“Your Daily M”

“A Tough Day in the Saddle”

Every day is new and there may be setbacks as she climbs up to the top again.  Her body is working so hard.  The medical team has to assess the risks & rewards in recovery.

Melissa is in the middle of the peloton during the stage of her “tour” where we see how her body performs under the demands of the pace.  What is her fitness?  She was doing very well yesterday, but today sliding back in the pack trying to conserve energy for the attacks to come. Basically M’s body is overloaded with demands to heal the brain and make the swelling go down. She is riding with a head wind.

Started today with a fever which is common at times with her type of brain trauma.  They are checking for any signs of infection, but none so far after Labs. Vital signs are good.  She is more awake but still in the land of Grogg still climbing and fighting.  However she is more talkative, when prompted.  She first thought I was Cairo, but then knew my name.  M knows her right from left.  Her age is 25:  spot on! Knows who the president is with a sneer.  She was asked what year it was and she said 1925.  I don’t have a problem with that I am always trying to write the wrong year down, as this year is WAY to crazy.  Maybe she thinks she is on Long Island waiting for Jay Gatsby.  She also said she was trying to get the pool cleaned; is this Gatsby or Sunset Boulevard.

She has to breathe strong and deeply—keep the oxygen flowing.  Any oxygen level below 89-90 is not acceptable.  She has had some problems with that today but her caregivers have figured that out with a bigger nasal tube apparatus. But that nasty shivering is robbing energy needed to assist the healing process in her brain.  It is so hard to see at times, but I give her words of encouragement, while she is telling me her schedule for the Boston Playground.

I sit here and fight with her trying to assist her like a good domestique, “stay on my loving wheel and follow me to the top.”  I will navigate the peloton, AWL she has to do is relax and stay within herself and follow the “parcours” of love you ALL send.

*we may need to change our cassette from 11/28 to a 11/32 and spin more instead of grinding it out—it will save energy and keep her fresh

“Your Daily M”

“The linguine is not cooked correctly”

Today was another day on “Mr. Robert’s ship the USS Reluctant” (real naval vessel was the Hewell AG-145).  And if you know the story line, nothing much happened.  Good.  She is healing at the rate her body can repair, which is good!  M is getting fed, basically Ensure until she can swallow and take on more solids.  No Inatesso Pizza Parties yet, but I cannot wait to share that event with her and a glass of w[h]ine if permitted.  So she is sleeping, breathing and working on controlling her snoring [hah]!  The Pupperooni is a CHAMPION snorer, “Moaning Myrtle” I call her.

Her Neuro-Sturgeon, Dr. Eisenbrock, came by to see Melissa.  He said the aneurysm material (I may not be a smart man but I am not a doctor, I am a set designer, Jenny) basically popped out at him when he went into that area during the procedure.  Maybe not the gusto of the scene at the dinner table in the movie “Alien”, but it released itself.  He was once again, selling the process as a “marathon, not a sprint”.  Let’s AWL PRAY it is not 26.2 miles but 13.1.  That is up to the healing angels or forces of the universe (whatever you prescribe to).  Do we capitalize the word “angels” if they are not in Los Angeles, Anaheim or California? (Sorry for the baseball reference).  So the Doctor is slowly increasing the saline flow to help get that swelling down in a very gradual manner.  He was very personable and informative.  He also said that the procedure went well Saturday but every case is different.  Our brains are the same yes but there are variations etc.  Maybe that is why Melissa cannot upload photos to the HIP MutherSHIP and I can [hah].  But she knows her playground designs, plant material and how to be a REAL professional.  I am learning from her ever so slowly, but like a sponge—and my name ain’t Bob, and there will be no musical on my watch.

She now has a EEG machine attached to her head and a head band that looks kinda HIP.  Picture the Fife player in the Archibald Willard painting. M would not like the look unless it were Halloween or a scarf from Hermès.  This will measure her brainwave activity.  They fitted me with it first to test the machine and told me to get a job on the TV show “Walking Dead”.

I heard her say “yes” in a very breathy shallow tone, almost in a Lauren Bacall way.  Which is SO encouraging and she recognized me when she had her eyes open.  She also said something like, “the Linguine is not cooked correctly” repeatedly. That is Grogg for, “is Mom cooking dinner.” She is still groggy and resting those brown eyes until it is “show time”.

