Star date 30082016
Full on migraine at 0145…and up for the day. Well…not quite. First? Another use for my Fitbit…mini flashlight. Tank fancies himself a bit of a ninja perro es negro. For those without a Charlie in their brain box, who are thusly, not given to speaking in tongues, as I now am (Movie promo for Phenomenon):
Damn you Charlie…Oh yeah. So…Fitbit illuminates an area with such a soft light, that with its magical powers, it moves the ninja perro es negro from beneath my feet to …well, walking in front of me so as to be even more in the way. I cannot wait to make him in to a rug…and his ears in to key chains. I hobble…thanks to my disability…of general pedestrianising…and my foot tumor…the precursory tumor to start it all…to the bathroom. Yes…for some relief of all the water I drink during the night. Sidebar – As I am not a mouth-breather, why am thirstier at night than during the day? Ponder. Talk amongst yourselves. But first…I take a migraine pill from its receptacle…again… thank you to my Fitbit, I can even find the receptacle…or the toilet. I pull out a tablet…no…this is not a reference to the size of the lifelong (teehee) tumor, betwixt my groinal region…all true life medical terminology. I should know. I played a doctor on TV. In the stead, it is a little foil pack with a paper backer and a bendy corner. One is to open the packet at the bendy corner to then push said medicine through the foiled hymen and in to my palm…or on the floor, as the case may be and was. Mind you, this is a white, round pill…the size of a booger…only white…not like a booger. How do I know what boogers look like? Help me out here, men…walk in to any public restroom and you can find booger art above any wall john. Why? I do not know. Apparently the bumpy wall surface suffices for just enough tread for said booger to be wiped off one’s finger before tapping one’s johnson…thus creating a boogery masterpiece. I do study these on occasion. I find them all to look like someone I used to work with, whose initials are Joe Dickelman…yes…his real life name. Prior to the pill popping precariously (weeeeeeeee. Alliteration. Bonus points) on to the floor, the bendy corner broke…to the extent I could no longer get my fingernail to find an edge to dig a nail in to. Fitbit was kind enough to guide me to the kitchen area (currently under deconstruction). Whereupon I find a box knife and my ever so careful, slightly stabbing of my index finger…the one next to my freshly removed cancer finger…But, I got my pill. Which…I promptly dropped, had to turn on the kitchen light, could not find, went back to the bathroom, rinse, repeat steps 1-393948. Take pill, turn off lights, go back to bed, toss and turn for 15 minutes, get up, leave room with Tank…the aforementioned ninja perro es negro…and now I ponder my day.
Of course…Angry Birds Transformers…app updates…but most of all I pull up pics from last night’s convo with Casey:
Grab
twist
pull
As this is only day twoth of this journey, and as day one was a day of poopilee=jubilee for Tiny Sammer’s. And as T2 (Sam) is unaware of Charlie. Further, as T2 is unaware of this post as of yet…I am currently a bit mixed. Sam just started school last week. As anyone who knows my youngest, she is a bit on the sensitiver side than T1…who does know about Charlie. …We are waiting to fill Sam in until Sunday of this coming week…should be a good star date entry…tears…fists of fury…much like tiny Logan. The decision to wait with (you) Sam (as you will undoubtedly go back over the first invigorating…I said invigorating) is because of the sensitive factor and knowing that with her, something like a golf ball, resembling a back up eye…or the Pip to my Gladys Knight…must be communicated in person. So…my apologies to Sam for not telling you, others knowing…I hope you will forgive me (as I am allegedly dying)…and understand, this really (telling you in person) was the only way for you.
