Category: General

“Neither a borrower nor a lender be,
For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.”

W. Shakespeare – Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 3, 75-77

I’m usually not cynical about helping someone out, and particularly helping out a musician. But, to some extent, Polonius’ advice to Laertes rings true. This is particularly true in the case of a loan I made which did not work out so well for me.

A musician came into to town and needed to borrow a 5-string banjo. I’d actually loaned it to him before with no issues. However, this time he borrowed it and that’s where the story looked like it was going to end. For those curious, I loaned it to him in either 2002 or 2003 and it’s so long I don’t remember exactly.

I was particularly angry because I bought this banjo myself when I was 16 years old. I realise it’s not the most high end instrument, and it only cost me $48 and change, but I’m attached to it. I bought it out of my baby bonus money, which, by family tradition, we were given the $10 per month you received after your 16 birthday to spend as you saw fit. I bought it on layaway from Zellers. Actually, I was one payment away from getting it and my grandmother threw in the last $8 and change to pay it off a month early.

When I was in hospital, the guy who borrowed it called and left a message on the answering machine that he wanted to get my banjo back to me. He left a local number to call. Shortly after I got home and I was feeling a bit better, I called with hopes high. The number he left was out of service. Hopes dashed.

Last week, I thought to myself that, since his last name isn’t that common, I’d try to find someone in town who had the same last name. Since he came up from Vancouver Island occasionally to visit, I assumed it might be to visit family. I actually know someone, a former student who works in town for YTG, with the same last name. So, on a flyer, I sent him an e-mail asking him if he knew where my banjo was… with the additional qualifier that this might be a stupid question if he wasn’t even half aware of what was going on. Turns out, the banjo was sitting at his house. We made arrangements and I picked it up after work. It needs restringing and the 5th string peg needs some repair. However, I have it back.

So, here it is, sitting in my recliner. Picking and grinning to follow restringing and repair. And, I’ll certainly think hard about the next time someone asks if I will loan one of my instruments.

Too bad Shakespeare didn’t write any good banjo tunes…

 

I must not fully be myself as I only bought two pumpkins for Hollowe’en this year. I’ve done as many as 12 once, although I normally restrict it to three or so. I also bought them at Super A, which means they cost about three times as much as they would have if I’d run down to Superstore to get them so this was a consideration in the number I bought.

After you get your pumpkins, you must determine what they’ll look like. Remember, the character of the pumpkin is important and must match the pattern you choose. I use a pattern since I’m not up to freehanding. You can get patterns or make your own. You can buy them, download them from the internet or make them using a variety of methods. Just drawing them is one end of the range of difficulty to using a graphics program to blow the contrast into a photograph and use it as a pattern.

So, here are this year’s pumpkins. I opted for a theme…

I went searching for a new Hallowe’en costume two weeks ago and really saw nothing that appealed to me. I’m not a scary zombie type guy and tend to look for costumes that are better with great names. For example, last year I was Captain Jack Eyepod, CD pirate and hacker. The year before, I had a Roman emperor’s costume and went as Gluteus Bellcandensis, the guy who puts the roaming charges on your cellphone bill.

But, in a separate rack, I found the perfect costume. It’s perfectly ironic. After several surgeries this summer, I have a surgeon’s costume. The shoe is on the other foot now.

Oh, by the way, I had some problem coming up with a name. I finally decided on Dr. Réal Buttuglé, famous French colorectal surgeon…

By now, many of you have probably seen Rick Mercer’s rant from last Tuesday evening. It dealt with how bullying led a gay Ottawa teen to commit suicide and has gone viral, being shared on a variety of social media sites and seen around the world. As of today, it has been viewed almost one-quarter million times on YouTube alone.

While I certainly agree with his message generally, I disagree with one of his key points. Rick calls for all gay people in public life to come out to provide a role model to gay teens. I’m not sure that’s actually the message we need to put forward. Why should the only good role model for a gay teen be a gay public figure? Maybe, a tolerant, straight person who is a decent human being would be a better role model than a crooked, gay politician who isn’t stunning example of humanity. I don’t think a gay role model is any more necessary for gay teens that a male role model would better for a male student. In fact, this kind of restrictive, exclusionary thinking may have been what got us in the sorry state we’re in now.

Let’s be honest here. If, for example, John Baird is gay and he did come out of the closet, how many gay students are likely to say, “He’s gay, so it must be alright?” I don’t think he’d provide the most comforting example. 

Maybe, he should have ended his rant with the following message. People in public life should starting being a bit on the tolerant side. Maybe politicians should exercise a bit of restraint during Question Period. Maybe professional athletes should concentrate on being as good off the field as they think they are on the field. And maybe, those of us not in the public eye… you know, the vast majority of us… should just treat everyone properly and try to be a person that anyone would want to emulate. It might not hurt, you know…

A few things are new in the last couple of days. The big thing is that, for the first time since the last week of August, I wore pants! Real pants! I’ve been wearing pajamas or jogging pants since surgery, except in the hospital where I wore one of those “moon suit” gowns… named more for what you did wearing it rather than where you were going to wear it.

