Here are the house plans from the architect. We have waited almost 3 months for them. We are very happy with he plans, but they could have tried to finish them a little quicker. We brought our plans (the ones I showed before) to them, so it's not like they had to start from scratch.

Now that we have them, feel free to peruse and tell me what you think.

If I go from a Dodge Ram 1500 with a Hemi to a Ford Focus, is there any way I can retain my masculinity?

Sorry, I haven't provided the final chapter of my father's saga. In Recovery, he was still on a ventilator. It was a rough night for me thinking about what my Dad would be going through (i.e. trying to breathe, choking, not being able to communicate, etc.), and it was difficult to sleep.

The next morning I was eager to get to the hospital. Visiting hours don't start until 10:30am, so I had too much time to sit and wait after waking at 7:00am. By the time I got into the ICU, I was a nervous wreck. I wondered if he would look worse or if he was off the ventilator. When I saw him he was sitting up with a big mug of water in his hand. His voice was scratchy and he told me he felt so much better without that tube in his throat. He kept drinking water saying, "This water just tastes so good and feels great on my throat." Curious, I asked what he remembered. He told me he remember my Mom and me being there last night, but it was fuzzy. We sat and talked for about 3 hours and I had to go to work. I told him I would see him on Saturday.

Renee and Dane came up with me on Saturday. He looked much better that morning, but by the time he went to the Step-down Unit, the whole thing seemed to be wearing him down. I was getting worried that sending him home after 5 days was going to happen, but he wouldn't be ready. Physically he seemed to be doing better, but psychologically he just wasn't there yet. He told me, "I didn't think it would be this bad." Although exhausted, sleep fo him was difficult with all the light and activity on the unit. When I left Saturday night, I was hopeful he would get some rest.

Sunday morning, he was a different man. His chest tube was out, he had been up walking around, he shaved, brushed his teeth and, overall, in a much better frame of mind. He told me that just being able move around and take care of himself, put him in a much better mood. That afternoon, Renee brought Dane to the waiting room and my Dad walked out to see him (Dane couldn't go onto the Step-down Unit... baby germs). Both were excited to see each other, although Dad couldn't hold him, we all sat and watched Dane play. After 30 minutes, Dad was wiped out. We took him back to the unit and he laid down. We left after that to get Dane home.

He was released Monday and my Mom took him home. I think Dad was excited to be out of that hospital and in his own home. He was doing better that day and even Mom was okay with him returning home.

I called his house on Tuesday. No answer. I called Mom cell phone. She answered and asked if I wanted to talk to my Dad. I asked him what he was doing and he said, "I'm out with your Mom checking on the cows." He didn't even sound like he had surgery six day ago, much less, open heart surgery. He said he tired out easily, but he was doing great!

I plan on seeing him this weekend. It'll be exciting to see how far he has come in a week.

We didn't talk to the doctor until 3:15pm. Yesterday, they told us it would be done by 1:00pm. The waiting was beginning to become agonizing. And then hearing other people talk in the waiting room ("there trying to see if there is any brain function... and then we'll decide what to do") made it worse. The doctor with all his bedside-manner spoke very flat and gave the facts: He did 4 bypasses instead of 3, there was some damage to the heart when he had the heart attack, his blood pressure dropped very low several times (but his heart never stopped beating), his breathing tube was still in and (unfortunately) based on what he saw, he will probably have to have another one in the future. They were settling him into ICU, so it would be an hour before we could see him.

When we went into the room, I was worried I would break down, but it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. He was a little swollen, and had tons of gadget, tubes and everything else plugging in or coming out of him. He opened his eyes and looked at us. He wanted to talk, but couldn't. We told him he looked great (and he did, when you consider they just made an incision in his chest and cracked him open like an egg) and we loved him. He pointed at his chest and looked at the ICU nurse. He said, "you need some pain medication?" My Dad nodded "yes." They gave it to him pretty quickly, but they also had to clean out his breathing tube. He started coughing (which isn't really coughing because the tube is in the way) and they had to suction. It was horrible to watch him go through that. Then the pain medication kicked in and he was out.

I stayed with him until about 8:15pm, while he slept. He would wake up every once in a while and see me. I would smile, he would wink and then fall back to sleep. When I told him I was leaving, he opened his eyes. I said I would be back in the morning and to get some rest. I told him I loved him and I could see him trying to mouth the words back to me. I said, "I know you love me, too" and he nodded. I told him I would see him in the morning. I kept it together (actually, until now) and the nurse said he would be much more interesting tomorrow with that tube out. I smiled and headed out.

