I had to share this tale of my recent misadventure.
Two weeks before Christmas and I'm out working late in a neighborhood whose street light had apparently gone out. While crossing the street, I knew there was a curb ahead, but couldn't quite figure out where. Slowing down and paying attention might have been a good idea at this point.
Just then... left foot meets curb, and a moment later... right knee meets cement pavement. Nice. Snap, crackle, pop.
I feel around it, all seems OK. I walk to, and into the front door of the home. I look at it indoors. No apparent swelling (yet), so back to work I go. By the time I got home though, my knee was swollen to something the size of a canteloupe. Great. Damage apparently done after all.
Let's keep in mind that last year, I sweetly crushed my entire left hand fingers in a broken, slatted garage door, resulting in some breaks. I thought, let's top that off this year with a new injury.
The next day, off to the Urgent Care I go. The first doc looks at my knee and simply "ooh's and aah's" for a few moments. He requests an X-ray. The X-ray tech woman, of East Indian descent (not necessarily a major issue of the story, other than a slightly cultural attitude towards me, and somewhat argumentive), takes between 6 to 8 different view shots. This strikes me odd, and makes me question her credentials. A knee X-ray for this type of injury usually is 2 shots. I should know, I've done this before plenty. She then proceeds to shoot X-rays of my other knee as well. I can tell you that this lady did not like to be second-guessed, nor her work commented upon.
I go back to the first doc. He calls in a consulting doc. They concur that I "must have" a fractured knee. BUT, "it may just be ghosting," although neither was too sure.
The consulting doc feels around both knees, pulls them apart, puts them together, stares, and asks me, "Which knee hurts the most?"
I answer, "Um... that would be the one that I injured."
He says, "Well, it appears that they are both broken."
I say, "Really? How interesting, since I only hit one of them. Are you suggesting that my other knee now has an immaculate 'sympathy' break?"
He stares blankly, and then sums up that I'm a smart-ass who knows nothing about medicine or procedures. I sum him up as a dumb-ass who doesn't know what a broken bone looks like, and so assumes that they are all broken. Stalemate we are in.
They put me in a leg immobilizer, along with crutches, to prevent me from bending the knee and "to not cause more damage." How interesting, since the immobilizer itself is now crushing down (with metal rods) on the very spot that is supposedly broken. How is that going to heal?
I wear it for three days as instructed. Upon the third day, my leg is totally black and blue, bruised. I stop wearing the immobilizer. My the next day, my leg swelling is considerably down, and no bruising. My knee pain has diminished greatly. The immobilizer itself apparently had caused more damage.
Follow up to the above story -
10 days later, I see an Orthopedic Specialist, who was scheduled for me by the original doc. I get a new set of X-rays - only 2 shots this time, correctly.
The OS doc looks at the X-ray and asks me, "Who told you your knee was broken?" I told him the referring physician. First, the OS doc has never heard of him. Second, he says, "The guy must be an idiot. There are no signs of any fracture ever having happened." No breaks. No fractures. No bone injuries at all. In fact, it was simply bursitis. Bruising. Made worse by metal rods being forced down on it for three days. The OS doc says, "Duh! You hit your knee. It swells. Simple medicine. That's how it happens. Then it gets better." We both agreed.
So this leaves me with a fear for other people who have to see an Urgent Care doc, and their late-night X-ray flunkies, who really don't know what they're looking at, but have to appear busy and informed. And that original X-ray tech - a few polite manners, and learning how to do her job properly would help.
So... now all is well. Just another adventure tale for me to pass on.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
It's Always Fun When I Cut My Throat
It's always something with me. I know that most of you might not have heard about my latest mishaps and adventures of the past week, so I thought I'd share. And yes, the title is true.
WEDS. OCT. 8th - sometime around 11 am.
I'm moving a dresser out of a house, on flat ground, with Gilbert going backwards. I had just come out of the door onto the cement walkway. Someone had thought it a good idea to have thoroughly soaked the new sod. I barely stepped off of the pathway, completely twisting my ankle as I swayed towards the grass. A split-second decision had to be made: 1) Drop everything, and smash the dresser into the cement walkway, or 2) pull and toss the dresser towards the grass in hopes of saving it, but muddying everything. I opted for 2.
Four people watching me, and no one can explain what happened next. A completely freak accident.
I swung the dresser to the right, thus putting all of its weight, combined with mine, completely onto my now twisted (and still twisting) ankle. Collapse time. Somehow, I ended up partially underneath it, but was able to yank it up, and roll out from under it WHILE setting it on its path down into the grass (safely, I might add). I did a strange roll out from under it, and pulled myself upright.
As I was getting up, Gilbert points at me and exclaims, "Now THAT'S a professional!"
As I straightened out, and as I was realizing something wrong, everyone just stared and said, "You need to check yourself out and get to a doctor."
