The Chronicles of Rehab: Better Than Others

     I DISLOCATED MY SHOULDER WHILE SKIING THREE YEARS AGO. I NEVER HAD SURGERY ON THE SHOULDER BECAUSE I WAS CHEAP AND I COULD LIVE WITH IT. IT WASN'T IMPACTING MY DAY TO DAY LIFE. THIS PAST AUGUST I TORE MY ACL. IT IMMEDIATELY IMPACTED MY DAY TO DAY LIFE. I DECIDED TO OPERATE ON BOTH, IN THE SAME INSURANCE YEAR, SO THAT I COULD "BUY ONE GET ONE FREE" FOR SURGERIES AND REHAB. THESE EXPERIENCES WILL LIKELY DOMINATE THIS BLOG FOR THE FORESEEABLE FUTURE.

(another side note: I really thought, upon creation, that this blog would be more funny than serious or philosophical, but all of my funny keeps getting absorbed by my other blog. Oh well.)

     My students at LCC this term have been treated to an instructor who has had two surgeries in two months. On the first day of class, I limped in on a knee immobilizer (but at least was off crutches), and last week I walked in with a hefty, all-business sling. One of my students made this blunt, astute comment regarding my surgeries: "That's a real shot to your manhood."

     It really has been.

     All told, I am going to lose about a year (and two summers) to these injuries. They keep me from being able to work around the house, exercise, and now I can't play with my baby like I used to. It's been humbling and frustrating, and for the first time in my life I think I've had little bouts of depression.

     (After my shoulder surgery, my main thought has been "I am so glad I did this," just because I can't wait to have a stable, trustworthy shoulder again. So don't put me on a suicide watch list or anything.)

     A lot of people have offered me consolation along the lines of "well, it could be worse" and "there are plenty of people worse off than you." I find myself thinking through the logic of those sentiments. It's odd - maybe "terrible" is a better word - that comfort can be found in comparing one's self to those less fortunate. It's just the human condition I assume. But those statements imply that there are a select few individuals that can't be consoled. No one has it worse. It couldn't be worse. Is that possible?

Job not Gob

     This is where the term "of Biblical proportions" has great meaning to me. The Bible is filled with stories of extremes. King Solomon had access to all earthly comforts and desires and wasn't satisfied, Jesus lived a perfect life and died for sin, Paul was the top Christian-killer before his conversion, I can't think of anyone with a better claim to revenge than young David against King Saul, and Job lost everything - land, livestock, family, health - yet still praised God. These extremes make our mundane lives comfortable and easy by comparison, which I think is among God's goals with scripture.

     Even without the story of Job, my plight is not terribly severe. I have a loving wife, healthy baby, warm house, good job with good insurance, a friend from church who's a skilled surgeon, and supportive friends and family surrounding me. But Job sure helps me find perspective.

     "It could be worse" bothers me less than "there are plenty of people worse off than you." I liken it to the following scenario: when I chat with someone that has a casual belief in God and Heaven, they invariably state that they think they'll go to heaven because they are a good person. When I ask what they mean by "a good person," their response is typically not about the good things they do, but the bad things they don't do. "I just know there are people a lot worse than me. I don't kill or steal or do things like that."

     If one stops and thinks about it, this is a crappy, dickish way to determine who gets into heaven. It'd only be half of all the people, right? The good half? That sucks. It means, by default, billions of people have no shot at heaven. What's worse, you are taking somebody's spot!! If you were a good person, should you give that spot to someone else?

     This doesn't seem fair. Shouldn't heaven be fair? Maybe it's not the top 50% who get in, but the top 70%. Or 90%. Whatever percentage we land on, we are going to have the same quota problem, where a certain number of people have to go to hell (or go to "not heaven," or even "not the best level of heaven" if you are that soft on Hitler and his ilk). That's no good. Curving a class only helps people above the curve, it actually dooms those beneath it. That's only fair if those people deserve to fail already. So we really can't base our heaven-going status on relative goodness.

     So a universal standard of goodness must be applied. I think we can all agree on major things, like don't murder or steal or abuse your kids. But as we get down to the nitty-gritty of that line of thinking, it becomes a huge disaster. What about the hungry who have to steal to eat? What about killing out of self defense? What about people born with a genetic disposition towards anger, or alcoholism? What if someone's dad beat them, making them much more likely to beat their kids? It turns out that things beyond our control - our parents, environment, fortune, location, era, health, etc. - probably have a greater impact on our "goodness" than we do. This also does not seem fair - that those privileged in this life are more likely to be privileged in the next.

The 99% aren't good. Neither is that 1%.

