My Disability

I can barely walk in the wake of my recent surgery. I have improved speedwise, but I'm still bent over, as slow as an old man, and quickly tired. My sister took me to Target today and recommended I utilize one of the power-chairs.

As useful as it was, I did not enjoy the experience. I'm only in my twenties, so being in a power-chair I imagine I looked extremely out of place. I felt like everybody was looking at me. "What is he doing in a power-chair?" "Does he really need that?" "I wonder what's wrong with him?" I felt so public, and the most humiliating part was the beep-beep noise I made whenever I backed up. I had to go into the wider main aisles to be able to make a U-turn just so I didn't make that noise.

Also, I can't laugh. Laughter hurts - a lot. I keep wandering across hilarious videos on youtube and I can't appreciate them, or have a good laugh. I can't bend down to play with the family dog, or get up out of bed without serious effort. Life avoiding abdominals exertion is hell.

TRH

My Scary Day

It is 10:43 PM. 48 hours ago I was complaining to my friend Aly about a stomachache and that I was hungry. Really hungry. Like, starving empty oh-my-god hungry. I first noticed the stomachache at about 7 or 8ish. I didn’t eat that night

Next morning I woke up with a stomachache. Funny thing was, I woke up at 5 in the morning. Aching. Rolling around pressure on my gut ache. I went to the 24-hour subway and got a foot-long. Nothing. I took a hot shower, nothing. I thought it was probably the worst gas I’d ever had, a superfart that refused to travel further down my intestines. I don’t really know why, but I decided to go to the doctor at Student Health. I usually don’t go to doctors, especially not for something as simple as a stomachache.

With an hour to go before my first class, I went to the doctor hoping for a laxative or something, maybe a good punch to the gut to get the gas loose. An hour later they drew blood to run in the lab and a half-hour after that (half-hour late for Space Studies, notably) the bloodwork came back. The doctor sat me down and explained that I had a slightly high white blood cell count, as well as some excess bacteria.

This, he said, is usually a strong indicator of appendicitis. My mind skipped a beat. Appendicitis, my little head-voice said, is an inflammation of the appendix, a useless little vestige in our anatomy that nature has rendered useless but not quite done away with. The most effective treatment is an immediate removal of the organ. This means surgery.

The doctor explained that he wanted me to go over to the main hospital for imaging and other tests. I took his photocopy of the lab results and drove the few blocks to Altru. He had already called over, I just had to show up and walk in. I was booked in, checked out, poked and prodded by first a medical doctor and then a surgical resident. The general consensus was that it was indeed appendicitis. I spoke with my mom on the phone a couple times, and my friend Cass called. She asked if I needed anything, and if she should bring me over a Teddy Bear. I smiled inside, because I knew I wanted her too but I didn’t want to ask, in case somebody else overheard. Stupid as it is, I didn’t want to come across as too pitiful.

The nurse came in and put in an IV. I hate needles, and now a plastic straw went into my hand. I hate IVs. Finally, they prepped me for surgery and took me into the room. It was just like most other surgical rooms, white and clean and sterile. They put two armboards on the surgical table and tied me down with towels. It was JUST LIKE the end of Braveheart, actually. I went under and some while later, I woke up in a hospital room. I sat around for an hour or so, groggy and feeling a horrible ache in my stomach where they had made incisions, but maybe not quite as bad as the stomachache before it. I had spoken with mom before the surgery and she wanted to know if she should come up. I went for broke and said yeah, it’d be nice if she could. It’s a five hour drive, and the surgery was less than three hours, so I had some time to kill.

My friends Cass and Eric and Dave all came in around 5ish. And visited. They joked and it hurt to laugh, but it was good to laugh with friends. The best part? Cass (who is the big sister I never had) brought exactly the Teddy Bear that I wanted, without my even saying which one.

Thanks, to all.

TRH

The Algorithm

Viral Marketing

This is the concept of creating curiosity in people about an ad so that they talk about it to their friends, as with superbowl commercials. A lot of the "Modernist" (read: Abstract {read: Stupid}) ads are viral. XKCD recently pointed me at another, about "The Algorithm". Their suspicion was that it was for Ask.com. Seen on bilboards in New York City:

The algorithm consistently finds Jesus.
The algorithm killed Jeeves.
The algorithm is banned in China.
The algorithm is from Jersey.

One reply to that particular blogpost noted a number of other things that "The Algorithm" Could do. "The algorithm makes me a sandwich", "The algorithm constantly finds velociraptors". A few of mine: "The algorithm fights kittens and wins most of the time", "The algorithm can find it's way out of an empty paper bag", "The algorithm does not fear Chuck Norris". What have you got?

Terms of Endearment

Thanks greatly to a couple of recent occurrences, I’ve come up with a new term – DLO. It stands for Date-Like Occurrence. The term refers to hanging out with a person of the opposite gender (or not, depending on the user) in a situation that could be considered a date, but the term-user and partner are not per-se dating. Related Terms:

HDLO – Heavy Date-Like Object. Ends VERY well
EDLO – Expensive Date-Like Object. A concert, or similar expensive effort.

Feel free to submit more as they become relevant or upon discovery, whichever is less applicable.

Mission Statement

We, the colonies, estates, farms and panstellar imperial regencies under the jurisdiction of Ted, do hereby state our mission in this strange place to be…

- To experiment in high-velocity solid, liquid and gel-type explosives so as to further our own collective knowledge and entertainment;

- To eradicate the threat of legal language in this nation, and anywhere else it may prevail so as to decrease confusion and put smiles back on children’s faces;

- To travel at speeds equal to or greater than C (3.0 x 10^8 meters per second) so that, while infinitely luminescent, I am also of infinite mass and can claim at that time to be (and at later times to have been) the ultimate lardass;

- To provide a general danger to the sanity of those I interact with, for their general betterment, or possibly not.

TRH