Somehow, as I pulled the dresser, the sharp corner of the dresser caught my skin at the Adam's apple, as it continued upward, poking into my larynx (wind pipe) just under my jaw. As my head snapped back the other way (to follow it), the skin broke loose from the corner. thus cutting my throat. What I didn't realize until later is that it almost punctured my larynx. That would have ended everything rather quickly for me. I am damned lucky (well, luck isn't damning exactly, but you know).
So there I stood, checking my breathing but hearing no gurgling sounds. Good! Swallowing was another story. That hurt like a bitch. I thought about it for a minute and figured, if I can still breathe, I may as well finish the job at hand that I had begun - albeit in pain.
At the end of everything, a group assessment was made about what I should do. Everyone agreed I should be off to the doctors. However, I had no time for appointments, as I had to be in L.A. in the morning. I'd do the Urgent Care thing. At this point, a couple of comments were made -
Gilbert: "Dude, you're not going to be able to swallow for a few days."
Me: "Yes, BUT, that means I'll eat less and lose weight."
Gilbert: "That is going to leave a major mark."
Me: "Yes, BUT, chicks dig scars. It means I have a story to tell. I'll tell them it was a gang fight or a mugging."
(It's all about perceptions.)
So, by 9 pm that evening, I was seen by a doctor. I explained it all to him, along with my personal assessment. I said I was really only there to find out it it was going to be Motrin or surgery. I got lucky. It was Motrin.
The end result was that I have a contusion on my larynx, which seemed OK, but may be more serious, along with the cut across the throat (although not that big). It should have only lasted about 3 days. I'm going on a week now, so I'm going to get seen again, as there was also a possibility of a small fracture or tear in the front of the larynx. Otherwise, I was good to go.
THURS. OCT. 9th -
I'm off to L.A. by plane. Between waking up, and mid-flight, I discovered that the pain in the upper larynx had dissipated. But, the pain across the Adam's apple area was definitely increased. AND, apparently I had gotten minor whiplash from the incident. That's a first for me. I've never experienced that before, and not too thrilled with it. The ankle, throbbing like a ... well, yeah. Only it hurts. Anyway, off to L.A. I go, only to have to drive back later that day. I had to meet with a graphic designer client who works for ABC, and is moving out of a large, beautiful mansion in Pasadena. Somehow though, this meeting also includes meeting his handymen - a guy, with missing teeth and dirty t-shirt, sporting a total blaxploitation 'Fro with a Goodie comb stuck in it (straight out of a bad 70s film), and his partner, some cranked out stoner guy who hangs out at Home Depot for work. Nice diametric of people I meet within one hour.
FRI. OCT. 10th -
A relatively peaceful day, on the road, having a leisurely drive back. What a change.
SAT. OCT. 11th -
Me and a friend are up in Marin (Mill Valley, more correctly), sitting around waiting for someone. Around us are giant Eucalyptus trees. Within a relatively short while, we notice a large Turkey Vulture appear and sit above us. Soon after, another appears. About 10 minutes later, the first one swoops down to rest a bit closer. Roy and I begin discussing how vultures tend to only circle and approach prey that is either already, or soon to be dead (like in the film Westerns on the desert). So we ask each other if we want to flip a coin to see who it's going to be - me or him. We both decide it's not such a good idea. Above us, the vultures loom just a bit closer again, making us just a bit more wary. So we chase them off. But the thought behind it all still stuck for a while.
Anyway, it's now Tues, Oct. 14th, and I am still around, happy and (relatively) healthy.
As I think back, I've survived some major car accidents in the past (no injuries to me somehow), been hit in the head more than a could of times with hard objects (including an actual mugging), had a couple of surgeries, cancer (let's not forget that), other illnesses, and now the throat thing that really could have had a quick and bad ending. And yet, I have made it through.
When I was asked the other day, "Just how many of your lives have you used up already?", my answer is only that I am way beyond any cat. I've probably used up the first nine just in my childhood. Someone, somewhere, wants me here for a bigger and better reason than just to exist. Something to think about for anyone as we go through life and have experiences, or learn from the experiences of others.
Signing out,
Phil :)
WEDS. OCT. 8th - sometime around 11 am.
I'm moving a dresser out of a house, on flat ground, with Gilbert going backwards. I had just come out of the door onto the cement walkway. Someone had thought it a good idea to have thoroughly soaked the new sod. I barely stepped off of the pathway, completely twisting my ankle as I swayed towards the grass. A split-second decision had to be made: 1) Drop everything, and smash the dresser into the cement walkway, or 2) pull and toss the dresser towards the grass in hopes of saving it, but muddying everything. I opted for 2.
Four people watching me, and no one can explain what happened next. A completely freak accident.
I swung the dresser to the right, thus putting all of its weight, combined with mine, completely onto my now twisted (and still twisting) ankle. Collapse time. Somehow, I ended up partially underneath it, but was able to yank it up, and roll out from under it WHILE setting it on its path down into the grass (safely, I might add). I did a strange roll out from under it, and pulled myself upright.
As I was getting up, Gilbert points at me and exclaims, "Now THAT'S a professional!"
As I straightened out, and as I was realizing something wrong, everyone just stared and said, "You need to check yourself out and get to a doctor."
