Countdown...

 

No, nothing to do with counting down the days 'till my next doctor visit.

We live about 4 1/2 miles from the SpaceX Boca Chica facility.  There is supposed to be a test launch today, putting a rocket up to about 50,000 feet before trying to land it successfully back at their facility.  Elon Musk said that this is a test, and that there is a 1 in 3 chance that it will be successful.  That means a 2 in 3 chance that they will explode the rocket over the Gulf.  According to the SpaceX website, this is the first attempt at a high-altitude suborbital flight test from the Cameron County site.  Successful or not, they expect to learn a lot from this.

Friends Mike and MJ were considering taking their new World Cat out for some Gulf fishing today.  I suggested they look up any warranty exclusions to see if "exploding rocket parts crashing through the hull" is covered.  ;-)  No, I have no idea if they went out or not.

It is coming up on 2:00pm and no word whether the launch is a go today or not.  If not, tomorrow is a back up launch day.

This will give you an idea of what the rocket looks like...

It is a bit more "Flash Gordon" looking, as opposed to a NASA rocket, to my un-rocket scientist eye.  That is a file photo - we are not out at the launch site.  The highway leading to the launch facility gets closed to the public when there is activity planned.

To give you some idea of location...

We are at the blue dot on the island just south of Port Isabel.  We can't see the launch site from our deck due to the house across the canal from us; but walk a half block, and we can see the rocket assembly building from the street.

There have been some test firings in the past, but not while we've been home to see/hear it.  I'm interested to hear what the roar will sound like.

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The launch was aborted with 1.3 seconds left on the countdown clock...

Maybe tomorrow.  It was aborted by the Raptor rocket, which apparently found some condition not right.  Excrement occurs.

A week...

 

Time flies when you don't know what you are doing.

I guess I must have some small clue, because it seems like it has been a long week.  I didn't lose days like I did with the hip replacement.  This time, I remember.

Settling into a routine; eating, walking, resting, napping.  Emptying and changing bags.  Joan has been there to help me as needed... and frequently needed.

The sun is shining this morning, and the wind isn't cold out of the north.  Walking outside will be more pleasant today; with a high in the 60s.

A week's worth of progress and healing.  Yes, it still hurts.  I am trying to walk fully upright, but still find myself in that Neanderthal posture... I need to work on evolving.  ;-)

I have to get just a little mad to get my own socks on.  

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I have been out for 3 walks in our neighborhood today.  Not long walks, but the sunshine feels good.  After the last one, Rufus was waiting for me at the door.  It has been a week since he has been out on his leash, and he was ready.  Joan lets him out by the front steps as she is coming or going, so he hasn't been housebound.  The big furry boy has great facial expressions... he has been looking worried at me since I got home from the hospital.  Fortunately, he has been gentle, because he can be a bit of a moose.  I am convinced he knows something is up.

I visited with my friend and music partner Mark today.  I sent him some vocal tracks before the big poke, and he has been putting down some guitar, keyboard, and synth (sax) tracks.  I really appreciate his musicianship.  It's still a work in progress.  This situation has left me a bit raspy and just playing some music for Joan and Rufus hurts when I push from the diaphragm for a vocal.  And, I'm still dealing with numbness in my fingertips, but it does seem to be slowly improving.  Weird.  

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A brief moment of pink in the sky as the sun dipped below the horizon; the view from our deck...

Pulled an all-nighter...

 

That means different things at different times in your life.  When you are young, it might mean studying through the night to cram for a test.  Or, more likely: partying through the night, then taking on the new day like usual.  Well, close to usual.  As you make it into middle-age and beyond, it means making it through the night without having to get up to pee.  I have heard some people my age refer to themselves as "middle-age"... sure, if you think you're going to live to be 140.

But, I digress.  Last night was the first time for an all-nighter for me, since the big poke.  Big poke?  Well, with the robotic surgery procedure, you see less evidence of a surgery... the cutting inside is the same, but instead of a opening in your belly big enough to get hands into you, you have these "poke holes."  It looks like I was on the losing end of a small blade knife fight.

