I've got a little Hitler inside of me

Whoa, now hang on! He's not a racist Hitler, and he doesn't want to kill any people; just cows and pigs. Which is pretty unkind, I realize.

But he is insane and ruthless and an uncompromising tyrant. And he's irresistible. He's feared and obeyed by his subordinates. He's the agent in my brain in charge of hunger. Thank god he is not always in command. But he's the most powerful commander in my brain and will grab power at the slightest opportunity. When I'm hungry obviously. When I'm bored which is luckily practically never, and when I'm not full or necessarily hungry but around food.

He is utterly canine in his instincts. This is what my dieticians need to understand and what I have failed to fully realize in myself and failed to communicate. Trying to teach me dietary discipline is like trying to teach it to your dog. Even if Fido could understand you his instincts will not allow him to cooperate. I am no different.

Correction: I have realized my Food Hitler's presence for a long time. What I have failed to fully realize until now is just how undefeatable he is. I know now there is only one solution for me. To keep him out of the drivers seat. I need utter convenience. I need an absence of abusable food. I need a computer with controls placed on it to withhold Doordash and Skip the Humanity sites from me.

I need a strict protein/meal replacement diet for a long long time. With fibre supplements and probably some kind of simple fat source to go along with it. And a regular alarm that goes off five times a day or whatever, telling me to have a shake - or a shake and a yogurt or whatever. Simple eat-ready products that can go in my bar fridge in my room. No more kitchen. Guaranteed nothing else will work. Atkins, Weight Watchers, The Zone, the Four Hour Body and the Bariatric program have all failed for me. My only success has been with a temporary protein shake diet designed by my personal dietician and myself a couple years ago. And that is also the only diet that I could reliably jump right back on to after a cheat day,

And cheat days WILL happen. Christmas, thanksgiving etcetera. And that's okay.

The goal now is to get a dietician on board who will support me long term with this. They will know it is not ideal. But no ideal diets will ever work for me. We can't afford to fool ourselves any longer.

If I have to, I'll do it alone. But the better the dietician, the better my access to superior prescription meal replacement shakes. If I'm on my own then I have to deal with over the counter products and all of their deficiencies. 

I'll do what I have to do.

Finally. No more fucking around.

Day 61

In a surprise move I've been suddenly transferred to a dedicated rehab ward which had been kept secret from me until now. A few things are a little different so far. Most notably is that my next door neighbour is almost certainly a dolphin.

I am hearing a distinct conversation between a man and some entity speaking in a high-pitched EHH-EHH-EHH-EHH-EHH-EHH-EHH Flipper voice.

Now, I know what you're thinking. You're doubtful. You're thinking how could I possibly know who is the patient and who is the visitor. Well I'm glad you asked. Our doors meet at right-angles you see. So no dolphin visitor could have come flip-flopping past my door, into his room without me taking note of such an event. My door has been wide open since I arrived.

Case closed.

Day 40

A lot has happened fast. Kidneys finally back to normal. Infections on the cusp of defeat if not defeated. Feeling in lower body much returned. I'm able to do a tiny bit of walking using a walker and plenty of arm strength.

Perhaps I'll remain in acute care another couple weeks and then perhaps a step down to the therapy-oriented complex care ward. We'll see.

Loose ends

After a three-week run if antibiotics we're waiting and watching to see if it continues clearing up on its own. Either way the skin is a long way from healing and I'm a long way from losing the uncomfortable daily dressings.

The kidneys remain close to fully recovered. My blood sugar is tame. They've ceased my daily bloodwork for now, thank goodness, because without the dialysis line in my neck anymore, the nurses have to jab me looking for my super secret veins and often fail, even repeatedly and my anxiety leaps about ten levels every time they fail and have to stab again.

The shooting neuropathic pains in my left leg have calmed down thanks to meds and the strategic use of pillows. Sitting up straight is painful though, on my sore ass, so I type this lying back which is a figurative pain in the ass. It makes me resistant to doing serious work on my laptop which leads to too much movie watching and restlessness. Having visitors was the only uncomplicated sanity-making activity and I was very lucky for a time. Dog Whisperer, Earth Writer, The Healer, LaxMastermind, JV, Grandpa Munster... the Earnest Chef and his partner came and brought me a nice brand new pen. Chess Champ has been twice as has the Illicit Sweetheart whom I hadn't seen in years and Aqualad who got my laptop charged for me! Professor Plonk and Captain Vino came for a long stay filled with laughs.