Moving on. Charlie seems a bit happier now that he is drugged. Why Charlie? Good call, Charlie…thank you for the gentle nudge of explaining your name. …and no…you cannot push in my stool whilst I write. Although…my father always thought I had my head up my ass. A bit of irony in that as it pertains to Charlie. So…Ma (Jess’s mom) had a Chinese (or as whitey might say…oriental…like the carpet and the people) Crested Something (official breed name). Charlie…doubly ironic…had a missing right eye. Ma would come to visit. Charlie would get up on the couch…the white, leather couch. No big deal. The cow that wore this fine piece did just fine outside and with other animal like creatures of the fields and air, touching it. Nope. Charlie would hop down and a blood spot would remain on the couch…in some cases a blood smear. From whence did this come? Yep…Charlie’s bunghole. To which mom would respond with something like, “Charlie hasn’t been feeling well and either has a stomach virus…or ass cancer.” So the joke in our house is typically something along the lines of any ailment being a ________ or ass cancer. Well, much to my chagrin…and likely most others…ass cancer from a white, leather couch, is quite contagious. I likely contracted Charlie (my aptly named head’s ass cancer) whilst relaxing on said couch….inasmuch as I could contract the HIV by way of bare bottom atop a public toilet seat…always hover. And so Charlie was born. Not at all the way Dr. Yu is guessing…decades of overuse of my enormous brain…which, as it turns out, he could cut part of what Charlie is attached to, and I (apparently) would never know the difference.
Fast forward. I have a dentist appointment today. Why? Right. Much like my foot or finger, does it matter? Especially if …since I am to be cremated. Jess is an optimist. I’ll just go with that. I am a realist…spoiler alert…I live years beyond the surgery…I’ve seen it with all three of my eyes.
With Charlie a little less grumpy (currently), I am somewhat tempted to start mowing the lawn. Mind you…it is currently 0549 and no sun to be seen. But wait…I have a tumor and it has to do something fun today.
My thoughts thus far in to the day(ish)…are … I spoke with my bestest good friend the other night and realize how very much I miss him (initials Rob Hawks). We met at Firestone and are…for all intents and purposes…brothers. Not bros, brahs, dudes, etc. At times, I suspect Jess wonders…as others do whom have spent any time with us…if we actually share one brain. We make most people tired. We make ourselves laugh. Most times we laugh over and at the same things…over and over and over:
Bow to your partner…now promenade
All yinz…look up Bugs Bunny Hoedown on the youtubes…if you don’t laugh at that…you are dead. Anyway…I miss my Rob. I am thankful for the friends we have made whilst in Pitts. I am thankful more so for the family they have become. I am not sad today…at least not yet…but I am ever-reminded of just how quickly shit has changed for us; moreover, how having people around us that actually care about us…or Jess, specifically…change my perspective. My thoughts.
Addendum: It dawns on me that some light…aside from that of my now infamous Fitbit…BTW…this is my third Fitbit in a year…I suspect Charlie has a role in the demise of each, as he sucks the power from their tiny batteries…as he similarly does to my tiny brain. As part of this process, I have included a handful of people, by way of invites. Starting tomorrow, each of those people will be spotlighted as to the hows and whys and so ons. …likely in the order…as all things should have an order…as to when they happened in to my life.
Fast forward. It is the end of the day and Jess is reminding me that I should be packing for my trip on a jet plane…don’t know when I’ll be back uh-gain. I’m leavin’ …I forget the rest. Terrible song. As it turns out, I do know when I ‘ll be back. Today’s tumor experiment happened at the dentist office. Dentist…not doctor…asked about my history…saw tumor and asked when. Secretly, I laugh because I have lured the poor sap in. As it turns out, all for not. I got an, “oh no.” I really was going for the gasp and gulp. …not that kind, Steve. Charlie 1. All the other idiots 1.
Well beyond my bedtime. The time will go way too fast and almost the second we get back, the pre-op tests start, followed by the wait. Way too much time to ponder and wonder. Contemplate and constipate…whoops…had extra cheese tonight, so I should be good on that end…that end…teehee. I cannot wait to hold my baby and am hopeful I can just be in that moment, with, daughters, and granddaughter. …forgetting Charlie and his untimely course of destruction. Bastard.
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