"I'm leavin' my fam'ly
Leavin' all my friends
My body's at home
But my heart's in the wind
Where the clouds are like headlines
On a new front page sky
My tears are salt water
And the moon's full and high
And I know Martin Eden's
Gonna be proud of me
And many before me
Who've been called by the sea
To be up in the crow's nest
Singin' my say
Shiver me Timbers
'Cause I'm a-sailin' away
And the fog's liftin'
And the sand's shiftin'
I'm driftin' on out
Ol' Captain Ahab
He ain't got nothin' on me, now.
So swallow me, don't follow me
I'm trav'lin' alone
Blue water's my daughter
'n I'm gonna skip like a stone
So please call my missus
Gotta tell her not to cry
'Cause my goodbye is written
By the moon in the sky
Hey and nobody knows me
I can't fathom my stayin'
Shiver me timbers
'Cause I'm a-sailin' away
And the fog's liftin'
And the sand's shiftin'
I'm driftin' on out
Ol' Captain Ahab
He ain't got nothin' on me
So come and swallow me, follow me
I'm trav'lin' alone
Blue water's my daughter
'n I'm gonna skip like a stone
And I'm leavin' my family
Leavin' all my friends
My body's at home
But my heart's in the wind
Where the clouds are like headlines
Upon a new front page sky
And shiver me timbers
'Cause I'm a-sailin' away"
Tom Waits - Shiver Me Timbers (Heart of Saturday Night 1974)
Its a metaphorical thing you see. We all have moments in life where we leave. We don't want to, but we leave. And wether we physically leave, or emotionally leave for a time - we are still not where we want to be. I had both. I was physically away from my girlfriend and assorted family, and I was emotionally gone from everywhere.
I existed only in this room, with the one big window I could not see out of. I could hear the long coal trains rumbling by down below, I could hear the Pegasus LifeFlight taking off and landing. But I couldn't see any of it. The window was like a tv with light but no picture. It was dry and hot these days in the hospital, no storms to light the window up with lightning. And except for the constant stream of medical staff and my parents, the outside world had ceased to exist.
The docs were always asking me the date and such - and I told them, if I havent read the paper, I dont know the date. And no, USA Today does not count.
I had never been to Charlottesville, I had no idea the layout of the city, or what might be 6 floors below me. My whole world consisted of that room, a few hallways, the MRI lab, and the bathroom.
And every evening, the outside world faded as far as the light in the window told me. Faded and went to black.
As this day closed, I was about 24 hours away from surgery. Which then led to the longest 3 days of my life, or the shortest stay in NeuroICU anyone has seen in a long time.
8/5/05
For those of you just joining us..
The story starts here: BST:the beginning
Feel free to skim if you like, or just pick up where you feel most comfortable.
Feel free to skim if you like, or just pick up where you feel most comfortable.
8/4/05
BST15: Pleased to meet you, Hope you fix my brain
Have you noticed yet, none of the Tomorrow: BST**: whatevers actually appear as the next days title?
I swear when this is done, Im going to sit down and figure out the theme behind the titles.
Anyway, 15 days since my birthday. 15 days since I slammed my head into the change machine at Trump Taj Mahal. 15 days since the seizure-o-matic drive on my brain finally kicked over. And what am I doing?
Sitting in a hospital, being interviewed. Today was Monday, which meant all the staff and sundry were present and accounted for. Today was going to be a long day.
Now the poor nurses had to check my vitals every 2 hours or so through the night, so as much as I wanted to be asleep, I did not want them to have to wake me up - or worry about waking me up. I was getting real good at greeting them as they came through the door.
A quick word about my room. It was big, had a big single square window with the blinds between the panes. Had a bathroom to rival the ones in a penthouse suite. It also was directly attached to a nurses station. Not one that was monitored 24/7, but one of the satilite ones - where a nurse could gather more supplies as he/she needed.
I think it was up on the 6th floor. Wonderful view (for the 2 minutes I remember seeing it before I was confined to the bed.) The nursing staff could not have been more wonderful. If you know UVA Medical Center, you know the floors are laid out in triangles, precisely to confuse patients. I, to this day - could not tell you what room I was in if I was staring right at it. (and I think I was, during the Gamma Knife episode)
But anyway, there were two doors to my room. One into the nurses station, and a 2nd into my room. The doors had matching big square windows - but with no blinds. Not a big deal normally, as they dimmed the lights on the floor at the appropriate time. Except - the nurses station light was never turned off. It had no dimmer. Just that big square glass window straight into my room.
Not sleeping was very easy, especially when you would see a shadow or hear a noise in the hallway at night. I had no clock I could see easily when the lights were off in the room, I had no radio to lull me to sleep. I never thought of it till I was home allready.
So, as I would soon discover, like clockwork - the Vampire Squad came in at 5:00am to steal my blood. Then it was a wait, at 6am (or there abouts) the nurse came in to check my vitals and administer my meds. At 7:30ish am, it was time for breakfast. And at 8am, my parents were back in right on time to spend the day again. I give them much credit - they spent more time sitting there than I would want to.
Well, being the busy kind of day it was shaping up to be, I was totally in my right mind. Obviously.
Perfect time to send in the interviewers. First was Social Services, asking about my job and such. Somehow in my mangled description of my mangled job at Home Depot, I gave them the impression that I was a security guard. I believe I also said something about moving a 550lb cast iron tub by myself. Which actually was true. So on my SS forms I was classified as a Security Guard.
Then in came the man of my dreams. Tall, serious looking - but with a smile on his face a mile wide. A calm, easy going manner - but an intensity for getting things done right. Meet Dr. Shaffrey. My Neurosurgeon. The man inspires confidence, and heaven forbid anything similar happen to your loved ones, this is the man you want.
Well he gave my parents the run down, because lord knows I was barely keeping up counting my fingers. After he left, my mother went and called her cousin who is a bigshot nurse. Sure enough, after 2 seconds of checking around at her hospital, Shaffery was the MAN.
Next up on my hidden agenda, the Neuropsychologist. Why? Baseline testing of my brain functions and whatnot. Sure, I could make a ton of jokes here - but why bother. Several months after getting out of the hospital, on the occasion of one of my follow up MRI's, I had another run of neuro-functional/cognitive testing. Just an update kind of thing. The Doctor who ran me through the gauntlet then was the same one who put me through my paces before the surgery. Dr. Janie Irons. And I, feeling the fool - had no idea. Dr. Irons was the associate of the big muckety-muck Neuropsychologist, Dr. Farace. Both women have my undying gratitude for what they did for me. Dr. Farace would have done the test herself, but was tied up with another patient.
For some reason, in my head - I still envision the testing as follows: I was taken out of my room (not true) and brought to this big old library (not true). In this library I was seated in a window, on one of those nice window seats - where I could look out(not true). Dr. Irons sat with me on the windowseat (not true) and asked me questions, had me do puzzles, and talked with me about various things(true). The only thing I clearly remember is having a discussion about Star Trek (maybe true). Then when it was all over, I was back in my bed.
So theres the delusional "I HAVE NO BRAIN" moment for today.
I will have further updates later in the day.
I swear when this is done, Im going to sit down and figure out the theme behind the titles.
Anyway, 15 days since my birthday. 15 days since I slammed my head into the change machine at Trump Taj Mahal. 15 days since the seizure-o-matic drive on my brain finally kicked over. And what am I doing?
Sitting in a hospital, being interviewed. Today was Monday, which meant all the staff and sundry were present and accounted for. Today was going to be a long day.
Now the poor nurses had to check my vitals every 2 hours or so through the night, so as much as I wanted to be asleep, I did not want them to have to wake me up - or worry about waking me up. I was getting real good at greeting them as they came through the door.
A quick word about my room. It was big, had a big single square window with the blinds between the panes. Had a bathroom to rival the ones in a penthouse suite. It also was directly attached to a nurses station. Not one that was monitored 24/7, but one of the satilite ones - where a nurse could gather more supplies as he/she needed.
I think it was up on the 6th floor. Wonderful view (for the 2 minutes I remember seeing it before I was confined to the bed.) The nursing staff could not have been more wonderful. If you know UVA Medical Center, you know the floors are laid out in triangles, precisely to confuse patients. I, to this day - could not tell you what room I was in if I was staring right at it. (and I think I was, during the Gamma Knife episode)
But anyway, there were two doors to my room. One into the nurses station, and a 2nd into my room. The doors had matching big square windows - but with no blinds. Not a big deal normally, as they dimmed the lights on the floor at the appropriate time. Except - the nurses station light was never turned off. It had no dimmer. Just that big square glass window straight into my room.
Not sleeping was very easy, especially when you would see a shadow or hear a noise in the hallway at night. I had no clock I could see easily when the lights were off in the room, I had no radio to lull me to sleep. I never thought of it till I was home allready.
So, as I would soon discover, like clockwork - the Vampire Squad came in at 5:00am to steal my blood. Then it was a wait, at 6am (or there abouts) the nurse came in to check my vitals and administer my meds. At 7:30ish am, it was time for breakfast. And at 8am, my parents were back in right on time to spend the day again. I give them much credit - they spent more time sitting there than I would want to.
Well, being the busy kind of day it was shaping up to be, I was totally in my right mind. Obviously.
Perfect time to send in the interviewers. First was Social Services, asking about my job and such. Somehow in my mangled description of my mangled job at Home Depot, I gave them the impression that I was a security guard. I believe I also said something about moving a 550lb cast iron tub by myself. Which actually was true. So on my SS forms I was classified as a Security Guard.
Then in came the man of my dreams. Tall, serious looking - but with a smile on his face a mile wide. A calm, easy going manner - but an intensity for getting things done right. Meet Dr. Shaffrey. My Neurosurgeon. The man inspires confidence, and heaven forbid anything similar happen to your loved ones, this is the man you want.
Well he gave my parents the run down, because lord knows I was barely keeping up counting my fingers. After he left, my mother went and called her cousin who is a bigshot nurse. Sure enough, after 2 seconds of checking around at her hospital, Shaffery was the MAN.
Next up on my hidden agenda, the Neuropsychologist. Why? Baseline testing of my brain functions and whatnot. Sure, I could make a ton of jokes here - but why bother. Several months after getting out of the hospital, on the occasion of one of my follow up MRI's, I had another run of neuro-functional/cognitive testing. Just an update kind of thing. The Doctor who ran me through the gauntlet then was the same one who put me through my paces before the surgery. Dr. Janie Irons. And I, feeling the fool - had no idea. Dr. Irons was the associate of the big muckety-muck Neuropsychologist, Dr. Farace. Both women have my undying gratitude for what they did for me. Dr. Farace would have done the test herself, but was tied up with another patient.
For some reason, in my head - I still envision the testing as follows: I was taken out of my room (not true) and brought to this big old library (not true). In this library I was seated in a window, on one of those nice window seats - where I could look out(not true). Dr. Irons sat with me on the windowseat (not true) and asked me questions, had me do puzzles, and talked with me about various things(true). The only thing I clearly remember is having a discussion about Star Trek (maybe true). Then when it was all over, I was back in my bed.
So theres the delusional "I HAVE NO BRAIN" moment for today.
I will have further updates later in the day.
BST14: Sunday Bloody Sunday
Allright, so maybe this title is a tad overdramatic.
Just a tad tho. Not much.
Sundays in the hospital were different, quieter. Time was spent watching TV, staring into space, watching some more tv. Managed to locate the NASCAR race, Watkins Glen at that. So bad enough I was slightly out of my head enough to think they (I HAVE NO BRAIN MOMENT) changed the body styling for the race (something chunkier and stockier than they normally run - for unknown reasons I was seeing the cars that way), they were also making both left and right turns.
Any wonder why my head was all screwy? Well, there was another factor.
Dilantin.
(Q & A Time) "What are the possible side effects of Dilantin?
- an allergic reaction (difficulty breathing; closing of the throat; swelling of the lips, tongue, or face; or hives);
· hallucinations;
· slurred speech or staggering walk;
· a rash;
· changes in vision;
· agitation;
· low blood pressure;
· slow or irregular heartbeats;" (drugs.com)
So lets examine shall we? I was allready in the hospital for a tumor which causes gait issues, I allready had a rather calm blood pressure. My speech was slightly slurred due to the tumor. Agitation? No comment...
So really all the Dilantin did was add a rash and hallucinations.
Well, why the hell not?
When asked about it - the doctors called it "kinda like useful heroin - the benifits outweigh the drawbacks in most cases."
This is also around the time I stopped sleeping at night. Resting fitfully during the day, and as my mother put it "at all the wrong times." I'd be asleep every time the nurses and docs came in to check me, but awake when nothing was going on.
I was beginning to learn that the food at UVA was more than decent, it was actually good hospital food. Everything but the Turkey Tetrazinni. God what sludge, not to be rude. Im sure there are people out there who enjoy it - but Im not one of them.
And those days I would get something from the cafeteria downstairs. I had not seen it, but I was told it was huge - they had everything a person could want (including coffee.. and boy did I need it), all for low prices.
I was attempting to keep a journal while in the hospital - but only succeeded in making one entry. Todays: "Disoriented, delusional, and detatched. Dilantin. Welcome to lockdown."
For what its worth anyway...
Tomorrow: BST15: Stealing the baselines.
Just a tad tho. Not much.
Sundays in the hospital were different, quieter. Time was spent watching TV, staring into space, watching some more tv. Managed to locate the NASCAR race, Watkins Glen at that. So bad enough I was slightly out of my head enough to think they (I HAVE NO BRAIN MOMENT) changed the body styling for the race (something chunkier and stockier than they normally run - for unknown reasons I was seeing the cars that way), they were also making both left and right turns.
Any wonder why my head was all screwy? Well, there was another factor.
Dilantin.
(Q & A Time) "What are the possible side effects of Dilantin?
- an allergic reaction (difficulty breathing; closing of the throat; swelling of the lips, tongue, or face; or hives);
· hallucinations;
· slurred speech or staggering walk;
· a rash;
· changes in vision;
· agitation;
· low blood pressure;
· slow or irregular heartbeats;" (drugs.com)
So lets examine shall we? I was allready in the hospital for a tumor which causes gait issues, I allready had a rather calm blood pressure. My speech was slightly slurred due to the tumor. Agitation? No comment...
So really all the Dilantin did was add a rash and hallucinations.
Well, why the hell not?
When asked about it - the doctors called it "kinda like useful heroin - the benifits outweigh the drawbacks in most cases."
This is also around the time I stopped sleeping at night. Resting fitfully during the day, and as my mother put it "at all the wrong times." I'd be asleep every time the nurses and docs came in to check me, but awake when nothing was going on.
I was beginning to learn that the food at UVA was more than decent, it was actually good hospital food. Everything but the Turkey Tetrazinni. God what sludge, not to be rude. Im sure there are people out there who enjoy it - but Im not one of them.
And those days I would get something from the cafeteria downstairs. I had not seen it, but I was told it was huge - they had everything a person could want (including coffee.. and boy did I need it), all for low prices.
I was attempting to keep a journal while in the hospital - but only succeeded in making one entry. Todays: "Disoriented, delusional, and detatched. Dilantin. Welcome to lockdown."
For what its worth anyway...
Tomorrow: BST15: Stealing the baselines.
8/3/05
BST13: Good Morning, mind if I take your blood?
So I'm beginning to see a pattern developing here.
the 5am Vampire Squad wakeup call. Around 5am every day, the Vampire Squad comes rolling through, stealing blood as they go. They are awfully polite about it, and very gentle when they do it. But its 5am.
I was previously asleep.
And you want me to take a needle? Hmmm.. can we reschedule?
I do have to admit, this day was fairly easy. Basically testing, testing, and more testing. MRI's - I got these cheerio's for my head - helps the images to line up I understand.
Oh - and I was up to my 5th or 6th bag of saline. Little tip for all you age-obsessed women out there - want younger skin? Get hyper-hydrated with saline. I had the stuff in spades, to the point where my skin and nails looked as if I was just born.
That pink that only babies can get.
I was so full of saline I could taste and smell it. My skin felt damp all the time, it was seeping out of my pores. That was the nightmare of the day.... the saline. I kept asking if they could turn it off for a while. Oh wait, there was another nightmare - the blood-oxygen sensor cuff on my finger. Apparently when your finger is not perfectly level - the machine goes off annoyingly - to the point where even the nurses couldn't stand the noise of it.
They knew I was fine, as they had just checked me about 5 minutes prior, but the cuff was not level - so the machine got noisy.
They threated to tape my hand to my chest if I could not hold it. And lord know I tried. But it would not stay. So they made good on the threat. They taped my hand to my chest while I slept, it was probably the best sleep I had gotten since getting the stupid cuff put on.
All were happy.
Other than than - it was just more testing, more saline, more bad tv, and more meds.
Tomorrow: BST14:Dilantin iz teh SuX0r
the 5am Vampire Squad wakeup call. Around 5am every day, the Vampire Squad comes rolling through, stealing blood as they go. They are awfully polite about it, and very gentle when they do it. But its 5am.
I was previously asleep.
And you want me to take a needle? Hmmm.. can we reschedule?
I do have to admit, this day was fairly easy. Basically testing, testing, and more testing. MRI's - I got these cheerio's for my head - helps the images to line up I understand.
Oh - and I was up to my 5th or 6th bag of saline. Little tip for all you age-obsessed women out there - want younger skin? Get hyper-hydrated with saline. I had the stuff in spades, to the point where my skin and nails looked as if I was just born.
That pink that only babies can get.
I was so full of saline I could taste and smell it. My skin felt damp all the time, it was seeping out of my pores. That was the nightmare of the day.... the saline. I kept asking if they could turn it off for a while. Oh wait, there was another nightmare - the blood-oxygen sensor cuff on my finger. Apparently when your finger is not perfectly level - the machine goes off annoyingly - to the point where even the nurses couldn't stand the noise of it.
They knew I was fine, as they had just checked me about 5 minutes prior, but the cuff was not level - so the machine got noisy.
They threated to tape my hand to my chest if I could not hold it. And lord know I tried. But it would not stay. So they made good on the threat. They taped my hand to my chest while I slept, it was probably the best sleep I had gotten since getting the stupid cuff put on.