These people are taking great care of our M.  She will never know how much they do or the depth of their persistence to get her back on track.  Dedicated professionals taking care of a real care giver/pro.

*For those who are reading, go to your Primary Care Physician and get a complete physical.  Don’t wait 3 years, because your body changes with age, your diet and the stress you load into it.  Hypertension is not a good thing.

Your Daily “M”

As you AWL know by now [or not], Melissa suffered a Cerebral Hemorrhage this past Saturday about 2:20pm. She was taken to the ER by the local EMS. "M" was evaluated very quickly and then was whisked off to the ER for a surgery to relieve the swelling in her brain. Not before I had to answer questions, sign papers, evaluate numbers on the success of the procedure, think if I had given Cairo her eye drops, checked my latest stock options and placed my bet on the local Monmouth Horse Race. It was intense, while holding back tears of fear and emotion, trying to be strong thinking clearly—a good advocate for my wife's health.

After 2 3/4 days in the hospital your prayers, healing love, and good vibes have worked.  Keep it up! Melissa is off the ventilator breathing on her own. The swelling in the brain is a bit less; could be better—but WE will take whatever we can get right now.  AND she has good motor skills; to the point of trying to get out of bed.  Today we won the Stage or least we were on the podium. Thank you AWL.

However, WE are not out of the woods here. This will be a marathon of sorts, much still remains unknown about balance, coordination and speech.  One day at a time is how I lived 2 Summers ago with a hematoma in my leg. Patience is not one of Melissa’s most reliable traits.  So I will give her AWL I have, to overcome this event and return her to a rich life of creativity and giving.  She is tough. A warrior. Very fit. So stubborn at times.  She has many years on this planet remaining.  I will do my best to keep her here for us to enjoy as daughter-care giver, wife, friend, sister, colleague and designer.

This will be a better way for me to reach out to people. So pass it on.  If I have forgotten anyone please be patient, our chain of communication captains will assist. I have friends, but Melissa HAS friends.  So keep praying, believing and encouraging her to rise up and be victorious over this situation.

p.s. Thank you for your flowers, but no flowers are allowed in the ICU.  In fact I am not sure why they let me in to the ICU. Send donations instead to the Spring Lake Shade Tree Committee.  Melissa is an advocate for Trees, more trees, we can not have enough....And Cairo could use a few more treats now that her Mummy is away—NOT.
https://www.springlakeboro.org/boards/shade-tree-committee.html

Self-Inflicted Disability

Yes that is me in July 4, 1994  jumping for joy in the middle of Broadway, Times Square.  

I have now seen 2 months go by and yet to throw my leg over the top tube. I watch the days of Summer come and go, my time to ride-sweat-reflect as I spin down the road.  Simply, I am injured and this will require much patience and "breathing".  I now know what it is to be like in a crazy City that moves quickly around you almost like a whirling vortex.  "YES, I am sorry I have to take one step at a time on the Subway Entrance and Exit!"  "YES, I am sorry I require more time to walk anywhere with my "Chester" like stride."  I need to take it easy New York City and I need to get to work using the Public transportation.  My 'New York minute' is 20 or more depending on the distance and percentage of grade.

It all began with a simple collision with the Subway Turnstile at the 2nd AVE & 72nd Street Station.  I was thinking about work and wrapping my head around riding 100 miles in Texas on a sponsored group ride.  I thought I had swiped my Metro Card to pay the fare, but NOT!!!  BAM! my right thigh took most of the impact.  OWWWWW! that is going to be sore for a while I said.  A week later it was so swollen from hip to knee, my thigh looked like a huge sausage.  It was painful and immediately made my daily routine to a level of REALLY challenged.  Imagine not being able to bend your leg so you can put your pants on or a sock.  Not to mention sitting comfortably, always with a leg straight and elevated.  Getting in and out of the shower was tough, due to the fact that we have a tub.  And I thought recovery from open heart surgery was a challenge--it was but this comparabile with a real photo finish.

