I am not exactly sure what I want to write tonight but I really feel the need to post. I suppose it is more screaming into the void, but then again that's what this blog was designed for. Turns out it's a lot slower posting this way then it was when I could type,but it is a lot faster than I can type with my gimpy hands.
I really do need to thank everyone for their outstanding and overwhelming support. I have gotten more letters and cards I can possibly read in a lifetime. Well, that's not true, I suppose in my lifetime I'll be able to read them all, considering nothing has been able to kill me thus far. Actually that's a bad joke as well, I used to tell the boys that the man wasn't born yet that could kill me. Well, I haven't met that man yet, I did meet the man that could splatter my ass all over Iraq. Top tells me that it was an 82 mm mortar round that was buried next to the barrier that I was crouched next to. All I really remember from the time it went off to the time that I was in the canal, upside down bobbing for God knows what, is a loud bang and looking at my hands in thinking, oh my God. That's all that I can remember happening from the time it went off. I'm not ready to share the story of exactly what happened when I got hurt. I know many of you are waiting with baited breath for the story of Chuck's mishap. I have shared it with a few of the dignitaries who have come in here, but it is hard to tell a four-star general to mind his own beeswax When he is standing in front of you (not to mention the president of the United States.)
I guess I'll take it from y'all if you want to hear about my day-to-day activities in the hospital. The retards I run into( if you will excuse the term) and the people that I deal with.
For instance, I ran into a guy in the OT (occupational therapy) clinic who was wearing a shirt that said three out of four ain't bad. I looked to see that he was missing a foot. I pointed and laughed at his shirt. I told him that I recognized it from a web site that I found earlier, when I was looking for gloves for the three fingered man. By the way, do y'all have any idea how hard it is to find clothes with no pinkie? I looked for over an hour and ran into a lot of amputee porn sites (use sick bastards). But no luck with the gloves.
So it's up to you guys, if I write about what happened to me today; or if I write about what's bugging me or if I just write about... wait a minute. I just realized that I'm asking you what you want me to write about. That was never the intent of this blog. Seems like I'm starting to write for the reader, not for the person that writes. Sorry, but that would make me a media outlet and I just can't do that (sorry guys, just way too much integrity to be considered a journalist of any kind.)
Of course, notes to self are always going to be a blast, like today. Note to self: don't chew any part of the fentnal lollipop. If you aren't aware of fentnal is a drug that will put you into outer space, cross your eyes, make you dizzy, and make you not recognize the mother's ring that you bought for your wife last Christmas. Fentnal is extremely powerful. And the lollipops were designed for the special forces medics to carry so that they can give their wounded something to calm them way, way down. Fentnal will definitely take you to funky town. They give me these lollipops, before I go to OT. So that they will help me with the pain. They help. They take all the pain away. But the lollipops were meant to be sucked on, not chewed on. I chewed on mine. It made me dizzy. To say the least. Luckily, Carren was there to keep me from getting in any trouble.