All were happy.
Other than than - it was just more testing, more saline, more bad tv, and more meds.
Tomorrow: BST14:Dilantin iz teh SuX0r
8/2/05
BST12b: Just a little WHAT?
Allright, I'll admit it - I hate needles. I even broke out in a mini-cold sweat upon getting my PPD test today. (Got it for the new job, not for the WSLS Outbreak)
No, you don't understand - I really hate needles. It once took 3 nurses to calm me down just to get an immunization shot. One I had walked to, walked in, and walked out of 3 times prior.
Well, lets see.. Im being admitted to the hospital, and not for an overnight stay. Nope - Im being admitted for a stretch.
The docs want me hydrated. Apparently I was De-. The docs want me tested, bloodwise. The docs want alot of things, but most of all - they want in my veins apparently.
So I have to be outrigged with a gate-valve IV line. You know, those nifty things that you get so you don't have to continuously take new needles? Well, I was not thrilled with the thought of getting even the one to insert the darn thing.
But I was also out of my mind, remember? So somehow I changed the zoning regulations on my veins from a No Needle Zone, to Open for Needles.
I wish I had informed myself..
So I got the line-in. And they started me on the saline IV drip. Well, no, not drip - I had a push. If I recall correctly, the first day I went through 3 bags if saline.
Ugh.
But in nother news, I got to watch some interesting new shows. Like the West Virginia State Lottery show... Wow, was that a barn burner. God I'd love to see that again.
Of course, it might not have been as bizzare as I remember.
Thats a big might.
So tomorrow: Meet the Vampire Squad.
No, you don't understand - I really hate needles. It once took 3 nurses to calm me down just to get an immunization shot. One I had walked to, walked in, and walked out of 3 times prior.
Well, lets see.. Im being admitted to the hospital, and not for an overnight stay. Nope - Im being admitted for a stretch.
The docs want me hydrated. Apparently I was De-. The docs want me tested, bloodwise. The docs want alot of things, but most of all - they want in my veins apparently.
So I have to be outrigged with a gate-valve IV line. You know, those nifty things that you get so you don't have to continuously take new needles? Well, I was not thrilled with the thought of getting even the one to insert the darn thing.
But I was also out of my mind, remember? So somehow I changed the zoning regulations on my veins from a No Needle Zone, to Open for Needles.
I wish I had informed myself..
So I got the line-in. And they started me on the saline IV drip. Well, no, not drip - I had a push. If I recall correctly, the first day I went through 3 bags if saline.
Ugh.
But in nother news, I got to watch some interesting new shows. Like the West Virginia State Lottery show... Wow, was that a barn burner. God I'd love to see that again.
Of course, it might not have been as bizzare as I remember.
Thats a big might.
So tomorrow: Meet the Vampire Squad.
BST12: Welcome, won't you join us for a while?
It was a long drive to UVA. Long.. dull... drive. Plus, I was not looking forward to what they had to say. Still thinking it was nothing major, delusional as I always am.
We get there, park, go into the Neurosurgery offices and wait.
We are the only ones there. Kinda creepy. Fill out paperwork, hand over the films.
Now at this point, I don't remember anymore if it was Dr. Kassell or Dr. Jane Sr. that called us back into the office. I just remember there being a mood of expectant tension. He told us how he reviewed the films, then uttered the words no one was expecting.
Its a tumor.
A shockwave of stunned silence exploded into the room. The good Dr. broke it by mentioning that it was a particularly rare one, but by all indications - if it is the type he thought it was, it would be benign.
Central Neurocytoma. One of the rarest, and dangerous types.
From my studies on this little brainbastard, it is a slow growing tumor. Most likely I had it since birth, but until it hits a size where it causes problems, there is no knowing its there. It blocks the flow of Cerebro-Spinal Fluid causing the brain to crush under the pressure buildup. It is operable, due to location, and has a very good outcome for returning to normal life. Usually.
However, when you hear the doctor say (in terms of him admitting me for surgery and stablilzation) "You can either stay with us for the weekend, or you can go home and die suddenly," things have gotten a little out of hand.
We would know more after I had an MRI.
I HAVE NO BRAIN MOMENT: (another fine example of my dimwittedness) We go out to the car after figuring out the admissions thing. Im sitting there, smoking my brains out, and I call my wife (girlfriend at the time). Mind you Im sitting in the backseat of my parents car, they are sitting in the front.
I tell her that we found out what is going on with my head, and that I had "the Big C." To this day, echoing somewhere above C-Ville is my mothers voice yelling "It's not cancer, Its a tumor!" See, No brain..
I handed the phone to my mother who properly explained things. Thankfully.
So off to admitting we went.
And on that note, I must be off - more to come later today - I have things to accomplish.
We get there, park, go into the Neurosurgery offices and wait.
We are the only ones there. Kinda creepy. Fill out paperwork, hand over the films.
Now at this point, I don't remember anymore if it was Dr. Kassell or Dr. Jane Sr. that called us back into the office. I just remember there being a mood of expectant tension. He told us how he reviewed the films, then uttered the words no one was expecting.
Its a tumor.
A shockwave of stunned silence exploded into the room. The good Dr. broke it by mentioning that it was a particularly rare one, but by all indications - if it is the type he thought it was, it would be benign.
Central Neurocytoma. One of the rarest, and dangerous types.
From my studies on this little brainbastard, it is a slow growing tumor. Most likely I had it since birth, but until it hits a size where it causes problems, there is no knowing its there. It blocks the flow of Cerebro-Spinal Fluid causing the brain to crush under the pressure buildup. It is operable, due to location, and has a very good outcome for returning to normal life. Usually.
However, when you hear the doctor say (in terms of him admitting me for surgery and stablilzation) "You can either stay with us for the weekend, or you can go home and die suddenly," things have gotten a little out of hand.
We would know more after I had an MRI.
I HAVE NO BRAIN MOMENT: (another fine example of my dimwittedness) We go out to the car after figuring out the admissions thing. Im sitting there, smoking my brains out, and I call my wife (girlfriend at the time). Mind you Im sitting in the backseat of my parents car, they are sitting in the front.
I tell her that we found out what is going on with my head, and that I had "the Big C." To this day, echoing somewhere above C-Ville is my mothers voice yelling "It's not cancer, Its a tumor!" See, No brain..
I handed the phone to my mother who properly explained things. Thankfully.
So off to admitting we went.
And on that note, I must be off - more to come later today - I have things to accomplish.
8/1/05
It's done.
Testcast #1 is finished and ready to ship. Drop me a line @ forgotten.roanoke@gmail.com
and I'll pass it on. I've come up with a better way to ship than sending it as a file.
and I'll pass it on. I've come up with a better way to ship than sending it as a file.
7/31/05
BST11: "So, uh, you watch the races?"
Well this is a big day. So Im not too sure of how to set out describing it.
If memory serves me....
I'm pretty sure my appointment was first thing in the morning. It was a Thursday, and we were headed from 616 in Moneta, to 122 - all the way to Rocky Mount. Carilion Franklin memorial or whatever. Nice looking place, although I was a tad bit concerned about the life-flight helicopter landing pad in the parking lot. Not so much for myself, but for the unwitting person who parked their larger sized car in the spaces surrounding.
I think we left before dawn, but things were pretty dark for me anyway at that time, so Im not sure. I remember seeing Rocky Mount and thinking what a nice small town it was. Then next thing I know, Im in the hospital, awaiting my first ever CT scan.
And waiting. Not long, but the wait was interminable. So this guy calls out my name, and leads me back to the CT area. Heres what I remember:
Sitting next to this massive computer, as he typed in my answers to the usual questions. Any allergies, history of blah-blah.. I guess I was looking visibly nervous, because suddenly he changed tack - "So, uh, you watch the races?"
Well there went another 20 minutes of prep, speeding by as we talked about NASCAR and all related things. I don't remember anything except how cool the guy was. Then it was time to lay down and take it. I was amused that they had to use lazers to target my head, make sure it was properly aligned. The usual admonisions about not moving, no sneezing - that stuff. Then he told me the plan - 15 mins of pics normal, 15 with contrast.
Ok - Ive owned many a camera and a tv or 2, I know contrast is something you twiddle with when your picture is not quite right. Right?
Right?
Boy was I wrong - after the first 15 mins he slides me out, and proceeds to play "Let's pick a vein." Again, I am non-plussed as I can visibly SEE this whole thing going on. He slides up a tray, and pulls out what I would think to be a sterilized, wrapped can of WD-40. Well it was big enough, but no - this was the contrast. Then he tells me he has 2 of them for me, I'll be taking 100cc's of contrast.
Lovely, had you told me this sooner I could have made alternate arrangements for someone to come stand in for me.
Slips the needle in, unlocks the hypo-side, locks in the contrast keg #1. He says it could burn a bit, tingle if you will. Nope, not me - nooo. I get immediate and total ice flowing through my veins. If you stabbed me with a penguin, I still wouldnt have this chill this deep inside me.
By the time he empties #2, Im tracing the path of ice water through my body. We wait, he has headed back to the monolith computer to time the progress - and then he announces that we are going back in.
Re-lined up, and I can hear the machine spinning inside the big donut. I can track it by the sound. Reminds me of a NIN concert, which was a good thing. It had a beat, it had a lead track. I could close my eyes and envision some electro-heavy band banging this out in the studio. I was happy - well, happy enough considering my arm had been brutally invaded by steel.
And yet to this day I have a dream of cybernetic implants. Tell me that makes sense.
Allright, this fun was over. I bid goodbye to the dude, and we headed back home. If I recall correctly - my appointment was for 9am, so we were back on the road. I think we stopped somewhere, maybe the Kroger in Rocky Mount for something - I dont know, I stayed in the car. Im pretty sure we stopped at DQ (the one infront of Lewis' office) before heading home.
So if you figure we hit the road home about 10:15, stopped twice, we probably got in around noon.
There was a message waiting. Dr. Lewis had the breakdown from the tech on what was on the CT films.
I was headed for UVA the following day. I had a meeting with the head (HEAD!) of the Neurosurgery Department. One Dr. Kassell (I believe).
Now, Rocky Mount was maybe an hour drive, UVA would be nearly 3 hours. There was no definitive answer as to why, but something on the CT had them concerned - although they wanted a specialist's opinion.
So my parents had to drive back to Rocky Mount and get the films, and prepare for a drive in the morning.
I packed my backpack again, tapes/cds/batteries/walkman.
What the hell was going on, I had no idea. But what was currently going on was ugly. The pain was beginning to ramp up to the same levels I had back in NY.
Not fully there yet, but getting there.
And this is where it begins to get really good. This is the part that you should keep your eye on. Welcome to the beginning of everything.
If memory serves me....
I'm pretty sure my appointment was first thing in the morning. It was a Thursday, and we were headed from 616 in Moneta, to 122 - all the way to Rocky Mount. Carilion Franklin memorial or whatever. Nice looking place, although I was a tad bit concerned about the life-flight helicopter landing pad in the parking lot. Not so much for myself, but for the unwitting person who parked their larger sized car in the spaces surrounding.
I think we left before dawn, but things were pretty dark for me anyway at that time, so Im not sure. I remember seeing Rocky Mount and thinking what a nice small town it was. Then next thing I know, Im in the hospital, awaiting my first ever CT scan.
And waiting. Not long, but the wait was interminable. So this guy calls out my name, and leads me back to the CT area. Heres what I remember:
Sitting next to this massive computer, as he typed in my answers to the usual questions. Any allergies, history of blah-blah.. I guess I was looking visibly nervous, because suddenly he changed tack - "So, uh, you watch the races?"
Well there went another 20 minutes of prep, speeding by as we talked about NASCAR and all related things. I don't remember anything except how cool the guy was. Then it was time to lay down and take it. I was amused that they had to use lazers to target my head, make sure it was properly aligned. The usual admonisions about not moving, no sneezing - that stuff. Then he told me the plan - 15 mins of pics normal, 15 with contrast.
Ok - Ive owned many a camera and a tv or 2, I know contrast is something you twiddle with when your picture is not quite right. Right?
Right?
Boy was I wrong - after the first 15 mins he slides me out, and proceeds to play "Let's pick a vein." Again, I am non-plussed as I can visibly SEE this whole thing going on. He slides up a tray, and pulls out what I would think to be a sterilized, wrapped can of WD-40. Well it was big enough, but no - this was the contrast. Then he tells me he has 2 of them for me, I'll be taking 100cc's of contrast.
Lovely, had you told me this sooner I could have made alternate arrangements for someone to come stand in for me.
Slips the needle in, unlocks the hypo-side, locks in the contrast keg #1. He says it could burn a bit, tingle if you will. Nope, not me - nooo. I get immediate and total ice flowing through my veins. If you stabbed me with a penguin, I still wouldnt have this chill this deep inside me.
By the time he empties #2, Im tracing the path of ice water through my body. We wait, he has headed back to the monolith computer to time the progress - and then he announces that we are going back in.
Re-lined up, and I can hear the machine spinning inside the big donut. I can track it by the sound. Reminds me of a NIN concert, which was a good thing. It had a beat, it had a lead track. I could close my eyes and envision some electro-heavy band banging this out in the studio. I was happy - well, happy enough considering my arm had been brutally invaded by steel.
And yet to this day I have a dream of cybernetic implants. Tell me that makes sense.
Allright, this fun was over. I bid goodbye to the dude, and we headed back home. If I recall correctly - my appointment was for 9am, so we were back on the road. I think we stopped somewhere, maybe the Kroger in Rocky Mount for something - I dont know, I stayed in the car. Im pretty sure we stopped at DQ (the one infront of Lewis' office) before heading home.
So if you figure we hit the road home about 10:15, stopped twice, we probably got in around noon.
There was a message waiting. Dr. Lewis had the breakdown from the tech on what was on the CT films.
I was headed for UVA the following day. I had a meeting with the head (HEAD!) of the Neurosurgery Department. One Dr. Kassell (I believe).
Now, Rocky Mount was maybe an hour drive, UVA would be nearly 3 hours. There was no definitive answer as to why, but something on the CT had them concerned - although they wanted a specialist's opinion.
So my parents had to drive back to Rocky Mount and get the films, and prepare for a drive in the morning.
I packed my backpack again, tapes/cds/batteries/walkman.
What the hell was going on, I had no idea. But what was currently going on was ugly. The pain was beginning to ramp up to the same levels I had back in NY.
Not fully there yet, but getting there.
And this is where it begins to get really good. This is the part that you should keep your eye on. Welcome to the beginning of everything.
We're taking a short break today
Another day of waiting 3 years ago. Meh - even less to talk about with each day of waiting. But the wait wont be long - come tomorrow, everything kicks into overdrive.
So anyway, Welcome to October people! 69 degrees, overcast, drizzly nasty stuff. Yep - halloween must be right around the corner. Of course, I'd take this over the 90+ heat we were having. Then again, anything over 80 and I start getting cranky.
I just wanted to show you all something.
If anyone can tell me what this photo is of, I'll give you a brass filligree with bronze leaf.
And one more photo.
You know, maybe having the sign down is not the worst idea. It would be a hell of a conversation piece. If you could find a blank wall somewhere in town, or even maybe stick it in Elmwood Park, at ground level - and let it be lit. Be a novelty anyway.
So welcome to my day off from the BST, I'll be back with more later.
So anyway, Welcome to October people! 69 degrees, overcast, drizzly nasty stuff. Yep - halloween must be right around the corner. Of course, I'd take this over the 90+ heat we were having. Then again, anything over 80 and I start getting cranky.
I just wanted to show you all something.
If anyone can tell me what this photo is of, I'll give you a brass filligree with bronze leaf.
And one more photo.
You know, maybe having the sign down is not the worst idea. It would be a hell of a conversation piece. If you could find a blank wall somewhere in town, or even maybe stick it in Elmwood Park, at ground level - and let it be lit. Be a novelty anyway.
So welcome to my day off from the BST, I'll be back with more later.
7/29/05
BST9: The really good Doctor
So here I am. New haircut, slightly new wardrobe (remember, I brought nothing - all I had down there was whatever I had left/bought on my previous visits), and a pain in my neck worse than death. So where does a swinging, handsome guy with a pain go? The Doctor of course.
A nice trip to see Dr. Lewis, the doc of the lake. A Doc so cool, he rides his motorcycle to work. This dude is one cool doc. He has a knack for spotting things before anyone else does - and being right. However, directly outside his office is Dairy Queen.
Hard choice, huh?
Well, Doc was first - check in, wait, fill out forms. Stating I had no medical insurance, but payment was assured. Then I got called back, check the vitals.
Now I occasionally weighed myself when I was living in NY, nothing official mind you - just an occasional inquiry. I knew at one point I was racking up about 300lbs on my frame. Hey, its a wonderful life.
Well when I was weighed at Lewis, well - I had dropped nearly 100lbs in nearly 6 months. Well, I was on no weight loss plan - no diet. I was not working especially hard. I was just existing day to day, and somehow lost nearly 100lbs.
Of course, Lewis - not having seen me before, nor having any kind of chart to base things on - might not have realized how fast I had lost weight, or how much. I had not been to a doctor prior in roughly.. well, lets just say most Catholics make confession more often than I go to doctors.
So we sit in the exam room for a bit. Dr. Lewis themes his rooms, theres a fish room, a lake room.. yadda yadda.
In walks the good Doctor. Hello says I, hello says he. But the differences could not be more vast. Dr. Lewis grew up a military brat, living for a time in a town not all that far from where I grew up. But years and time have erased the NY from his voice, he is the very definition of calm. His voice exudes a warmth and confidence, a concern yet command of the situation. He sounds (at least) nearly unflappable.
My parents and I give him a run-down of the situation as far as we see it. I do not remember if he took an x-ray, or if he just went based on feelings. But he ordered a CT scan. The very next day in Rocky Mount at Carilion Franklin I had an appointment for a CT.
What a wonderful week this was going to be. I had the vaguest idea what a CT scan was, much less a decent understanding of what they would be looking for.
In retrospect, Im probably glad I did not know.
Tomorrow: BST10:How far? How long?
