Sorry bout that Bob...

I had a memory of a buddy of mine from back in highschool this morning. When I think about my friend Sam I have to remember some of the strange moments we encountered during our friendship.
I have always been pretty ecclectic with whom I choose to be friends with. I guess i always wanted to model myself after Ferris Bueller in a way- "Sportos, motorheads,
geeks, sluts, pinheads, dweebies, wonkers, richies, they all adore him. they think he's a righteous dude..."

I could give you more detail about Sam- like how on his 13th birthday he got hit by a semi truck and narrowly survived after being crushed between the wheels. he suffered an extended coma, and massive reconstructive surgery- but that wouldn't be telling you anything I really knew. I didn't know Sam when that happened, I didn't meet him until we were 16 years old, and he was already well on his way to living his perfectly normal, even if miraculous teeneaged life.

Sam is the guy who put me in a band- even though I didn't know how to play an instrument. He put a 4 string Bass in my hand and said- ok- figure it out. I plugged in, and we made noise. It was a good time. My friendship with him was good, and bad, and all the things one would expect teenaged friendships to be. We didn't always agree, or identify with one another, but from an overall perspective he difinitly colored my life in a way few others did. Sam was about living for the day- possibly as a result of his experience, but diffinitly as a result of his charecter. I have never read of anyone in fact or fiction that could match him.

So on to the memory- we were probably 17 or 18, and Sam, along with his brother Mike were hanging out with my mom and I at our little apartment in Beaver. It should be told that Sam and Mike and I were stoned to bejeezus for the duration of this event, but my Mother was none the wiser. We came accross what looked like a classic Burt Reynolds flick. When we came into the movie Burt was hooning around some backwoods mountains in an International Scout II. I figured Burt Reynolds + Scout II + driving hoonage would equal some sort of cinimatic classic of the Smokey and The Bandit / Cannonball sort. How wrong was I? VERY!

So we settle in and start watching the drama unfold as Burt and his buddies embark on a canoeing trip in the Ozarks. My Mother watches along with us- but with a secret knowledge she chose not to share. The movie is dragging on- but we are stoned, and unmotivated to change tha channel. Then it happens- the "Piggy" scene (if you have seen "Deliverence" then you know what I am talking about. Ned Beatty's charecter is sexually assaulted by two rednecks in extremely graphic fashion. This is probably the most disturbing scene in all of celluloid, and even in my stupor I am overwhelmed with feelings of disgust, and bewilderment that this movie could take such a turn- still it never occured to me to turn it off...

Once the scene is concluded, I look over and see Sam in a similar state of shock. Then from the floor in front of the couch Mike pipes up, and says the following-


"You know, everyone says they will be cool about something like that, but you KNOW that the minute that guy pisses one of them off they are going to be all like "yeah? Well at least I didn't get fucked in the ass on the camping trip Bob"

Fucking Brilliant...

Odyssey of the broken nose...

Sooo... I got my nose broken Friday.

I know what you are thinking, but NO I didn't go around talking smack on American Muscle Cars (actually, you probably know that I am quite on board with GM small blocks lately)

No- I actually have (had) a deviated septum- This ailment is commonly viewed as the excuse all the little rich girls with big noses use to get rhinoplasty, but in my case it was causing some serious snoring issues, along with some apnea-meaning- short pauses in my breathing while I sleep.

The snoring got on Shannon's nerves, but the apnea was downright frightening. I lost a friend last year due to sleep apnea, and while my case is nowhere near as severe as his, it would occasionally wake me with an adrenaline surge as my body would fight to recover- pretty scary when you wake with a shock like that.

So, I commited to getting a surgery called septoplasty- They went into my nose, broke, and then re-set my septum cartilage so that it would open my airway, and allow me to breath more easily. i am pleased to report after my first full night sleep without blockage that it appears to have worked!

The story isn't about the ending though- it is about how I got here.

Friday 9:00am Nanigans and I report to out patient surgery- I sign the documents and shed my street clothes for one of those awesome hospital gowns. The nurse tries to stick my hand for the IV drip- ok my ex-wife was (is?) an RN and she had used me for practice on this more than once. Long story, but we used to trade- I would let her stick me with an IV if she would let me play Gran Turismo for a few hours... So I know that it is better to go for the inside of my elbow when inserting an IV, as I have a big fat vein there that is easy to get to. This lady wants to go for the hand- and as she is sticking me I feel the familier pinch that tells me the vein is rolling, and she is chasing it around under my skin.
It hurts. I calmly look over at her (I was looking away) and suggest she go for the elbow. She relinquishes the chase, and follows my advice to immediate effect.

Once hooked up I was taken into an Operating Room where I was given anesthetic, and then "treated" (they broke my nose). once the break was done, the Docs packed my nose with material to keep all the blood from running out of my head, and I got packaged up and sent out to recovery. About two hours later and they let me go home.