Somehow, as I pulled the dresser, the sharp corner of the dresser caught my skin at the Adam's apple, as it continued upward, poking into my larynx (wind pipe) just under my jaw. As my head snapped back the other way (to follow it), the skin broke loose from the corner. thus cutting my throat. What I didn't realize until later is that it almost punctured my larynx. That would have ended everything rather quickly for me. I am damned lucky (well, luck isn't damning exactly, but you know).
So there I stood, checking my breathing but hearing no gurgling sounds. Good! Swallowing was another story. That hurt like a bitch. I thought about it for a minute and figured, if I can still breathe, I may as well finish the job at hand that I had begun - albeit in pain.
At the end of everything, a group assessment was made about what I should do. Everyone agreed I should be off to the doctors. However, I had no time for appointments, as I had to be in L.A. in the morning. I'd do the Urgent Care thing. At this point, a couple of comments were made -
Gilbert: "Dude, you're not going to be able to swallow for a few days."
Me: "Yes, BUT, that means I'll eat less and lose weight."
Gilbert: "That is going to leave a major mark."
Me: "Yes, BUT, chicks dig scars. It means I have a story to tell. I'll tell them it was a gang fight or a mugging."
(It's all about perceptions.)
So, by 9 pm that evening, I was seen by a doctor. I explained it all to him, along with my personal assessment. I said I was really only there to find out it it was going to be Motrin or surgery. I got lucky. It was Motrin.
The end result was that I have a contusion on my larynx, which seemed OK, but may be more serious, along with the cut across the throat (although not that big). It should have only lasted about 3 days. I'm going on a week now, so I'm going to get seen again, as there was also a possibility of a small fracture or tear in the front of the larynx. Otherwise, I was good to go.
THURS. OCT. 9th -
I'm off to L.A. by plane. Between waking up, and mid-flight, I discovered that the pain in the upper larynx had dissipated. But, the pain across the Adam's apple area was definitely increased. AND, apparently I had gotten minor whiplash from the incident. That's a first for me. I've never experienced that before, and not too thrilled with it. The ankle, throbbing like a ... well, yeah. Only it hurts. Anyway, off to L.A. I go, only to have to drive back later that day. I had to meet with a graphic designer client who works for ABC, and is moving out of a large, beautiful mansion in Pasadena. Somehow though, this meeting also includes meeting his handymen - a guy, with missing teeth and dirty t-shirt, sporting a total blaxploitation 'Fro with a Goodie comb stuck in it (straight out of a bad 70s film), and his partner, some cranked out stoner guy who hangs out at Home Depot for work. Nice diametric of people I meet within one hour.
FRI. OCT. 10th -
A relatively peaceful day, on the road, having a leisurely drive back. What a change.
SAT. OCT. 11th -
Me and a friend are up in Marin (Mill Valley, more correctly), sitting around waiting for someone. Around us are giant Eucalyptus trees. Within a relatively short while, we notice a large Turkey Vulture appear and sit above us. Soon after, another appears. About 10 minutes later, the first one swoops down to rest a bit closer. Roy and I begin discussing how vultures tend to only circle and approach prey that is either already, or soon to be dead (like in the film Westerns on the desert). So we ask each other if we want to flip a coin to see who it's going to be - me or him. We both decide it's not such a good idea. Above us, the vultures loom just a bit closer again, making us just a bit more wary. So we chase them off. But the thought behind it all still stuck for a while.
Anyway, it's now Tues, Oct. 14th, and I am still around, happy and (relatively) healthy.
As I think back, I've survived some major car accidents in the past (no injuries to me somehow), been hit in the head more than a could of times with hard objects (including an actual mugging), had a couple of surgeries, cancer (let's not forget that), other illnesses, and now the throat thing that really could have had a quick and bad ending. And yet, I have made it through.
When I was asked the other day, "Just how many of your lives have you used up already?", my answer is only that I am way beyond any cat. I've probably used up the first nine just in my childhood. Someone, somewhere, wants me here for a bigger and better reason than just to exist. Something to think about for anyone as we go through life and have experiences, or learn from the experiences of others.
Signing out,
Phil :)
Thursday, March 6, 2008
March 2008 Leukemia Update
For those of you who have been following my progress and all, I finally have the news you (and I) have been waiting for.
I went to the doctors' on Tues. March 4 for my assumably final check-up (while on chemo). After searching through my files, he just turned, smiled, and said, "Um... yeah. You're done. All finished. No more Leukemia in your system."
Since getting cancer around July 2005, and beating it in 30 days at that time (after having only two days left when they got the tests done)... I am completely finished with all my maintenance chemo. No more shots or pills. All done. Woo hoo!
BUT... I was reminded that I cannot use the word "cured" yet. They usually have a 5 year waiting out period before they feel sure enough that everything is safe. So for now, I have 2 1/2 years left where I will be monitored on occasion just to make sure everything is still good. But as of my last molecular blood test (and all the previous tests), I show NO signs at all of any Leukemia in my system.