Mom has been many times but has settled into a once-a-week slot. I won't lie. I'm getting lonely now. A couple of young volunteers have dropped in and were happy to stay and chat for a while but company is drying out. I'm restless.

Clown therapy

So the Respiratory Therapists installed a machine to monitor my CPAP and I for oxygen levels while I sleep. Problem is, how the hell do I sleep when the damn thing keeps going into alarm mode constantly and I have to silence it?

In the morning they pick it up and ask how it went. I told them next time just hire a clown to march into my room every twenty minutes, jab me in the ribs and say, "HOW YA SLEEPING?!?!?!"

Part 3 Return of the king

Well.. if you wanted a story: you got one.

I returned for the next try-out on Thursday; two nights later. Interviewed some players, made an official commitment to shoot and edit a mountain of video. Got them shopping for a proper video camera.

Got home and looked at my legs. Swollen and red and puss oozing in places. I desperately need to be elevating my feet more. I go ahead and commit to the Reservation trip Saturday morning for a pre-season tourney. Three short games. Golden opportunity for interviews. I'll find a place to put my feet up and summon players to me.

Coach offers me a ride. I agree to meet him at the edge-of-town Tim Hortons for 6:45. But that's a bit early for the first buses of the day on a Saturday. Instead I take the last buses Friday night and plan to spend the night at Tims with my feet up, getting work done, snacking, drinking coffee. Perfect.

I get there and they're closed. Now only the the drive-through is open 24 hours. Their website is wrong. I make the hard journey to nearby MacDonalds and then Taco Bell. Again, drive-thru only. I am diabetic and my blood sugar is failing. I need food. I'm cold, hungry and dehydrated.

I spend hours painfully wandering. I have no phone and I've lost my bank card. I have a little cash. Not enough for a cab ride home.

I'm sad that I have been passed by hundreds of people while struggling along with a walker so late at night and no one has asked if I need help. What's up with you Tiger Town? You disappoint me.

Finally I flag down a Taco Bell customer and beg him to take my cash and buy me a meal. But Taco Bell has just closed. He persists, gets their attention and tells them I need help.

They give me water and fucking cinnamon puffs, which basically melt on your tongue.

I enter an ATM vestibule for warmth and sit on the floor in order to elevate my legs. At 4AM security responds and he's friendly and tells me that Tims has opened at 4 (a lie). He doesn't want to help me up because its extra paper work if he touches someone. What a fucking world...

I can't get up, end up lying flat on the floor in failed attempts to raise myself. I drag out my computer and send a facebook distress call.

Paramedics eventually rescue me, take me back to Tims, sit with me until 5:30 and leave me sitting in my walker with a big warm blanket.

6AM I get in, get a coffee and sandwich, meet coach at 6:45 and we're off.

Now things get weird. I'm not taking stock of how much physical and emotional trauma I've experienced. I do some interviews. I get very light headed. Time stops functioning. This day would take weeks to pass. After the second game the prez drives me home. The drive takes us a week it seems. I lose consciousness constantly and feel like I'm waking up the nxt day yet we've only gone a block.

At home the roommates look at me funny and propose calling an ambulance. I ward them off.

In my room I am utterly fixated on fluids. I want Mountain Dew and energy drinks and Gatorade by the gallons. All I want is to place a rush grocery order for as much of this as I have money for.

Somehow I never even got my computer turned on.

The fire department tore my door off and tore the door frames off the walls in order to carry me out of my room, naked in my comfy chair, covered in feces. They think I had a stroke.

I acquired a nasty infection. My kidneys shut down. I had no feeling from the waste down. I had trouble breathing and needed oxygen. I had dialysis lines installed in my neck three times because things kept going wrong.

I spent a week in Intensive Care; a week of torment, anxiety, extreme discomfort, depression. The world became meaningless. I wanted out.

The last week I have been in ICU-Lite. My kidneys are functioning again. I'm breathing on my own. I'm just barely able to stand but only by using my arms to hold me up. They're still fighting the infection.