A nice trip to see Dr. Lewis, the doc of the lake. A Doc so cool, he rides his motorcycle to work. This dude is one cool doc. He has a knack for spotting things before anyone else does - and being right. However, directly outside his office is Dairy Queen.
Hard choice, huh?
Well, Doc was first - check in, wait, fill out forms. Stating I had no medical insurance, but payment was assured. Then I got called back, check the vitals.
Now I occasionally weighed myself when I was living in NY, nothing official mind you - just an occasional inquiry. I knew at one point I was racking up about 300lbs on my frame. Hey, its a wonderful life.
Well when I was weighed at Lewis, well - I had dropped nearly 100lbs in nearly 6 months. Well, I was on no weight loss plan - no diet. I was not working especially hard. I was just existing day to day, and somehow lost nearly 100lbs.
Of course, Lewis - not having seen me before, nor having any kind of chart to base things on - might not have realized how fast I had lost weight, or how much. I had not been to a doctor prior in roughly.. well, lets just say most Catholics make confession more often than I go to doctors.
So we sit in the exam room for a bit. Dr. Lewis themes his rooms, theres a fish room, a lake room.. yadda yadda.
In walks the good Doctor. Hello says I, hello says he. But the differences could not be more vast. Dr. Lewis grew up a military brat, living for a time in a town not all that far from where I grew up. But years and time have erased the NY from his voice, he is the very definition of calm. His voice exudes a warmth and confidence, a concern yet command of the situation. He sounds (at least) nearly unflappable.
My parents and I give him a run-down of the situation as far as we see it. I do not remember if he took an x-ray, or if he just went based on feelings. But he ordered a CT scan. The very next day in Rocky Mount at Carilion Franklin I had an appointment for a CT.
What a wonderful week this was going to be. I had the vaguest idea what a CT scan was, much less a decent understanding of what they would be looking for.
In retrospect, Im probably glad I did not know.
Tomorrow: BST10:How far? How long?
7/28/05
BST8: Of head chopping and salty soups...
I was getting sick and tired of being sick and tired. I was smelly, nasty, grungy - my parents, who wisely after my performance in the shower in NY, had banned me from the shower down here. I had not showered in roughly 5 days at this point. I was able to con them into allowing me a quick shower, with the provision that I left the door open. Which was not a big deal considering my mother has the thickest, darkest shower curtain on record.
Also one of the most spacious bathrooms.
So I showered, only getting dizzy a number of times, not blacking out, just dizzy. (As in, I was really probably very close to passing out, but somehow fought it off.) I learned one thing after I got out of the shower. I was sick of my hair.
I've struggled all my life with my hair. I have thick, thick hair. Thick like peanut butter. Half the time I want it long, the other half I am trying to tame it short.
My hair has a natural part, thoroughly enforced by 6 years of catholic school, uniforms, and neatness as a requirement.
In my 30 years, I haven't lost that part no matter what I do. So as I was saying, I was once again - sick of my hair. It was long, but long in that not long enough way. Best descriptive word: unkempt.
So off to the hair cutting place we go. Just up 616 by Dollar General, nice lady - good cut. I was happy - plus the whole process felt really good for some reason - very calming.
We go out to eat to celebrate my newfound hair, to a chinese food place down at Bridgewater. We sit, order - and get a round of wanton soup for all. Now finding chinese food that matches the quality and quantity of NYC chinese is no easy task. In trying this 'wanton soup' I discovered, to my personal tastes anyway - that it was salty. Extremely so. Upon asking my fellow diners if I was correct in my assesment - I was met with puzzled stares, and a round of "no."
Ooohkkkaaayy - so its just me. Well, I had a bit more soup. Then, there was a splishin and a splashin, a rolling and a heavin, a moovin and a groovin, no dealin with the feelin - I got up, ran to the bathroom - were I proceeded to purge every ounce of anything I had eaten in the past 4-5 years. Painful, violent - and ulitmately embarassing. I felt awful for the restaurant, I did not want them to think it was their food.
When I finally emerged from the bathroom, I went back to the table - gulped copious amounts of water, fought off the pukey feeling I was getting just being in there - and shot out the door to wait in the car till they were done.
I half sat, half laid in the back seat of the car with the door open - smoking and lolling my head about like a ragdoll while the minutes passed. I did not have my walkman, I did not turn on the radio.
I heard the call of the nice lady who was acting as matre'd came to the door to ask me if there was anything she could do. I reassured her it was not the food, just me. And yes, I would be fine. I felt awful for putting a place through that kind of worry.
Of course, I haven't been back to determine if the soup really was that salty.
So it was back home, to rest or whatever - which meant an intermineable amount of smoking on the front porch - and probably drinking a gallon of coffee.
Or sleep - Im not sure which. All I know is it was my last shower as a man whose brain was 1/4" larger than his skull.
The next few days would change the course of humanity as we know it. Or at least my life. Well, it changed something anyhow.
Tomorrow: Oh Hi Doc. Yeah - you want me to what? CT? Does that involve needles?
Also one of the most spacious bathrooms.
So I showered, only getting dizzy a number of times, not blacking out, just dizzy. (As in, I was really probably very close to passing out, but somehow fought it off.) I learned one thing after I got out of the shower. I was sick of my hair.
I've struggled all my life with my hair. I have thick, thick hair. Thick like peanut butter. Half the time I want it long, the other half I am trying to tame it short.
My hair has a natural part, thoroughly enforced by 6 years of catholic school, uniforms, and neatness as a requirement.
In my 30 years, I haven't lost that part no matter what I do. So as I was saying, I was once again - sick of my hair. It was long, but long in that not long enough way. Best descriptive word: unkempt.
So off to the hair cutting place we go. Just up 616 by Dollar General, nice lady - good cut. I was happy - plus the whole process felt really good for some reason - very calming.
We go out to eat to celebrate my newfound hair, to a chinese food place down at Bridgewater. We sit, order - and get a round of wanton soup for all. Now finding chinese food that matches the quality and quantity of NYC chinese is no easy task. In trying this 'wanton soup' I discovered, to my personal tastes anyway - that it was salty. Extremely so. Upon asking my fellow diners if I was correct in my assesment - I was met with puzzled stares, and a round of "no."
Ooohkkkaaayy - so its just me. Well, I had a bit more soup. Then, there was a splishin and a splashin, a rolling and a heavin, a moovin and a groovin, no dealin with the feelin - I got up, ran to the bathroom - were I proceeded to purge every ounce of anything I had eaten in the past 4-5 years. Painful, violent - and ulitmately embarassing. I felt awful for the restaurant, I did not want them to think it was their food.
When I finally emerged from the bathroom, I went back to the table - gulped copious amounts of water, fought off the pukey feeling I was getting just being in there - and shot out the door to wait in the car till they were done.
I half sat, half laid in the back seat of the car with the door open - smoking and lolling my head about like a ragdoll while the minutes passed. I did not have my walkman, I did not turn on the radio.
I heard the call of the nice lady who was acting as matre'd came to the door to ask me if there was anything she could do. I reassured her it was not the food, just me. And yes, I would be fine. I felt awful for putting a place through that kind of worry.
Of course, I haven't been back to determine if the soup really was that salty.
So it was back home, to rest or whatever - which meant an intermineable amount of smoking on the front porch - and probably drinking a gallon of coffee.
Or sleep - Im not sure which. All I know is it was my last shower as a man whose brain was 1/4" larger than his skull.
The next few days would change the course of humanity as we know it. Or at least my life. Well, it changed something anyhow.
Tomorrow: Oh Hi Doc. Yeah - you want me to what? CT? Does that involve needles?
7/27/05
BST8: Whole lotta nothin goin on...
I had a few days between my arrival at my folks home, and my doctors appointment. So I took it easy, in an enforced and limited kind of way.
There was little leaving of the house, about the farthest I really went was the front porch, where I spent most of my mornings and evenings. I sat out in a wooden rocking chair, drinking my coffee - reading some, talking on the phone, and smoking.
Momma don't allow no smoking in da house. A rule I freely flaunted as a teen, behind the door of my own room, but was more than happy to abide by now. Something about cool mornings, the stand of trees across the road from my parents house, a deep dark cup of java, and a smoke made it worthwhile to sit outside.
I did some photo-taking, some conversating on the phone, some readin of the Roanoke Times (yes, I havent forgotten you... noooo.. my preciousss). If it got too hot, I wandered back inside and upstairs to watch some TV. Or take a nap. Well, I did quite alot of sleeping during those few days - So much so that I don't quite remember every minute detail of my day.
I just know I did not do much, I was still in a tremendous amount of pain. But I got into that pattern of waking up, grabbing coffee and sitting outside - because after my time in the hospital was over, I went back to doing it.
My conversations with my wife were limited in details. I did not have many to offer, and she was only concerned with my well being. But we would still yap about nothing.
I had taken her mothers cell phone (pre-pay, barely used) for the train trip, but the cell itself stopped working around Alexandria, VA. I had no cell of my own. I also had the charger for it, and had not used much in the way of minutes while travelling - mostly checking in, passing on my location at the time and how I was doing.
However, when I got to my parents and unpacked my bag, I took the charger out, and lost it promptly. I don't remember if I ever found it again. I do know that I still experienced some of the tingling of lips & tongue as I had before - but the IV I recieved at Jamaica Hospital back in NY seemed to reset the clock when it came to the passing out thing. I have a feeling that the incident at WalMart in Bedford was due to the exhaustion of the trip itself combining with my allready weakened state.
Did I mention I had lost weight? Well, you'll find out how much in about a day or so.
(By the by, my coffee of choice at the time was Millstone's Foglifter - although I've found that both Kroger and FoodLion make perfectly good 100% Columbian coffee - take that for what it is worth.)
I could fill pages with the minutae of differences in my habits, then and now - but I fear I might be revealing too much ahead of time. We are just inches from the really dark, juicy parts now.
There will be more, oh yes - there will. I haven't even seen a doctor yet.
There was little leaving of the house, about the farthest I really went was the front porch, where I spent most of my mornings and evenings. I sat out in a wooden rocking chair, drinking my coffee - reading some, talking on the phone, and smoking.
Momma don't allow no smoking in da house. A rule I freely flaunted as a teen, behind the door of my own room, but was more than happy to abide by now. Something about cool mornings, the stand of trees across the road from my parents house, a deep dark cup of java, and a smoke made it worthwhile to sit outside.
I did some photo-taking, some conversating on the phone, some readin of the Roanoke Times (yes, I havent forgotten you... noooo.. my preciousss). If it got too hot, I wandered back inside and upstairs to watch some TV. Or take a nap. Well, I did quite alot of sleeping during those few days - So much so that I don't quite remember every minute detail of my day.
I just know I did not do much, I was still in a tremendous amount of pain. But I got into that pattern of waking up, grabbing coffee and sitting outside - because after my time in the hospital was over, I went back to doing it.
My conversations with my wife were limited in details. I did not have many to offer, and she was only concerned with my well being. But we would still yap about nothing.
I had taken her mothers cell phone (pre-pay, barely used) for the train trip, but the cell itself stopped working around Alexandria, VA. I had no cell of my own. I also had the charger for it, and had not used much in the way of minutes while travelling - mostly checking in, passing on my location at the time and how I was doing.
However, when I got to my parents and unpacked my bag, I took the charger out, and lost it promptly. I don't remember if I ever found it again. I do know that I still experienced some of the tingling of lips & tongue as I had before - but the IV I recieved at Jamaica Hospital back in NY seemed to reset the clock when it came to the passing out thing. I have a feeling that the incident at WalMart in Bedford was due to the exhaustion of the trip itself combining with my allready weakened state.
Did I mention I had lost weight? Well, you'll find out how much in about a day or so.
(By the by, my coffee of choice at the time was Millstone's Foglifter - although I've found that both Kroger and FoodLion make perfectly good 100% Columbian coffee - take that for what it is worth.)
I could fill pages with the minutae of differences in my habits, then and now - but I fear I might be revealing too much ahead of time. We are just inches from the really dark, juicy parts now.
There will be more, oh yes - there will. I haven't even seen a doctor yet.
BST7: Ahh the retired life
Well, theres actually not too much to say about today. If anything of major significance happened, I don't remember it.
Basically, I slept fitfully at night. Woke early and ate little, sat at the computer for a good while.
There is one thing I remember, the smell. For weeks if not months, there was a smell. And my mother keeps an ultra-kleen house. I guess between that and the fresh moutain/lake air - I was really noticing this smell. Slightly bitter, slightly offensive, but not at all recognizeable. It was persistent, and much like a subtle undercurrent. I could smell garlic, but beneath the garlic smell would be this smell.
There never was a clear answer given, if it was my way off kilter bodychemistry, an olfactory hallucination, or just a funk in my nose. I actually felt bad, knowing my mother keeps such a clean house, to have to ask her if there was something in the house that smelled. Occasionally it would get overpowering, and give me a sinus headache - but that could have been purely brain-based.
I never had any strange taste, or sounds. No visual stuff. Just this smell.
No, I did not get it. I still don't quite get it. I've learned to accept it and move on. But boy, did it stink. Thankfully, now 3 years down the road I can report the smell has never resurfaced. Thats both a good thing and a bad thing. I'd love to find something that approximates that smell, so I can stop being vague about it. I'd love to say it was a funk "not unlike hot auto-exhaust ripened limburger cheese."
I guess then I may be asking too much.
Note: PodTest1 is nearly complete. Aiming for a 20 minute cast, or a tad less. Im only releasing this one by e-mail due to the music industry being lawsuit happy. Again, this one is for sound quality, and all the finicky crud. Again, leave a message if you want in.
Yes #1 - I know you want in. Calm... soon.
Basically, I slept fitfully at night. Woke early and ate little, sat at the computer for a good while.
There is one thing I remember, the smell. For weeks if not months, there was a smell. And my mother keeps an ultra-kleen house. I guess between that and the fresh moutain/lake air - I was really noticing this smell. Slightly bitter, slightly offensive, but not at all recognizeable. It was persistent, and much like a subtle undercurrent. I could smell garlic, but beneath the garlic smell would be this smell.
There never was a clear answer given, if it was my way off kilter bodychemistry, an olfactory hallucination, or just a funk in my nose. I actually felt bad, knowing my mother keeps such a clean house, to have to ask her if there was something in the house that smelled. Occasionally it would get overpowering, and give me a sinus headache - but that could have been purely brain-based.
I never had any strange taste, or sounds. No visual stuff. Just this smell.
No, I did not get it. I still don't quite get it. I've learned to accept it and move on. But boy, did it stink. Thankfully, now 3 years down the road I can report the smell has never resurfaced. Thats both a good thing and a bad thing. I'd love to find something that approximates that smell, so I can stop being vague about it. I'd love to say it was a funk "not unlike hot auto-exhaust ripened limburger cheese."
I guess then I may be asking too much.
Note: PodTest1 is nearly complete. Aiming for a 20 minute cast, or a tad less. Im only releasing this one by e-mail due to the music industry being lawsuit happy. Again, this one is for sound quality, and all the finicky crud. Again, leave a message if you want in.
Yes #1 - I know you want in. Calm... soon.
7/26/05
BST6: And so begins the big ugly
Big ugly wait that is.
The day of the 26th, my folks decided I should rest like crazy while they arranged an appointment with the Astounding Dr. Lewis. I've heard of doctors with a knack for finding things, but Lewis is the first one I've heard of who dead-eyes the problem with accuracy.
So while we waited for the appointment, my parents tried all sorts of things to help me cope with the pain. Even one of those vibrating-heating-neck-massagy things. Only this one also made chirping bird noises. Well, it claimed they were chirpy bird noises. I think the wiring was a bit off.
I guess due to where the silly thing sat on my neck, it did not help matters much. I remember unpacking my backpack and coming across the camera I had put in it to take photos from the train. I remember taking photos. I just don't remember of what, and now when I sit down and go through all my pics - the only ones I can assume were from that first trip down are the ones that are blurry, or badly shot. There might be one good picture out of the whole roll. But I don't remember what I took pictures of.
Just another mystery. More to come...
The day of the 26th, my folks decided I should rest like crazy while they arranged an appointment with the Astounding Dr. Lewis. I've heard of doctors with a knack for finding things, but Lewis is the first one I've heard of who dead-eyes the problem with accuracy.
So while we waited for the appointment, my parents tried all sorts of things to help me cope with the pain. Even one of those vibrating-heating-neck-massagy things. Only this one also made chirping bird noises. Well, it claimed they were chirpy bird noises. I think the wiring was a bit off.
I guess due to where the silly thing sat on my neck, it did not help matters much. I remember unpacking my backpack and coming across the camera I had put in it to take photos from the train. I remember taking photos. I just don't remember of what, and now when I sit down and go through all my pics - the only ones I can assume were from that first trip down are the ones that are blurry, or badly shot. There might be one good picture out of the whole roll. But I don't remember what I took pictures of.
Just another mystery. More to come...
7/25/05
BST5A: In another hour or so...
I was arriving at Lynchburg. Dazed, confused, but seeing my parents for the first time in a while.
Into the car and back to 460, to link up with 122 to head down to the lake.
Hey, thats right - I didn't pack anything. Lets stop at Walmart! WOO HOO! 24 hour Walmart!!!!
Stay in the car? I dont think so...
Well in retrospect, I probably should have.
Not 100 feet into the store, as I was perusing the produce; as my mother went off in search of clean socks and such, as my father stood by watching me, I went down.
Like a sack of wet potatoes, I hit the floor.
Or would have, had the reflexes of a former NYPD lieutenant not put themselves between my head and the floor. Somehow, he got his arms under mine, and was able to keep me afloat. The steely nerves of a cop while his family crumbles around him. Well, me anyway. His son.
The manager on duty brought me a chair to sit in, though of course I insisted I was fine.
We were out of there as fast as possible, and home faster than that.
That night I don't recall much of - except for seeing my grandmother, who was not so happy to see me in my current state.
It was not the best conditions for a homecoming.
More tomorrow
Into the car and back to 460, to link up with 122 to head down to the lake.
Hey, thats right - I didn't pack anything. Lets stop at Walmart! WOO HOO! 24 hour Walmart!!!!