As a reminder... I have (had) one of the rarest and deadliest forms of cancer, but it also happened to have the highest cure rate (if caught in time). So right now I am at at least 85 - 90% sure. Can't get better odds than that.
So? Where's the party? Where's the cake? hehehe...
Now I can finally get back to doing some travels.
:)
To note: During the hour while I waited for my doc appointment, I was musing about my last blood test. That's when a new script idea flooded my head. I began writing furiously for a new vampire concept - of one being "addicted" to blood, while being a "social vampire." Inspirations lie everywhere, but this one wouldn't stop. I had the complete idea and a good portion of dialogue completed in that one hour.
I went to the doctors' on Tues. March 4 for my assumably final check-up (while on chemo). After searching through my files, he just turned, smiled, and said, "Um... yeah. You're done. All finished. No more Leukemia in your system."
Since getting cancer around July 2005, and beating it in 30 days at that time (after having only two days left when they got the tests done)... I am completely finished with all my maintenance chemo. No more shots or pills. All done. Woo hoo!
BUT... I was reminded that I cannot use the word "cured" yet. They usually have a 5 year waiting out period before they feel sure enough that everything is safe. So for now, I have 2 1/2 years left where I will be monitored on occasion just to make sure everything is still good. But as of my last molecular blood test (and all the previous tests), I show NO signs at all of any Leukemia in my system.
As a reminder... I have (had) one of the rarest and deadliest forms of cancer, but it also happened to have the highest cure rate (if caught in time). So right now I am at at least 85 - 90% sure. Can't get better odds than that.
So? Where's the party? Where's the cake? hehehe...
Now I can finally get back to doing some travels.
:)
To note: During the hour while I waited for my doc appointment, I was musing about my last blood test. That's when a new script idea flooded my head. I began writing furiously for a new vampire concept - of one being "addicted" to blood, while being a "social vampire." Inspirations lie everywhere, but this one wouldn't stop. I had the complete idea and a good portion of dialogue completed in that one hour.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
"Hard" To Sleep - My Latest Medical Issue
There are those of you who occasionally ask me how I am doing and if I am healthy. Usually the answer is that I'm doing good. Now I have something a bit disturbing, yet amusing to share.
(Read on, as I know some of you are taking the drug that I am talking about here.)
As most of you know, I have APL Leukemia. Good enough. I beat it in 30 days back in 2005, and have been on maintenance chemo ever since - but ending that finally by this March.
Many of you who know me better also know that I have some odd habits, primarily being a vampire by staying up all hours of the night. My reasons - no one bugs me (usually) at night, and I can focus more on whatever work I'm doing. Fine enough, except it's getting hard for me to go back to any semblance of a "normal" life - the kind where one gets up in the morning and experiences most of the daytime world. (If only I drank blood, this would have a happier ending.)
So, now to my dilemma...
Due to the above habits, it has been almost impossible for me to even be tired at any time before 7 am. I'm tired of being that way and wanted some help to get back to normal. My doctor suggested some sleep aids. As I have acid reflux, she did not recommend any actual sleeping pills, but more along the line of "sleep aids." This includes such drugs as Ambien.
In my case, she gave me Trazodone. Apparently this is the drug of choice to offer when helping someone get drowsy. It is non-addictive and does the trick. What it used to be was strictly an anti-depressant. However, how it actually worked, still no one knows. Should that bother me? Perhaps. It's nasty (at the time) side effect was that it would knock people out with drowsiness. So these days, it's promoted as a sleep aid, with anti-depression qualities. However, again, no one seems to know how the mechanism works in affecting people.
And now on to the kicker...
I looked up potential problems associated with this drug. Bingo! There is a problem, that many men could consider a blessing.
It turns out that Trazodone has been associated with episodes of Priapism. Sure, you probably haven't heard of it. Let me say it more simply - Eternal Hard-On! And it's considered a "medical emergency." Funny, I never heard a woman say "problem" or "emergency" towards any man who kept an erection for more than, say a few minutes, if an hour. But it's true. In fact, on one site it states, "If the condition persists for more than 24 hours, it would be advisable... [for a specialist] to decide on a management approach." and mentions requiring "surgical intervention" that could cause permanent dysfunction. What?!?! On top of that is a possibility of cardiac problems. Well sure, considering how an erection is formed and works, that makes sense. All the blood goes to pump and prime "La Machine," and all that excitement can cause a ticker to pop.
One more thing to add... Priapism is also associated with such illnesses as... yes, Leukemia (which I have). That's two potential strikes against me - giving me the whacked-out hard-on from hell. Sure, I could be a woman's dream date - but only for one (very long) night (and day, and next night), before the fun ends.
I promise you that - regardless of age - I am nowhere near requiring Viagra, but it was funny to think that the same results could happen. However, unless I'm planning a sleepover with a harem, and it's my last day on Earth, I think I'll forgo this particular pill and stick with my tried and true Kava Kava and Chamomile teas for sleep-inducing. They work, just not as fast, nor dangerously.