My interest in living has returned. I'm looking at life in the simplest terms. The goal of standing upright The joy in a glass of milk. Friends have poured in to visit. I may land in a rehab facility. I try to sleep, try not to be anxious or depressed. Baby steps.

Homework? Really?

I've started the medical diet through the bariatric clinic as a weight-losing measure to better prepare me for the surgical program which will create significantly more permanent weight-loss. I'm on robust prescription meal-replacement shakes and non-carbonated, non-caloric fluids and nothing else; nothing resembling food until week thirteen. If I last until then. This seems like torture at times.

The program includes weekly Zoom classes. I'm about to do my homework which I think consisted of three questions. Excuse me while I go find them.

Let me think carefully and answer honestly:

1. To avoid diabetes. To avoid heart disease/heart attacks long enough that my Mom doesn't have to bury me. To increase my chances of being able to properly walk again so I can better pursue my goals rather than giving up on some of them.

2. My mobility, my mortality and... people will not worry so much about me.

3. None. I no longer have any confidence that I will succeed. I am really, really, REALLY not liking this experience. What I would like is some FUCKING FOOD.

What abilities at least give me hope of possible success?

Great question.

My ability to be at peace with my circumstances, which... I have not utilized very well up to now. Can I summon it? Surely I should be able to but I WOULD RATHER EAT.

Scrambling

 Anyone remember the Avitable Scramble? Well I do. And I say we're overdue. Someone hit the timer:

1. I have a rental CPAP machine now and I'm getting 5 hrs sleep per night; that's about double my previous output over the last two or three weeks.

2. I'm hungry but I don't like going upstairs where the kitchen is generally located because stairs make my little leg hurts and I am a little suckie baby.

3. Maybe I should have tried to get some more sleep instead of trying to write words this early in the morning.

4. There is no 4.

5. HA! I love that joke. I got it from Monty Python. I use it way too often and no one can stop me.

6. Speaking of too many Bruces. Our formerly favourite Bruce; the Boss; Mister everyman-lovin' Springsteen is charging $4000 at the high end of his concert ticket pricing. Hmm. Maybe he's become a libertarian fuck-wit of the sort he would have hated back when he still resembled a human being. Or... maybe he's just senile and doesn't know what's going on.

7. There is no 7. Ha ha ha ha. It gets funnier every time.

8. So I got sad about the Lemoncloud minecraft server. My friends all seemed to disappear and my goals seemed to be looking unrealistic as they are so long-term and player turnover seems too high in this world. So I never logged in for over a month and when I came back some of my claims had been expired leaving key properties unprotected. A fair amount of vandalism occurred and the top 80% of my resources are gone. The 80% at top value. Plenty of dirt and old rusty swords were left behind. However a little bird tells me that an acquaintance may have emptied my vault and may be storing my major valuables for me. That's the kind of thing I have done for friends in the past...

9. Did someone set a timer? No?

10. Speaking of Dynamic Pricing, sometimes; rarely, it is used benevolently: In Finland speeding tickets are calculated based on your income. This is a concept which should be stunningly obvious but which never occurred to me until I was seventeen; about seven years after I became smarter and more human than the life-size petrified dog turds that we call politicians in this deliriously fucked up country that looks so great on the surface if you have not the slightest idea what is going on around you.

11. I forgive you for not knowing what is going on around you. You probably have a job or a life or kids or something so what chance have you got at doing the 48 hours or research per day it would take to unearth enough truth from the mountains of bullshit we call society in order to have sufficient awareness to - to what? To live nobly? To make all the right moves? To find legitimate happiness? Just what IS the magic formula? It changes from time to time, doesn't it? Because the planet and our flawed societal schemes continue to degrade with time, and so the "right" answers become more and more compromised.