I have a hematoma in my right thigh and I take Coumadin for the artificial heart valve.  Imagine if, in the night someone inserted a hard boiled egg in your thigh between muscle layers.  Not to much fun, let me tell ya.  It took almost a month before I could bend my leg to a (guessing) 75 degree angle.  I thought I was on the mend and then it happened.

July 1st brought hope and then July 2nd  immediately back to "square one" with more PAIN and more swelling.  I know pain from the open heart, but this was something new and not fun.  It was very much like my leg was going to explode from the pressure within.  I almost went to the Emergency Room twice, but I did not want to wait for hours in that "meat locker"; very cold in that place.  I gutted it out.  I am now thinking to myself, this is going to take a LONG time to heal so just accept it.

It is now almost the end of July and I am getting better each day with small gains.  I don't think about riding my bike so much as just being able to walk and sit normally.  Then I can stretch and do some jogging-start out slowly, listen to my body.  Eventually I should be back throwing my leg over the top tube spinning away.  I am sure that day will come and I project mid September, but I am not going to rush.

June 7th I embraced the concept of me turning 60 years of age.  Now I need to embrace this new thing----self-inflicted disability.  I have a good understanding the challenges of those who navigate life with impairments and I have a new respect for those individuals.  I also know what it is like to be older and not able to keep up with those younger or more mobile.  I have now joined the "herd of turtles" I refer to when I am with those who move slowly.  My world is not a fast pace right now in New York City.  I might not fit in at this time, but I will catch up with you.  "I will ride within myself", as we say in cycling.  And hopefully soon I will be able to leap for joy in Times Square again.

By the way, I still have that shirt and shorts.  It pays to buy quality things.

Our Bi-yearly Ritual

Immortalized the House on South Pleasant in the play "The Clown Who Ran Away"

I was supposed to post this last year but, well-I did not.  This one is for William B. and Joe, my comrade and guardian in the Summers of our youth.  Enjoy!

It's been a long time and I think this summer I will try to write and post more.  After reading Kathleen

Choe's and Emmy Potter's Blogs (love them) I am inspired and feeling motivated.

The passing of time is huge in life.  Recently I was occupying my mind while painting the front porch deck, with memories of Summers past when my Brother and I had to paint the house on Pleasant Street.  We both painted that house so many times that every nook, cranny and detail was engrained in our mind.  We had to get our chores done before the afternoon sun and any baseball could be played in the backyard.  Dad usually wanted to paint that house every other year.  He painted at nights, before and after dinner, doing the windows and doors.  Dad was a real skilled artist with that angled-sash brush.  He said that painting Windows was relaxing.  Joe (my older brother) and I did the remaining parts on the house sometimes perched high above the ground on that aluminum extension ladder.  That ladder was a key purchase as we also used it to put up the exterior Christmas lights.  That house had some real tricky spots line the triangular detail above the bedrooms and third floor.  There was only about 2 feet of slightly pitched surface to sit and paint the wall and soffit-one hand on the facing and shingles and the other holding the brush.  We rigged our cans with a coat hanger bent around the handle to hook it on the gutter.  It was like a High Wire Circus act.  Both of us were glad

when that was painted.  YIKES!

We worked in the mornings when it was cooler and played baseball after lunch until we were called home for supper.  We never got compensation for our efforts-we knew that it was awesome that we got 3 meals a day, a wonderful house to live and an awesome family that was so supportive.  There were inserections, like the time Dad chose oil based paint one summer and it was a hot one.  We could hardly get that paint on the house before the darn stuff became pudding.  We added more mineral spirits to keep it viscous; I am sure it that made  the formula of the paint weaker and made it more likely to peel and bubble in the hot Missouri sun.

It was a bi-yearly ritual that I will never forget or regret, as it truly taught me the zen of painting a house.  Which flows into my work as a Set Designer.

#hydrate but not too much mineral spirits.

HaPpY NeW YeAr!

It has been a long time since I wrote anything.  I stopped partly because I got busy with work and the other reason is I lost interest and confidence in my "voice".  Yes, yes, yes I know-my glove was too big, the sun is in my eyes and the ball hit a rock.

