many people in the ER room so they waited in the waiting room. I came out to visit every 15 minutes or so, then would go back to sit with The Soldier and his parents. It was about 1:45 or 2:15 before the doctor came in to tell us he was being transferred to 4th South, a step down/telemetry ward. He said The Soldier had meningitis. I think I was in shock at that point because it didn't even seem to phase me. I was actually glad I knew what it was. Now we could work on treating it. The normal white blood cell range in cerebral spinal fluid was between 3-5. The Soldier's was 4600. I went out to tell my parents. They were very concerned about me and The Soldier. Shortly after that they went home so they could come back in the morning.

The Soldier's parents and I stayed with The Soldier as he was transferred to 4th South. The Soldier was now on contact precautions. We had to wear a mask while we were in his room just in case this form of meningitis was contagious. At this point The Soldier was in a world of his own. He just moaned in pain, at times he would say a few swear words then tell himself, "okay, okay, okay, okay" as if he was trying to tell himself he would be okay. He was unresponsive to questioning by the nurses and couldn't obey simple commands.

As the nurse and the aid were trying to get him settled, The Soldier started to receive very high dose of antibiotics and antiviral medications. He was getting a little of everything until his blood culture and cerebral spinal fluid culture let us know exactly what bug we were fighting. I let them know that he had had about 3 liters of fluid and would probably have to pee soon so it would behove them to place a catheter. The nurse was really irritating me. She didn't want to do anything for him. She just wanted to wait until the morning when the doctor came in to write the orders. I think she got a clue when The Soldier tried to jump out of bed to go to the bathroom and we tried to take him there but he couldn't walk. He would lean forward as if he was going to take a step but he didn't have the coordination to put one foot in front of the other. The nurse, CNA and I had to hold him in bed. Once he calmed down the nurse called the doctor.

She got an order for a catheter and a posey restraint to keep him from trying to jump out of bed again. His parents were in obvious distress. I was going to stay the night and once they saw he was a little calmer they went home so they too could come back in the morning. I asked the nurse if they could give him something for pain and she said they couldn't because they were trying to watch his level of consciousness and pain medications usually alter that. When the nurse came back with the catheter and the restraint and I was watching her and the aid put it on him. I broke down. Watching them put that restraint on The Soldier was heartbreaking. I knew it was for his own good but it still killed me. To even think about it now brings tears to my eyes.

It was about 5 o'clock in the morning at that point and The Soldier and I tried to settle down for a few hours of sleep. They brought in a lounge chair for me but it was very bad sleep. Every few minutes it seemed like The Soldier began to moan in pain. I would tell him it was okay then it seem as if he would settle down. The nurse thought it might have been the sound of my voice that helped him.

About 7:00 a.m. I woke up because it was change of shift and the new nurse was there. Shortly after that The Soldier's parents came back. We just sat with him as we waited for the doctor. The nurse The Soldier had that day was from the hospital float pool. She seemed to be a little bit lost to me and when she told me she normally floated to the mother baby ward, then I knew why she was lost. She was over reactive too. She led the doctor to believe The Soldier needed to be transferred to the ICU, she was worried about his airway. I didn't think that was a problem because his blood oxygen saturation was fine. He didn't even appear to be struggling to breath. I'm not sure where that came from. Well anyway when the doctor came to assess The Soldier, before he went into see him. He talked to The Soldier's parents and me outside. He said that The Soldier might need to be transferred to the ICU and may need to be intubated to protect his airway because of his poor level of consciousness. Then he went in to assess The Soldier. This freaked me out. The Soldier's dad just pulled me into his arms and just held me while I cried. When the doctor came back out he said we wouldn't need to transfer him that he wasn't worried about his airway. All I thought was phew, stupid nurse. (I'm sure people have thought that about me at some point too. Lets just say this has given me a whole new perspective on patients family members).

The doctor did say that The Soldier was still very sick but we would watch him closely. At this point it was well, I'm not sure what time it was on Saturday. The Soldier's parents, and my mom were there with me. My mom took me home so I could take a nap, eat, and shower. I had been awake for over 24 hours at that point. As we drove home I called The Soldier's boss from work whom he is close to. I also called my best friend (The Best Friend) to let them know what had happened. I was able to keep myself somewhat together as I told them what was happening. My mom and I got back to The Ghetto and I laid down on the couch. I didn't think I would fall asleep because I was so worried, but my mom said I was asleep in seconds. She let me sleep for about an hour and a half because she knew I wanted to get back. When she woke me up I knew I was at my house and on my couch and I looked over at her confused and asked "What are you doing here?" Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. I had woken up to my worst night mare.

For the next hour and a half as I tried to put myself together I cried and tried to keep myself from hyperventilating. My mom reminded me that The Soldier was a fighter, that he never quits. I knew she was right, and it helped. After I got cleaned up and had a little something to eat, we drove back to the hospital. We found The Soldier's parents, The Soldier's sister, my dad and brother and The Best Friend. Good thing The Soldier had a large room. My dad and brother (The Missionary) gave The Soldier a blessing. It was actually The Soldier's aunts idea who asked his mom if my dad would do it. It was a good blessing, and very appropriate. I think it helped us as much as it probably helped him.

I think that was at about 5pm on Saturday. I hadn't really eaten since lunch on Friday so my parents took me to dinner at Marie Calenders across the street. I didn't eat very much but I ate. We got back to the hospital at about 6:30 or 7:00. A little while after that, everyone left but The Best Friend. She stayed with me and it was a good thing. Between 8:30 and 9:30 The Soldier was showing signs that he was getting worse not better. He wasn't calming down to the sound of my voice anymore and was just tossing and turning. He seemed much more distant. The nurse that was on that night was awesome and I was so thankful for her. She had great bed side manner and she was smart (I want to be like her when I grow up).