12. Well. I hope that cheered you up a little, imaginary readers!  

P.S. I've done a little nibblet of research and can't find any reason why this Canadian baby and her hard-working mom should be booted from Canada:

Petition · SIGN TO STOP THE DEPORTATION OF FATUMAH NAJJUMA AND HER DAUGHTER FROM CANADA. · Change.org

Please go fax yourself

Dear aliens:

Still stuck on this cute but withering planet named something akin to "Dirt" by its most bombastic inhabitants (who treat both it and each other as such) where in accordance to their kooky machinations I was pushed to sending the following communication today:

Dear person or other:

I received your very excellent and efficient ambulance care on 6 June 2022 while subscribed to Ontario Works system. I currently face severe mobility and transportation barriers and not being a proprietor from the previous century, I do not own a fax machine. Thus my inquiries to the automatonic telephone nexus were met with no applicable response.

 

Would you please do me the biggest favour and fax to yourself the following info?

patient XXXXXXXXXX, XXXXXXX XXXXX

OHIP# XXXX XXX XXX XX

acct# XXXXXXX (balance $45.00)

Ontario Works# XXX XXX XXX   

your fax # XXX-XXX-XXXX

Otherwise I will wait to hear from a collections entity and I guess have someone to talk to.

Thank you again for the excellent health care; as always professional, effective and unhindered by superfluous human connection. I hope you all have a great day.

Sincerely...,

Feel free to swing by any time.

There comes a proud moment in every young man's life...

... when you become so technology-dependent you'd be dead without it. I couldn't have been older than 45 when I hit that mark. Maybe it was earlier. Maybe a lot earlier.

My CPAP machine died a horrible death about two weeks ago. Thanks likely in part to supply chain issues and likely in part to wild demand stemming from a huge recall event, my wait for a new one will probably be counted in months. My friend Super Priest has already been waiting months for his. Mind you he still has his old (cancer-causing) one in working condition meanwhile. Lucky jerk.

Anything resembling normal sleep is now impossible so I've been sitting upright for the last 300 hours hoping to fall asleep and hoping to stay asleep for more than a minute. This comes true once every 24 hours or so, usually between sunrise and noon and lasts for two or three hours. I survive on that and little catnaps here and there.

That said, I've been feeling great. Not tired at all. Yesterday I cleaned the house from top to bottom. Saturday I performed a surprise concert on the roof, and the day before that I took a flight on the Hindenburg. Also this paragraph is bullshit. I am a zombie most of the time and trying not to be miserable about it.

Hoping to land a rental unit soon. Surprisingly there are some available.

Onward and upward?

I got some good chunks of sleep last night and in positive spirits today have been energized. I hauled three bags of chillable groceries upstairs to the fridge, planted some laundry in the washer, boxed a load of booze bottles (mostly the housemate's actually) which have lingered in the kitchen for months, and swapped a full blue bin out for an empty one with two days until collection.

I also had a productive chat with the housemate and surrendered to a couple swarmings by the doggo.

By noon this was already rendered the most productive day in memory.

I've paced myself very well with frequent short breaks and suffered no physical breakdowns, panics or hyperventilation.

At the genesis of this is a discovery by a bariatric clinic dietitian who I conferred with for the first time on Thursday.

There are three great hurdles on this journey of which I have often said, "I still don't see the complete path to recovery, but I see the landscape, and I trust in the many professionals who are guiding me; doctors, nurses, dietitians and counsellor." The discipline to stick to the intricate diet structure, the physical stamina to stick to the very demanding logistics of the diet structure, and the challenge of somehow needing to improve health prior to surgery (which was supposed to be the initiating event)

With all this in mind the new dietitian suggested I could come off of the surgical route and go on to the non-surgical route for one full year, and then... have the surgery. In other words, all the best of both worlds. This is amazing to me. It never occurred to me such a full service was even available.

As long as the doctors approve this change, I will go on a much stricter diet which given my particular issues will actually be easier to adhere to, logistically simple and almost guaranteed to promote significant weight loss prior to surgery which should help me gain mobility and help me convince the surgeons I am an acceptable risk. Currently they judge I am not.

I am now, finally, seeing the path.

Bed

I need to shower. I need to brush my teeth. I needed to get the bins out for collection day and didn't. I desperately need to go get groceries. I need to do laundry and other neglected chores around the house.

There is no sign that any of these things will happen. They all involve some pain. Some just a little and some a lot. I have no courage today. I am not at peace with discomfort today. I'm trapped in bed.

I forgot to take my pill two nights in a row. This is probably why.

My housemate tells me to ask for help when I need it but for some reason I don't.