I’m sitting in the waiting room. My Dad went into surgery at 7:00am. The nurses tell us that it actually won’t start until about 9:00am. It’s 9:04am. So he has been going through a lot on his own. How much he is aware of what is happening right now is questionable. They gave him a shot of morphine before he left us at 7:00am. I’m hopeful that the drugs are intoxicating him, so that he doesn’t feel alone or worried.

The surgeon told us that things look great (although at the end slipped in, “there is a 5% chance you won’t make it…” Sounds great, unless you are one of the 5%). He doesn’t smoke or drink and he’s much healthier (lost another 5 pounds over the last week). He’ll be in the hospital for 5-7 days, and then back home for 6-8 weeks of recovery. I think he’ll recover fine, although I don’t want him to push it (I know he’ll try) and do too much because he wants to get better.

So I sit here waiting the end of surgery. The hospital assigns you a pager. They page you once they’re about finished. You meet the surgeon, he tells you “ever thing went great” and then you go to ICU. That, I fear, is where I’ll break. I don’t think I will be able to keep it together when I see him there.

Note to John: Do surgeons have personalities? He seemed a little PDD. However, we aren’t paying him for his bedside manner, but for his excellent ability to cut, sew and keep all the right parts in all the right places.

Some of you know this, most don’t. I am the proud owner of a 1985 Jeep CJ7. It has a 6-inch lift and 33 inch tires. Renee and I love it! B.D. (Before Dane), we did went Jeepin’ all the time, even while Renee was pregnant (What’s Jeepin’? Driving around with friends in their Jeeps and looking for cool stuff to drive up or over. We have done some pretty amazing things with this Jeep!). Unfortunately, A.D., we haven’t been able to go out in it with Dane, because of no rear seat belt. But we’re working on that.

So imagine if you will: Jacked up Jeep; Man driving covered in tattoos; and Woman in passenger seat, pregnant with cute, tight little tank top. “White trash” and “Cooter” aren’t the right words, but they’re the first words that come to mind. As if this isn’t enough, the following story will top it off.

We are heading home in the Jeep (as imagined above), and we are pulling up to a stoplight. The person behind me doesn’t like that I have slowed down so early, so they are riding pretty close to me (close enough that it looks like they could touch my spare tire with the front their truck). I pull up to the stoplight and they turn right. The woman driving starts yelling something about my driving, but I couldn’t hear it because Renee screamed, “SHUT UP BITCH BEFORE I CLIMB DOWN AND KICK YOUR ASS!”

Isn’t my wife the best?!

A person that works for me is leaving, to go to medical school in the Caribbean. He’ll make a fine doctor! I have no doubt. Even though I am his direct supervisor, I consider him a friend (I consider everyone on my team a friend). He reminds me of my childhood friend, Brad. If you were to put these two people side-by-side, you would think I was crazy. They look nothing alike, but their mannerisms are identical. So close it’s scary! I’m sure this pseudo-familiarity has made it much easier to be close friends. I haven’t told him about this, but he reads my blog (he is link at the left), so he’ll find out shortly.

It’s difficult to supervise a person you genuinely like, especially when they aren’t the most ideal employee (you know it’s true, John). He’s late to meetings, late turning in paperwork and late… well, on everything. To his credit, whenever I asked for something specific to get done, it was the next thing on my desk. As a clinician, he’s great! And it’s always a treat to have clinical discussions with him in supervision. He has a propensity to label personality disorders on difficult people, in general. He consistently looks at people through the dysfunctional-family lens. It’s funny to hear him say, “Her Daddy must not have paid enough attention to her when she was a little girl.” I love listening to his sweeping generalization (as long as they don’t include me… hehe). I understand that his view is more specific then the words he uses, so I don’t freak out when he generalizes.

I’ll be reading his blog (and invite you to do the same) as he chronicles his journey through medical school. Good luck John!

My Father’s surgery is quickly approaching, as my dread of the operation increases. I have been finding myself reminiscing. Seeing my Dad through many different eyes: a child, where he can do no wrong; an adolescent, where he “made me” work when I didn't want to; an early adult, where I was indifferent, but thought he could have tried harder; and finally as a mature adult (is that what you call late 30s?), where I have more of an understanding of life’s difficulties and a greater respect for him. My memories of growing up as his son weren’t always the best, but it’s that understanding that has brought me closer to him. I know my Dad made mistakes. I know he made some big mistakes. But I also know he’s human and did the best he could.

