Regular Life

Since 2005 I have used my blog to share what’s happening in our lives. Four days from when this publishes, I begin the final year of my 30’s. What better time to look back on what my 30’s brought before I started a public journal?

I turned 30 in the dreaded year 2000. By the time my birthday arrived, it was fairly clear that the world was not going to end as a result of the rollover from 1999. It also was fairly clear that Prince’s song “1999″ would never be the same.

We had moved to northwest Arkansas in 1999 so I finally could leave information technology and follow my dream of writing for a living, for exactly half the pay I had been earning. The funniest thing about that was the number of people who asked me, “Is your wife going with you?”

That was only the beginning of a period that can be summed up by that overused word, “change.”

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If you are a first-time reader, then I apologize now for the timing. I do not, however, apologize for the content, written by my wonderful wife (that’s her over there, running — click it for a better look).

This is a guest post of something my wife originally wrote and sent via e-mail. Some of you might have missed that, so here goes.

“As a stay stay-at-home mom, I am always looking for that little something “extra,” in addition to the responsibility of taking care of my wonderful family. I am so excited that I have found something that is going to allow me to raise money for a wonderful cause, while getting in shape and making friends at the same time! I am raising funds for The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society (LLS) as a participant in their Team In Training program and I’m asking you to help by making a donation to my fundraising campaign. I will be running on a relay team in the Dallas White Rock Marathon in December and our fund-raising goal is $1,800.

Please use the link in this email to donate online quickly and securely plus learn more about my progress. You will receive a confirmation of your donation by email and I will be notified as soon as you make your donation.

http://pages.teamintraining.org/ntx/Whiterck09/swilliaf8v

I’m sure cancer has affected each of your lives, as it has mine. I lost my aunt to colon cancer in 1995 and one of my dearest friends battled ovarian cancer last year (and is thankfully doing very well). Each donation to my team helps accelerate finding a cure for leukemia, lymphoma and myeloma. More than 823,000 Americans are battling these blood cancers. I am hoping that my participation in Team In Training will help bring them hope and support.

On behalf of The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, thank you very much for your support. I greatly appreciate your generosity.

Thank you,

Shannon Williams”

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I know all of you have wallets, or at the very least, couches. Please scrape up something to give to this worthy cause, and if you don’t want to use that link up there to get it done, then let me know and I’ll tell you how to send a check.

Considering the latest local news in swine flu, it might be a good thing that we’re set up to videoconference with the folks who are supposed to fly into Dallas to come visit us at the end of May. I’m also glad that it’s possible to do my job from home if needed. Were I really in a panic mode, I would say that I’m glad our family has a good place we can join them in complete seclusion from Society.

Although I have read a lot about swine flu and why a virus that jumps species can be much more dangerous than a native germ, I’m nowhere near that paranoid yet.

It’s just that, see, the Fort Worth schools announced Wednesday night that they are sending students home until May 11, at the soonest. Does this mean that one confirmed case at a middle school is enough for any school district to close, or that the Tarrant County Health Department, the parents, and the school board are particularly prone to overreacting to sensational media reports?

The city of Forth Worth had more than a half a million residents in the 2000 US Census. I have to think that with 31% of the population at age 19 or below, there are an awful lot of parents wondering what in the world they’re going to do with their children for the next eight school days. You see, Tarrant County Health officials also advised them not to send their children to daycare or any other group care facility.

Now, on to the post I had written before we heard that jaw-dropper. Notice what a different tone the first sentence takes on in light of that.

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Update on Shannon: She’s at home now, still in pain, but recovering. More detailed write-up later.

At the hospital on Friday night at about 10:30, I needed a snack and I had a dollar burning a hole in my pocket.

The vending machine on the ground floor had nothing I wanted, but a staffer told me there was another one in the ER’s waiting room. I followed his simple directions down a long hallway to the double-doors into the ER.

The vending machine offered nothing new, so I carefully fed it my dollar bill and punched the number of an old classic — donut sticks. This particular pack was Dunkin’ Stix, by Hostess, but I had shown no brand preference while enjoying countless numbers of the sweet snack in years past. As the corkscrew mechanism pushed the snack over the edge, I anticipated its sugary dough melting in my mouth.

After I pulled the package from the vending machine’s trough, I flipped it over to read the nutrition information.

I wished I had punched a different combination of keys. The three donut sticks inside constituted one serving, featuring 490 calories — more than I usually eat in my entire lunch. It boasted 38% of the daily serving of fat, with more than half of that coming in the form of saturated fat. I hope that only in Texas — one of the “fattest” states in the country — would a hospital allow a vendor to stock such fare.

On top of the other horrifying numbers (too numerous to itemize here), there were 40 grams of sugar. That’s more than in a 12 oz can of any leading soda.

I couldn’t bring myself to eat the whole package, especially so close to bedtime. Instead, I ate one stick, and so far I’m still here to type about it. Either Saturday or Sunday I grabbed the remaining two and threw them away.

On a related note, on Monday Benjamin and I went out for a mid-morning snack before running errands and going to the park. Our first stop? The donut shop, where we ate a respectable one donut each and then went about our day.

Friday, March 13, 7 p.m. CT

I’m sitting here by the phone in the surgical waiting room. A divorced couple, fresh off an argument over weekend custody of their son, shares with me that their daughter is having a tumor removed from her spine. It is touching how they forget everything else to act as one when talking about her predicament. Almost like a married couple finishing each other’s sentences. I suppose that’s something many couples never outgrow after divorce.

I internally thank them that they asked me first why I was here, because spinal tumor is hard to follow with something as routine as gall bladder removal. Even more so when they tell me that the first tumor on her spine was cancerous and they’re hoping this one won’t be. She responded well to the chemo the first time, they say.