Damn, digressed again.  The all-nighter that is a big deal to me: I stayed in bed through the night.  Joan was able to arrange my tube so I could turn from one side to the other.  I didn't have to get up and go sit in a chair in the living room to get a different position and let my back muscles have a change.  Rufus didn't lay on me (his way of telling me it is time to get up and feed him)... he's a good boy.  And, I slept.  Until just after 7:00 this morning.  It was glorious; a big deal for me.

Ready to take on the new day.

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I really appreciate the internet.  Not just for the entertainment value, but for the never-ending information. As I improve, I have become more aware of all that is happening with me.  When you see blood coming out of something that blood shouldn’t come out of, you can look it up.  You can get very specific with your search and get a specific answer.  Then, you can breath a sigh of relief to know that isn’t a sign of something really bad.  Well, assuming that is the answer you get.  Sure beats waiting until Monday to call the doctor’s office.

I remember the “good ol’ days”: rub some dirt on it and walk it off.  This is better.

Quiet time...

 

I was up early this morning.  Joan helped me swap out bags so my morning routine wouldn't include Rufus's tail getting caught on the long tube on the big bag.

The best part of this morning time was the quiet... sitting and taking in the lights on the Christmas tree.  I read a couple thoughtful and helpful private messages from friends.  It moves me that people take the time to write; to share an experience or offer well-wishes.

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I gave myself a "light duty" day today.  Took some time to reflect.  No walks outside since Mother Nature blessed us with a rain day.  I got my smallest guitar down and played a couple songs while Joan brushed Rufus.  The tender belly area makes singing from the diaphragm a new experience, but good for the breathing exercises.

I am still having some numbness and tingling in my fingertips, but I think it is less.  After a good shower and while shaving, I had a moment of enlightenment: whoever shaved me before the surgery did not have a great sense of symmetry; nipples to... well, you know my new favorite word.  I think modern medical technology allows a surgeon to make a procedure less painful for recuperation.  Seems to me that they have to put in a couple extra "pain points" to take your mind off the awful itch as the chest and belly hair starts to grow back.

Joan asked what I wanted for lunch... "A burger and fries."  I was probably influenced by a commercial I saw on TV.  That is some target advertising, going for the recuperating, easily swayed crowd.  Rather than take-out, she made a burger and fries... and it was great.

I plan to work through this "infant stage" as quick as I can.  Infant stage?  Yeah: eat, burp, poop, and nap.  After the nap, struggle to roll over.

More Rufus therapy.  He weighs more than 10 pounds (OK, a lot more), but I don't have to pick him up - he hops up on his own to sit by me.  Soothing.

Logistics...

 

There is a tube.  I read that someone said, "What a convenience: you don't have to get up in the middle of the night to pee several times."  That is stretching to find a bright side, but I really didn't have much of a problem with middle of the night bathroom visits.  Some guys with prostate issues do have that problem.

For more detail than anyone wants: with a tube there is a bag.  The bag holds your urine.  Being as delicate as I can, you are constantly making urine.  For the logistics, you have the small size bag that can handle a couple hours of urine production; it straps to your leg.  And then there is the family fun size bag that allows you to make it through the night... I think it is around 5 gallons.  Yes, I'm kidding.  It only feels like 5 gallons.  You notice as you are schlepping it around.  It has an L-bracket of sorts that is at the top of the bag that allows you to hang it conveniently on absolutely nothing.  We have drawers under our bed, and Joan found a way to position one of those drawers so the big bag (which is probably a quart and a half or so) can hang on the edge of the drawer.  That becomes a limiting factor to being able to turn while in bed, but the small bag wouldn't make it through the night.

I shuffled around this morning, with the big bag on the waistband of my lounge shorts, doing my morning routine, while Joan got a bit more sleep.  It pulls the shorts down and as an added bonus: the longer length of the tube on the big bag catches on Rufus's tail as he circles my ankles, waiting for his breakfast.

Another thing that is very apparent is the liberal use of the word "penis."  I prefer the medically correct terms Willy or Johnson, but I am looking forward to not having a discussion about how my penis is doing.  Several times a day.  It needs to have an antibacterial ointment applied, thanks to Mr Tube.