Stay in the car? I dont think so...
Well in retrospect, I probably should have.
Not 100 feet into the store, as I was perusing the produce; as my mother went off in search of clean socks and such, as my father stood by watching me, I went down.
Like a sack of wet potatoes, I hit the floor.
Or would have, had the reflexes of a former NYPD lieutenant not put themselves between my head and the floor. Somehow, he got his arms under mine, and was able to keep me afloat. The steely nerves of a cop while his family crumbles around him. Well, me anyway. His son.
The manager on duty brought me a chair to sit in, though of course I insisted I was fine.
We were out of there as fast as possible, and home faster than that.
That night I don't recall much of - except for seeing my grandmother, who was not so happy to see me in my current state.
It was not the best conditions for a homecoming.
More tomorrow
BST:5 - Leavin' on a big train...
Its amazing how your least in the mood to travel when you most have to.
The morning was spent getting together a backpack full of crap so I wouldn't have to leave my seat during the ride. Tapes, batteries, notebook, camera, snacks, the useful stuff. I was packing nothing, no clothes, no supplies. This was an end-run for the final yard. Had to travel light.
Escorted to the Long Island RailRoad station, into Penn Station, and onto the train itself by my Da. A dizzying experience to say the least. I was seated immediately on the Amtrak train, Crescent Southbound out of NYP to LYH, Train 19. The crew could not have been nicer, having been informed as to my situation upon arrival. They kept a close eye on me during the trip. The attendant even allowed me to jump off for a smoke at every opportunity, knowing I probably couldn't make the trip to the smoking lounge.
The doors closed, and I said goodbye to NY and everything and everyone I knew and loved. The first lurch of the train, then a barely perceptible transition to acceleration. We were off.. Through the tunnel under the Hudson, and blasting out into the light of what I remember to be a grey, dreary day.
This was my first long-haul trip on Amtrak in years. The time prior was a trip to Disney in Orlando, via Amtrak. I remember that trip mainly because I was up all night, staring out into the blackness. I learned the sound of the horn keening into the night, the staccato blasts that meant we were coming upon a crossing.
Its a nearly 8 hour trek south, which I found out much later that if it only takes 8 hours you should consider yourself lucky. But hell, I was on a train. Happy at that. I found a position which was somewhat comfortable, and dug in for the ride.
The nice thing was that most of the trip was made by daylight, which meant I had a view. Newark and Trenton went fairly quickly, as I spent endless amounts of good eyesight on staring out at the passing world. Philly was the first big stop with a layover. Granted, unlike in the airline industry where 'layover' usually means next time you are in a plane you'll be collecting social security; this layover was only about 20 mins while they futzed with the engines or something. For someone who was in bad shape, I was having a pretty good time. Just me and my walkman, a few pieces of literature. Some gum.
I've always liked traveling by myself, even if it was just on the subway. No need for small talk, or trying to shout above the sound of the train. Just syncing the music in my head with the scenes in my eyes. Deep in thought about anything, but still making progress in the world.
Wilmington, Baltimore, and then DC. The NE Corridor is a busy busy place. Multiple rail lines use it, from commuter rail like MARTA, to freight ops like NS and (whatever is left of) Conrail. There are even points nearing DC where suddenly the DC Metro system is a sneeze away from heavy rail.
I remember my one time on the DC Metro - I thought the stations were huge, but the old lady playing with her dentures on the train made me a wee bit nervous. That's DC for ya.
The longest layover is at DC, which can easily be a half hour to fourty five minutes, if all goes smoothly. Its where they swap engines from the silly catanery overhead electric engines to the big, ballsy diesel engines that are limited in speed.
Wait, what? Ok- sidenote rant here. Acela is a electric engine. Runs off overhead power. Top speed on the overhead electric is roughly 150mph. Where they can run that fast that is. Thats the speed limit enforced on the overhead electric side of the rails. Once you swap down to straight diesel, or even diesel/electric - your limited to 85mph.
Why? Those trains can blow 85mph without sweating. Given a good run, a diesel can pull a 100mph run with ease. Anyway - politics of train engines. Bah.
So what stands out in my head from this half the trip? Well, I would have to say the big neon sign on the bridge in Trenton which reads: "Trenton Makes, The World Takes."
The sudden crush of city as you pull into Philly. You were just in a fairly rural part of Jersey, now you have the highway about arms length from the train.
The Baltimore skyline, the bridges - big and small, The Baltimore Zoo from the back end.
What really impressed me the most however was probably the most unexpected. Wilmington, DE. A city not unlike Roanoke. Large businesses, fairly large buildings - Amtrak East HQ, a downtown area being revitalized. Centrally located train station. Just like Roanoke, only with more water.
I think we hit DC around 7pm or so, I still have the schedule from that trip somewhere. We were due in Lynchburg around 11p, so there was still more to see.
Oh - coolest thing, pulling out of DC you go through a century old tunnel - one can pratically see the old steam engines pushing through, considering the soot is still on the walls.
I will post the rest of this journey later on today. Maybe have it up by 11pm - try and stick to the actual timeline of the train.
But the journey was the easy part, it was the stop at WalMart that was hard.
The morning was spent getting together a backpack full of crap so I wouldn't have to leave my seat during the ride. Tapes, batteries, notebook, camera, snacks, the useful stuff. I was packing nothing, no clothes, no supplies. This was an end-run for the final yard. Had to travel light.
Escorted to the Long Island RailRoad station, into Penn Station, and onto the train itself by my Da. A dizzying experience to say the least. I was seated immediately on the Amtrak train, Crescent Southbound out of NYP to LYH, Train 19. The crew could not have been nicer, having been informed as to my situation upon arrival. They kept a close eye on me during the trip. The attendant even allowed me to jump off for a smoke at every opportunity, knowing I probably couldn't make the trip to the smoking lounge.
The doors closed, and I said goodbye to NY and everything and everyone I knew and loved. The first lurch of the train, then a barely perceptible transition to acceleration. We were off.. Through the tunnel under the Hudson, and blasting out into the light of what I remember to be a grey, dreary day.
This was my first long-haul trip on Amtrak in years. The time prior was a trip to Disney in Orlando, via Amtrak. I remember that trip mainly because I was up all night, staring out into the blackness. I learned the sound of the horn keening into the night, the staccato blasts that meant we were coming upon a crossing.
Its a nearly 8 hour trek south, which I found out much later that if it only takes 8 hours you should consider yourself lucky. But hell, I was on a train. Happy at that. I found a position which was somewhat comfortable, and dug in for the ride.
The nice thing was that most of the trip was made by daylight, which meant I had a view. Newark and Trenton went fairly quickly, as I spent endless amounts of good eyesight on staring out at the passing world. Philly was the first big stop with a layover. Granted, unlike in the airline industry where 'layover' usually means next time you are in a plane you'll be collecting social security; this layover was only about 20 mins while they futzed with the engines or something. For someone who was in bad shape, I was having a pretty good time. Just me and my walkman, a few pieces of literature. Some gum.
I've always liked traveling by myself, even if it was just on the subway. No need for small talk, or trying to shout above the sound of the train. Just syncing the music in my head with the scenes in my eyes. Deep in thought about anything, but still making progress in the world.
Wilmington, Baltimore, and then DC. The NE Corridor is a busy busy place. Multiple rail lines use it, from commuter rail like MARTA, to freight ops like NS and (whatever is left of) Conrail. There are even points nearing DC where suddenly the DC Metro system is a sneeze away from heavy rail.
I remember my one time on the DC Metro - I thought the stations were huge, but the old lady playing with her dentures on the train made me a wee bit nervous. That's DC for ya.
The longest layover is at DC, which can easily be a half hour to fourty five minutes, if all goes smoothly. Its where they swap engines from the silly catanery overhead electric engines to the big, ballsy diesel engines that are limited in speed.
Wait, what? Ok- sidenote rant here. Acela is a electric engine. Runs off overhead power. Top speed on the overhead electric is roughly 150mph. Where they can run that fast that is. Thats the speed limit enforced on the overhead electric side of the rails. Once you swap down to straight diesel, or even diesel/electric - your limited to 85mph.
Why? Those trains can blow 85mph without sweating. Given a good run, a diesel can pull a 100mph run with ease. Anyway - politics of train engines. Bah.
So what stands out in my head from this half the trip? Well, I would have to say the big neon sign on the bridge in Trenton which reads: "Trenton Makes, The World Takes."
The sudden crush of city as you pull into Philly. You were just in a fairly rural part of Jersey, now you have the highway about arms length from the train.
The Baltimore skyline, the bridges - big and small, The Baltimore Zoo from the back end.
What really impressed me the most however was probably the most unexpected. Wilmington, DE. A city not unlike Roanoke. Large businesses, fairly large buildings - Amtrak East HQ, a downtown area being revitalized. Centrally located train station. Just like Roanoke, only with more water.
I think we hit DC around 7pm or so, I still have the schedule from that trip somewhere. We were due in Lynchburg around 11p, so there was still more to see.
Oh - coolest thing, pulling out of DC you go through a century old tunnel - one can pratically see the old steam engines pushing through, considering the soot is still on the walls.
I will post the rest of this journey later on today. Maybe have it up by 11pm - try and stick to the actual timeline of the train.
But the journey was the easy part, it was the stop at WalMart that was hard.
7/24/05
A note for my regular readers.
Allright, listen up. I know this is not what you have come to expect from Forgotten-Roanoke/RoanokeFound.
Radically changing the focus of my blog from the world-at-large to the world inside is a leap. No doubt about that. But keep reading, theres more to this story than meets the eye.
I am going to use my story to springboard some new ideas for RoanokeFound. Some mini-projects I've been wasting my time with. For example:
At some point this week, Im hoping to launch the first RoanokeFound blogcast. You will hear the voice of Forgotten-Roanoke broadcast for the first time in nearly 10 years.
Im thinking of making it invitation only at first, to gain feedback on the quality of the cast. I want this to be as true to my memories of radio-days as possible.
Granted I dont have a cart machine, spots, psa's and all that fun stuff. Well, I dont have them yet anyway.
But this is just the tip of the iceberg, as they say.
Im going to build a list of those who want to hear the podcast - so leave a comment if you want in. But be warned - it deals with the BST. This is my test run, checking for sound quality, timing, content, and vocal levels.
So I need feedback, serious feedback from those who listen. You can leave a comment if you want to hear more about the BST, or if you want to assist me in pinning down any flaws in the cast.
I appreciate your continued reading, and even though you don't leave a comment usually, I know your there. I have Wundercounter.
Radically changing the focus of my blog from the world-at-large to the world inside is a leap. No doubt about that. But keep reading, theres more to this story than meets the eye.
I am going to use my story to springboard some new ideas for RoanokeFound. Some mini-projects I've been wasting my time with. For example:
At some point this week, Im hoping to launch the first RoanokeFound blogcast. You will hear the voice of Forgotten-Roanoke broadcast for the first time in nearly 10 years.
Im thinking of making it invitation only at first, to gain feedback on the quality of the cast. I want this to be as true to my memories of radio-days as possible.
Granted I dont have a cart machine, spots, psa's and all that fun stuff. Well, I dont have them yet anyway.
But this is just the tip of the iceberg, as they say.
Im going to build a list of those who want to hear the podcast - so leave a comment if you want in. But be warned - it deals with the BST. This is my test run, checking for sound quality, timing, content, and vocal levels.
So I need feedback, serious feedback from those who listen. You can leave a comment if you want to hear more about the BST, or if you want to assist me in pinning down any flaws in the cast.
I appreciate your continued reading, and even though you don't leave a comment usually, I know your there. I have Wundercounter.
BST:4, or "Im not flying! Your nuts!"
So after the IV drip, I was actually feeling a slight bit better, but we all knew it wasn't the cure. Even I was lucid enough to realize that a saline drip was not my saviour. Appropriate phone calls were made between concerned parties, and it was decided that no way in hell would I be going to another NY Hospital.
My parents had been living here for a good couple of years at this point, and they had a doctor who they said was pretty good. Now my wife and I had plans to come visit anyway about a week or so later, so I agreed when it was offered to come early and see my parents doctor.
They wanted me to fly down.
A person who is generally down with a cold should not fly, the pressure causes pain in the ears. A person with an unknown problem, which causes vomiting, dizzyness, et. al... Nope - shouldnt be flying either. Actually, let me put it this way:
Hell-no I aint flyin. On previous trips I have flown down to Roanoke, its a nice trip as long as you can accept the fact that you are on a flying toothpick most of the flight, and a flying lawnmower if you have to change planes anywhere. Acceptance leads to peace of mind. Greyhound was out of the question too, especially after my Atlantic City fiasco.
That left Amtrak. Does Amtrak run to Roanoke? Noooo. Did they? Yesss. Will they again? Maybeee..
But theres always Lynchburg. Ticket was booked as of 5pm 7/24/02. Train leaves Penn Station, NYC at 2pm 7/25/02. I had one night to spend before I was off again, one last night to get through before I began the biggest journey of my life. I remember I slept well that evening, and was up all night making preparations for my trip. Talking to friends online, telling them what the story was so far.
Saying goodbye to my wife by phone was not fun however. But it was still with the expectation that she would be following me down at the time we had originally planned to come down, about a week later.
Amazing how plans change.
My parents had been living here for a good couple of years at this point, and they had a doctor who they said was pretty good. Now my wife and I had plans to come visit anyway about a week or so later, so I agreed when it was offered to come early and see my parents doctor.
They wanted me to fly down.
A person who is generally down with a cold should not fly, the pressure causes pain in the ears. A person with an unknown problem, which causes vomiting, dizzyness, et. al... Nope - shouldnt be flying either. Actually, let me put it this way:
Hell-no I aint flyin. On previous trips I have flown down to Roanoke, its a nice trip as long as you can accept the fact that you are on a flying toothpick most of the flight, and a flying lawnmower if you have to change planes anywhere. Acceptance leads to peace of mind. Greyhound was out of the question too, especially after my Atlantic City fiasco.
That left Amtrak. Does Amtrak run to Roanoke? Noooo. Did they? Yesss. Will they again? Maybeee..
But theres always Lynchburg. Ticket was booked as of 5pm 7/24/02. Train leaves Penn Station, NYC at 2pm 7/25/02. I had one night to spend before I was off again, one last night to get through before I began the biggest journey of my life. I remember I slept well that evening, and was up all night making preparations for my trip. Talking to friends online, telling them what the story was so far.
Saying goodbye to my wife by phone was not fun however. But it was still with the expectation that she would be following me down at the time we had originally planned to come down, about a week later.
Amazing how plans change.
7/23/05
The Process and the Pain
This is becoming a tad more intense than I originally expected.
The memories of the BST flow back so easily, especially the feelings of sadness and lost time.
The year I worked down the ass-end of Wall St. temping for a company, I was working there around christmas, and there were days it was all I could do to keep my emotions in check.
I still dont know why, if it was the effects of the BST, or if its just my nature to have these random moments of complete emotional turmoil.
There is always a trigger though, and some of the songs (which you will all find out about later on, soon I hope) are that very trigger.
And this goes on till the 18th of August?? Sheesh!
You'll be able to send letters and cookies to me, care of the local sanitarium by the time this is done.
For more humorous postings by me, go check the WikiRoanoke. I'll be using that like crazy to balance this.
The memories of the BST flow back so easily, especially the feelings of sadness and lost time.
The year I worked down the ass-end of Wall St. temping for a company, I was working there around christmas, and there were days it was all I could do to keep my emotions in check.
I still dont know why, if it was the effects of the BST, or if its just my nature to have these random moments of complete emotional turmoil.
There is always a trigger though, and some of the songs (which you will all find out about later on, soon I hope) are that very trigger.
And this goes on till the 18th of August?? Sheesh!
You'll be able to send letters and cookies to me, care of the local sanitarium by the time this is done.
For more humorous postings by me, go check the WikiRoanoke. I'll be using that like crazy to balance this.
BST3: You call this a hospital???
So as it goes, I am in Queens, NY - at my home - either up in my room or not. I’m not sure. I’m waiting for daybreak to go see my dads doctor. But things are not waiting. Still with the vomiting (side note - my wife tells me yesterday that when my dad came to take me back to Queens - I had to jump out of the car before we even left and go throw up. Lovely memory she has…) and the pain. Never-ending pain at this point. And to top it off - I actually had to call into work, let them know I would not be in because I was going insane.
Did I mention how caring they were at work? No? Good - I don’t want to give the wrong impression.
Well things were not looking so good for me making it to a doctors office, and the doctor even recommended I go to the ER. Ahh yes, a NYC ER room.
Ever see one of those nature films where ants scurry about in a fight - walking over the ‘corpses’ of their fallen comrades. Well a NYC ER is close to that, but nothing I could show you short of actually bringing there with a severe injury could bring you close to understanding the conditions. Patients lining the hallways, on the hospital beds (when they could find them). We entered into the maelstrom, went through the check in and waited for a doctor.
Well, I was doing my impersonation of the “Native American Bring My Ass A Doctor” dance. I would try and sit, my legs violently shaking from the pain. Clutching the back of my head in agony.
That would last about 2-3 minutes. Then I was up, stomping around attempting to distract myself from the pain. Well, roughly 2 hours later (after being stuck in a loop of this dance) a doctor finally came down from upon high to see me. The prognosis: Dehydration.
Yes you heard me, Dehydration. Solution: 1 IV drip saline. Yes, just one. Hooked me up, drained the bag, kicked me out the door.
That’s probably the only thing that kept me alive for the next 2-3 days. The lack of proper care which gave me the ability to move on to my next destination. But more on that later.
Had I stayed in NY, and they actually discovered the tumor - I would have probably either died at some point, or possibly been horribly paralyzed for life. Too many stories have come out of this particular hospital for me to have any faith in it. Not to mention I probably would have been mugged at some point.
It would have either been that, or I would have been sent to a proper hospital - and still not come out as clean as I have.
Misdiagnosis of dehydration, it’s a good thing.