Oh, and lastly, an ironic amusement for me is... Why do most ANTI-depressants cause suicidal tendencies? Aren't they supposed to prevent those? Hmmm... kill the patient, I guess. Blame society and parents later.
If anyone wants more info about the drug that'll give you a boner all throughout the night (while you sleep through it), or the syndrome itself, check out these links -
Trazodone -
http://www.mentalhealth.com/drug/p30-d03.html
Priapism -
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Priapism
(Read on, as I know some of you are taking the drug that I am talking about here.)
As most of you know, I have APL Leukemia. Good enough. I beat it in 30 days back in 2005, and have been on maintenance chemo ever since - but ending that finally by this March.
Many of you who know me better also know that I have some odd habits, primarily being a vampire by staying up all hours of the night. My reasons - no one bugs me (usually) at night, and I can focus more on whatever work I'm doing. Fine enough, except it's getting hard for me to go back to any semblance of a "normal" life - the kind where one gets up in the morning and experiences most of the daytime world. (If only I drank blood, this would have a happier ending.)
So, now to my dilemma...
Due to the above habits, it has been almost impossible for me to even be tired at any time before 7 am. I'm tired of being that way and wanted some help to get back to normal. My doctor suggested some sleep aids. As I have acid reflux, she did not recommend any actual sleeping pills, but more along the line of "sleep aids." This includes such drugs as Ambien.
In my case, she gave me Trazodone. Apparently this is the drug of choice to offer when helping someone get drowsy. It is non-addictive and does the trick. What it used to be was strictly an anti-depressant. However, how it actually worked, still no one knows. Should that bother me? Perhaps. It's nasty (at the time) side effect was that it would knock people out with drowsiness. So these days, it's promoted as a sleep aid, with anti-depression qualities. However, again, no one seems to know how the mechanism works in affecting people.
And now on to the kicker...
I looked up potential problems associated with this drug. Bingo! There is a problem, that many men could consider a blessing.
It turns out that Trazodone has been associated with episodes of Priapism. Sure, you probably haven't heard of it. Let me say it more simply - Eternal Hard-On! And it's considered a "medical emergency." Funny, I never heard a woman say "problem" or "emergency" towards any man who kept an erection for more than, say a few minutes, if an hour. But it's true. In fact, on one site it states, "If the condition persists for more than 24 hours, it would be advisable... [for a specialist] to decide on a management approach." and mentions requiring "surgical intervention" that could cause permanent dysfunction. What?!?! On top of that is a possibility of cardiac problems. Well sure, considering how an erection is formed and works, that makes sense. All the blood goes to pump and prime "La Machine," and all that excitement can cause a ticker to pop.
One more thing to add... Priapism is also associated with such illnesses as... yes, Leukemia (which I have). That's two potential strikes against me - giving me the whacked-out hard-on from hell. Sure, I could be a woman's dream date - but only for one (very long) night (and day, and next night), before the fun ends.
I promise you that - regardless of age - I am nowhere near requiring Viagra, but it was funny to think that the same results could happen. However, unless I'm planning a sleepover with a harem, and it's my last day on Earth, I think I'll forgo this particular pill and stick with my tried and true Kava Kava and Chamomile teas for sleep-inducing. They work, just not as fast, nor dangerously.
Oh, and lastly, an ironic amusement for me is... Why do most ANTI-depressants cause suicidal tendencies? Aren't they supposed to prevent those? Hmmm... kill the patient, I guess. Blame society and parents later.
If anyone wants more info about the drug that'll give you a boner all throughout the night (while you sleep through it), or the syndrome itself, check out these links -
Trazodone -
http://www.mentalhealth.com/drug/p30-d03.html
Priapism -
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Priapism
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Ending 2007: Broken, yet blessed :)
So it's been an interesting year. Well, for those of you keeping up, it's been an interesting last couple of years for me - and for those who really know me... it's pretty much, business as usual with having a full life.
Here's the update:
1) Good news/"eh" OK news about Leukemia - I'm almost done with chemo. Woo hoo! Damn, too, as I am pretty used to it... and I like it!! (No joke, the hair is thicker and skin is smoother. No complaints.). I'm finished with all the maintenance treatments in February. That's all good, except that I've taken it for granted as keeping me above ground. After that, it's 3 more years of "wait and see" and hope nothing comes back. I'm out of the situation that put me in this mess, so I figure I should be good to go and use the word "cured" soon enough. That is the power of faith in one's self, I tell ya. Although some of you won't "get it," even if I do still face "check out time" in the near future, I still got at least 2 years' worth to find my old friends, meet several new very cool friends, and got a lot done. But I think I'll be around for quite some time.
2) I've had the fun year of injuries, especially right towards the end. So... recount - the mystery knee ailment, the broken toe and damaged foot, and the crushed fingers, including one broken one. I was told to keep it wrapped up for 6 weeks. Of course I, never one to be told "No," have already started practicing guitar again after just about 2 weeks. A bit painful, but my fingers needed a stretch.
One might think that this would be a good time to switch jobs... well, I got to end on a good note...
