Today, I have the...
Thread Starter
Joined: Mar 2010
Posts: 196
Likes: 6
From: Macon, GA
Today, I have the...
...shits! 
No, it's not what you're thinking, although I was feeling a fair amount of intestinal distress - I inhaled something that afforded me some measure of relief (but is resulting in this outburst). What I can't do is stop saying 'shit', well, SHIT! I think I said 'shit' for 30 minutes straight and I feel like saying shit for 30 minutes more. I think I've figured some shit out though. For instance, I think I understand the concept of 'midlife crisis' - though we really have no idea at what point that moment (mid-life) actually is.
Somewhere in what we hope is the middle of our lives, the preceeding generation heads south. Last year, on the cusp of my 49th birthday, my father died. It had been a long month of ups and downs in the ICU of a hospital following a complication of brain surgery - pneumocephalus. The crisis had begun. I went out and bought my first S2000 on a whim within a month. It's one of those cars I'd wanted for a number of years while I was forced to drive sedans. I was in my midlife crisis so I needed an appropriate car - that's the way this shit goes.
That wasn't all that happened. We also bought a house and moved my mother (who has Alzheimer's - early stage) into it along with my wife's father (who is 91). Holy SHIT! Yeah, you read right - my mom and my wife's dad. They eat supper with us every night and we drive them where they need to get (his friggin' sedan). It's a massive change for everyone, but it's manageable shit - getting knee deep in that midlife crisis though.
I joined the ranks of S2000 drivers last April, but this midlife crisis shit had gotten deeper. Then a CR with a mere 12K on the odo appeared on my dealer's lot. Well, shit - I had to have that car. So, I bought it - shit yeah! I also built a place to stash the little beast along with 3 other cars. That garage also has a bichin' man room above it. Being above a separate garage, I can make a fair amount of noise without being a disturbance. Everyone needs a place to keep his shit (George Carlin) - as the midlife crisis gets deeper, the midlife crisis compensations multiply (more shit).
This midlife shit is an arm's race. On Monday, some friends of ours dropped by before heading back to Augusta. I saw my mother a little later in the day. Still later, my daughter returned from delivering a few grocery items to them and tells me that my mother said that Jim was in the bed and just didn't want to get up. Upon hearing this, all I could think was, SHIT! My wife and I rushed up the street to find him lying prone on his bed with his left arm under his body. SHIT, SHIT, SHIT was screaming inside my head. It was immediately obvious that this man had suffered a stroke - and who knows how many hours ago? Oh, shit!
We called 911 and so began the hospital saga. I'll spare you the details, but a stroke is a bitch. Alzheimer's is a bitch too, and it can damn sure turn someone into a bitch. The shit hit the fan and now it's a shit storm - my mother isn't making any of this any easier (how many places can I be at one time anyway, shit!). That's why I can't stop saying 'shit'. When we arrived at the hospital room today, we noticed the urine bag wasn't hanging anywhere - the catheter has been replaced with a diaper. Imagine that it's been 90 years since you've worn a diaper and then someone tells you to go ahead an piss right where you are because you're wearing one. The expression on his face was priceless - SHIT, WTF did you just tell me to do?
A bit later, he succumbed to the sedative he was given just before we arrived (because he keeps trying to get out of bed) and we decided to go grab a bite of lunch (he ate almost all of his - first time we've seen him really eat since before the stroke). We returned to find him taking the diaper off - shit! The rest of the time we spent at the hospital today was relatively uneventful - except that I did work with him for a while with his left arm. He also worked on his leg exercises for a while. He eventually tired to the point of drifting into a deep sleep and we shuffled off to complete a few errands.
We're trying to get the other house set up for our daughter to live there (for the most part) - hopefully she can do so and remain sane. She's sliding into this midlife crisis shit a little early - shit happens. I got home, to my house, about an hour ago. It should feel good to be home, but nothing feels good - feel like shit. So, I had a little shit. I said shit a few hundred times. I typed this shit. I think I'll have a little more shit. After that I might say shit a few more times before the closing song to 'Life of Brian' comes to my aid and reminds me to look on the bright side of life - wherever the f@(# it's hiding. Then, I might check back and see what shit others may have to say about this mass ejection of shit.
I do feel a bit better now. Shit, shit, shit...oh, wait, I forgot a step - ah, that's the shit.
No, it's not what you're thinking, although I was feeling a fair amount of intestinal distress - I inhaled something that afforded me some measure of relief (but is resulting in this outburst). What I can't do is stop saying 'shit', well, SHIT! I think I said 'shit' for 30 minutes straight and I feel like saying shit for 30 minutes more. I think I've figured some shit out though. For instance, I think I understand the concept of 'midlife crisis' - though we really have no idea at what point that moment (mid-life) actually is.
Somewhere in what we hope is the middle of our lives, the preceeding generation heads south. Last year, on the cusp of my 49th birthday, my father died. It had been a long month of ups and downs in the ICU of a hospital following a complication of brain surgery - pneumocephalus. The crisis had begun. I went out and bought my first S2000 on a whim within a month. It's one of those cars I'd wanted for a number of years while I was forced to drive sedans. I was in my midlife crisis so I needed an appropriate car - that's the way this shit goes.