I chatted with an excellent friend online moments ago and her problems are surprising similar to mine in places. She tells me I find it hard to ask for help.

Do I? I was not aware of that. I really don't know if that's true. But today I am happy for online communication.

Take a pill, Rich. Ask for a sandwich. Start getting your shit together again. Go East. One step back. Two steps forward.

Draggin' the Line

Stop cellphone price-gouging

Custom noise

Another aid which is now helping me sleep on occasion, such as those in which I expect significant dog and house noise, is the delightful website mynoise.net; the Cadillac of white noise providers. 

It cites various focuses and maps each to a collection of worldly (and some other-worldly) sound environments for which high-quality sound recordings have been gathered. For instance, weather and wildlife sounds and many body-of-water effects. There are also random melodic generators.

Among the focuses are treatment for ADHD and tinnitus; aids for sleep, meditation or for focus in places too noisy or too quiet, and accompaniment for meditation or to spawn inspiration. There are even background soundscapes for roleplay gamers.

Every individual track has its volume control. With an upgrade purchase you can even control frequency. I like to open multiple environments in separate tabs and choose a variety of tracks to produce my own custom environments.

Here is an example from the I Need To Calm Down focus. Japanese Garden features such tracks as wind, stream, waterfall, birds, cicadas, windchimes, rustling bamboo leaves and a Shishi Odoshi.

This is a fun site and useful to almost anyone for at least one reason or another. I hope you check it out: https://mynoise.net/

Xanadu

Save some foxes!

This finally

Uh. Hi. Anyone still coming around here?

Lets try to make this quick. Here's what I've been up to in 2020:

- Had to give up my security gig at the War Lab because of increasing pain/mobility issues.

- Ceased working at the welfare office when it closed mid March due to Covid. That same day my Poseidon Security-provided cell phone went tits up. With no home phone I went into complete isolation.

- The War Lab brought me back to work in their small Toronto location where they didn't particularly care if I did patrols or not. Their camera coverage is excellent.

- Developed a subconscious anxiety around my breathing which has been chronically hampered by sinus issues but which had never posed much of a problem before. The CPAP machine is absolutely critical, treating my severe sleep apnea by forcing me to breathe only through my nose. After several virtually problem-free years suddenly I could rarely remain asleep more than a second. I would immediately wake up in a brief panic attack thinking I was suffocating. This became the norm night after night. It was absolute torture. I began avoiding sleep as much as possible to avoid this torture but that became a torture of a different sort. My physical issues and my brain suffered in extreme sleep deprivation. I seemed to know with certainty that I would be dead soon and I welcomed it. I never considered suicide, only a certainty that I could not survive this way and that I did not want to. Working in Toronto paid very well but I was a terrible danger to myself and others by driving in a sleep-deprived state. I had several tricks to manage this without disaster. I was desperate for the income. But it was wrong of me.

- A friend - we'll call her... Julie, was certainly of clearer mind than I and gave me a cell phone so I could get back in touch with my doctor, dietitian and Cat Man, my counselor. I begged them to get me into an institution full time. It was the only way I would survive.

- The doc insisted I give up the Toronto gig if I wanted to keep my license. I did not argue for a moment. 

- An institution was probably not going to happen but the doc put me on a miracle drug. Miraculously: I seem to be breathing a little better. The suffocation anxiety has almost entirely vanished. I sleep plenty now, albeit in erratic short stints day and night; an imperfect but utterly joyful improvement. And my monstrous appetite has been cut in half. And this drug is not even expensive.

- I have a walker now. It's the only way I can get around for more than a few steps. Hopefully I will not need it for long. Physiotherapy is available to me when I am ready.

- I began enrollment in a bariatric program at a clinic which will closely monitor my diet and exercise for a year and a half followed by surgery which will dramatically reduce the size of my stomach.

- I am still on the books for two security companies but inactive and juggling disability, EI and welfare balls trying to get some kind of income.

- I have a shitload of work to do to get my life back. And the false starts are over. I am one hundred per cent committed to this. I did not think I'd ever see November. I will do the work. Covid did not infect me but it pushed me to the bottom of the barrel finally. And finally I'm on the way back up.

Hey blog.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EG6ZlCpfVvU