3) I had one more job left, yes with injuries in tow. This client was moving out of country and needed to get rid of everything (most everything went to donation, and a few things to us). My co-worker really needed a car, and as it turned out, our client needed to get rid of his - so I got him to give him his '99 Mustang. No joke. I myself got a few goodies that I had been hoping for, but were a bit frivolous. And with that, got my mom a nice present for Christmas too. All in all, a good time to cut and run, and start a new year fresh. Going back to doing photography and film, along with more writings. And hopefully a book or two by the end of next year.
I hope that everyone has a great and Happy New Year 2008, as I'm mine seems to be starting good.
Here's the update:
1) Good news/"eh" OK news about Leukemia - I'm almost done with chemo. Woo hoo! Damn, too, as I am pretty used to it... and I like it!! (No joke, the hair is thicker and skin is smoother. No complaints.). I'm finished with all the maintenance treatments in February. That's all good, except that I've taken it for granted as keeping me above ground. After that, it's 3 more years of "wait and see" and hope nothing comes back. I'm out of the situation that put me in this mess, so I figure I should be good to go and use the word "cured" soon enough. That is the power of faith in one's self, I tell ya. Although some of you won't "get it," even if I do still face "check out time" in the near future, I still got at least 2 years' worth to find my old friends, meet several new very cool friends, and got a lot done. But I think I'll be around for quite some time.
2) I've had the fun year of injuries, especially right towards the end. So... recount - the mystery knee ailment, the broken toe and damaged foot, and the crushed fingers, including one broken one. I was told to keep it wrapped up for 6 weeks. Of course I, never one to be told "No," have already started practicing guitar again after just about 2 weeks. A bit painful, but my fingers needed a stretch.
One might think that this would be a good time to switch jobs... well, I got to end on a good note...
3) I had one more job left, yes with injuries in tow. This client was moving out of country and needed to get rid of everything (most everything went to donation, and a few things to us). My co-worker really needed a car, and as it turned out, our client needed to get rid of his - so I got him to give him his '99 Mustang. No joke. I myself got a few goodies that I had been hoping for, but were a bit frivolous. And with that, got my mom a nice present for Christmas too. All in all, a good time to cut and run, and start a new year fresh. Going back to doing photography and film, along with more writings. And hopefully a book or two by the end of next year.
I hope that everyone has a great and Happy New Year 2008, as I'm mine seems to be starting good.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
The month of breaking bones... I must love pain
It's the end of year, and my body must be looking for something brilliant to do as a send-off to 2007.
Having Leukemia apparently isn't enough. I'm not suffering with it, I like the chemo... so what to do? Apparently, accidents are the answer. Yes, the ability for me to find new and interesting ways in which to crack bones in half - my bones - that will be the new hobby.
In this month, I have now obtained some odd knee problem (not a break, but that's not a good sign either), a broken foot, and two broken fingers (which I am using to type right now).
Yeah... the foot, I decided to cram my bare foot into a wall, big feet that I have (size 15, girls take note... HA!!), resulting in re-cracking open a break I did last month, which adds to my collectors' set of when I first totally crushed my pinky toe bones almost off in 1995.
Then an electric garage door wouldn't work, so we released the cable and I was guiding it down. It was slatted, not flat. So of course, I get two fingers caught between. I hear the crunching sounds, and continue to stare in disbelief as the door goes down. More crunching and then, "Crap! I should stop now and get them out." Hmmm...
The fingers are the forefinger and pinky. Yes, I make Devil Horns at everyone right now, as I barely touch anything (except for typing, because... I like pain, and proper writing).
So now I'm a limping, Devil-Horn waving, gimp for the next couple of weeks or so. Yay! I'm hoping that this nasty new habit/hobby of mine ends soon, as I've got better things to do in the New Year. Ah well.
Anyway... just sharing my tales of bizarre living. Kids - don't try this at home.
Phillippe..... :)
Having Leukemia apparently isn't enough. I'm not suffering with it, I like the chemo... so what to do? Apparently, accidents are the answer. Yes, the ability for me to find new and interesting ways in which to crack bones in half - my bones - that will be the new hobby.
In this month, I have now obtained some odd knee problem (not a break, but that's not a good sign either), a broken foot, and two broken fingers (which I am using to type right now).
Yeah... the foot, I decided to cram my bare foot into a wall, big feet that I have (size 15, girls take note... HA!!), resulting in re-cracking open a break I did last month, which adds to my collectors' set of when I first totally crushed my pinky toe bones almost off in 1995.
Then an electric garage door wouldn't work, so we released the cable and I was guiding it down. It was slatted, not flat. So of course, I get two fingers caught between. I hear the crunching sounds, and continue to stare in disbelief as the door goes down. More crunching and then, "Crap! I should stop now and get them out." Hmmm...
The fingers are the forefinger and pinky. Yes, I make Devil Horns at everyone right now, as I barely touch anything (except for typing, because... I like pain, and proper writing).
