Rolling with My Repairs - like a Bowling Ball

When I drove back into Garland on March 20th, there were many an item to repair; the blown down fence, the tortoise burrow, the fallen tree limbs in that the city Code Enforcement disliked, the non-functioning air conditioning in the warming Texas spring, the non-spinning washing machine, the dead car battery and maybe my marriage. I added all of these to my scheduled personal repair set for March 30, 2023. 

When I came to on the morning of March 30th, I had three holes drilled into me like a bowling ball.

I'd been wobbling around for awhile, not feeling like I was rolling straight and true. I wasn't sure, but it seemed like I wasn't always in my lane. I checked myself and determined I was rolling some gutter balls.  It wasn't getting any better either.

In fact, I was getting worse, having the unpleasant sensation of having to tuck my guts back up inside me when they oozed out too far. Something had to be done.

Tired of the late winter dismal solitude to which I had assigned myself in order to get my dream house built on Pilchuck Creek, I jump to a solution. I spontaneously booked a flight in February to the warmer climes of Texas and the warmth of my wife under shared blankets. While back in Dallas I scheduled an appointment with surgeon Birdwell. I told Birdwell I had a hernia. 

He checked me and said "No, mister you have two."

As some of you know, I am all about value. I and Birdwell dicker and I end up getting a 2-for-1 deal! I am excited by my bargain surgery. But -- Should I be?

Flashing my Medicare Card and Part D Supplemental Insurance for this newly certified old guy with oozing intestines, I scheduled an operation for the end of March. 

I was told by the my scheduling nurse that my surgery was going to be conducted with "the robot." She informed me, "the surgeons all love to use the robot, so it is good that we are setting up your operation this far in advance so Dr. Birdwell can call dibs on the robot."

She made it sound like this was a good thing. I had images from the movie Alien, where an egg-laying insectivorous alien in outer space would deposit her eggs in the thorax of a human, only to have them gestate and explode out of the poor victim's body. What a horrifying mess. Not a good image for me to hold as I go into surgery to meet a robot.

So I move on, only to have my mind snap from visual to audio; playing in my mind, The Flaming Lips song, Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots.

It is not far off to sing about oozing hips battling the medical robots.

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We are up at 5:30 Friday. I am fasting, so getting-ready-time is quick with no breakfast. Sue drives me to North Dallas Surgery Center for my 7 AM check-in. We witness no less than three vehicles running red lights in front of us at this early hour. What? Is everybody running late for surgery?

Dr. Birdwell is a little late (should have run a red light I guess), so my OR visit will be around 8:30 instead of 8. My name, operating theater and estimated time are posted on an electronic keno board, like airport flight arrival and departure information for Sue to monitor. I sleep like a dead man thanks to the anesthesiologist's good work. But unlike Michael Jackson, I wake up.

All has gone pretty well, or so I am told. In this case the good robots won the battle and put my guts back where they belong. Now I have to be strong, discipline my body, eat lots of vitamins and not lift anything greater than ten pounds for two weeks.

When I am in my right mind and now ready to be clothed, Sue comes in around the curtain to my bed and hands me my slippers. Over the next few weeks I will be practicing my 'bunny dips' as I recover from abdominal surgery.

I have but three small holes poked into me just below my ribcage. No stiches, the holes have been filled with super glue that will wear off in a few weeks. I am to see Dr. Birdwell in two weeks to check on my healing. 

Yoshimi drives me home so I can meet with the AC repairman at 1 this afternoon.

Yoshimi bakes brownies and makes a smoothie at my request. She gets busy and I shuffle into the kitchen to make dinner for the both of us, a simple shrimp boil supper with a remoulade dipping sauce enjoyed under newly repaired air conditioned dining and newly repaired intestines. 

I am tender, but thankful for the robots and only three tiny holes, rather than a scalpel and a groin incision and lots of stiches. 

I heal up pretty good listening to the Flaming Lips and watching Sigourney Weaver battle aliens with robots. 

Broken Things Back on the Home Front

Up home in the Pacific Northwest, spring is lingering in the wings. In February I tossed out a bunch of grass seed around the muddy perimeter of the house construction site, believing winter is all but gone. Only to have the anticipated spring weather cowered by a return to the gray, overcast skies and temperatures in the 40s F. 

I hear the annual call from the taxman - personal taxes are due April 18th. My tax files and info are stored there in Texas. I got to get back and file from my Texas home. 

I get calls from my wife in Texas about storm damage, as does happen in the topsy turvy Texas springtime meteorological cycle. Texas spring has its thunderstorms, tornadoes, pelting rains and forceful winds. 

I also hear the call to return to my wife after many months of separation. I am called upon to come home and take care of a few things around the house.

I get a call from my surgeon reminding me of proper preparation and prompt schedules for me at the end of March. I need to hurry back to meet Dr. Birdwell and his robotic knife. 