      One could claim that God would know who was and wasn't a good enough person. He can obviously account for all of those factors that I just mentioned and make a fair judgement. But there's still a logical flaw in this logic. One only has to be good enough. One could balance their good with choice bad, to their advantage. Maybe doing intentional, calculated bad means that one is truly a bad person, but then I think that would make all of us bad people (for what it's worth, I think we are). I can't see a getting-into-heaven-system that doesn't accommodate anything but constantly pursuing good.

     I moved quickly from "my shoulder hurts" to "there are no good people." That's just how my brain works. I test an idea by taking it to its logical extremes, both enormous and minute. I think God is a God of logic. In fact, I think "logical" might be the best way to describe him, above all other terms. I'd like to take this moment to clarify that "logical" does not mean "simple" or "scientific." I think a lot of people confuse those.

     I appreciate condolences about my surgeries and injuries. I know people are well-intending, even when they call me old and broken. Apart from this short span I am super healthy and relatively injury-free. I am extremely blessed, and not just because my life is better than most. I believe that all people have the potential to be blessed, because it's not only offered to the good. Because there are no good. It's offered to all who are willing to take it, and it's called Jesus Christ.

Chronicles of Rehab: Best Spring Break Ever?

     I DISLOCATED MY SHOULDER WHILE SKIING THREE YEARS AGO. I NEVER HAD SURGERY ON THE SHOULDER BECAUSE I WAS CHEAP AND I COULD LIVE WITH IT. IT WASN'T IMPACTING MY DAY TO DAY LIFE. THIS PAST AUGUST I TORE MY ACL. IT IMMEDIATELY IMPACTED MY DAY TO DAY LIFE. I DECIDED TO OPERATE ON BOTH, IN THE SAME INSURANCE YEAR, SO THAT I COULD "BUY ONE GET ONE FREE" FOR SURGERIES AND REHAB. THESE EXPERIENCES WILL LIKELY DOMINATE THIS BLOG FOR THE FORESEEABLE FUTURE.

     Spring Break in the rest of the country seems like a warm, happy, magical time. The sun is out, there is heat radiating from the sky, and you can enjoy the end of the cold, dark winter with nine days of relaxation. In the Pacific Northwest, spring break is a stretch of nine days to continue experiencing dark, grey wet dripping from the sky. If you want sun you have to head south.
     So when I had my knee surgery the Thursday before spring break started, I had one hope: I hoped it rained for the entire break.
     When you only get sun -- real, consistently warm sun -- for four or five months a year, it's devastating to miss out on it. If I was stuck in bed or on pain killers while the world was playing and frolicking and smiling I would be miserable.

     Lucky for me, what I got was a week of couches, beds, playstation, nintendo, pain killers, march madness and being waited on hand and foot - all while the weather outside was predominately stormy and wet. It. was. wonderful.

     Things like this happened:

     This was taken right after I got home from surgery. I got in the couch and wanted to start the adventure, so I grabbed the computer and promptly fell asleep. Like and hour and a half later Cara tried to take it from me and I woke up, having not done a thing, and said "no I'm not done yet" and held on the laptop. I then promptly went back to bed.

     Once I tried to get up and about I realized the beauty of surgery:

     I get to ride scooters around stores! I have a handicapped parking permit! People get out of my way! People hold elevators for me! I think that handicapped parking permit is going to be a ridiculous luxury come june - september, when I am no longer really hobbling around. I'll try not to abuse it.

     This spring break I beat a video game I had wanted to play for over a decade (Majora's Mask if anyone cares). I didn't do an ounce of work until the Friday of spring break. I didn't feed the baby or walk it around or try to put it to sleep. I didn't make dinner or clean. People felt very sorry for me and were nice to me. I didn't go to church but slept in (I'm not saying that's a plu-- yes I am). I watched shows on Netflix and tried Hulu+ (it's awful, don't get it).

This is Wyatt on the bed with me whilest I play nintendo.  This is the dream/

     I truly hope I never have to do it again.

The Chronicles of Rehab: Interacting With Nurses

     I dislocated my shoulder while skiing three years ago (almost to the day). I never had surgery on the shoulder because I was cheap and I could live with it. It wasn't impacting my day to day life. This past August I tore my ACL. It immediately impacted my day to day life. I decided to operate on both, in the same insurance year, so that I could "buy one get one free" for surgeries and rehab. These experiences will likely dominate this blog for the foreseeable future.

