One could only assume things would go better.
Six weeks of travel.
Two huge fishing weekends.
And as described in the last post, vehicle issues.
Now lets turn the page to the body.
One should listen to his body as they listen to their car engine.
I can say this now but was not humming this tune in May.
My High School and College Cross Country Coaches would always preach about listening to your body to avoid injury and monitor how a workout will affect ones being.
After extensive talks with the doctors I had the engine knocking for quite awhile but did not heed the warnings.
Simply put ,I allowed life's constant little day to day pressures to be placed ahead of anything else and when they were satisfied I switched gears to enjoy myself whether drinking beer, cooking and fishing.
NASCAR drivers are excellent at communicating with their pit crew chief but we muddle through and put those little aches and pains off as getting older.
So, enough said.
Black would give me a ride home and spend the night and he would be off the next day.
If I remember correctly school was in session and I need to drop the kids or kid off.
Everything was fine until I got back home and that little pain I had experienced 10 days earlier which burnt across the stomach came back in a huge way knocking me to the driveway.
Trying to laugh it off I dragged ass into the house and crawled up the stairs where Black saw me and said. " Are You O.K."
Me; "Nooooooooooo", I think I need to go to the hospital.
Now growing up with Black he was known to be quite the driver, eluding cops in his youth and running the occasional car at Hibbing Raceway.
It was not the smoothest drive and I let him know that his ambulance driving skills sucked.
Then it dawned that he may his drivings skills were honed to be elusive not smooth.
That would explain why his car ended up in the living room of someones house in his rabble rousing days.
I could see the emergency personnel jumping for their lives as he drove my dads van through the large windows skidding side ways so my window would butt next to the admissions desk.
O.K., not quite that dramatic.
We would be settled in and wait until they could take X-Rays.
The pain continued and the pictures taken and a Doctor walks in and says the diagnosis is Diverticulitis.
Gives a bottle of anti-biotic and pain pills with orders saying if symptoms persist longer than 3 days let family physician know.
O.K. Here is what I remember because I was unaware that this would occur just prior to a Holiday weekend.My three days turned out to be Gilligan's Island.The kids were busy the bride was working and like most good women not worried about my condition greatly because after all I am a guy and we complain all the time.
Somewhere into day 3 I had manged to get out of bed and walk towards the hall where I collapsed. The girls had left the deck door open and my Short Hair, Coco had let herself outside.
The pain was like I had been gut shot with a 30.06. when I awoke from my stupor Mandy, Coco and the neighbors dogs were lying near me.
Part of me thought that this was truly a mans best friend concerned for my well being.
The Oxy Codeine said they were waiting for me to pass so they could start the buffet.
Three days passed as I remember and the pain was still there but I had managed to soil my shorts twice so life was o.k.
This is mans futile attempt to wish himself well. Call it what you want , Male ego, Thick Headed, stubborn,all the doctors were out the clinics closed and the doctor on duty said sometimes it takes 3-5 days for the anti biotic to work.
Remember the engine story.
I would awake with absolutely no pain and or discomfort and an Oxy hangover .
My thoughts immediately went to the conversation with Black on how you know when an engine will blow.
Talk about motivation, I was into the doctors office and on my way back to the hospital in no time.Pretty much like guys do when they really want to do something outside the house whether it is Golf , Fish, Hunt or hang with buds at the local watering hole.
I had to drink 2 bottles of chalk and wait.
They ran the tests and I waited more.
Enter Dr. Laura Stoiber.
and this is where it gets fuzzy .
I remember her saying you are a very sick man and you will not be going home.
We talked some more about how I felt and how I got to where I am at.and I remember her saying.
" You think your pretty tough"
me: Not really, but.....
I realized here she is a tough cookie and when she says you are a sick man, your sick
She is an internal something specialist who loves wielding a knife.
But in the end the type of surgeon and Doctor I needed to explain how my life just changed.
I put my X on a paper agreeing to let her dissect me.
She said explained the procedures and said it went septic in two areas, one obviously there for awhile because it had healed or scabbed or something. and the other was major.
Enter Sandman. "Now I will sleep through this ri.........ght" Out like a light.
The bride would have to fill you in on the rest.
I still cannot remember.
I remember the ICU nurses being very helpful.
I remember the button for the pain self manged pain injection.
I remember nurses talking how one patient in the next room got grounded from his pain button because he tried to hit it 3000 times in a shift, 375 times an hour or 6.25 times per minute.
I remember Ice.
I remember the Food Network 24/7, No one could figure it out. I couldn't eat but I insisted on watching my new girl Friend Giada.
I remember Dr. S coming in and referring to her as the 3 headed dragon.
I remember three attractive doctors and nurses surrounding me and commenting how beautiful i was until I realized they were commenting on my scars and open stomach wound.
And I remember the day count since my last meal. ( in all 21 days with no food)
I remember Gina's friend Yuka describing my colon as special.
I could share more stories and maybe as time goes I can share some of my Stoiber moments as I call them.
In the end I was released on June 10 in the evening.
I felt good but was told I looked like shit.
I have to thank all the nurses in ICU,the Regular wing and Post Op including my wound nurses and Doctor S who continue to tell me how beautiful I am.
Now into a month at home I feel good enough to Blog.
I will try to keep things interesting but when all you can do is Watch the grass grow or in our case burn up.
I cannot;
Lift more than 10 pounds,
Cut grass
Fish
Hunt
Drive
Eat Pizza
Eat Italian
Drink beer
Pop
Chew Gum
Run Walk the dogs on their leashes.
I am walking and preparing for the Bean Bag Battle of Turtle Lake next Saturday at cousin Frank's lakeside retreat.
For my friends who insist our family is connected.
The elders of the family meet once a year at a cabin in East Central Wisconsin in which Big Al Capone insisted we have.
Vitali families from the East Coast, West Coast and South East gather to share information and get the state of the family address from Tampa Godfather Josephine, West Coast Godfather Crazy "Z" Zelinda, Godfather Rudolfo is ill and will not be able to leave his secluded compound, but the family will be well represented.
See everyone there.
La Vita Bella
Life is Beautiful
The long story short.