So now I'm a limping, Devil-Horn waving, gimp for the next couple of weeks or so. Yay! I'm hoping that this nasty new habit/hobby of mine ends soon, as I've got better things to do in the New Year. Ah well.
Anyway... just sharing my tales of bizarre living. Kids - don't try this at home.
Phillippe..... :)
Sunday, July 15, 2007
I lost a friend to cancer yesterday - R.I.P. Kelly Johnson (of Girlschool)
Although many of you might not know who I'm talking about - unless you were into the band Girlschool back in the early 1980s - I just felt the need to share some thoughts here. It's one of those things that one needs to get out and share with friends - and may in turn help someone else along the way.
I just heard the news that former Girlschool guitarist Kelly Johnson passed away on Sunday, July 15, 2007. She had been suffering bravely with spinal cancer for the past six years - and it finally won. I hadn't seen her in person for 24 years, but still this hit me particularly hard.
I first met Girlschool at the Keystone Palo Alto in early 1983 (although I had seen them before). We chatted up backstage for quite a while, doing an interview for a magazine I worked for at the time - Steel Meel. As it was, I had a huge crush on guitarist Kelly Johnson - and what guy didn't at the time, with her smile and late 1970s Farrah Fawcett hair-do, not to mention that this chick played guitar. To top it off, she was very sweet, and very charming.
At the end of the interview, as I was having the band sign autographs on some of the photos I had taken of them previously, I half-jokingly expressed a somewhat childish desire to go on a date with Kelly. I told her, of course I realized that I lived in the S.F. Bay Area, and she in England (over the big pond), but I had traveled to Europe before, and would do so again.
She smiled and laughed, signed my photo, and handed it back to me. She then said, "Sure, that would be great. We should go out sometime." My heart jumped, although my own cerebral dose of reality said to me, "Don't be stupid. She's a major rock star, in England no doubt, and you are just a guy with a camera barely surviving in California. No matter, I thought. She had agreed and smiled at me, and that was good enough for me. Even if it was just for an ego boost to a fan, she had made my day.
Kelly eventually left the band a year later, and eventually moved to Los Angeles - much closer to me. Unfortunately, I didn't know that until a few years after that, when she had moved back to England. Somehow, I was always a few yards behind her, so to speak.
Eventually I started KAOS2000 Magazine and started doing interviews with celebrities and such. After chatting with the guitarist in Venom, I got an email and a call from former Venom bassist Tony Dolan - who himself had just starred in "Master And Commander" with Russell Crowe. As Tony and I talked, somehow the subject of Girlschool came up, and of course I had to mention Kelly - her being that unobtainable love interest of fantasy to me.
This was around 2004. Tony then told me the news, how he knew Kelly's good friend, and had heard about Kelly's fight with cancer. She wasn't doing very well, I was told, although she was tough enough to have better days along with the worse. I was stunned. I had to get to England immediately. I had always wanted to see her and chat with her again.
I told Tony the story of how we had met and I had asked her out, and how I always remembered her. He laughed and said that he would pass my message along to her.
Around that time, I had gone through my old photos and found my pics of Girlschool and I backstage in 1983. I took one of the photos out of the album and it flipped over. I had never seen the back of this photo. Written on the back was a note with "Kelly" with her phone number. She hadn't just signed my photos, she had taken me seriously and given me her number. What an idiot I had been for never looking on the other side. It was 21 years later now - and she was very sick.
Tony called me back a few days later and had a message for me. Kelly had remembered me from 1983. She smiled when she was told the story, and from what I was told, the story had made her day. She was surprised and happy that I had still remembered her from those shows and still thought of her. Tony said that it might be possible for me to talk with her on the phone, or maybe see her, if she gets a bit better, and that she would be happy to do so.
Before I could make any plans as such - I got to join Kelly in her problems, as I got cancer myself. Leukemia put me in the hospital, and I couldn't do anything for a while, let alone make plans to travel out of the country. So I would wait it out, if she could. During the last year and a half, I had so looked forward to going to England to visit her, or at least get to chat with her on the phone. I didn't know how things were progressing with her.
Then yesterday night, my friend Rytchie called me to bear the news - Kelly Johnson had died earlier in the day. The cancer had taken its toll and she couldn't hang on any longer. And now, I have the most awful empty feeling. Most of my want to go to Europe just faded. I won't get that chance to say Hello or wish her well. And we won't get a chance to laugh about the photos or meeting during the heavy metal heydays. At least I have some friends out there whom I can share this with, and through this, they can now know who she was. Memory is immortality.
After losing some friends and family myself, and with the world in ever-chaos and turmoil on a daily basis, I had become almost immune to death. I've even come to praise it in certain ways. Even with my own illnesses, I definitely haven't cried over much in many years. But - I did shed a tear last night. I didn't really know her, short of a couple of days hanging out two decades ago, but it was just that bond that people (especially musicians) can form when meeting even just once - that can last a lifetime. But yesterday, someone's lifetime ended.