“She had a mass removed from her lung a while back and it wasn’t cancerous!” the father tells me as he jubilantly raises his fists and his eyes squint from his huge smile.

How heartbreaking that a father has to derive excitement from something like that.

He continues, “Her surgeon is amazing. He got started a little late because he removed a tumor from someone’s brain earlier today and it went a little long.”

Wow.

Sure, Shannon’s surgeon bumped her up to tonight instead of the following Wednesday morning, but those poor parents are going through emotions I can’t imagine. And, despite their being divorced and their argument earlier, they seem to be leaning on each other.

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Friday, March 13, 11:30 p.m. CT

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Above is the window view from Shannon’s hospital room, stitched by Hugin (free) from several photos. She’s still in enough pain that only the stuff from the intravenous line gives her any relief, so we’re staying overnight. The hearts on the left are on the nearby heart hospital’s exterior walls, and a walkway between it and this hospital runs across the frame.

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Saturday, March 14, 11:30 a.m. CT

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Above is my view from my little corner of Shannon’s post-op room, again stitched by Hugin (albeit badly because I wasn’t nearly as careful about how I took the pictures). As you might see on my laptop, I watched the first episode of “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” today and I think I’m hooked already. Darn you and your cleverness, Joss Whedon!

Nothing taken orally puts a dent in Shannon’s pain, so they might not release her today. I’m about to go switch places with her mom so that I can hang out with Benjamin and go get some things Shannon needs from home.
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On another note, Shannon’s anesthesiologist must have been a model in his former life. Sheesh. Maybe the medical shows aren’t so far off when they depict doctors as the best-looking people in the working world. I make that distinction because modeling isn’t real work compared to saving lives.

Have you ever tried to quit anything? Were you successful? What strategies did you employ?

If you arrived here hoping to read about smoking cessation, stopping alcohol abuse, or kicking smack to the curb, then I’m afraid the excitement level here might be too much for you. At the very least, you could get angry that someone wasted time typing this in the first place. At best, you could share your story in the comments.

I quit or cut down on three things at once — coffee, soft drinks, and desserts, with varying success. If you’re sure you can handle it, read on. Oh, and I quit using the snooze bar, too. (Told you, the hits just keep on coming.) Lately, I’m not doing too well on any of those fronts.

Originally there was a lot of sex and violence in this story, but in the interest of keeping it family-friendly, I cut out most of it.

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Recently it came up in conversation that my wife found this mass in a beer can she opened.

After she had started drinking the beer.

I was lucky enough to find the pic while sifting through old digital photos. Anyone care to speculate on exactly what it is? To me it resembles what must have shot into Lance Henriksen’s mouth in Alien. Before you ask, I don’t think the can featured a “born on” date.

Thursday ended with Shannon staring at her computer screen, tears streaming down her face. “Ben’s hiding in his closet,” she said. Ben likes to do that when I get home so I can “find” him.

Then Shannon looked up at me and sobbed, “He could have died.”

Just home from work, I set down my laptop bag and walked over to her. “But he didn’t, and he’s fine now.”

Somehow that didn’t seem like a profound thing to say in light of the afternoon’s events.

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While I appreciate auto-flush toilets on a sanitary level (although generally I spare myself that problem by flushing with my foot), I hate the stupid things. I get my protective paper layer all nicely laid out, then I straighten up to turn around and sit, and the infernal thing flushes and splashes water all over my beautifully stacked lengths of one-ply. Not to mention nearly deafening me. Then I have to start over, trying to find that perfect posture that won’t trip the auto-flush, and usually end up failing. Should have just hovered, I think. Crap.

Worse than that is the kind I experienced before my last flight out of DFW. I get the paper down and sit, thinking I’m home free. Then, as if on a timer and assuming that surely no human could still be “on board,” the toilet flushes, splashing my parts that, as a rule, get wet only when I’m showering or swimming. I become convinced there is a demented fly buzzing near the sensor’s “eye” to torment me.

I have learned to listen carefully for that telltale sound that the toilet is about to go HAL on me. I raise up, wait out the flush, and then hover while wiping off the seat again. (I must avail myself of this rare opportunity to link a related incident that featured LOTS more water.)

So, what modern device aggravates you?

My comment spam filter recently placed in the moderation queue a comment that was relevant to the post. It had nothing to do with prescription drugs or “enhancement” or how to become independently wealthy (whatever in the world that really means).

The product was so intriguing that I was inspired not only to approve the comment, but I’m writing a post about it. And you’re reading it.

Called the StepNpull, it is a small, glaringly simple device that attaches to the bottom of any latchless door for hands-free opening. It relies on foot power, and was invented by three Alltell Wireless call center staffers in Missouri, where the Springfield Business Journal ran a great April 12 article about their motivation.

Not surprisingly, their reasons were perfectly in line with the concerns that my readers and I expressed in my post “Washing Your Hands.” I wonder if the “Mike” who left the comment there is co-inventor Mike Sewell.

Adding to the relevance is that Alltel happens to be an Arkansas company, and as most of you know, that’s our home state.

As forehead-smackingly “why didn’t I think of that” as it may seem, I wonder about the device’s widespread efficacy. Some doors are a difficult haul, and while the leg motion required seems fairly natural, the muscles used are relatively weak in the average person (I admit this is a guess based on my own miming action, but that’s the glory of opinion pieces!). In addition, some outsoles are nearly perfectly smooth, and would provide little grip on the device’s “lip.”

All that said, I can imagine the StepNpull’s feasability at most public restrooms and on other doors. The $19.99 price tag seems a little steep, but they’re not mass-producing yet, so that could go down substantially.

Now the only thing to watch out for is that boisterous co-worker who loves to burst through doorways whistling “Crazy Train.” Hey, at least I usually nail the Randy Rhoads solo.