Waistlines were an issue for me since my incision, which was rather tender and still draining, runs up and perpendicular to my waist. In most cases, I’d actually pull up the joggies or jammies quite high, above the incision. Now, I can wear one of my elastic waist pants I found at Mark’s that have many pockets and were quite comfortable. However, there is now an issue. They used to fit perfectly, when I was three waist sizes larger. Forty pounds later, they don’t look as clean fitting as they used to. In fact, my pant legs closely resemble elephant legs, although more for their bagginess than their size. I won’t even describe how my shirts fit. I guess I have to go shopping. Soon.

A few other things came up yesterday. Since my incision isn’t draining, I no longer have to pack the incision and can now change my own dressings. Home care doesn’t have to come every day and I don’t see a nurse again until Tuesday, just to check. I also don’t have to change the dressing every day and every two days is fine. I also got a letter in the mail. The date for my scope is set at November 18th. Surgery is to be one to two weeks afterwards. In short, my summer from Hell is almost over. The summer part is long over, I realize. The Hell part is destined to end up shortly too. I guess the light at the end of the tunnel is not a train, after all…

One milestone down and one coming up. The home care nurse decided that my incision no longer needs packing. Several weeks ago, the surgeon reopened part of it as it was infected and not draining properly. To keep it from healing too quickly (I haven’t figured out why this is a bad thing, personally), she packed the reopening so it would wick the yucky stuff out of the infected pocket and properly drain.

However, the pocket has slowly been healing and there’s been almost no drainage at all. There’s a wee bit on the top, where it mostly drained on the bottom, but that’s not much more than a dribble. No, I’m not posting pictures. The nurses think it’s because I’m becoming more active and say this is good. However, my nurse this morning actually couldn’t get any packing in it at all, even after cutting it in half. Therefore, she said, “That’s it. No packing for you,” albeit without the Seinfeld-ish accent. In short, the infection appears to have run its course and my incision is healing. It has been five weeks since the last surgery and six weeks is the magic cutoff point for worrying about an instant incisional hernia (not a good thing, by the way).

Milestone #2 is coming on Tuesday. I’m going to start back to work for the first time since the beginning of June. I’m looking forward to it. It’ll only be part time, especially at the beginning.

But, to get back to work, I do have to make two huge adaptations. First, I have to start to getting into a sleeping rythym that will allow me to get up in time. My hours are based on chaos theory at the moment so I have to shift myself to a more linear paradigm. That will be a bit difficult, but isn’t the biggest problem. In order to go back to work in October, I have to readapt to wearing socks again. That one, I’m not looking forward to…

Honest admission time… I like my job. I really like the people I work with. I’ll admit that’s probably due to a certain requirement to be a little on the loony side to work there and there is the thing about the convergence of like minds … or lack of them, in this case.

I had to drop some forms off at work yesterday. It was a lot of fun. I got to see lots of people and gabbed, a lot. I didn’t get to see everyone, but did spend more than 2 hours there, which is not bad for a quick trip to drop off a form, let me tell you. However, by the end of that time, I was wasted. I scooted home eventually and it was nap time.

This, by the way, came after a visit to the surgeon. He said that they normally don’t discuss even scheduling the last surgery until six weeks after the last one. The six week wait is for the discussion about scheduling, not the actual surgery itself. They normally do the surgery after a three-month period . However, he figures I’ve come along enough that he booked me for tests in mid November and surgery one to two weeks after. This is, in my books, a good sign.

So, by the end of November, I should have had the last step in ending this roller coaster ride. I’m not sure where this expression comes from. I love roller coasters, but this little trip has been less than entertaining…

It’s been three weeks (and one day) since my (last) operation and a quick progress report is probably necessary for some of my more far-flung relatives.

As things stand, I have far less pain and often go most of the day without painkillers. I do a bit of walking, although I still can’t go very far. I sleep in the mornings and have a tendency to nap in the afternoons still. And, after visiting the surgeon yesterday morning, I am allowed to drive again. I haven’t yet, but I’m allowed to.

However, after yesterday, the surgeon is rather unhappy with how my incision is draining. Therefore, she decided to reopen part of the incision yesterday to allow for it to drain, She used scissors. No, it was not the high point of my week. Next, she packed the opening with gauze to ensure it doesn’t close over and can drain. This now means that I can’t do dressing changes anymore so home care has to come every day now. Last week, everyone seemed so happy with the incision closing.

It also looks like I might start showing up to work for most mornings, at least, in a few weeks time. We’re waiting until the six week mark for that and I’m not sure how much I’ll accomplish. I can’t sit upright for very long and get tired pretty quickly on my trips out of the house.

I probably need to buy some stylish jogging pants as well as my 12+ inch long incision really doesn’t like tight clothing.  Not that tight clothing is an issue since I’ve lost 37 pounds since June and my entire wardrobe is “fat clothes.” Clara looks at my pajamas and asks, “Don’t you have anything smaller?” 

I won’t say where my incision starts,  but let’s just say that  I won’t be asking very many people if they want to see my scar. Sometimes, the world is better with more mystery…