The Walking Dead

Great series, right? It's nice to have quality TV for once...something different than an hour of following a Z-list celebrity's daily life or seeing the inner workings of a fucking pawn shop. However, the subject line isn't about the show.

I'm in a weird place right now. I sleep a lot, and when I'm awake I dose myself to ignore the throbbing reminder of my current woe. I watch the time tick away as if I'm waiting for an upcoming event, but there isn't anything coming up soon. The benefit show for me is December 1st, but between then and now, I just have time.

Time for what? To recover...to start looking for a job again...but what else? I don't know where I fit in anymore. I'm not a bar fly anymore. I don't want to belong with the 12-steppers, but I can't really hang out with my existing friend base either...at least not like I used to.

"What are you going to do with your life?" I...um...wanna rock? I wish it was that simple. I wish the answer to life was a Twisted Sister video, because then I would have an ultimate goal and sense of purpose. Right now, I feel I have neither. I currently do nothing but exist. I eat, sleep, take pills and move my arm around 'til it hurts.

It's a struggle to be creative. I'm forcing myself right now to write this. I wish I could spend all my free time creating...writing...but I just don't feel up to it yet. It doesn't seem like I have anything to say.

What am I waiting for? I don't think there is anyone who can save me from this. I'm going to have to pull myself out of this rut I've made and jumped into. I can probably get out of it...just not today.

"How Are You Doing?"

For the record, this is not to induce sympathy (empathy?). I just want to let you guys know how it's going.

Friday's appointment went well with the wound care people - the wound VAC came off...I'll find out on Monday if that's a permanent thing or not. It more than likely is. That would mean we move into the area of dressing the wound every X number of days and wait for it to seal up. Pray that it does and that I don't need a plastic surgeon to do a skin graft.

Side Note: I keep wanting to type "skin graph" but that implies something completely different and weird as fuck.

Okay, now the bad news. I'm going through withdrawals from hospital pain medication. Can you believe this shit? The prescription pain meds help get through it, but it turns me into a dazed and drowsy jackass who just wants to sleep and watch bad TV.

I can tell my arm is getting better, but throbbing pain is a consistent. I'm bored here at the house, but I don't really know that I want to do anything, if that makes sense. I'm restless and worn out at the same time.

Thanks for everybody's support.

Well, That's Great

I was informed that I no longer am employed due to my lengthy hospital stay and upcoming recovery time. So, I'll be looking for a job soon.
I don't know if I'll be able to find another low=paying part-time job, but hopefully they're out there.
If anybody has any leads, let me know. I will be able to work in a couple of weeks, I believe.
I think I'll be getting out of here in the next day or so. Here's hoping. Thanks to all of your e-mails, calls and visits. You guys rock.

Say Hi!

Right now, I'm blocked out of reading and posting on Facebook. Some people would call that a blessing, and in a lot of ways it is. However, many of my friends live in that fucking social circle. Who knows if it's possible to break through to some of those people and get them to come back to the primitive "e-mail" or, God forbid, phone.

Well, people, I'm recovering in Austin Heart Hospital, and I'm bored. My e-mail is smokepuppet@gmail.com and the phone # for this room is 407-7222. If you'd like to take a break from your Fun fun fun weekend and say hey, that would be cool. Could someone post this shit on my FB page?

If not, I've just discovered Sudoku, so I've got that going for me.

Hospitalized.

Hey all. I'll be brief, but I figured I should update everyone who cares about my current condition/situation.
Firstly, when you hear "John's in the hospital", there's a lot of things that come to mind. Let me just say, No, not because of anything 'funny' going on. I have cellulitis.
From WebMD:
"Cellulitis is a skin infection caused by bacteria. Normally, your skin helps protect you from infection. But if you have a cut, sore, or insect bite, bacteria can get into the skin and spread to deeper tissues. If it is not treated with antibiotics, the infection can spread to the blood or lymph nodes. This can be deadly.
"Some people can get cellulitis without having a break in the skin. These include older adults and people who have diabetes or a weak immune system. These people are also more likely to develop dangerous problems from cellulitis."
My right arm was swollen to twice its normal size on Saturday. I went to the ER at Austin Heart on Halloween, and I've been here ever since. Recovery is going well, and if you want to find out more info about it, shoot me an e-mail. I'm going to be here for several days, and I am not opposed to visitors.
If I hadn't come in...staph infection leading to serious shit, but I am not contagious. (Internal infection, relax.)
I'm thankful my friends encouraged me not to try to handle this on my own, because this turned into a pretty big fucking deal. We're looking at possible skin graft and physical therapy in the near future. But I've got my family and you guys. Thanks for your support.

John

PLEASE NOTE: The WiFi at Austin Heart blocks Facebook. Seriously. I can't read or post there. So, I'll be updating here. When I found out I couldn't communicate through Facebook, I actually thought, what am I going to do? The Internet has turned us in co-dependent pussies.

I Will Still Be Thirty-Something

My birthday is today (Friday). Turning 37 is not very spectacular, but after it pasts I'll be closer to 40 than to 35/mid-thirties.

I'm not afraid of turning 40 because of the age. "You're over the hill" can suck it, I don't care. It's more about my accomplishments or lack thereof. One thing I recommend not doing is comparing yourself to your parents. "When my dad was my age, he was blah and had already blah blah blah with two kids and blah..." It's depressing. Don't do it. (Unless your parents were fuck-ups, then go for it.)

Most people my age have a family, a primary care physician that is checking their prostate on a regular basis and a job that has them looking ahead towards possible retirement. I've just started an entry-level job that is part time. I've moved into a room in a house of a couple I know...I'm doing a lot of things that are very 19-to-22ish. But you know...not everyone gets a chance like this to start again. I'm very fortunate. It takes being without certain things everyone takes for granted for a few months to really appreciate your own space...your own bed...your privacy.

We'll see what happens in the next year...Happy birthday to me.

It's Been Time, Asshole

I've been staying with my friend on her couch for 3 months now. Alot has happened, both good and bad, but I'm moving this week to my own room...my own space. Granted, I'll be staying with 3 other people in a house, but fuck all that, I get my own goddamn room.
I've gone through several lifestyle changes in my soon-to-be 37 years on this planet. I was a preacher's kid, the head of a renegade frat on a Baptist college campus, a married man with the right house, right wife, right job, right cars and unhappy as hell, a barfly, a man who finally found true love, and a junkie. To be honest, I don't know how the fuck I'm still alive...but I am.
I'm beginning something new, and I can't help but be a little excited and scared about it. I don't know where I'm going to go from here, but I'm ready to move forward instead of treading water relying on another person or a program or whatever to help me. It's time I helped myself.

So that's what I'm going to do. Maybe by doing so I can start writing fucking jokes again.

One thing at a time, J F'n R.