Oh - and incase your wondering - misdiagnosing is not solely the fault of the doctor in NY. They are simply overwhelmed by the amount of cases they have to see on a daily basis. Heck, even hourly can be disheartening. Ask any doctor who has done rounds in a NYC hospital, and they will tell you what war is like.
So lets review: Intense pain, vomiting, slight numbness in certain areas - a highly visible pain-dance and feral growling.
Oh yes, must be dehydration..
Now remember, IV bag drained and out the door.
Ok, good. We are all on point for tomorrows chapter.
Did I mention how caring they were at work? No? Good - I don’t want to give the wrong impression.
Well things were not looking so good for me making it to a doctors office, and the doctor even recommended I go to the ER. Ahh yes, a NYC ER room.
Ever see one of those nature films where ants scurry about in a fight - walking over the ‘corpses’ of their fallen comrades. Well a NYC ER is close to that, but nothing I could show you short of actually bringing there with a severe injury could bring you close to understanding the conditions. Patients lining the hallways, on the hospital beds (when they could find them). We entered into the maelstrom, went through the check in and waited for a doctor.
Well, I was doing my impersonation of the “Native American Bring My Ass A Doctor” dance. I would try and sit, my legs violently shaking from the pain. Clutching the back of my head in agony.
That would last about 2-3 minutes. Then I was up, stomping around attempting to distract myself from the pain. Well, roughly 2 hours later (after being stuck in a loop of this dance) a doctor finally came down from upon high to see me. The prognosis: Dehydration.
Yes you heard me, Dehydration. Solution: 1 IV drip saline. Yes, just one. Hooked me up, drained the bag, kicked me out the door.
That’s probably the only thing that kept me alive for the next 2-3 days. The lack of proper care which gave me the ability to move on to my next destination. But more on that later.
Had I stayed in NY, and they actually discovered the tumor - I would have probably either died at some point, or possibly been horribly paralyzed for life. Too many stories have come out of this particular hospital for me to have any faith in it. Not to mention I probably would have been mugged at some point.
It would have either been that, or I would have been sent to a proper hospital - and still not come out as clean as I have.
Misdiagnosis of dehydration, it’s a good thing.
Oh - and incase your wondering - misdiagnosing is not solely the fault of the doctor in NY. They are simply overwhelmed by the amount of cases they have to see on a daily basis. Heck, even hourly can be disheartening. Ask any doctor who has done rounds in a NYC hospital, and they will tell you what war is like.
So lets review: Intense pain, vomiting, slight numbness in certain areas - a highly visible pain-dance and feral growling.
Oh yes, must be dehydration..
Now remember, IV bag drained and out the door.
Ok, good. We are all on point for tomorrows chapter.
7/22/05
BST2: Down days and lost nigts
Sorry for the delay in posting this - you'll live I suspect.
Day 2...
I went back home, with a promise from my dad to go to talk to his doctor that day, determining the best course of action. Everything pending on how things progressed over the next 24 hours.
I don't really remember much of those 24 hours, if I stayed in my room on the 2nd floor - if I went between the first and 2nd floors. I dont think I ate much, But if I slept the whole time, or sat infront of the computer or tv and zoned out - I have no idea.
There is not much to say about day 2. It was a down day. Im pretty sure the pain in my neck/head was overwhelming at this point.
So not much to report today, tomorrow however. Heh. You all get to learn the differences between NY hospitals and Hospitals anywhere else.
Oh what a trip that is.
Day 2...
I went back home, with a promise from my dad to go to talk to his doctor that day, determining the best course of action. Everything pending on how things progressed over the next 24 hours.
I don't really remember much of those 24 hours, if I stayed in my room on the 2nd floor - if I went between the first and 2nd floors. I dont think I ate much, But if I slept the whole time, or sat infront of the computer or tv and zoned out - I have no idea.
There is not much to say about day 2. It was a down day. Im pretty sure the pain in my neck/head was overwhelming at this point.
So not much to report today, tomorrow however. Heh. You all get to learn the differences between NY hospitals and Hospitals anywhere else.
Oh what a trip that is.
7/21/05
BST: Appendix 1A
I know, not even 24 hours and allready Im adding crap.
I suppose I should add in a bit of backstory to the whole shebang.
First off, about early january 2001 I had a bad bout of backed-upedness. I was working my first desk job for a temp agency, it was pretty long term. I played it off as sitting on my ass all day. Probably was though.
It becomes very easy to attempt to attribute everything to the tumor, but sometimes you have to pull back.
So that was january. Come long about march or april 2002, I developed serious problems with my teeth. I have not had the best of experiences with my teeth, once cracking a tooth clear off the root while eating a Wendy's hamburger. Yeah, strange.
Finally my wife was able to talk me into seeing a dentist. Wonderful guy, Dr. Stigliano in Franklin Square, NY. Very caring, very funny - but always considerate.
He sent me to the uber-oral surgeon, Dr. Menzel - again, really nice guy. This dude was out to kick some rotten-tooth ass. I got the wonderful wrap-around x-ray, showing... oh - lets say 13 teeth that were so bad they all had little Hitler Moustaches.
Removal was manditory, and rather than spread out the panic over a few weeks - the good Dr. and my wife conspired to get them all out in a day. Well, I dont know that she conspired, but she thought it was a great idea. So I think it was about early june that I went in with a mouth full of death, and an hour and a half later - came out 13 teeth lighter.
But thats not all. The pain in my neck/head from what eventually was found to be the tumor was raging that day. I was given a general calming anesthetic, it was a nice office. Looked out onto traffic, lots of traffic to distract me from the procedure.
I got all those wonderful needles to the mouth, numbed up real well. He realizes that the teeth are holding on for dear life when he attempts to remove the first few. My roots apparently hook into the bone. yay.
So it made it a tad more difficult. But what really set the tone for the whole thing was the fact that my legs would not stop moving. I had no control over them it seemed, and they kept bouncing around - this way and that during the whole procedure. Now that, as we found out later - was because of the tumor. Essentially the stuff that was supposed to put me into 'twilight', only worked in sections. My midsection was calm, my mind somewhat relaxed considering. My lower half however, it was not with the program. Not in the slightest.
Then when it was over, as if it could not get stranger - I felt great. I felt like running a marathon. I healed without issue, quickly too.
Then it was back to Stigliano for the reconstruction phase, which involved saving as many of the remaining teeth as possible, taking casts for possible bridgework. Those type things.
All the while I was working at Home Depot, living in Queens. Walking the 2 blocks to work mid-day and home again mid-nite. Typical shifts were atypical - I could work 3-11pm. 4-10pm. It was varied. But I never enjoyed anything more than that walk home at night. Especially on a sunday night - with the sky clear and the air off the bay fresh (as fresh as air can be coming off of a polluted bay like that). Perhaps 2-3 times a shift, I had to take an informal break. I would be working my aisle (which is a whole other story in itself) when I would begin to feel dizzy. Or the tips of my nose, lips, and tongue would go numb. So I would run outside to catch some fresh air, sit for a moment. I would go online when I got home and check the symptoms as best as I could - mostly coming up with nothing more than hyperglycemia. Not once did anything brain related, or even seizure related come up.
When I was at home, generally alone - I would often sit on the computer doing not much of anything. Or I was off shopping at the local stores - buying some interesting produce to muck about with in the kitchen. I would cook massive meals, long laborous dishes. And on my days off - I was out where my wife was living, with her mother and aunt.
I took the train back and forth. I have always loved trains. Roanoke is not helping that. Not at all.
At some point just prior to the teeth removal, sometime in the winter - I had a big bad bout with food poisioning. Taco Bell style. And yet still I cant get enough, go figure. Laid up for 2 days, I went to a doctor who pronounced it food poisioning from the lettuce or tomatos - as they would normally be the only thing not cooked.
I was well acquainted with severe discomfort from that fun, so everything after it seemed to pale, for a while at least.
Poor Dr. Stigliano - when he heard about my brain issue, he was horrified. He told my wife he wished all the x-rays he took were tilted just a bit differently, then he would have seen. I felt awful.
But Im going to end this appendix for now, lest it should burst. Im sure I will have more later - but be on the lookout for the next entry, sometime around midnight.
I suppose I should add in a bit of backstory to the whole shebang.
First off, about early january 2001 I had a bad bout of backed-upedness. I was working my first desk job for a temp agency, it was pretty long term. I played it off as sitting on my ass all day. Probably was though.
It becomes very easy to attempt to attribute everything to the tumor, but sometimes you have to pull back.
So that was january. Come long about march or april 2002, I developed serious problems with my teeth. I have not had the best of experiences with my teeth, once cracking a tooth clear off the root while eating a Wendy's hamburger. Yeah, strange.
Finally my wife was able to talk me into seeing a dentist. Wonderful guy, Dr. Stigliano in Franklin Square, NY. Very caring, very funny - but always considerate.
He sent me to the uber-oral surgeon, Dr. Menzel - again, really nice guy. This dude was out to kick some rotten-tooth ass. I got the wonderful wrap-around x-ray, showing... oh - lets say 13 teeth that were so bad they all had little Hitler Moustaches.
Removal was manditory, and rather than spread out the panic over a few weeks - the good Dr. and my wife conspired to get them all out in a day. Well, I dont know that she conspired, but she thought it was a great idea. So I think it was about early june that I went in with a mouth full of death, and an hour and a half later - came out 13 teeth lighter.
But thats not all. The pain in my neck/head from what eventually was found to be the tumor was raging that day. I was given a general calming anesthetic, it was a nice office. Looked out onto traffic, lots of traffic to distract me from the procedure.
I got all those wonderful needles to the mouth, numbed up real well. He realizes that the teeth are holding on for dear life when he attempts to remove the first few. My roots apparently hook into the bone. yay.
So it made it a tad more difficult. But what really set the tone for the whole thing was the fact that my legs would not stop moving. I had no control over them it seemed, and they kept bouncing around - this way and that during the whole procedure. Now that, as we found out later - was because of the tumor. Essentially the stuff that was supposed to put me into 'twilight', only worked in sections. My midsection was calm, my mind somewhat relaxed considering. My lower half however, it was not with the program. Not in the slightest.
Then when it was over, as if it could not get stranger - I felt great. I felt like running a marathon. I healed without issue, quickly too.
Then it was back to Stigliano for the reconstruction phase, which involved saving as many of the remaining teeth as possible, taking casts for possible bridgework. Those type things.
All the while I was working at Home Depot, living in Queens. Walking the 2 blocks to work mid-day and home again mid-nite. Typical shifts were atypical - I could work 3-11pm. 4-10pm. It was varied. But I never enjoyed anything more than that walk home at night. Especially on a sunday night - with the sky clear and the air off the bay fresh (as fresh as air can be coming off of a polluted bay like that). Perhaps 2-3 times a shift, I had to take an informal break. I would be working my aisle (which is a whole other story in itself) when I would begin to feel dizzy. Or the tips of my nose, lips, and tongue would go numb. So I would run outside to catch some fresh air, sit for a moment. I would go online when I got home and check the symptoms as best as I could - mostly coming up with nothing more than hyperglycemia. Not once did anything brain related, or even seizure related come up.
When I was at home, generally alone - I would often sit on the computer doing not much of anything. Or I was off shopping at the local stores - buying some interesting produce to muck about with in the kitchen. I would cook massive meals, long laborous dishes. And on my days off - I was out where my wife was living, with her mother and aunt.
I took the train back and forth. I have always loved trains. Roanoke is not helping that. Not at all.
At some point just prior to the teeth removal, sometime in the winter - I had a big bad bout with food poisioning. Taco Bell style. And yet still I cant get enough, go figure. Laid up for 2 days, I went to a doctor who pronounced it food poisioning from the lettuce or tomatos - as they would normally be the only thing not cooked.
I was well acquainted with severe discomfort from that fun, so everything after it seemed to pale, for a while at least.
Poor Dr. Stigliano - when he heard about my brain issue, he was horrified. He told my wife he wished all the x-rays he took were tilted just a bit differently, then he would have seen. I felt awful.
But Im going to end this appendix for now, lest it should burst. Im sure I will have more later - but be on the lookout for the next entry, sometime around midnight.
BST1
I am pretty sure we were on the bus as the sun rose. My Aunt, Uncle, and Grandmother used to take the same bus to Atlantic City every now and then. Im pretty sure it was around sunrise they left, as did my girlfriend (now wife, and shall be referred to as such hereafter) and I.
It was a nice day, no storms to hassle us as we left NY headed south on the NJT. We were on a bus headed for the Showboat Hotel and Casino. Chosen because it was a friendly place, with a large bowling alley should we tire of losing. It all started out ok, I still had the pain in my neck/head - but that was nothing new. Besides - it was my birthday. Screw the pain, I was going to have fun dammit!
As we leave the bus, I feel a wee bit woozy, but brush it off as it was nothing new. I remember playing some various TV themed slot machines. Getting up, wandering around, playing some video poker. Always on the cheap. Nickel slots, quarter at the most.
We had the coupon from the bus company for the buffet lunch. I was not hungry, as usual at that time. I poked some bread and other food, I vaguely remember the buffet being huge. Tables everywhere - A long line of brass railing at the buffet counter. I dont remember any of the infamous Atlantic City Prime Rib Special.
I think this is where things begin to get hinky. The plan was eat, play a few more games - get back on the bus. Somehow we found a shortcut entrance to the Trump Taj Mahal next door.
I have a feeling that the lights, noise, the whole feel of the place unleashed something inside me. Deep inside that had been waiting to make its public debut. I remember putting one coin in a slot machine there at Trump. Losing of course, and the next minutes would land me a slice of history I never asked for.
There was time before the bus left. Maybe 60 minutes or so. After a few minutes in Trump we decided to head back to the Showboat to finish up there, so we were not far from the bus loading area. On the way back, I began my decent into hell.
From what my wife has told me, she looked back at me because I was a step or two behind, and I had said something. Probably something like "hold on..."
The next thing she saw was my upper body still in full stride, with my legs firmly planted on the floor. The 2 halves had disconnected. I fell backwards, and slammed my head into a $100 change machine. Of course, I did not win there either.
I remember vaguely seeing a security guard rushing up to me, telling me to stay put - a wheelchair was on the way. I attempted insisting I was allright, and was actively involved in trying to stand - but could not.
Puzzled, pissed, and petrified - in that order. Lesser attention paid to the last part. I remember getting in the wheelchair, and next thing I remember was talking to the on-site nurse at Trump. I think the nurse (sorry but I do not remember much about you, nurse) had allready taken my blood pressure, inquired about my drinking that day, and covered all the usual bases.
I was urged, by the nurse, to allow myself to be taken to the local hospital. I insisted that I could not miss my bus home, I signed a waiver freeing Trump from any legal ramifications due to whatever it was that happened, and I was wheeled back towards the bus.
As we still had a few minutes to wait (somehow), We waited at the bar. I had a glass of orange juice, still in my delusionary state thinking it must have been hypoglycemia. Wether this was a good move or not is still debateable.
Back on the bus home, headed northbound on the NJT back to Long Island. I think maybe an hour had passed, all I remember was that it was dark. They had begun showing the movie, as they do on these 4 hour trips. According to my wife, source of most of my memories of this trip, I was basically nodding in and out of conciousness during the ride. She was hoping that it was nothing more than a bout of food poisioning like the one I had suffered the year previous, and sleeping my way back to NY was for the best.
Some time later, maybe an hour and a half from home, I began to vomit. The lovely people sitting infront of us thankfully had a plastic bag, and a can of ginger ale. My wife was allready burning the cell phone trying to get a clue as to how to handle this.
To this day she still wonders if she should have had the bus driver stop in Manhattan and let us off there.
Needless to say we made it home without much delay - although it was pouring now. I had ruined her cardigan sweater, having grabbed it early on to catch my 'forthcomings'.
We arrived, her mother there to pick us up. After the sweater was disposed of in a nearby dumpster, we were off for the 5 minute drive back home.
I managed to make it home ok, clearing my head a bit with the talk in the car of the trip. Into the house, it's decided that I go clean up and take a shower.
Brains that I am, I get in the bathroom, disrobe, and turn the water on. I got in the shower, and promptly fell out. Seriously. Taking down the shower curtain rod (vintage one piece construction), the curtain, and nearly bringing down the sink as well. It was one of those sort-of pedistals, with the 2 metal legs at the corners - back attached to the wall. Well one leg was bent.
No, not my head - my head landed somehow nicely between the toilet and the sink, missing both. I think my legs followed me out of the shower a short time later.
My wife, her mother, and her aunt (and the dog) all rushed to my aid. They got me back in the tub, sitting up - and checked out injury free. Somehow.
Everyone took a moment to consider what next. I once again cleared my head, and decided on finshing my shower. Sitting, safely on the floor of the tub.
My wife was allready on the phone with my mother. Smart woman I married.
What transcribed between the two on the phone I still dont have a clear idea of, although I can imagine the panic and angst.
Finally, somehow they got me to bed. And I slept nearly endlessly.
But there was still tomorrow.
It was a nice day, no storms to hassle us as we left NY headed south on the NJT. We were on a bus headed for the Showboat Hotel and Casino. Chosen because it was a friendly place, with a large bowling alley should we tire of losing. It all started out ok, I still had the pain in my neck/head - but that was nothing new. Besides - it was my birthday. Screw the pain, I was going to have fun dammit!
As we leave the bus, I feel a wee bit woozy, but brush it off as it was nothing new. I remember playing some various TV themed slot machines. Getting up, wandering around, playing some video poker. Always on the cheap. Nickel slots, quarter at the most.
We had the coupon from the bus company for the buffet lunch. I was not hungry, as usual at that time. I poked some bread and other food, I vaguely remember the buffet being huge. Tables everywhere - A long line of brass railing at the buffet counter. I dont remember any of the infamous Atlantic City Prime Rib Special.
I think this is where things begin to get hinky. The plan was eat, play a few more games - get back on the bus. Somehow we found a shortcut entrance to the Trump Taj Mahal next door.
I have a feeling that the lights, noise, the whole feel of the place unleashed something inside me. Deep inside that had been waiting to make its public debut. I remember putting one coin in a slot machine there at Trump. Losing of course, and the next minutes would land me a slice of history I never asked for.