I had to laugh when I was in the hospital and the nurse asked Joan if it was OK to apply the ointment... I said, "Of the three of us here, you are certainly the best qualified."  Later, when she was showing a younger nurse what was necessary, the younger one said, "Well, it is just right out there, isn't it?"  

Breakfast and another shower this morning makes me feel like a new man.  With bags.  At this point, taking a shower leaves me tuckered out, but certainly better than not taking a shower.  The meds have messed with my nerve endings, and I don't have much feeling in my fingertips (not good for a guitar player), and extra sensitive feelings in my toes.  It hasn't affected my dancing, however - I still can't dance for shit.

The goal for today: less screaming like a little girl when I cough.

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I got outside for a short walk today; 55º with a cold north wind.  I was wearing my sporty bag with lounge shorts and a sweatshirt.  In hindsight, I should have put on a coat; because, even through my hind was not in sight, there was plenty of wind to blow up my shorts.  It felt good to get outside, but not fun to stay outside; I have become less tolerant to hot or cold weather.  Nice change of scenery, though, and something different from making laps of our small house.

The forecast is for continued cool tomorrow, with rain.  I figured today was my best shot at some fresh air.  Joan took Rufus out for some fresh air, as well.  His routine has been altered this week.  Usually, he and I walk together.

It's a start...

 

Back in my own bed.  No noise.  I slept solid until 2:00, then needed to go in the living room and sit up to have a different position.  Back to bed by 3:00, and I slept again until around 7:00.

Rufus was a good boy - as he came up alongside me in bed, he was gentle.  I think he was relieved to have his Pops back.  He spent most of the night down at my feet.

It isn't just a matter of settling back in your own bed - you have to deal with how you can lay (having a bag and a hose connected), what position it hurts less to breathe, how long you can lay in one position.  Still, it was welcome rest.

Next order of business will be getting into the shower and getting the skank washed off.  There is one wound where the blood drain was located that can have the big ol' gauze pad come off and get a band aid.

Learning what clothing works with this situation... you don't want something that catches on that hose (trust me on that).

After getting Rufus fed this morning (Joan put the food down for him), I did my morning routine, a bit slower.  Joan has been very attentive, making sure I don't have to bend down or twist much.  As I heal, I will get back to that.  For now, I am happy with being able to move around without a dozen different wires connected to me.

It felt good to sit for a bit, with my big furry boy on my lap...

 I'm giving myself this one day to just chill.  Good timing on the weather - a norther blew in during the night.  I was able to get home in shorts and a t-shirt yesterday.  It was 52º and windy this morning... wouldn't be a get time to start a new walking routine.  I'll be content to walk around the house today and try to stand mostly upright.

I am learning what I can do on my own and what I need help with.  Joan is amazingly supportive... "for better or worse, in sickness and in health"... you find out what that truly means as the years accumulate.

Yeah, it's a start.

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My heart is heavy - I spoke with my brother-in-law John, and he lost his brother this week to Covid.  His brother had just turned 100.  You can say you know it is coming, but it still hurts.  John could not be more of a brother to me, if we were blood related.

I'm going to change gears here and talk about some uplifting news.  A shower and a light meal made a difference this afternoon.  Joan has, as always, been a champ through this... Being out of the hospital environment has been a blessing. I am weak and hurt like hell. There are a lot of indignities that have to be endured, and I am grateful to still be here. I have a great wife that won't let me give up - she is definitely better than I deserve, but I sure don't want to tell her that this far into the game... yesterday was our 48th anniversary. We both know we are stronger because we are together. We exchanged cards, small gifts, and hugs today. I have joked about living long enough to need replacement body parts, but this experience is so different from the hip replacement.

I got a shower today (stood in there by myself), shaved, and dressed. Looking in the mirror afterwards, I examined the new "poke holes" and the "exit" (above my navel) and the blood drain wound. This is one of those surgeries where you don't see much in the gory exterior details... I could have done without seeing the photos from the surgeon's phone... I've seen road kill that looked healthier.

