My Bum is on the Cheese
There. I got the Tom Green reference out I can continue with this post.
Where to begin? Baby on the way and she's almost here. My church went through a rough patch and some people left, but now I have a sense of hope when I walk through the doors. God has put us in a position to grow; not only in numbers, but Spiritually as well. We will now have to move out of our comfort zones and be ready in whatever task is set before us.
I know I kind of glossed over the baby part, but I'm not the one who has to carry her around. I don't feel quite qualified to go into great detail. All I can say is that I'm excited and I hope I will be a good father to Clare as well. My wife does all the hard work, and she's been phenomenal during this pregnancy. I have noticed that I don't talk to Clare like I talked to Jeffrey. I hope it's just the 2nd child thing, where it's not new and you get complacent with kid #2 and so on.
I have another new supervisor at work. She's surprisingly good at her job. I've always classified her a crazy and I used to say I'd rather not work with her, but she's really good. I say she's crazy because on her desk there are several picture of her dog, a yorkie I believe, but there are no pictures of friends, family, boyfriends, anything! Plus she's attractive, never married, in her forties and still single. That usually adds up to two things: crazy or lesbian. Perhaps a crazy lesbian. It's the crazy part I was worried about, that and her being solely focused on her career. I usually do not trust anyone without a life outside of the warehouse. She's better than the boss I had before, and one of the four I had last year.
I am, however still stuck on nights.
Now we come to the part that references the subject line. If you remember the bum bum song you'll remember the line that rhymes with that is, "if I get lucky, I'll get a disease." I got luck and ironically it's somewhat related to my bum. Last month I got really sick after church. I started having real bad abdominal pains, chills, fever, weakness and I had no energy. I stuck it out and went to work the next day, but I fell asleep at my desk a few times and I had to stop and hold my stomach because of the pain. If you don't know me very well, me showing pain is a rare thing. I'm usually very stoic about it. When I got home I couldn't sleep and kellsta and I stayed up late and watched TV. By this time I had gained some energy, but lost my dinner. I started have "tummy problems" and my pains were still occurring and with greater intensity. Kelli turns to me and asks if I need to go to the ER and I say yes. Once my mom got here to watch the wee one, we were off the the hospital. I charmed the triage nurses, peed in a cup, got a CAT scan, wore an embarrassing gown, rode in wheel chairs, got an IV. I got the deluxe package. I also got some morphine, which made it hard to think and my brain couldn't function properly (or as close to properly as I get). To make matters worse my doctor was Indian (dots not feathers) and I could barely understand him sober; but on morphine my brain can't fill in the blanks, so I just agreed to whatever he said and asked my wife what I just agreed to. At first he thought I had diverticulitis, which I had a Holy Diver parody of in the works as soon as it came out of his mouth. After reviewing the CT, the doc diagnosed me with colitis, an infection of the colon. I was treated with drugs and released to go home. When we got home both mine and Kelli's moms were at the house. My MIL went to go get my meds, Kelli went to beds, and I sat in the cheds er chair. I recounted my tale to my mother, including the part where the CT tech asked me how I was doing, to which my mental response was, "I'm seeing you at work, what does that tell you, Dick Tracy". I had breakfast and waited for Jeffrey to get up. After Mimi left with Jeffrey I went to sleep for hours. I was back at work the next day and they sent me home because my pain pill was a narcotic. A week later I went to see my primary care physician, or as my call them in the south, my doctor, for a follow-up on the colitis and for the spot they found on my lung during the CAT scan. She seemed unconcerned about the spot and she referred me to a GI specialist. I went to see him and now I will have a camera shoved up my fundament in the near future. I am making a list of jokes to make once I come out from under anesthesia. Or is it "anus-tesia" *guffaw*. So please write back with your one-liners and wise-cracks (see what I did there?) and I will try to get them all in.
And no, the irony of a purveyor of scatological humor such as myself developing a colonic illness is not lost on me.
Where to begin? Baby on the way and she's almost here. My church went through a rough patch and some people left, but now I have a sense of hope when I walk through the doors. God has put us in a position to grow; not only in numbers, but Spiritually as well. We will now have to move out of our comfort zones and be ready in whatever task is set before us.
I know I kind of glossed over the baby part, but I'm not the one who has to carry her around. I don't feel quite qualified to go into great detail. All I can say is that I'm excited and I hope I will be a good father to Clare as well. My wife does all the hard work, and she's been phenomenal during this pregnancy. I have noticed that I don't talk to Clare like I talked to Jeffrey. I hope it's just the 2nd child thing, where it's not new and you get complacent with kid #2 and so on.
I have another new supervisor at work. She's surprisingly good at her job. I've always classified her a crazy and I used to say I'd rather not work with her, but she's really good. I say she's crazy because on her desk there are several picture of her dog, a yorkie I believe, but there are no pictures of friends, family, boyfriends, anything! Plus she's attractive, never married, in her forties and still single. That usually adds up to two things: crazy or lesbian. Perhaps a crazy lesbian. It's the crazy part I was worried about, that and her being solely focused on her career. I usually do not trust anyone without a life outside of the warehouse. She's better than the boss I had before, and one of the four I had last year.
I am, however still stuck on nights.
Now we come to the part that references the subject line. If you remember the bum bum song you'll remember the line that rhymes with that is, "if I get lucky, I'll get a disease." I got luck and ironically it's somewhat related to my bum. Last month I got really sick after church. I started having real bad abdominal pains, chills, fever, weakness and I had no energy. I stuck it out and went to work the next day, but I fell asleep at my desk a few times and I had to stop and hold my stomach because of the pain. If you don't know me very well, me showing pain is a rare thing. I'm usually very stoic about it. When I got home I couldn't sleep and kellsta and I stayed up late and watched TV. By this time I had gained some energy, but lost my dinner. I started have "tummy problems" and my pains were still occurring and with greater intensity. Kelli turns to me and asks if I need to go to the ER and I say yes. Once my mom got here to watch the wee one, we were off the the hospital. I charmed the triage nurses, peed in a cup, got a CAT scan, wore an embarrassing gown, rode in wheel chairs, got an IV. I got the deluxe package. I also got some morphine, which made it hard to think and my brain couldn't function properly (or as close to properly as I get). To make matters worse my doctor was Indian (dots not feathers) and I could barely understand him sober; but on morphine my brain can't fill in the blanks, so I just agreed to whatever he said and asked my wife what I just agreed to. At first he thought I had diverticulitis, which I had a Holy Diver parody of in the works as soon as it came out of his mouth. After reviewing the CT, the doc diagnosed me with colitis, an infection of the colon. I was treated with drugs and released to go home. When we got home both mine and Kelli's moms were at the house. My MIL went to go get my meds, Kelli went to beds, and I sat in the cheds er chair. I recounted my tale to my mother, including the part where the CT tech asked me how I was doing, to which my mental response was, "I'm seeing you at work, what does that tell you, Dick Tracy". I had breakfast and waited for Jeffrey to get up. After Mimi left with Jeffrey I went to sleep for hours. I was back at work the next day and they sent me home because my pain pill was a narcotic. A week later I went to see my primary care physician, or as my call them in the south, my doctor, for a follow-up on the colitis and for the spot they found on my lung during the CAT scan. She seemed unconcerned about the spot and she referred me to a GI specialist. I went to see him and now I will have a camera shoved up my fundament in the near future. I am making a list of jokes to make once I come out from under anesthesia. Or is it "anus-tesia" *guffaw*. So please write back with your one-liners and wise-cracks (see what I did there?) and I will try to get them all in.
And no, the irony of a purveyor of scatological humor such as myself developing a colonic illness is not lost on me.