     Recently, I admitted to the world that I am a fainter who wets himself and then rubs his hands in his urine. It is a good thing I am already married, because a blog post like that (and a picture like the one at the bottom of this page) would never see the light of day otherwise. But it gets better. Apparently I am an embarassing ass when drugged.
     When I am in a right state of mind, I think I am a pretty friendly and entertaining person. I put forth extra effort to be relaxed and of good humor when I'm around people that usually don't interact with a lot of happy people, like cops, doctors, nurses, pharmacists, dentists, door-to-door salesmen, and customer service reps who actually try to be helpful. So when my nurse is asking me questions to get to know me and do her job, I try to ask her some too. When my anesthesiologist says "I am going to give you a shot in your groin" I reply "oh gosh, I am very nervous about my groin in general" and he laughs. When the surgeon says "surgery went well" I say "you're welcome."
     All of that sincere, genuine kindness? No good when I'm medicated.
     I don't know if this will make sense unless you have experienced and then reflected on it, but when I was coming out of my induced sleep after surgery, I was awake before I was awake. I was saying and doing things I have no recollection of doing. At some point, next thing I know I am sitting up, actually awake, and people are laughing and talking to me, but in a sort of forced, maybe-not-totally comfortable way. Looking back I see they were laughing at me, of course. But at the time, I don't know it. I was all of a sudden awake and people were having a good time and I was just loose enough to roll with it.
     So I got louder. I tried to get funnier. I playfully told my nurse I was going to give her a bad evaluation. I called another nurse by the wrong name, because that's hilarious too. After a couple of minutes of this, a nurse asks me what my job is and I say "I teach math."
     "Oh, I bet you are one of the cool teachers, huh?"
     "Definitely. The coolest. That's all I care about. I don't care if they are learning math at all, just as long as they think I am cool. In fact, I try to teach them how to be cool. Because coolness, that lasts forever."
     "Oh yeah, how do you teach them to be cool?"
     "Oh it's all about looks. Obviously. I mean as you are taking off my scrubs you can tell that I am super good looking, so I'm cool."
     "Yeah, I need to dress cooler" one nurse says.
     "No no no, you're fine."I turn to another nurse. I honestly can't remember if I complemented her or insulted her, but I think I landed on "you'd be cool if you had a different haircut."


     These are a few of the things I remember saying. Apparently I said other things too. For example, Cara saw someone in the Operating Room she knew, so they stopped and chatted. As she tells it, their conversation went like this:
     -exchange pleasantries-
     Him (pointing to Wyatt): Is that your baby?
     Cara: Yeah, this is Wyatt
     Him (pointing to me in the bed): Is that yours too?
     Cara: Yes, he's mine too.
     Me, to no one in particular: I BELONG TO NO ONE!! <throws fist in the air>


     According to my mom, who was there towards the end: When the nurse was taking off your scrubs and putting you in your clothes, you were very concerned. You kept saying things like "Should you be doing this in front of my wife? This isn't okay, it's very inappropriate." The nurse would say, "no, she's okay with it, she's right there." I would insist "she would not be okay with this, this isn't appropriate."
     Apparently the nurse then made fun of my chest hair? "Chest fuzz" is the term my mom said the nurse used. Point of the story: I'm a catch.

     Also according to Cara: She's on one side of the bed and I see her and reach out my hands to touch her face or something, but I am looking at her and grabbing at someplace far off to the left. Then, a moment later, she is on the other side of the bed. I ask "Who are you?" Cara still hasn't made it clear to me if I was being playful or if I was confused. 
     One of the nurses says "That's your wife!"
     I look her up and down and proclaim "I can do better."


     Now, you are fully aware that I am a faint-then-pee-then-stick-my-hand-in-my-pee kinda guy who looks like this and who apparently can't hold his pain meds the way mormons can't hold their liquor. I'd like to make this very clear to everyone: holy crap no I cannot do better. Cara and I got engaged 17 days after we started dating for a reason. I had to lock that down. I needed to get her married before she realized what a loser I am. Whenever someone asks me about my wife, like a coworker or someone who hasn't met her, I explain that she's a beautiful smart pharmacist who definitely married down. They tend to think I am being falsely modest (so they obviously don't know me well, false modesty is not my thing). Then one day they meet her. Later on I say "see, I wasn't kidding when I say she married down" and they politely agree.

Cara and Scout and I at Blue Pool

The Chronicles of Rehab: Accidents

     I dislocated my shoulder while skiing three years ago (almost to the day). I never had surgery on the shoulder because I was cheap and I could live with it. It wasn't impacting my day to day life. This past August I tore my ACL. It immediately impacted my day to day life. I decided to operate on both, in the same insurance year, so that I could "buy one get one free" for surgeries and rehab. These experiences will likely dominate this blog for the foreseeable future.