It is a shock to your senses to roll over in bed and face mirrored closet doors that reveal gonads the size of grapefruit and a wonderful wife who says, "I think the swelling is better - the boys seemed to have some wrinkles showing again." How's that for a sense of humor?  She is great.  I do want to grab her by the throat when she comes at me with that breathing exerciser, though.  But, I know she always has my best interests at heart.

Today is better than yesterday.  I plan to keep that progress going.

 

Happy Anniversary...

 

If you said, "Little River Band, 1977," you get 25 bonus points.  If you said, "Joan saying, 'Having you home for our anniversary is the best present ever'," you can understand my bit of verklemp.  Yes, today is our anniversary.

Getting sprung from the hospital is even more special today.  Joan has been there almost as many hours as I have.

If you're asking, "How was it?" I will explain.  Simple explanation: it was excruciating.  Not just how much the procedure hurt, but the entire experience.  Turns out, I had a huge prostate.  Huge, as in: the surgeon said, "I have never seen anything like this.  I can't believe you could urinate at all: your prostate was grown above your urethra and up against the bladder to where it was nearly covering the exit from the bladder.  Your procedure took twice as long as normal because of that.  Your recovery is going to take longer because of that, I'm sorry to tell you."

The hospital system here leaves a lot to be desired.  Nothing gets done when you are told it will be done.  Yes, I am probably emotional because of what I just went through.  It hurts like a son of a bitch.  They did not get me up and moving around on the first day; may be because of the lengthy procedure.  May be because someone didn't feel like it (no, not me).

I had a bad reaction to the pain killer they gave, and the steroid they used cause my blood sugar to spike up... and someone thought it was a good idea to give me insulin.  Yes, another bad reaction, and I crashed.  Literally, Joan went into the hallway and hollered for help.  Probably saved my life.  I was having a convulsion.

The only thing I got to keep up my strength for the first 48 hours was ice chips.  No sleep because of unnecessarily beeping medical equipment.  Several times I asked if the sound could be turned off... it was, and then started beeping again.  This was beeping because the battery was low or fluid level needed to be checked.  It is next to impossible to heal if you can't get rest.

When the surgeon cleared me to go home today, it took over two hours to process out.  I was frazzled.  Joan got me in the door, and I laid down and slept for 3 hours.  Keep in mind that she was leaving the hospital after 11:00 at night, going home to feed Rufus, and get something to eat for herself... and it is an hour drive to the hospital.  She was wiped, too, but she pushed on.  While I slept this afternoon, she went to Walgreens and got prescriptions filled for me, and bought supplies we need to get through the next 10 days.

I go back to the surgeon in 10 days.  Considering the extensive procedure, I am not expecting good news; but I will go into it with a positive attitude.

It was a long drive back home.  When we came in the house, Rufus was happy to see his Pops.  I gave him some attention, but I needed sleep.  Joan closed the door to the bedroom to keep the big furry boy from jumping on me.  I had a crazy dream while I slept, probably due to the anesthesia and drugs I've had.  After the bad reaction to the pain meds, I was given one round of Tylenol; that's all I've had for pain relief for the last 24 hours.  I was offered Tylenol with codeine - no thanks.

Now home, we can get back to taking care of ourselves.  I have a bag strapped to my leg to collect urine.  That is typical for the first 10 days after this procedure.  The only food I had the last 24 hours at the hospital was broth, apple juice, and Jell-o.  The surgeon warned that my tummy would be sensitive and suggested no more than scrambled eggs and toast, which Joan made for me tonight... and, it was great.

After getting some sleep, I put a pillow across my belly and snuggled with Rufus... my belly is tender and distended.  This is going to take some time to get back to where I was physically.

The only reason I got out of the hospital today: I got mad and insisted that the night duty nurse unhook some of the monitoring equipment so I could start walking.  At 4:00 this morning.  I was determined to be sitting up when Joan came in this morning.  I told that nurse that I would be leaving today.  When the surgeon made her rounds, she agreed that I could go home today.  I can walk a ways, unassisted, but it is painful and exhausting.  I plan to take another day to rest up before I start walking for the exercise.

So, that's the first take on this experience.  My less than great experience was probably related to how extensive the prostate removal was.  I won't be making a Yelp review.  ;-)