There was time before the bus left. Maybe 60 minutes or so. After a few minutes in Trump we decided to head back to the Showboat to finish up there, so we were not far from the bus loading area. On the way back, I began my decent into hell.
From what my wife has told me, she looked back at me because I was a step or two behind, and I had said something. Probably something like "hold on..."
The next thing she saw was my upper body still in full stride, with my legs firmly planted on the floor. The 2 halves had disconnected. I fell backwards, and slammed my head into a $100 change machine. Of course, I did not win there either.
I remember vaguely seeing a security guard rushing up to me, telling me to stay put - a wheelchair was on the way. I attempted insisting I was allright, and was actively involved in trying to stand - but could not.
Puzzled, pissed, and petrified - in that order. Lesser attention paid to the last part. I remember getting in the wheelchair, and next thing I remember was talking to the on-site nurse at Trump. I think the nurse (sorry but I do not remember much about you, nurse) had allready taken my blood pressure, inquired about my drinking that day, and covered all the usual bases.
I was urged, by the nurse, to allow myself to be taken to the local hospital. I insisted that I could not miss my bus home, I signed a waiver freeing Trump from any legal ramifications due to whatever it was that happened, and I was wheeled back towards the bus.
As we still had a few minutes to wait (somehow), We waited at the bar. I had a glass of orange juice, still in my delusionary state thinking it must have been hypoglycemia. Wether this was a good move or not is still debateable.
Back on the bus home, headed northbound on the NJT back to Long Island. I think maybe an hour had passed, all I remember was that it was dark. They had begun showing the movie, as they do on these 4 hour trips. According to my wife, source of most of my memories of this trip, I was basically nodding in and out of conciousness during the ride. She was hoping that it was nothing more than a bout of food poisioning like the one I had suffered the year previous, and sleeping my way back to NY was for the best.
Some time later, maybe an hour and a half from home, I began to vomit. The lovely people sitting infront of us thankfully had a plastic bag, and a can of ginger ale. My wife was allready burning the cell phone trying to get a clue as to how to handle this.
To this day she still wonders if she should have had the bus driver stop in Manhattan and let us off there.
Needless to say we made it home without much delay - although it was pouring now. I had ruined her cardigan sweater, having grabbed it early on to catch my 'forthcomings'.
We arrived, her mother there to pick us up. After the sweater was disposed of in a nearby dumpster, we were off for the 5 minute drive back home.
I managed to make it home ok, clearing my head a bit with the talk in the car of the trip. Into the house, it's decided that I go clean up and take a shower.
Brains that I am, I get in the bathroom, disrobe, and turn the water on. I got in the shower, and promptly fell out. Seriously. Taking down the shower curtain rod (vintage one piece construction), the curtain, and nearly bringing down the sink as well. It was one of those sort-of pedistals, with the 2 metal legs at the corners - back attached to the wall. Well one leg was bent.
No, not my head - my head landed somehow nicely between the toilet and the sink, missing both. I think my legs followed me out of the shower a short time later.
My wife, her mother, and her aunt (and the dog) all rushed to my aid. They got me back in the tub, sitting up - and checked out injury free. Somehow.
Everyone took a moment to consider what next. I once again cleared my head, and decided on finshing my shower. Sitting, safely on the floor of the tub.
My wife was allready on the phone with my mother. Smart woman I married.
What transcribed between the two on the phone I still dont have a clear idea of, although I can imagine the panic and angst.
Finally, somehow they got me to bed. And I slept nearly endlessly.
But there was still tomorrow.
7/20/05
Google Moon - Lunar Landing Sites
Google Moon - Lunar Landing Sites
Apparently Im not the only one feeling wacky today. Go ahead - zoom in reeeeeeeeeaaaalll close
Apparently Im not the only one feeling wacky today. Go ahead - zoom in reeeeeeeeeaaaalll close
The great downtown rocket
The story behind the great downtown rocket.
Im calling shenanigans. This whole story is a misleading lie. There is only one fact in that whole article that is true.
It is a ballistic missle.
Cute cover story about the monkey thing though. People like monkeys. Associate something people like with the rocket:
suddenly people feel safe driving by a missle daily.
Lie A) Sent a monkey into space... No, monkeys got together and overwhelmed the guards around a rocket installation one day,
hell bent on getting a single monkey back to the monkey-planet where he would reveal the secrets of the human race.
Ripe for domination, or so they thought. The monkeys launched. But the Greys, Betazeds, and those Scientology aliens who are all on the government payroll - they fried his monkey butt. Thus no monkey invasion.
But watch them when they see the Space Shuttle... theres drool on their lips, and malice in their hearts.
Monkey = evil.
Remember that.
Lie B) Its just a museum piece. Hell no, it's too close to the Roanoke Times buildings to be "just a museum piece." I have long held that the missle is actually part of the Times defensive mechanisim, lest anyone try and become a threat to their news monopoly. Why do you think Roanoke does not have another newspaper?
The Missile.
Its the sword of damocles hanging over the Roanoke Valley. Anytime someone gets the inkling of an idea to start up a new newspaper, a rep from the Times calls them, and reminds them of the big missle.
But theres a group, armed with tinfoil hats to prevent the Times from usurping ViPir Radar technology to read the thoughts of those who would start a 2nd Roanoke newspaper. I will have more on them later.
Oh yes, and its T-24 hours and counting. Are you ready?
Im calling shenanigans. This whole story is a misleading lie. There is only one fact in that whole article that is true.
It is a ballistic missle.
Cute cover story about the monkey thing though. People like monkeys. Associate something people like with the rocket:
suddenly people feel safe driving by a missle daily.
Lie A) Sent a monkey into space... No, monkeys got together and overwhelmed the guards around a rocket installation one day,
hell bent on getting a single monkey back to the monkey-planet where he would reveal the secrets of the human race.
Ripe for domination, or so they thought. The monkeys launched. But the Greys, Betazeds, and those Scientology aliens who are all on the government payroll - they fried his monkey butt. Thus no monkey invasion.
But watch them when they see the Space Shuttle... theres drool on their lips, and malice in their hearts.
Monkey = evil.
Remember that.
Lie B) Its just a museum piece. Hell no, it's too close to the Roanoke Times buildings to be "just a museum piece." I have long held that the missle is actually part of the Times defensive mechanisim, lest anyone try and become a threat to their news monopoly. Why do you think Roanoke does not have another newspaper?
The Missile.
Its the sword of damocles hanging over the Roanoke Valley. Anytime someone gets the inkling of an idea to start up a new newspaper, a rep from the Times calls them, and reminds them of the big missle.
But theres a group, armed with tinfoil hats to prevent the Times from usurping ViPir Radar technology to read the thoughts of those who would start a 2nd Roanoke newspaper. I will have more on them later.
Oh yes, and its T-24 hours and counting. Are you ready?
7/19/05
roanoke.com - Extra stories - Art museum presents Impressionist work
You know, I was going to blog this. I was going to post one of the artists pictures, and talk about how they, while nice, were not great.
How they reminded me of old watercolor greeting cards.
But they're not bad, and thats not a bad thing. I don't know that I would find them fascinating, but they are nice enough. Remind me of the various postcards and clippings my grandmother used to save as inspiration for when she painted.
It's cool, and if thats what they want to display - fine by me. It's not my money.
But - if you scroll down the page a bit, you come across the Mill Mountain Theatre report.
Sounds like a good season coming up, although I have to admit 2 of the offerings scare me.
"Elvis People" about people who love Elvis. I see Elvis people. scary
And - the really scary one, "Mrs. Bob Crachit's Wild Christmas Binge."
Victorian Girls Gone Wild?
Yet somehow I am intrigued, might be a good year for a trip to the theatre.
How they reminded me of old watercolor greeting cards.
But they're not bad, and thats not a bad thing. I don't know that I would find them fascinating, but they are nice enough. Remind me of the various postcards and clippings my grandmother used to save as inspiration for when she painted.
It's cool, and if thats what they want to display - fine by me. It's not my money.
But - if you scroll down the page a bit, you come across the Mill Mountain Theatre report.
Sounds like a good season coming up, although I have to admit 2 of the offerings scare me.
"Elvis People" about people who love Elvis. I see Elvis people. scary
And - the really scary one, "Mrs. Bob Crachit's Wild Christmas Binge."
Victorian Girls Gone Wild?
Yet somehow I am intrigued, might be a good year for a trip to the theatre.
2 days to go
I feel the weight of the 3-year train bearing down on me. Im running out of time.
2 days till the past takes over, and this blog goes BST.
2 days till the past takes over, and this blog goes BST.
7/18/05
Allright, I know you are all waiting for it..
But Im not going to say anything about the Dr. Pepper sign/ H&C Coffee sign article today except to applaud Dr. Pepper/Pepsi Bottling for the want to repair the sign. They could have just let it continue rotting away, but decided that it meant something to the town with a Dr. Pepper jones. Nice of them to raise funds to repair it.
All part of the betterment of Downtown, and by extenstion, all of Roanoke.
But its going to be a hot, nasty, hazy next few days, so I dont want to add to the tension that will undoubtably build during this lovely weather. Besides, I still have my story to tell.
7/17/05
Rehabilitation Tax Credits
Rehabilitation Tax Credits
Being that its kind of a no-news day, I thought I'd point out some of the great programs the city offers to those who want to live there.
How about no, or low property-tax for 10 years?
Not only does Roanoke offer breaks for those rehabilitating older houses, it offers breaks for those who are converting multiple-family houses (or apartments) back into single family dwellings.
But wait.. theres more:
Mortgage assistance program
(its a pdf)
For a first time homebuyer, the city will give you a 10-year interest free loan. Yes, I said the city.
All you have to do is add a small amount, ($400 under $60k loan, or $600 on over $60k loans) and of course there are earnings limits (although not unreasonable), and you get a home.
There are, as always, rules and regulations - as with any federally funded program. But hell, its nothing really.
And you get a home.
Can't beat that huh? A home, tax breaks, and on top of that - the city will also loan you money for the repair of the home. I'll have to do some more searching, but its on the Roanokegov.com website somewhere.
All in the form of loans with little or no interest.
Hell, can't beat that with a stick - now can ya?
Being that its kind of a no-news day, I thought I'd point out some of the great programs the city offers to those who want to live there.
How about no, or low property-tax for 10 years?
Not only does Roanoke offer breaks for those rehabilitating older houses, it offers breaks for those who are converting multiple-family houses (or apartments) back into single family dwellings.
But wait.. theres more:
Mortgage assistance program
(its a pdf)
For a first time homebuyer, the city will give you a 10-year interest free loan. Yes, I said the city.
All you have to do is add a small amount, ($400 under $60k loan, or $600 on over $60k loans) and of course there are earnings limits (although not unreasonable), and you get a home.
There are, as always, rules and regulations - as with any federally funded program. But hell, its nothing really.
And you get a home.
Can't beat that huh? A home, tax breaks, and on top of that - the city will also loan you money for the repair of the home. I'll have to do some more searching, but its on the Roanokegov.com website somewhere.
All in the form of loans with little or no interest.
Hell, can't beat that with a stick - now can ya?
7/16/05
And now..
in my wifes hot little hands: Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince.
review will follow eventually.
In my hot little hands: The box that Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince was shipped in, there are benifits to working at the store selling them.
What a mob scene, but thankfully - we were home at 12:09. Book->UScan->Car->home. 8 mins total.
would have been a minute faster if I did not go run and get a box.. but must have box. MUST HAVE BOX
maybe its just me.
Oh, and for the parent of the young girl who I overheard saying "Yeah, that's me - drunken whore of the party." Good luck.
review will follow eventually.
In my hot little hands: The box that Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince was shipped in, there are benifits to working at the store selling them.
What a mob scene, but thankfully - we were home at 12:09. Book->UScan->Car->home. 8 mins total.
would have been a minute faster if I did not go run and get a box.. but must have box. MUST HAVE BOX
maybe its just me.
Oh, and for the parent of the young girl who I overheard saying "Yeah, that's me - drunken whore of the party." Good luck.
7/15/05
News from The Roanoke Times -Building's facade will be relocated and reassembled
News from The Roanoke Times -Building's facade will be relocated and reassembled
Did you ever hit a point where you just dont know if you have the strength to comprehend the stupidity anymore?
You know, one of those really frustrating days. Well Mr. Stout & Co. are quickly turning into that proverbial wall I keep bashing my head into.
A great big wall o' stupid.
From the article: Motley assured board members that the art museum would work with them to flesh out the remaining details. He also reminded them that reworking the proposal would further delay the art museum, which is scheduled to break ground in September.
"I think we need some tolerance with the details of the project so we can move forward," Motley said. The architects must still seek a building permit from the city to demolish the remaining parts of the brick building.
Apparently Motley is another architect working with Stout. And a whiner. Reworking the proposal would further delay... Sheesh!! Maybe if you had done it right in the first place, instead of bringing one of your failed designs from somewhere else and giving it to us.
Yes, you heard me. At this point Im having a very hard time believing that our AMWV design is original for Roanoke. I have a feeling it was made for someplace else, who was not impressed and went with another designer.
"We need tolerance with the details..." WHAT? You ask for tolerance? THESE ARE THE RULES SIR, AND YOU WILL PLAY BY THEM.
Go ahead Stout & Co. Keep it up with your attitudes, you'll get far.
Oh - and I'm going to keep saying it till someone gets it..
STOUT SAID $46 MILLION. NOT A CONSTRUCTION QUOTE, JUST A NUMBER HE CAME UP WITH. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!
Im am half tempted to file suit agsint the Architectural Review Board for Breach of Public Trust, mainly for being so dense as to actually bicker about the details not being done properly when they rebuild-move-whatever Lonesome Dove.
Heres a secret for ya.. If ya dont move it, it dont have to be rebuilt.
Again, from the article: As part of the approval, the architects pledged to replicate the building's original material in exact size, color and texture, saying that restoration with the original bricks would be too costly.
So they are going to spend good money to get worn bricks that look exactly like the bricks they are removing.
What a crew of winners we have here.
"They also promised to have the structural plans and details of the building documented before demolition for archival purposes, as requested by the board."
No, not requested by the board.. THE LAW! Yes, I know - Im the nut who actually reads these arcane things - but yes, it is the law. Not a request, a compliance. This is why I dont go to the ARB meetings, I would be arguing just as much with the Board as I would with Mr. Stout.
:::::Using old photographs of downtown Roanoke, the architects created a design that meets the character of the period in which the building was constructed. Motley described their overall approach to the design as using "standard materials, period coloring and simple shapes" to replicate the building that was once there.
Oh - are they going to use Lego blocks, or Lincon Logs? Esplain to me why we need a design that meets the charicter of the period in which the building was constructed? I thought we were rebuilding an existing structure? Mommy, Im scared... these men talk like tax-attorneys.
One last thing - then I'll be done with todays visit with the Stupid Family:
A word to the AMWV staff and backers - Your architect is out of ideas. "Stout also discussed plans for the first-floor storefront, offering suggestions about what could fill the glass span. Among some of his ideas were a display case for event posters or a series of renderings showing how the facade was moved and reassembled."
Apparently Mr. Stout has been to Tanglewood Mall lately, where across from Steinmart is an empty storefront, which is used at various times of year as display windows for posters, right now is the Cave Spring recreation field idea.
If this goes on much longer, Im going to start sending "Get Well Cards" to the various boards and committies that have to deal with this crew.
Well, now my day is ruined...
Did you ever hit a point where you just dont know if you have the strength to comprehend the stupidity anymore?
You know, one of those really frustrating days. Well Mr. Stout & Co. are quickly turning into that proverbial wall I keep bashing my head into.
A great big wall o' stupid.
From the article: Motley assured board members that the art museum would work with them to flesh out the remaining details. He also reminded them that reworking the proposal would further delay the art museum, which is scheduled to break ground in September.
"I think we need some tolerance with the details of the project so we can move forward," Motley said. The architects must still seek a building permit from the city to demolish the remaining parts of the brick building.
Apparently Motley is another architect working with Stout. And a whiner. Reworking the proposal would further delay... Sheesh!! Maybe if you had done it right in the first place, instead of bringing one of your failed designs from somewhere else and giving it to us.
Yes, you heard me. At this point Im having a very hard time believing that our AMWV design is original for Roanoke. I have a feeling it was made for someplace else, who was not impressed and went with another designer.
"We need tolerance with the details..." WHAT? You ask for tolerance? THESE ARE THE RULES SIR, AND YOU WILL PLAY BY THEM.
Go ahead Stout & Co. Keep it up with your attitudes, you'll get far.
Oh - and I'm going to keep saying it till someone gets it..
STOUT SAID $46 MILLION. NOT A CONSTRUCTION QUOTE, JUST A NUMBER HE CAME UP WITH. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!
Im am half tempted to file suit agsint the Architectural Review Board for Breach of Public Trust, mainly for being so dense as to actually bicker about the details not being done properly when they rebuild-move-whatever Lonesome Dove.
Heres a secret for ya.. If ya dont move it, it dont have to be rebuilt.
Again, from the article: As part of the approval, the architects pledged to replicate the building's original material in exact size, color and texture, saying that restoration with the original bricks would be too costly.
So they are going to spend good money to get worn bricks that look exactly like the bricks they are removing.
What a crew of winners we have here.
"They also promised to have the structural plans and details of the building documented before demolition for archival purposes, as requested by the board."
No, not requested by the board.. THE LAW! Yes, I know - Im the nut who actually reads these arcane things - but yes, it is the law. Not a request, a compliance. This is why I dont go to the ARB meetings, I would be arguing just as much with the Board as I would with Mr. Stout.
:::::Using old photographs of downtown Roanoke, the architects created a design that meets the character of the period in which the building was constructed. Motley described their overall approach to the design as using "standard materials, period coloring and simple shapes" to replicate the building that was once there.
Oh - are they going to use Lego blocks, or Lincon Logs? Esplain to me why we need a design that meets the charicter of the period in which the building was constructed? I thought we were rebuilding an existing structure? Mommy, Im scared... these men talk like tax-attorneys.