Having a broken nose is unpleasent. First- my eyes would not stop tearing up, second- the packing material is incredibly uncomfortable. It leaves you feeling a bit claustrophobic not being able to breath through your nose, and not being able to clear it in any way.
All day Friday and Saturday I suffered- cleaning excess blood out from around my nose, and changing the dressing on my face. My nose stuffed with packing looked about 4 times as wide as usual- and that made it uncomfortable to wear my glasses, and the constant tearing in my eyes made it difficult to wear my contacts.

Before you pity me too much- you should also know I was under a 1000mg dose of Vicodin every 6 hours- so I wasn't really feeling a lot of pain- or a lot of anything really- just kind of coasting along in a fog through the discomfort.

Sleeping was impossible- the nose dressing was taped to my face, which was uncomfortable- and for some reason even if I did fall asleep I would just wake up an hour later, have to get up and change my dressing. Friday night was aweful, Saturday not as bad as the bleeding had stopped so the exterior dressing wasn't really needed.

Sunday morning I went into the ER to meet my doctor in order to have the packing removed. All went well, except the doctor indicated the pack for my left nostril had "come apart". He was still able to pull it out though- along with the one from the right.

I got my first look at the "packing" and I will say that it didn't look anything like I had assumed. Each pack is about 5 inches long, and basically looked like a giant tampon wrapped in plastic- both were soaked in blood. It was an immense relief to have them out though. I still felt a bit plugged up, but much relieved. After a cursory exam we left the hospital, and i could breath through my nose.

Sort of...

About 3 blocks from the hospital I got a tickle in the back of my throat that caused me to gag- Shannon pulled over and I lea ned out the door and coughed up blood, and mucus- it was pretty gross, but I felt a little better. We continued on home. When we got here I went into the bathroom to clean up the dried blood around my nostrils. While I was doing that I noticed a thin fiber sticking out of my left nostril. I got out some tweezers and gave it a pull ever so gently. When I did, I felt something in the back of my sinuses move. I carefully continued to pull and the fiber became more like material, by this time it is about a half inch out of my nose. I kept pulling, and it kept coming out- longer, thicker, and covered in blood, mucus some kind of nasty geletin.

Here is what I ended up with...




Once this was pulled out- I could breath clearly from both nostrils, and the bleeding stopped. My guess is that this is what remained of the pack that fell apart. Fortunately I was able to fish it out on my own.

Today (Monday) I am feeling much better. I got a great nights sleep last night. My nose is a little tender, but otherwise healing nicely. I kept the piece of the packing to take when I see the doc for a follow up on Thursday. I really think he ought to have taken a closer look after the pack fell apart- fortunately, no harm, so IMO no foul. I like the Doc, I just hope he is more careful in the future.

Eat it or Wear it- a personal vent...

Man, sometimes it just seems like the rug is getting pulled out from under me. This is a big time in my life, I just got married, I have a kid on the way- and everything feels like it is ready to fall apart at a moments notice.
After working so hard through my late twenties to minimize my debt structure in an effort to facilitate being a "grown up" I have found myself awash in the fear and uncertainty I swore to myself I would never experience again.
I own my car
I have minimal unsecured personal debt
I have a good job

I am making more money than ever before in my life, but it just isn't enough.
It isn't enough to overcome my wifes debts now that she is earning a 3rd of what she used to.
It isn't enough to cover the move into a larger apartment
It isn't enough to cover the rent on a bigger apartment- an amount which could have paid the mortgage on a 3 bedroom home in Texas. Now I just need a second bedroom, and I am coming up short.

I am exasperated

Add to that- my company is in a state of flux. The CEO was just forced to step down, and trading of our stock is suspended pending confirmation of last years revenues- Translation: The banks are pissed because they think our management cooked the books, and now they asked the majority shareholder to step down from his management position while they figure out if we are solvent or not. None of this is particularly reassuring given that my wife and I are expecting, and she is dependant on my health insurance for both the pregnancy, and an issue with "nodules" on her thyroid. If I lose my job, we are going to have to commit to a COBRA, the cost of which will consume my unemployment allowance...

But wait- there is more!

My wife has a 72 month loan on a car that is out of warranty and worth a 3rd of the loan value. We don't need two cars, and cutting one loose would cut our monthly liabilities but trading in my paid for and reliable vehicle in conjunction with hers would still leave us 3 grand upside down going into a newer vehicle. That equates to a larger payment than the one we are currently shouldering for the Dodge + my $100 per month garage payment + the additional insurance I pay for the second vehicle. We wouldn't save, so it isn't worth it.

I would sell my car outright and just put the cash on ice, but my 99 Accord is the better of the two vehicles. Imagine that. A 1999 Honda with 108k on the clock is actually more reliable, and worth more on trade-in than a 2006 Dodge. Unfortunately that doesn't equate to being enough to overcome the staggering depreciation of said Dodge. Eat it, or wear it.

For the first time since I was 21 I have to seriously consider asking my folks for help, and I am ashamed that my decisions have brought me to this.