     Note: This post contains some pretty graphic "toilet humor" that many of you may find offensive. I am going to use blunt and uncomfortable words like "pee," "urine," "apple juice" and "framsham" to describe bodily functions. I apologize for any issue this may cause you in your life.

This is how the adventure started.

     "You see, Grant's a fainter."

     There are few things more old-timey-embarassing than fainting. It's what you see overwhelmed housewives do on black-and-white tv shows when something shocking happens. Today, my dad explained to my wife that I am "a fainter."
     Today was my ACL surgery. We scheduled the surgery the day after I gave finals so that I would have almost two weeks to recover without work. Cara and Wyatt and I drove to the orthopedics center at 6:00am, braving ice and cold. I was admitted promptly, operated on smoothly, and sent home around 10:00 am. I am currently lying on the couch with a TV remote, wireless PS3 controller, laptop, DS and a copy of The Hobbit. I chose to leave the Wii in the bedroom so that when we go to bed I can play there too.
     Moments ago, I was lying on the bathroom floor looking at the ceiling, thinking to myself "Wow I am hungry."
     At about noon I really had to pee. I had to pee so bad it woke me from my nap. I told Cara, she got my crutches ready and helped me to my feet. I crutched to the toilet, centered myself, braced myself against a wall, and urinated. As I was peeing I felt a lot of relief. Then I felt weak. Then I realized I was going to faint and had one thought: "Don't hurt your knee." So I rotated, fell back against the wall, and took a nap.
     I woke up about a minute later. Cara was nervous and asking me questions. She was sure I had concussed. Apparently she saw me just as my eyes were rolling back into my head and I was losing consciousness. I was quickly able to reassure her that I was fine, that I remember my back hitting the wall and not my head, that I was very hungry, that I had drunk some apple juice I think, that I felt fine, and that everything was okay. She called my dad to come help me up, and just be around in general. She was very shook up.
     After she had relaxed a bit she was sitting on the toilet (not using it!!) and talking with me, trying to keep me awake just to be safe. She said "You know you peed your pants, right?" I knew my shirt was wet and assumed it was sweat. I did not know I had peed my pants.
     "Yeah, I know," was my reassuring reply. "Poop!!" I thought while lying on the bathroom floor, lying to my wife. "I haven't wet myself since the last time I was in a pool! And I haven't accidentally wet my self since 2008! I really wanted to make it a whole decade for once." (sorry, I guess I should have warned you that I used the word "poop" too).

Apparently Wyatt and I look identical after peeing on the floor: comfortable. (Picture NSFW)

     Dad arrived (after having gone to get some food. Seriously.) and nonchalantly told Cara "Grant's a fainter." You see, I have used to get "head rushes" all the time. Do you ever stand up fast - so fast that your vision fades away except a small circle, you feel dizzy and weak, and have a slight headache as everything goes back to normal. That's a head rush. I have had hundreds, most of them in high school (not when I was high).

     In college I went to see the dentist once (like, literally, I think I only went one time). They didn't give me any anesthetic or knock me out or anything, just numbed my mouth. I hadn't eaten all day (which happened quite often back then. Breakfast was a luxury.) When they finished doing whatever they were doing, they said "okay, you're good to go!" and I said "really?" I felt weak and like it was sudden. I got up, walked outside and got one of those head-rushes. This time, as it was happening I thought "Wow, this is a bad one!" Then I thought "Wow! I think I am going to faint!"
     Next thing I knew I heard two people walking up, a little girl and her mom. The daughter was very sweet and talkative. I heard her, without being able to distinguish any words, in the distance, and then thought "I am outside a dentist's office lying on my back, fainted (I still couldn't see at this point). She is going to be so nervous and hate the dentist."
     She said "Mommy he's sleeping!"
     Mommy said "No, um, honey, he's not."
     I started to sit up and look around and said "I'm fine, I'm fine, I think I fainted but I'm fine. The dentist is nice."
     The dentists and hygienists were mortified. They were very helpful and gave me some of their lunch. My mommy picked me up, bought me food and drove my home. I was fine.

     I guess now I am "a fainter." And a, I don't know, a "faint-pee-er."

     Funny conclusion: (at least I think it's funny) You know how I was more concerned about that little girl at the dentist than myself? Well, today while on the bathroom floor, I was also more concerned about Cara's than myself. She was actually in tears at some point. Apparently, when I was unconscious and relieving myself, my hand fell into a pool of urine. When I was conscious, I put my hand up to touch Cara's face or grab or hand and she - having seen the previous dip in the pool I took - was not very receptive.


Number of times I used italics in this post: 5
Number of times I used parentheses in this post: (11)
Number of pictures in this post: 2
Adam Sandler refrences in this post: none