One last thing - then I'll be done with todays visit with the Stupid Family:
A word to the AMWV staff and backers - Your architect is out of ideas. "Stout also discussed plans for the first-floor storefront, offering suggestions about what could fill the glass span. Among some of his ideas were a display case for event posters or a series of renderings showing how the facade was moved and reassembled."
Apparently Mr. Stout has been to Tanglewood Mall lately, where across from Steinmart is an empty storefront, which is used at various times of year as display windows for posters, right now is the Cave Spring recreation field idea.
If this goes on much longer, Im going to start sending "Get Well Cards" to the various boards and committies that have to deal with this crew.
Well, now my day is ruined...
7/14/05
So I heard this on SLS
Apparently the AMWV has gotten some form of approval (Im not sure which - zoning, architectural, POS.) to build. The city is going to unleash $4 million in bonds for sale to add to the pot of an alleged $30 million they have raised through private donations. Cost of building: ( a dubious number which Mr. Stout pulled out of something) $46 million.
And they are going to break ground and ruin a perfectly good parking lot.
This will not end well, I can see it now.
And they are going to break ground and ruin a perfectly good parking lot.
This will not end well, I can see it now.
T- 7 days and counting
Its about time I get back to the BST thread, and what better time to do it than with 1 week to go till D-day.
If memory serves me....
nearly 3 years ago, right about now I was probably in the final stages of my decent. Im pretty sure the BST (big stupid tumor) had probably taken a strong hold of me by now. Im not sure exactly what I was doing at this point, but I do remember that my head did nothing but throb and ache. All I wanted to do was sleep. I was probably not eating much at all, drinking copious amounts of coffee.
I had given up on taking any kind of asprin for the pain. I was not thinking clearly at any point. There was no point in the day when I could honestly say I was feeling nothing. There was always something.
I was looking forward to the next week, because on my birthday - my girlfriend (now wife) and I were finally going to Atlantic City. Taking the bus down from Franklin Square, NY. 3-4 hours depending on traffic one way.
Then you get about 7 hours or so to play and eat till your hearts content and wallet is empty. We were both looking forward to it, I had been to AC a few times as a kid - too young to play in the casinos. Now I am not big on gambling. The only way I like to gamble is on the horses, I like to see where my moneys going. This way I can yell at it when I lose.
Putting coins in a machine, watching the dials spin, and waiting for them to stop amuses me, but does not fascinate me.
But I thought this trip would be a nice, different birthday. And boy was it ever - but you are going to have to wait for next week for that one.
Right now, all I can really say is - you better strap yourselves in - this is going to get ugly.
(ps - still working on the firefox issue. might have to change templates totally. I have no idea)
If memory serves me....
nearly 3 years ago, right about now I was probably in the final stages of my decent. Im pretty sure the BST (big stupid tumor) had probably taken a strong hold of me by now. Im not sure exactly what I was doing at this point, but I do remember that my head did nothing but throb and ache. All I wanted to do was sleep. I was probably not eating much at all, drinking copious amounts of coffee.
I had given up on taking any kind of asprin for the pain. I was not thinking clearly at any point. There was no point in the day when I could honestly say I was feeling nothing. There was always something.
I was looking forward to the next week, because on my birthday - my girlfriend (now wife) and I were finally going to Atlantic City. Taking the bus down from Franklin Square, NY. 3-4 hours depending on traffic one way.
Then you get about 7 hours or so to play and eat till your hearts content and wallet is empty. We were both looking forward to it, I had been to AC a few times as a kid - too young to play in the casinos. Now I am not big on gambling. The only way I like to gamble is on the horses, I like to see where my moneys going. This way I can yell at it when I lose.
Putting coins in a machine, watching the dials spin, and waiting for them to stop amuses me, but does not fascinate me.
But I thought this trip would be a nice, different birthday. And boy was it ever - but you are going to have to wait for next week for that one.
Right now, all I can really say is - you better strap yourselves in - this is going to get ugly.
(ps - still working on the firefox issue. might have to change templates totally. I have no idea)
If you understand Firefox and you know it, give a shout!
Seriously, I was informed today that this very blog looks all sorts of bizzare in FireFox, so I finally downloaded it and why, YES. It DOES look all sorts of funny.
I dont get why though. If anyone can give me a clue as to why, I'd be much obliged.
I dont get why though. If anyone can give me a clue as to why, I'd be much obliged.
7/13/05
News from The Roanoke Times -An ounce of prevention of county adult stores
So Im reading this story, all about Roanoke Co. limiting the areas in which a non-existant adult shop can open.
I get down to the bottom, and lo and behold - what the hell???
Google Ads!
The Roanoke Times is now running Google Ads on EACH STORY!!!
There were none on the main page however. The Editorial page has them, though the classifieds do not.
Then there is this: http://roanoke.buzznet.com/
Roanoke Times PhotoBlog? No, user edited Roanoke Times photoblog.
With Google Ads.
So what, the 50 cents daily, $1.50 sunday, ad sales, classified ads, and other sources of revenue just wont cut it anymore?Google Ads? On a newspaper?
The mind wobbles.
Otherwise - a pretty much dull newsday at the times. With this exception: "Art Museum will 'cost' Non-Profits."
Im pretty sure I said this a few months ago, but I never re-read what Ive written. So I might be wrong. I know I thought it though. That counts for something
.The foundation has not even been laid, and allready the bedrock is starting to crumble. Poor Art Museum & Solar Reflector.
I get down to the bottom, and lo and behold - what the hell???
Google Ads!
The Roanoke Times is now running Google Ads on EACH STORY!!!
There were none on the main page however. The Editorial page has them, though the classifieds do not.
Then there is this: http://roanoke.buzznet.com/
Roanoke Times PhotoBlog? No, user edited Roanoke Times photoblog.
With Google Ads.
So what, the 50 cents daily, $1.50 sunday, ad sales, classified ads, and other sources of revenue just wont cut it anymore?Google Ads? On a newspaper?
The mind wobbles.
Otherwise - a pretty much dull newsday at the times. With this exception: "Art Museum will 'cost' Non-Profits."
Im pretty sure I said this a few months ago, but I never re-read what Ive written. So I might be wrong. I know I thought it though. That counts for something
.The foundation has not even been laid, and allready the bedrock is starting to crumble. Poor Art Museum & Solar Reflector.
7/12/05
If you will all open to the center of todays copy of the Times...
"NOTICE OF PUBLIC HEARINGS"
Umm.. what the...
Well looks like the Vision 2020 plan is back in effect, in some form. Damn this thing is huge. Rezone the entire city!
Oh wait, that means rezone downtown too doesn't it.
lets see.. hmm big ass map.. wow - what colors.
Division 2: Special Purpose Districts: D - Downtown District. no density restrictions.
Allright - thats cool enough, Gives alot of options.. what else we have here..
(lord, theres enough fodder here to keep me going till September.)
Here's what I was looking for: The H-1 Historic Downtown Overlay District. "...encourages the architectural compatibility of new construction within the district,..."
Gosh, I cant think of anything that might not be architecturally compatable. Nope, not a thing. Certainly nothing made of stainless steel. (go ahead, try and get a non-existing building grandfathered into the old rules - try it.)
So thats article 3, next interesting section from a purely style-based view is Article 6, development standards.
I urge you to read this, you might not understand the map (lord knows I need to study this more) but the general ideas are spelled out plainly.
THIS is what Roanoke is about. This gives hope to those of us worried that Roanoke would be over-run by sprawl and badly-maintained buildings. But this is a comprehensive plan to make the city a City. When the angle of lighting and the ratio of ground cover to bare ground is up for consideration, they are taking the details that make a city great into account.
Umm.. what the...
Well looks like the Vision 2020 plan is back in effect, in some form. Damn this thing is huge. Rezone the entire city!
Oh wait, that means rezone downtown too doesn't it.
lets see.. hmm big ass map.. wow - what colors.
Division 2: Special Purpose Districts: D - Downtown District. no density restrictions.
Allright - thats cool enough, Gives alot of options.. what else we have here..
(lord, theres enough fodder here to keep me going till September.)
Here's what I was looking for: The H-1 Historic Downtown Overlay District. "...encourages the architectural compatibility of new construction within the district,..."
Gosh, I cant think of anything that might not be architecturally compatable. Nope, not a thing. Certainly nothing made of stainless steel. (go ahead, try and get a non-existing building grandfathered into the old rules - try it.)
So thats article 3, next interesting section from a purely style-based view is Article 6, development standards.
I urge you to read this, you might not understand the map (lord knows I need to study this more) but the general ideas are spelled out plainly.
THIS is what Roanoke is about. This gives hope to those of us worried that Roanoke would be over-run by sprawl and badly-maintained buildings. But this is a comprehensive plan to make the city a City. When the angle of lighting and the ratio of ground cover to bare ground is up for consideration, they are taking the details that make a city great into account.
AMWV site
AMWV site
Originally uploaded by Forgotten-Roanoke.com.
Here we see the 'alleged' future site of the AMWV. The white sided building on the left is The Lonesome Dove.
Click on the photo to see the embedded notes on the different places in this photo.
Art Museum plan faces new test. (Or: Mr. Stout doesn't do details.)
I thought I was reading an archive story today.
Then again, I did just wake up.
Aside from addressing the concerns of John Reburn, theres not much new in this article. Its a rehash of the moving of the Lonesome Dove facade around the corner for no apparent reason.
Until... Well, when you start to read the bottom fifth of the article. Beginning with Mr. Reburn being described as "pro-museum" and "pro-going forward with the project."
He has concerns, as all the utilities are run through the main connection at The Lonesome Dove. He's asking the questions any business-owner would ask. Is it going to affect his business, will he have to vacate temporarily, whats the timeline for construction.
Then this...: In response to Reburn's concerns, Stout said that those kinds of details are "not an issue right now."
G-d Damn. Excuse me Mr. Stout? A legitimate businessmans concerns are "not an issue right now."
In his defense: "We are trying to get a plan together and when we get a plan together, we will deal with the consequences of it," Stout said.
Oh Mr. Stout, that was not wise. So here it begins ladies and gents - the AMWV beings to fall apart at the badly welded, badly designed seams. I do have to say I am sorry to those who so vigiorously supported it.
But now maybe they can see what I have seen all along: Mr. Stout is a egocentric hack, who cares not for Roanoke, certainly not for the people of Roanoke.
Considering how few businesses are still on that stretch of Salem Ave, both sides of the block - I don't think Mr. Stout should be quite so glib when dealing with their concerns.
Less than 60 days now to the groundbreaking, last time I was downtown I saw some sort of construction crew in that parking lot. I have no idea what they were doing, but it made me ill.
60 days to develop a plan that will keep Roanoke and its businesses happy. And Mr. Stout doesn't care for the details.
Yeah, this is going swimmingly.
Then again, I did just wake up.
Aside from addressing the concerns of John Reburn, theres not much new in this article. Its a rehash of the moving of the Lonesome Dove facade around the corner for no apparent reason.
Until... Well, when you start to read the bottom fifth of the article. Beginning with Mr. Reburn being described as "pro-museum" and "pro-going forward with the project."
He has concerns, as all the utilities are run through the main connection at The Lonesome Dove. He's asking the questions any business-owner would ask. Is it going to affect his business, will he have to vacate temporarily, whats the timeline for construction.
Then this...: In response to Reburn's concerns, Stout said that those kinds of details are "not an issue right now."
G-d Damn. Excuse me Mr. Stout? A legitimate businessmans concerns are "not an issue right now."
In his defense: "We are trying to get a plan together and when we get a plan together, we will deal with the consequences of it," Stout said.
Oh Mr. Stout, that was not wise. So here it begins ladies and gents - the AMWV beings to fall apart at the badly welded, badly designed seams. I do have to say I am sorry to those who so vigiorously supported it.
But now maybe they can see what I have seen all along: Mr. Stout is a egocentric hack, who cares not for Roanoke, certainly not for the people of Roanoke.
Considering how few businesses are still on that stretch of Salem Ave, both sides of the block - I don't think Mr. Stout should be quite so glib when dealing with their concerns.
Less than 60 days now to the groundbreaking, last time I was downtown I saw some sort of construction crew in that parking lot. I have no idea what they were doing, but it made me ill.
60 days to develop a plan that will keep Roanoke and its businesses happy. And Mr. Stout doesn't care for the details.
Yeah, this is going swimmingly.
7/11/05
Todays editorial over on the Wiki
WikiRoanoke
I just posted a long piece in reference to todays Roanoke Times editorial on the London Bombings over on the Wiki. I will be posting here later today as my schedule has gone wacky for a day.
I just posted a long piece in reference to todays Roanoke Times editorial on the London Bombings over on the Wiki. I will be posting here later today as my schedule has gone wacky for a day.
7/10/05
things you don't ever want to hear when talking about a hurricane
"AFTER DEEPENING AT A RATE THAT BORDERED ON INSANE DURING THE
AFTERNOON...DENNIS HAS CONTINUED TO STRENGTHEN AT A MORE NORMAL
RATE THIS EVENING. " (em added -ed)
Oh lordy, If I was living in Pensacola, Id need a change of shorts about now.
AFTERNOON...DENNIS HAS CONTINUED TO STRENGTHEN AT A MORE NORMAL
RATE THIS EVENING. " (em added -ed)
Oh lordy, If I was living in Pensacola, Id need a change of shorts about now.
7/9/05
Jaime Singleton gets EXPORTED!!!
WMBB - TV | News 13 Streaming Video Plans
Jaime is live, on-scene (much like Jim Cantore) for 'Cane Dennis Da Menace. Show some support to a local brotha!
Jaime is live, on-scene (much like Jim Cantore) for 'Cane Dennis Da Menace. Show some support to a local brotha!
7/8/05
intermezzo pianissimo
Hurricane Dennis Pummels Cuba, Killing 10 on Island and Raising Caribbean Death Toll to 20
London Placed on Highest State of Alert
The stars are quiet on the face of the deep
All the dogs and angels are turning
Burning in their sleep
You can't see me now, but I'm watching over you
A broken smile never lies
A busted mirror cannot see you cry
I'm looking through one glass eye
You can't see me now, but I'm watching over you
All the clocks are broken
Every door is open
Take me to the ocean
And we'll ride on the hurricane
Until we're washed away
Take off the mask and tell me what you find
Behind the curtain everyone's deaf dumb and blind
Everyone becomes the one, the one they most despise
You're looking through one glass eye
Well, you can't see me now, but I'm watching over you
copshootcop - all the clocks are broken - ask questions later 1993 interscope records.
arguably the most important record of 1993 at that, but you never heard of it, did you?
dont you hate it when songs suddenly become a soundtrack for global events.
London Placed on Highest State of Alert
The stars are quiet on the face of the deep
All the dogs and angels are turning
Burning in their sleep
You can't see me now, but I'm watching over you
A broken smile never lies
A busted mirror cannot see you cry
I'm looking through one glass eye
You can't see me now, but I'm watching over you
All the clocks are broken
Every door is open
Take me to the ocean
And we'll ride on the hurricane
Until we're washed away
Take off the mask and tell me what you find
Behind the curtain everyone's deaf dumb and blind
Everyone becomes the one, the one they most despise
You're looking through one glass eye
Well, you can't see me now, but I'm watching over you
copshootcop - all the clocks are broken - ask questions later 1993 interscope records.
arguably the most important record of 1993 at that, but you never heard of it, did you?
dont you hate it when songs suddenly become a soundtrack for global events.
Could it happen again?
No not that. This:
Cuz, yanno - we just dont have enough rain. Oh - and by the by, anyone notice how it feels like September outside?
"...when the angels sing." (or: Roanoke Times spins me round round baby round round)
I bet if you go back into the archives of the Times, back to 9/12/01, you will find a similar editorial. Similar in tone, anyway.
I don't know who they took todays editorial from, but it is not a RT editorial. It shows a modicum of understanding, comprehension, and sense that is the anti-hallmark of your standard RT editorial.
Personally, I did not ever think I would read the words "Nor can any nation hope to immunize itself with appeasement or self-isolation." I must have taken the wrong vitamins this morning. I think I took my wacky pills instead.
This from the same Roanoke Times which talks about Iraq's failures on a daily basis. Again, I have to quote: "The danger is still shared and still supersedes all disputes. And a concerted, global response is still needed to prevail against it."
I guess as long as we can do it without Guantanamo, interrogations, killing insurgents, and a laundry list of other complains often found in the Times - we should continue with our plan to rout terrorisim from the face of the Earth.
But of course, the RT Eds have to get a shot across the bow of Bush. Claiming that the demands of the terrorists and their widespread nature undermines Bush's claim that freeing Iraq will help prevent terrorisim at home.
Ok, he's the deal with that whole thing. Iraq was a known funding source for terrorists. Ok - so maybe Saddam and Osama did not sit for tea and crumpets at the same table. But it is known, and proven that there were "runners" who went between Saddam and Osama from time to time, discussing funding and use of land. It's not like they sent each other "50 ways to know your a Despot" forwarded e-mails. (Although Im sure Kim Jong Il has recieved several of them.)
But there was a philosphical and idealogical parity between the two, and what in the business world would be termed a "working relationship." And if you want me to connect the dots for you, I can.
Saddam would pay $20,000 to the family of any Palestinian who became a 'maryter'. Of that $20,000 - much like in most religions, there was a tithe. The tithe went to a general account at a bank, (still does by the way) which was run by governments with ties to Osama. From what I understand of the system - it was almost like a credit union, you borrow out of the general fund - and you pay back into the general fund.
This account is funded by hundreds of thousands, if not millions of Muslims. Now again, I have to couch this in the fact that this is not every Muslim, nor most likely even a majority of them. But the funding is enough that it allows for Al-Quaeda to essentially franchise the business.
The attacks in London were in the NAME of Al-Quaeda, but not OF Al-Quaeda. The simplest explination is: A group of 'terrorists' formulates a plan. The plan is then routed through couriers to someone at Al-Quaeda. They judge the plan, weigh the benefits and provide assistance in "polishing up" the plan. When the plan is finalized, they then either provide the materials, or provide the funding to attain the materials. Then the plan becomes a mission. And we know the rest.