The moral of the story is - we go to visit sick family and friends, and we feel for them, and for ourselves. But sometimes we forget the friends we may have left behind - by accident, or just changes in life, or whatnot. It's good to go back and rekindle. It's better to do it when you think of it - not after it becomes an afterthought of "I wish I could have seen him or her one last time." We all have lives to live and have moved on, but looking back and saying Hello to someone who might need it at the right time is just as important.
I just heard the news that former Girlschool guitarist Kelly Johnson passed away on Sunday, July 15, 2007. She had been suffering bravely with spinal cancer for the past six years - and it finally won. I hadn't seen her in person for 24 years, but still this hit me particularly hard.
I first met Girlschool at the Keystone Palo Alto in early 1983 (although I had seen them before). We chatted up backstage for quite a while, doing an interview for a magazine I worked for at the time - Steel Meel. As it was, I had a huge crush on guitarist Kelly Johnson - and what guy didn't at the time, with her smile and late 1970s Farrah Fawcett hair-do, not to mention that this chick played guitar. To top it off, she was very sweet, and very charming.
At the end of the interview, as I was having the band sign autographs on some of the photos I had taken of them previously, I half-jokingly expressed a somewhat childish desire to go on a date with Kelly. I told her, of course I realized that I lived in the S.F. Bay Area, and she in England (over the big pond), but I had traveled to Europe before, and would do so again.
She smiled and laughed, signed my photo, and handed it back to me. She then said, "Sure, that would be great. We should go out sometime." My heart jumped, although my own cerebral dose of reality said to me, "Don't be stupid. She's a major rock star, in England no doubt, and you are just a guy with a camera barely surviving in California. No matter, I thought. She had agreed and smiled at me, and that was good enough for me. Even if it was just for an ego boost to a fan, she had made my day.
Kelly eventually left the band a year later, and eventually moved to Los Angeles - much closer to me. Unfortunately, I didn't know that until a few years after that, when she had moved back to England. Somehow, I was always a few yards behind her, so to speak.
Eventually I started KAOS2000 Magazine and started doing interviews with celebrities and such. After chatting with the guitarist in Venom, I got an email and a call from former Venom bassist Tony Dolan - who himself had just starred in "Master And Commander" with Russell Crowe. As Tony and I talked, somehow the subject of Girlschool came up, and of course I had to mention Kelly - her being that unobtainable love interest of fantasy to me.
This was around 2004. Tony then told me the news, how he knew Kelly's good friend, and had heard about Kelly's fight with cancer. She wasn't doing very well, I was told, although she was tough enough to have better days along with the worse. I was stunned. I had to get to England immediately. I had always wanted to see her and chat with her again.
I told Tony the story of how we had met and I had asked her out, and how I always remembered her. He laughed and said that he would pass my message along to her.
Around that time, I had gone through my old photos and found my pics of Girlschool and I backstage in 1983. I took one of the photos out of the album and it flipped over. I had never seen the back of this photo. Written on the back was a note with "Kelly" with her phone number. She hadn't just signed my photos, she had taken me seriously and given me her number. What an idiot I had been for never looking on the other side. It was 21 years later now - and she was very sick.
Tony called me back a few days later and had a message for me. Kelly had remembered me from 1983. She smiled when she was told the story, and from what I was told, the story had made her day. She was surprised and happy that I had still remembered her from those shows and still thought of her. Tony said that it might be possible for me to talk with her on the phone, or maybe see her, if she gets a bit better, and that she would be happy to do so.
Before I could make any plans as such - I got to join Kelly in her problems, as I got cancer myself. Leukemia put me in the hospital, and I couldn't do anything for a while, let alone make plans to travel out of the country. So I would wait it out, if she could. During the last year and a half, I had so looked forward to going to England to visit her, or at least get to chat with her on the phone. I didn't know how things were progressing with her.
Then yesterday night, my friend Rytchie called me to bear the news - Kelly Johnson had died earlier in the day. The cancer had taken its toll and she couldn't hang on any longer. And now, I have the most awful empty feeling. Most of my want to go to Europe just faded. I won't get that chance to say Hello or wish her well. And we won't get a chance to laugh about the photos or meeting during the heavy metal heydays. At least I have some friends out there whom I can share this with, and through this, they can now know who she was. Memory is immortality.
After losing some friends and family myself, and with the world in ever-chaos and turmoil on a daily basis, I had become almost immune to death. I've even come to praise it in certain ways. Even with my own illnesses, I definitely haven't cried over much in many years. But - I did shed a tear last night. I didn't really know her, short of a couple of days hanging out two decades ago, but it was just that bond that people (especially musicians) can form when meeting even just once - that can last a lifetime. But yesterday, someone's lifetime ended.
The moral of the story is - we go to visit sick family and friends, and we feel for them, and for ourselves. But sometimes we forget the friends we may have left behind - by accident, or just changes in life, or whatnot. It's good to go back and rekindle. It's better to do it when you think of it - not after it becomes an afterthought of "I wish I could have seen him or her one last time." We all have lives to live and have moved on, but looking back and saying Hello to someone who might need it at the right time is just as important.
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