See I was the guy who wasn't listening in English/Literature class, goofing off and having a good time.  I was going to play football or baseball in college and why did I need to know how to write.  WRONG!  It has been "AWL" about communication written and oral ever since High School.  And yes Mrs. Brown [my English teacher my Junior Year of HS], I should have joined a circus, because this clown was not listening.

So I am back and I have ideas and observations to "ponder".

My image is the beginning of the annual Holiday card which turned into a New Year's card due to circumstances out of my control.  Well okay there was that stint the past few weeks when my life was in a bottle of cheap wine drowning my sorrows and misfortunes.  NOT!!!  I have been busy healing my mind-body-soul and wondering how life will treat my Parental Units as they grow older.  We have lost a couple of people from our immediate family this past year.  One of which I will miss because I "got" their sense of humor and "take" on life's little crazy idiosyncrasies.  He was fun and always had a clever quip to say.  You know the Court Jester was the most intelligent of the reigning royal family or governing body.  I hope he has a piano to play in the after life and a group of people gathered around signing familiar tunes.

But back to my image.  My wife chose "The Upper Room" by Ned Smyth here in Battery Park City.  It is also very Biblical in that is where Christ served "the Last Supper".  So In a way it really is Easter card, a revelation of what is to come in the New Year.  Whatever!  And here is where "Todd being Todd" kicks in:  I just like the sculpture and form, you know it is Art-a respite on the Esplanade-Art form and function.  I never gave a thought about the name tying into a Biblical connection until I had 2 glasses of Prosecco.  Much good Sunday School or Art History critiques sessions did for the shaping of this mind.  Frankly, I just like the sculpture.  The "pups" look so good in the setting-Jimmy Jack, Benedict and Cairo.  When I was planning the Holiday Card the dogs would have been "the Three Wise men" from afar.  Which could lead me into a joke my Father tells about the Wise men and Firemen, but I won't go there.  So I hope you enjoy my image and forget the rambling.  Remember I was not listening in English/Literature classes.  There you have it.

Smiles of Joy

Wow it has been a looonnngggg time since I wrote an entry.  I apologize, but I just got so busy with life and not dedicated enough to keep the words "rolling".  But I am writing and I have been thinking while I ride what I should comment on in my life.  And then, on the 2 Train, Cario and I ran into a cranky MTA employee.

Today I picked the Pupperooni up at my Wife's workplace and we took a pre-ride walk to do any "bindness".  That was successful.  Then we went down into the station and caught a 1 Train in hopes of getting on a 2 or 3 Train at 42nd, 72nd or 96th Street Stops.  We transferred at 72nd to a 2 Train running on the Local Track.  There was a sick passenger on the Train sitting on the Express Track.  We got to 96th Street stop and after we pulled out of the station the Conductor came out of his "cave" and said, "the dog has to be inside the bag." Mind you she only has her head outside the bag, not bothering a soul.  In fact along the way I saw many smiles of joy as they looked at her cute face.  It sure is better than the dour looks that most people have while they ride the trains in NYC.  The Pupperoni is bringing joy to those who are lucky enough to ride in the same car with her.

She was not outside the the bag, except her head and floppy ears.  She was not pan-handling for money or food; if they really want the money--look at their shoes and that will tell AWL.   She was not doing a Hip Hop Pole dance in the car which gets very dangerous for passengers.  And she sure as hell was not smelling up the train car like some "skel" did this morning on the F Train at 7 AVE Stop in Brooklyn.  So what offended the Conductor? Or was he just enforcing the rules and busting my chops, because he could?  Where are these conductors/enforcers when real rules are broken on their trains?  He stole my joy with his officious, empowered attitude.

This is the second time in 2 weeks I have been busted.  Is it my deodorant or maybe the fact that I enjoy my life with my little canine friend/buddy.  Are they jealous or Ebenezer Conductor?  I am sorry that I have offended anyone and I sure as heck think my dog is much better on the train than the iguana I saw once or the fish flopping out of a bag at the Grand Avenue stop.  Heck I have even seen snakes wrapped around owners riding the trains. Maybe reptiles, amphibians and fish are allowed on trains.

Next time I hope the Pupperoni escapes her bag and pees on the Conductors door.

"MTA-losing ridership daily due to their poor quality of service." That is why I rather ride my bike-LOSERS!!!