In short, YES. Going to Iraq will assist in the eradication of terrorists. Yes it has begun to help. Funding resources are no longer as strong as they were coming out of Iraq, not to mention the funding that would normally be routed elsewhere is now being routed into Iraq.
Yes, it is being used against our own troops. Along with Iraqi police, militia, and the general population in Iraq. To be honest, this whole Iraq thing is a bigger PR nightmare for the 'insurgents'. And if not for the fact that the US is spearheading the whole campaign, it would be a disaster for the terrorists. The only reason anyone is even showing up to fight (and somewhere between 75%-95% of all insurgents are from outside of Iraq) is because its American Troops. The brass ring.
We are making a difference, and we are not alone in this. Our allies who remain, who did not try to appease the terrorist mind, stand with us.
(Don't forget Poland!)
I don't know who they took todays editorial from, but it is not a RT editorial. It shows a modicum of understanding, comprehension, and sense that is the anti-hallmark of your standard RT editorial.
Personally, I did not ever think I would read the words "Nor can any nation hope to immunize itself with appeasement or self-isolation." I must have taken the wrong vitamins this morning. I think I took my wacky pills instead.
This from the same Roanoke Times which talks about Iraq's failures on a daily basis. Again, I have to quote: "The danger is still shared and still supersedes all disputes. And a concerted, global response is still needed to prevail against it."
I guess as long as we can do it without Guantanamo, interrogations, killing insurgents, and a laundry list of other complains often found in the Times - we should continue with our plan to rout terrorisim from the face of the Earth.
But of course, the RT Eds have to get a shot across the bow of Bush. Claiming that the demands of the terrorists and their widespread nature undermines Bush's claim that freeing Iraq will help prevent terrorisim at home.
Ok, he's the deal with that whole thing. Iraq was a known funding source for terrorists. Ok - so maybe Saddam and Osama did not sit for tea and crumpets at the same table. But it is known, and proven that there were "runners" who went between Saddam and Osama from time to time, discussing funding and use of land. It's not like they sent each other "50 ways to know your a Despot" forwarded e-mails. (Although Im sure Kim Jong Il has recieved several of them.)
But there was a philosphical and idealogical parity between the two, and what in the business world would be termed a "working relationship." And if you want me to connect the dots for you, I can.
Saddam would pay $20,000 to the family of any Palestinian who became a 'maryter'. Of that $20,000 - much like in most religions, there was a tithe. The tithe went to a general account at a bank, (still does by the way) which was run by governments with ties to Osama. From what I understand of the system - it was almost like a credit union, you borrow out of the general fund - and you pay back into the general fund.
This account is funded by hundreds of thousands, if not millions of Muslims. Now again, I have to couch this in the fact that this is not every Muslim, nor most likely even a majority of them. But the funding is enough that it allows for Al-Quaeda to essentially franchise the business.
The attacks in London were in the NAME of Al-Quaeda, but not OF Al-Quaeda. The simplest explination is: A group of 'terrorists' formulates a plan. The plan is then routed through couriers to someone at Al-Quaeda. They judge the plan, weigh the benefits and provide assistance in "polishing up" the plan. When the plan is finalized, they then either provide the materials, or provide the funding to attain the materials. Then the plan becomes a mission. And we know the rest.
In short, YES. Going to Iraq will assist in the eradication of terrorists. Yes it has begun to help. Funding resources are no longer as strong as they were coming out of Iraq, not to mention the funding that would normally be routed elsewhere is now being routed into Iraq.
Yes, it is being used against our own troops. Along with Iraqi police, militia, and the general population in Iraq. To be honest, this whole Iraq thing is a bigger PR nightmare for the 'insurgents'. And if not for the fact that the US is spearheading the whole campaign, it would be a disaster for the terrorists. The only reason anyone is even showing up to fight (and somewhere between 75%-95% of all insurgents are from outside of Iraq) is because its American Troops. The brass ring.
We are making a difference, and we are not alone in this. Our allies who remain, who did not try to appease the terrorist mind, stand with us.
(Don't forget Poland!)
Do you see that flag?
The Union Jack, the direct ancestor of our own flag. Blood relative, if you will. And it comes down to the old saying, "There but for the grace of God go I."
I could have been here, this was a no-brainer attack. You hear the experts rambling on about this and that, but it all boils down to the fact that once they got the explosives - they had the method. The plan is secondary once you have the means. I spent a good portion of a year riding the NYC Subway and the LIRR daily, and I can personally attest to how many people wear backpacks or have briefcases with them when they ride.
I carried a roll of chef's knives stuffed in my backpack. 10 of the sharpest blades you've ever seen. And I was never once stopped, never questioned. I saw the police enter trains before they entered the tunnel under the East River heading towards the WTC, I saw the officer stationed at the entrance to the tunnel. I know very well that there were more officers than the ones I saw, I probably sat next to these officers.
I did not see any explosive materials sniffing devices. I saw dogs, but mainly in the larger stations. I saw the TITAN Tactical Response team floating around, carrying the big guns.
I saw guys who looked shadier than any cartoon villan, and I watched as everyone in the subway car watched them. Gave them a hard look-over, especially if they were carrying something. But no one stopped them for a check.
If you can blend in with the locals, you have little to fear.
I saw, on the same subway car, orthodox Jews praying and Muslims reading the Koran. Pakistani businessmen standing toe to toe with Jewish doctors. This is to the credit of NY, that diverse cultures can co-exist without destroying eachother on sight.
But it is also the greatest vunerability of any city. How do you single out the bad seed in a load of grain? Without "chatter" and intelligence, you can't. And thats why it happened in London. Because we have no way of identifying terrorists on demand. If you have seen "Total Recall", you will remember in the movie, when Arnie goes to the 'airport' he has to walk behind a wall, which displays an x-ray image of everyone who passes behind it.
We have a similar technology, minus the computer-designed graphics. But because we have this technology, we have people who say it infringes upon our rights.
They say the average Londoner is photographed no less than 300 times a day as they go around town. London is one of the most heavily surveiled cities in the world. And this still was not enough to deter the idiots.
It's going to happen, and there is nothing we can do about it.
What matters is how we react to it when it does happen, and limiting the reasons it happens in the first place.
More to come
I could have been here, this was a no-brainer attack. You hear the experts rambling on about this and that, but it all boils down to the fact that once they got the explosives - they had the method. The plan is secondary once you have the means. I spent a good portion of a year riding the NYC Subway and the LIRR daily, and I can personally attest to how many people wear backpacks or have briefcases with them when they ride.
I carried a roll of chef's knives stuffed in my backpack. 10 of the sharpest blades you've ever seen. And I was never once stopped, never questioned. I saw the police enter trains before they entered the tunnel under the East River heading towards the WTC, I saw the officer stationed at the entrance to the tunnel. I know very well that there were more officers than the ones I saw, I probably sat next to these officers.
I did not see any explosive materials sniffing devices. I saw dogs, but mainly in the larger stations. I saw the TITAN Tactical Response team floating around, carrying the big guns.
I saw guys who looked shadier than any cartoon villan, and I watched as everyone in the subway car watched them. Gave them a hard look-over, especially if they were carrying something. But no one stopped them for a check.
If you can blend in with the locals, you have little to fear.
I saw, on the same subway car, orthodox Jews praying and Muslims reading the Koran. Pakistani businessmen standing toe to toe with Jewish doctors. This is to the credit of NY, that diverse cultures can co-exist without destroying eachother on sight.
But it is also the greatest vunerability of any city. How do you single out the bad seed in a load of grain? Without "chatter" and intelligence, you can't. And thats why it happened in London. Because we have no way of identifying terrorists on demand. If you have seen "Total Recall", you will remember in the movie, when Arnie goes to the 'airport' he has to walk behind a wall, which displays an x-ray image of everyone who passes behind it.
We have a similar technology, minus the computer-designed graphics. But because we have this technology, we have people who say it infringes upon our rights.
They say the average Londoner is photographed no less than 300 times a day as they go around town. London is one of the most heavily surveiled cities in the world. And this still was not enough to deter the idiots.
It's going to happen, and there is nothing we can do about it.
What matters is how we react to it when it does happen, and limiting the reasons it happens in the first place.
More to come
7/7/05
7 July 2005 London bombings - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Just to show the fluid nature of news now, check out Wikipedia's reporting on the London Attacks. Not only is it up to the minute, it's links are direct-to-source. This is mass reporting at its finest. Each source is numbered and linked either after the quote, or at the end of the paragraph. You can find the text of Tony Blair's speech, a quote and link to the Mayor of London's speech, pertinent phone numbers for those who need information, those in emergency situations, and links to the major media outlets and transportation authorities.
This is Wiki at its finest.
This is news.
This is Wiki at its finest.
This is news.
What. The. Hell.
Bad enough that our distant relatives (socially speaking) in London were attacked today, now I hear word that after the attacks were reported - oil futures actually fell. Thats right, the price of oil went down - and why? Oh well, attacks in London must mean that less people will travel to big cities, so oil demand will drop.
What?
Oh - and now oil is over $61 a barrell at last reporting. Because now I guess people WILL travel to London and large cities. I've always said that the markets are based in fantasy-land, but this just seals the deal.
That would be like saying Eisner at Disney has the flu, which might cause him to die, which might cause the parks to be closed for a day, so based on all that speculation - you must sell the stock before that happens.
Anyway, back to London.
I don't know if you pay much mind to our buddies overseas, but they have this fascination with technology. Here - if you don't have a cameraphone, it's no big deal. There - cameraphones are pratically the only kind of cellphone. Well, the British people, especially the younger ones, are technologically obsessed. With a cameraphone, one can engage in Moblogging. Essentially, mobile blogging - live blogging, posting straight from the scene. Which leads to things like this:
This comes to us from Alfie's Moblog, and is taken via cameraphone, direct on the London Underground.
Just imagine, back on 9/11 we had digital cameras for the most part, which captured some amazing and haunting photos - but then again, not everyone had a digital camera on them. Or the presence of mind to use it. But imagine for a second that over 50% of the people in the Twin Towers had camera phones. How may photos of the jet heading straight at the camera would we have had, how many photos of the stairwells. A camera phone is capable of sending the image to just about anywhere - not solely another phone.
And it only takes a few seconds to send.
All power and God-speed to the 45 reported dead at this point, and the thousand or so injured. Although, in true British fashion - I was reading this blog, and he is live blogging the attack.
He went to lunch and made this observation: "14:05 - I tell you what, if this is an "Islamic" terrorist attack, they're doing a piss-poor job. The pubs are all packed out, people sipping their pints happily, all a tad pissed off, but basically fine with it. Nice one, Al Quaeda - you profess to be from a teetotal religion, and you've given the pub trade a massive mid-week boost. Result."
Thats the Brits for you - It's bad enough to attack them at home, but now you have messed with their commute. Look what they did to the Germans when they attempted to disrupt tea-time. Yes the blitz took its toll, but they perservered.
Hail Britain, and Hail the power of the Imperial Pint.
What?
Oh - and now oil is over $61 a barrell at last reporting. Because now I guess people WILL travel to London and large cities. I've always said that the markets are based in fantasy-land, but this just seals the deal.
That would be like saying Eisner at Disney has the flu, which might cause him to die, which might cause the parks to be closed for a day, so based on all that speculation - you must sell the stock before that happens.
Anyway, back to London.
I don't know if you pay much mind to our buddies overseas, but they have this fascination with technology. Here - if you don't have a cameraphone, it's no big deal. There - cameraphones are pratically the only kind of cellphone. Well, the British people, especially the younger ones, are technologically obsessed. With a cameraphone, one can engage in Moblogging. Essentially, mobile blogging - live blogging, posting straight from the scene. Which leads to things like this:
This comes to us from Alfie's Moblog, and is taken via cameraphone, direct on the London Underground.
Just imagine, back on 9/11 we had digital cameras for the most part, which captured some amazing and haunting photos - but then again, not everyone had a digital camera on them. Or the presence of mind to use it. But imagine for a second that over 50% of the people in the Twin Towers had camera phones. How may photos of the jet heading straight at the camera would we have had, how many photos of the stairwells. A camera phone is capable of sending the image to just about anywhere - not solely another phone.
And it only takes a few seconds to send.
All power and God-speed to the 45 reported dead at this point, and the thousand or so injured. Although, in true British fashion - I was reading this blog, and he is live blogging the attack.
He went to lunch and made this observation: "14:05 - I tell you what, if this is an "Islamic" terrorist attack, they're doing a piss-poor job. The pubs are all packed out, people sipping their pints happily, all a tad pissed off, but basically fine with it. Nice one, Al Quaeda - you profess to be from a teetotal religion, and you've given the pub trade a massive mid-week boost. Result."
Thats the Brits for you - It's bad enough to attack them at home, but now you have messed with their commute. Look what they did to the Germans when they attempted to disrupt tea-time. Yes the blitz took its toll, but they perservered.
Hail Britain, and Hail the power of the Imperial Pint.
7/6/05
How about a nice "Cuppa Hell-No" Joe
Joe Kennedy
Who is this guy? I understand he is the "region's best writer" by the readers of the Roanoker, but who is he?
And why can he not put together a paragraph? Just give a read to the first 3 paragraphs - or whatever you want to call them.
"My statement explains why, much as I'd like to learn more about the Big One, events beyond my control prevent me from signing on. "
Well, we have his statement, about everything seeming more important when you get older, but no information on what events are beyond his control. Especially considering the Roanoke Times is located basically right across the street from Anglers. There is a severe lack of information there. Obviously learning more about history is not part of "everything." Although everything seems a pretty all inclusive term.
Joe, come on - get a guidebook to writing skills. You know, Standards of Journalistic Writing. That kind of thing.
And Times editors, please - PLEASE fix these colums. They give me headaches.
Who is this guy? I understand he is the "region's best writer" by the readers of the Roanoker, but who is he?
And why can he not put together a paragraph? Just give a read to the first 3 paragraphs - or whatever you want to call them.
"My statement explains why, much as I'd like to learn more about the Big One, events beyond my control prevent me from signing on. "
Well, we have his statement, about everything seeming more important when you get older, but no information on what events are beyond his control. Especially considering the Roanoke Times is located basically right across the street from Anglers. There is a severe lack of information there. Obviously learning more about history is not part of "everything." Although everything seems a pretty all inclusive term.
Joe, come on - get a guidebook to writing skills. You know, Standards of Journalistic Writing. That kind of thing.
And Times editors, please - PLEASE fix these colums. They give me headaches.
7/5/05
BBC - Radio 3 - Beethoven Experience - downloads
BBC - Radio 3 - Beethoven Experience - downloads
BBC is offering free downloads of Beethoven's 7th, 8th, and 9th symphonys. The 7th is going to be taken down at midnight tonight (GMT I assume), the 8th tomorrow, and the 9th the following day.
These are new recordings, done by the BBC Philharmonic.
We have allready missed Symphonys 1-6 for free downloading, so get these while you can.
BBC is offering free downloads of Beethoven's 7th, 8th, and 9th symphonys. The 7th is going to be taken down at midnight tonight (GMT I assume), the 8th tomorrow, and the 9th the following day.
These are new recordings, done by the BBC Philharmonic.
We have allready missed Symphonys 1-6 for free downloading, so get these while you can.
Ok, Ive hit an impasse here..
When it comes to the creative writing that I pull from my nether-regions for the website, I seem to have dried up today. Of course, I also have a headache - so who knows. But I am beat, and beat hard today.
Last year, having only been down here a few months at that point, my wife and myself watched the fireworks from Victory Stadium in the parking lot of Kroger at Tanglewood. This year, we faded back a bit in the parking lot. Retreated back near the Wachovia at the other end. And what a show.
Aside from seeing the Not-Victory-Stadium firework show, and the other personal ordinace from homes - it was a great night. Wonderful breeze, a few small groups watching the fireworks along with us. Children cheering, applauding, across the street at the apartments there - you could see children playing with sparklers and snap-caps. It was a generally great night, made all the better by the wonderful bbq sammiches, and Blue Ridge Farms potato salad.
I am hoping that by the end of this week, my head will have cleared enough that I can finally finish the pages on the site. Then it's on to the next project. Something small and easily done, a nice break.
And with any luck, by that time - the podcasting will begin. Now that you SHOULD be worried about.
mmm potato salad.
Last year, having only been down here a few months at that point, my wife and myself watched the fireworks from Victory Stadium in the parking lot of Kroger at Tanglewood. This year, we faded back a bit in the parking lot. Retreated back near the Wachovia at the other end. And what a show.
Aside from seeing the Not-Victory-Stadium firework show, and the other personal ordinace from homes - it was a great night. Wonderful breeze, a few small groups watching the fireworks along with us. Children cheering, applauding, across the street at the apartments there - you could see children playing with sparklers and snap-caps. It was a generally great night, made all the better by the wonderful bbq sammiches, and Blue Ridge Farms potato salad.
I am hoping that by the end of this week, my head will have cleared enough that I can finally finish the pages on the site. Then it's on to the next project. Something small and easily done, a nice break.
And with any luck, by that time - the podcasting will begin. Now that you SHOULD be worried about.
mmm potato salad.
News from The Roanoke Times -Burned Quran left by Muslim
News from The Roanoke Times -Burned Quran left by Muslim
Allright, I want a retraction of every story, every editorial,
every wire piece about this "burned quran" hate crime nonsense,
and I want it now.
Will it happen? Hell no.
Allright, I want a retraction of every story, every editorial,
every wire piece about this "burned quran" hate crime nonsense,
and I want it now.
Will it happen? Hell no.
7/4/05
Newsday.com: Diner fight leads to stabbing
Newsday.com: Diner fight leads to stabbing
this was my diner growing up on Long Island. It was never like this. Bunch of idiots, and of course - what are these kids doing out this late.. allright - maybe 17-18 is somewhat understandable, but a 14 year old was with them. And a 16 year old started it...
boneheads
this was my diner growing up on Long Island. It was never like this. Bunch of idiots, and of course - what are these kids doing out this late.. allright - maybe 17-18 is somewhat understandable, but a 14 year old was with them. And a 16 year old started it...
boneheads
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