That wasn't all that happened. We also bought a house and moved my mother (who has Alzheimer's - early stage) into it along with my wife's father (who is 91). Holy SHIT! Yeah, you read right - my mom and my wife's dad. They eat supper with us every night and we drive them where they need to get (his friggin' sedan). It's a massive change for everyone, but it's manageable shit - getting knee deep in that midlife crisis though.
I joined the ranks of S2000 drivers last April, but this midlife crisis shit had gotten deeper. Then a CR with a mere 12K on the odo appeared on my dealer's lot. Well, shit - I had to have that car. So, I bought it - shit yeah! I also built a place to stash the little beast along with 3 other cars. That garage also has a bichin' man room above it. Being above a separate garage, I can make a fair amount of noise without being a disturbance. Everyone needs a place to keep his shit (George Carlin) - as the midlife crisis gets deeper, the midlife crisis compensations multiply (more shit).
This midlife shit is an arm's race. On Monday, some friends of ours dropped by before heading back to Augusta. I saw my mother a little later in the day. Still later, my daughter returned from delivering a few grocery items to them and tells me that my mother said that Jim was in the bed and just didn't want to get up. Upon hearing this, all I could think was, SHIT! My wife and I rushed up the street to find him lying prone on his bed with his left arm under his body. SHIT, SHIT, SHIT was screaming inside my head. It was immediately obvious that this man had suffered a stroke - and who knows how many hours ago? Oh, shit!
We called 911 and so began the hospital saga. I'll spare you the details, but a stroke is a bitch. Alzheimer's is a bitch too, and it can damn sure turn someone into a bitch. The shit hit the fan and now it's a shit storm - my mother isn't making any of this any easier (how many places can I be at one time anyway, shit!). That's why I can't stop saying 'shit'. When we arrived at the hospital room today, we noticed the urine bag wasn't hanging anywhere - the catheter has been replaced with a diaper. Imagine that it's been 90 years since you've worn a diaper and then someone tells you to go ahead an piss right where you are because you're wearing one. The expression on his face was priceless - SHIT, WTF did you just tell me to do?
A bit later, he succumbed to the sedative he was given just before we arrived (because he keeps trying to get out of bed) and we decided to go grab a bite of lunch (he ate almost all of his - first time we've seen him really eat since before the stroke). We returned to find him taking the diaper off - shit! The rest of the time we spent at the hospital today was relatively uneventful - except that I did work with him for a while with his left arm. He also worked on his leg exercises for a while. He eventually tired to the point of drifting into a deep sleep and we shuffled off to complete a few errands.
We're trying to get the other house set up for our daughter to live there (for the most part) - hopefully she can do so and remain sane. She's sliding into this midlife crisis shit a little early - shit happens. I got home, to my house, about an hour ago. It should feel good to be home, but nothing feels good - feel like shit. So, I had a little shit. I said shit a few hundred times. I typed this shit. I think I'll have a little more shit. After that I might say shit a few more times before the closing song to 'Life of Brian' comes to my aid and reminds me to look on the bright side of life - wherever the f@(# it's hiding. Then, I might check back and see what shit others may have to say about this mass ejection of shit.
I do feel a bit better now. Shit, shit, shit...oh, wait, I forgot a step - ah, that's the shit.
Thread Starter
Joined: Mar 2010
Posts: 196
Likes: 6
From: Macon, GA
It's probably a bit heavy, but it's absolutely the truth. In fact, there is a bit of shit I didn't mention - what I did to my wrist and hand a month ago. I mean, what kind shit is it when boat shoes get slippery on our decking in the rain when no other shoes do? Boat shoes are often worn in the vicinity of water - on a boat, of all places.
Anyway, I stepped briskly onto the breezeway (from that new garage) and SHIT! Well, that's what I said when I hit the deck. The thought to say it entered my mind when I realized that my feets had failed me now. I was flat on my face by the time it escaped my lips. I fractured the scaphoid and hamate in my right wrist. I had torn a few ligaments in the process. Much of the thanks is due to the bag of trash I was holding in my right hand at the time - from the previous night's festivities in the mancave (remember what I said about this being an arm's race?).
My wrist was healing nicely. I'm brace optional now. It's recommended for sleeping, but I slept without it without incident. A couple of mornings ago, my dog awoke me yelping. In my haste to arise, I put more weight on my wrist than it could handle and I'm back almost to the beginning of the healing process (if not farther) - might need an MRI now, but have more pressing problems, shit.
This evening I sat down and muttered shit for a while. When we get to the hospital tomorrow, I think I'll ask the nurse where our sedatives are.
Anyway, I stepped briskly onto the breezeway (from that new garage) and SHIT! Well, that's what I said when I hit the deck. The thought to say it entered my mind when I realized that my feets had failed me now. I was flat on my face by the time it escaped my lips. I fractured the scaphoid and hamate in my right wrist. I had torn a few ligaments in the process. Much of the thanks is due to the bag of trash I was holding in my right hand at the time - from the previous night's festivities in the mancave (remember what I said about this being an arm's race?).
My wrist was healing nicely. I'm brace optional now. It's recommended for sleeping, but I slept without it without incident. A couple of mornings ago, my dog awoke me yelping. In my haste to arise, I put more weight on my wrist than it could handle and I'm back almost to the beginning of the healing process (if not farther) - might need an MRI now, but have more pressing problems, shit.
This evening I sat down and muttered shit for a while. When we get to the hospital tomorrow, I think I'll ask the nurse where our sedatives are.
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