Fast forward from my childhood to Dane’s infancy. I have to imagine that my Dad had the same thoughts about me as I have about Dane.

“He’s the best son ever!”
“I’m so proud of him!”
“I’ll do everything I can to be there for him.”
“I’ll show him all the pitfalls to avoid so he won’t have to go through what I went through.”

All of these things said with the thought that I am going to make my son perfect, by being a perfect father. Not knowing that all the mistakes I have made up until now, will affect my son’s up bringing. And ignoring, completely, the fact that I am not perfect.

John and I decide to go to a bar and hang out last night. Just a couple of guys, having a couple of beers and a couple of laughs. I learned a lot more about John (didn't know you were in a band [the one that was playing at the bar] and played guitar John), while we pointed and laughed at the passers-by. I enjoy watching people, their quirky behavior, their primping when they think no one is looking. It's great!

I make eye contact with a very pretty girl. She could be Jessica Alba's twin sister (I'm not kidding, ask John). She's with a guy, I'm married, who cares. The guy she is with is touching her leg and she has her hand on his arm, but she looks as if she wants to be with her friends (the other four girls at the table), and her boyfriend came along. I asked John what he thought and he agreed. She was definitely giving off the if-I-ignore-you-maybe-you'll-go-away signal. We made eye contact again, and I smiled. She held eye contact for a while, then looked into the crowd. I thought this was pretty interesting so I kept watching. She continued to glance my way. Then her boyfriend caught her and looked in my direction. I made eye contact with him and he turned back toward her.

John and I continue to watch the crowd and talk. People are dancing. I want to dance, but I don't. I hate when women dance on the dancefloor and guys get-up-on-em to dance. I usually ask and I didn't feel like asking so... there you go. Anyway, this girl gets up to go to the bathroom. As she walks by, when she gets close, she makes eye contact with me until she passes.

John and I get another beer and we're watching people on the dance floor. The girl and her friends (without boyfriend) get on the dance floor right in front of us. She's making eye contact a lot while she dances. Not stares, just glances (it's not like she is seductively dancing for me). The band gets back on the stage, so they retreat to their table.

So, the Ultimate Fighting Championship is on one of the TVs and I stop people watching to see the fights (good thing to have on at a bar, huh?). I'm pointing at the screen and telling John something and up walks the girl. She glances at me, looks down and starts to walk past with her friend. I stop talking while I watch her go by and she looks up and stares me in the eye. She stares at me as she walks by. Even as she is past me, her head is turned back, staring at me. I start to smile, she turns back to her friend and she is off. John bumped me with an elbow and we start to laugh.

Shortly after that, John and I call it a night and head home.

It was a nice little ego boost for the man about to turn 37.

Lest ye forget how far Dane has come....

I don’t know who it was that became my 1000th visitor. But it was referred from Foilwoman’s site so… I’ll thank her. Thanks Foilwoman for referring all those people to my website.

Back a-cha!

No, really… I haven’t fallen off the face of the earth. I’m here, doing my work and getting things done. I’ve had a lot to do. Not to mention the stress from work making me want to curl up in a fetal position and suck my thumb. When I get this overwhelmed by work stuff, any down time I get I want to stare at the TV and just not think. I want to be blank and void of thought. To avoid this, I have been working out, hard, 4 of the 5 weekdays. It helps me mentally with my frustrations and gives me a physical outlet. So blogging gets further down on my list of things to do. Oh precious reader, do not feel slighted, you are ever present in my thoughts.

So what is happening?

Dane is wonderful! He continues to make advances. He spends more time standing, leaning and going from one stationary object to the next. “Dada” is said more often than not and, try as I might, he doesn’t mimic, “MaMa.” I still don’t know how I was blessed with such a wonderful child.

Renee is doing great and working more than I would like, but we want this new home (see below). So one day more a week was sacrificed. This also means one more day at the babysitters, which I really want to avoid.

Our Pastor is leaving our church and going to a bigger church (promotion?). We are in a state of worry about who will show up next. He was such a great person for our church. Very contemporary! We wish him the very best, but we all want to be selfish and tell him not to go.

Home life is moving forward… as in building a home. We have received the house plans drawn up by the architect and made some minor changes. The contractor is looking at breaking ground in September. We had wanted to break ground by the end of July. So it is really moving rather slowly, but at least we are seeing movement now. Here’s a small view of the first and second floor.



















If we get a nice three-dimensional drawing, I’ll post it as well.

There you have it. Quick and dirty! Just like you like it (yes… I know I’m projecting).