The Soldier's temperature was climbing again. He was at 103.7 and was beginning to show signs and I was concerned he was going to have some brain damage (sometimes knowing to much is not good, what I know as a nurse and seeing it is what was frightening me the most at that point). I couldn't bear to watch The Soldier any more. I had to leave the room, but at the same time I couldn't leave the hospital. I just paced the hallway and the foyer. Mean while, The best Friend had called my mom and she came back to the hospital to sit with me.

There was an order for a Tylenol rectal suppository (The Soldier was not coherent so he couldn't swallow) and again, the day shift nurse who said she was going to give it to help control his temp had not given it (at least that is what the computer had shown). The night shift nurse gave him the Tylenol. Then the nurse and my mom put me to bed in the room next door that was empty. That was so nice of her. At that point it had been some 40 hours or so with little to no sleep and little to no food. I had no coping skills left and I was a mess. Sleep was what I needed. The nurse was taking care of me as much as she was The Soldier.

My mom sat with me as I slept while The Best Friend sat with The Soldier. Several hours later they switched. The Best Friend told me she didn't want to switch until she had some better news for me, and she did. The Soldier's temp had broke and the signs I was seeing of brain damage, were no longer present. He was sleeping better. "Phew" I thought and went back to sleep. My mom sat with The Soldier the rest of the night and helped the nurse a few times.

I woke at about 6:30, and it was Sunday now. I had gotten about 6 hours of sleep and felt a whole lot better. I went out to find the nurse because I wanted to thank her before she went off shift. When I found her she said he was doing a lot better, and when I went to see him he was. He wasn't responding yet but I could tell we had turned a corner through the night. I was disappointed to see that the same nurse The Soldier had on Saturday was back on Sunday. But it was okay because I was there and I could tell he was getting better.

He started asking where he was. Oh to hear the sound of his voice. I had never heard something so wonderful. As the morning progressed to about 7:30. The nurse and I gave him a bed bath and I grinned from ear to ear when he yelled at me, "Sweetie!" in a pissed off voice as I was washing his butt. (The Soldier is a clean person, I knew he would feel better if he was clean. He showers twice a day at home). I didn't care he was mad, he knew I was there and that was all that was important. I knew everything was going to be okay when I brushed his teeth and he spit on command.

I went out to the foyer to eat a bagel my mom had bought and The Soldier's parents were back. We visited for a few minutes and I happily gave them the update on his condition. Slowly through out the morning he was talking more. My mom had gone home at this point but The Soldier's sister, grandpa, and cousin had shown up prior to the doctor coming. When the doctor came and asked The Soldier questions he was able to respond and he would squeeze the doctor's hand. The doctor asked if The Soldier knew where he was, The Soldier thought for a second then said "no". Then the doctor asked, "are you at the mall, or the hospital?" The Soldier replied, "the hospital". The doctor asked him what year it was. The Soldier thought for a minute and said. "two..........., two...........thous....and.........two thousand.....and................six" the doctor said "good. What month is it?" The Soldier replied, "ya, ya it's two thousand and six" The Soldier was still sick, but we all had to chuckle a little. It was so good to hear him talk.

Then the doctor asked him to "take his right index finger, touch his nose, then touch his left knee." This was too much for The Soldier, he said "What?" The doctor repeated himself then The Soldier bunched up his fist and said "I touch my right nose, then what?" We all laughed out loud at that point as much as his loss of memory was not funny, it was still a little funny. The doctor said it was okay. He then took us out of the room to give us an update. He said The Soldier was still very sick but his progress from yesterday was remarkable. He actually said to us that he wasn't sure if The Soldier was going to make it through the night (now I like to be right but I didn't want to be right about that, I knew The Soldier was doing bad on Saturday but, AHHH!) He also said The Soldier had turned the corner and he was going to be okay. We weren't sure about his memory, we would have to wait and see about that.

He also told us that the infectious disease doctor had identified what kind of meningitis he had. He had Bacterial Meningitis from a very rare bacteria called Listeria, that he had a rare condition also called Listeriosis. To this day we have not identified exactly where he got it from, but with some research I learned you can get it from almost anything. Unpasteurized dairy, deli meats, hot dogs, fruits and vegetables that have been fertilized with manure type fertilizers, and I think I read even water. Approximately only 1500 people in the United States get it each year and 500 of them die. Last year only 1200 people got it. It normally only affects pregnant women, the elderly, and people with compromised immune systems. The Soldier and I probably ate the same thing, but because of the medications he was on for his ulcerative colitis which compromised his immune system, he got sick and I didn't.

The Solider slowly progressed throughout Sunday and was talking even more. Still repeating himself a lot, but he was talking. They took him off contact precautions, discontinued all the antibiotics but high doses of ampicillian. The Soldier had the same bad headache he had on Friday, and they started giving him pain medications.

The Soldier's mom stayed with him Sunday night because I had to work Monday. That was a long day at work. I knew The Soldier was going to be okay and we were going to need the money so I went. Over the next couple of days his memory began to come back and he began to get his strength back. He still had the killer headache though.

He came home on the following Wednesday with a long term IV or a PICC line and continuos IV antibiotics with a home health agency managing it. Today it has been 2 weeks since he has been home. He still has the headache and the antibiotics but he is alive and has some of his memory back. If it wasn't for the headache he would be feeling pretty good. So for right now he rests on the couch. The doctor doesn't' want him to return to work at the earliest 6 weeks and maybe up to 12. The Soldier's boss has been great to us too! They love him like family and it has really made it easier to focus on getting The Soldier better."