My dance card is full. This tune will be the ol' Texas Two Step and more!

I check the routes over the mountains between my home in Washington and my home in Texas. Freak snows, late-season heavy snows, send out cautionary messages to me, the overland traveler. I heed the calls to return, but I also heed the weather warnings; I will plan out a safer, slower, southern route for my calls to come back home.  

Homecoming, Spring 2023: I find many items in need of repair, some planned, others not, having all come to the fore to greet my arrival. I find everything is broken or about to be...

The week prior to my arrival in Garland, Sue had extremely strong winds and a tornado watch one night. No tornado, but several panels of my fence were blow off their posts, shingles torn from the backyard shed roof along with the dropping of a couple of large limbs from our pear tree. 

I arrived in Garland Monday evening, 3-20, the four head of tortoise we run there in Texas were stirring and were ready for the great outdoors, having awoken from their long winter's nap of hibernation. But with a broken down fence, they were forced to stomp around inside our house (their winter quarters) until I went to Home Depot and got some fence rail lumber to reconstruct the destruction of their secure enclosure ringing their backyard pasture. 

I spent a day rebuilding the fence and not doing taxes because I like reptiles more than I like the IRS. I'm pleased to say Isaac, Chomper, Morpheus and Li'l (Tex) Vortex are now happily grazing on dandelions in the enclosure during these warm Texas spring days.

An expected repair, my 4Runner was in need of an oil change after 2550 miles driven. I checked into the local Toyota dealership. The multipoint inspection included a warning that I needed a new battery, my current one was failing to hold a charge. I declined the dealership's battery installation and thought I'd look for a new Interstate brand battery later in the week. I didn't have that luxury. It did not start the next morning in my garage. 

An unexpected repair. I found a service that would come out and put in an Interstate battery for the cost of what the dealership was going to charge. I was pleased to have the service and that also meant another day of avoiding doing my taxes.

I tried a mid-week laundry run with my travel clothes, only to discover that the washing machine spin cycle does not spin. It takes a long time to dry clothes that are soaking wet, hanging outside in the warm spring Texas breeze. I see yet another repair needed around here. Later.

The weather was in the 70's; the fence repaired, the tortoises were happy being outside and it was time to switch to A/C from heat inside. I come back inside after a day of cutting up the fallen pear branches for which the City Code Enforcer cited me. Inside the house I think it should be cooler than it is. The thermostat is programmed for 74, the house is still at 79. 

I call the guy who installed the HVAC system in 2017. He can't be there until Saturday, early Saturday. 

How early I ask? Around 8. 

I call and leave a message after 9. Nine is not around 8 in my book. 

I get a text that he's sick. But, he can be out tomorrow if I can wait. 

What time Sunday? Around 10.

This time I don't bother to call after his no-show. 

On Monday I call another company. They will be out Tuesday. They arrive as promised. They look at the situation and tell me I have a bad control board. They tell me is looks like it is under warranty. I will pay shipping, about $25 for the part.

They call me back later and tell me they do not usually work with Lennox systems. I should find another company to do the work. 

I call Lennox in South Carolina, they do not have a list of repairmen in Garland, but they do have a supplier. I call the local supplier. They have a recommendation. I call and get my 3rd company to set an appointment for Thursday. He checks out my system as tells me my control board works just fine, but that the disconnect breaker was put in upside down. He switched it and the unit fires up. He then tells me that I may be low on Freon from a leak, he'll be back tomorrow to check my levels. There will be a labor charge, but no parts are needed.

I tell him to make it afternoon on Friday, rather than the morning. 

I have surgery scheduled for Friday morning. This time it me who needs some repair work done.

I am out of the OR, groggy but scheduled to meet the A/C repairman at 1. I move to the door very gingerly in my sweats and Hawaiian shirt with hospital ID bracelet in place and IV gauze wrapped around my wrist.

It is a day of repairs. I get 3 1/2 lbs of Freon in my AC system.

I get my intestines tucked back in place in my digestive system. 

Sue makes brownies and a smoothie for me. My pampered convalescence was short-lived. I end up cooking our dinner that night of shrimp with a spicy romualde sauce.  Moving around in the kitchen is what the surgeon recommends to keep my internal stitches from getting too tight. Maybe it helps, maybe it doesn't. Standing is fine. Sleeping on my back is fine. Transitioning between the two is difficult.

We are two days past April Fools Day. The jokes keep coming. 

Surgery on Friday. Day #2 was the most tinder, but by Monday I'm doing pretty well. The washing machine clutch was replaced this afternoon, so I stayed home and did not do my taxes. The fence is up, my car battery is working, the city is happy that my unsightly yard is clean, the broken doorknob on the laundry closet was replace. Progress all. 

And just maybe tomorrow I will get back to my taxes. But right now my wife has a lemon meringue pie waiting for me. Isn't life worth repairing so one can enjoy a homemade pie?