Some People Just Don’t Deserve Any Help

Wow… Just… Wow…

 

So I was looking around the net earlier today and looked in on the John Byrne Forum to see if there were any new artwork pieces up or to see if John was having one of his famous and highly entertaining meltdowns. John Byrne, for those of you who don’t know the man, was a huge artist and writer for the comic book industry in the 80’s. His work helped define the X-Men for a new generation and his work with Superman still shapes the way many see the character now.

 

Throughout the 90’s an the 00’s he’s come down a bit in stature, but he’s still an excellent artist. As a human being he’s a bit of an arrogant prick, petulant man-child and notorious liar. But his artwork is still some of the best out there.

 

While looking over several nice new commissions he had posted I came across a thread titled “Facebook” and was curious about what dear John had to say about the subject since he is notorious in his dislike of any portion or the world wide web that he cannot control completely and utterly. It seems that John had his ire raised, and not totally without merit, by a Facebook page for John Byrne with a picture of Byrne in the slot where the usual page’s owner is.

 

Here’s the page.

 

http://www.facebook.com/pages/John-Byrne/47733924917

 

And here’s what John said.

 

http://www.byrnerobotics.com/forum/forum_posts.asp?TID=32609&PN=1&TPN=1

 

“Byrne: Anybody know how to make THIS go away?”

 

And…

 

“There is a disclaimer on the left side of the page:This is only a fanpage. John Byrne is NOT the creator, nor moderator of this profile

••

Byrne: However, at the bottom of the page there is a block of copy that indicates I am actively involved with maintaining and editing it — which I am not. I didn’t even know it existed until yesterday.”

Now, the page itself does have a small disclaimer on it, but it’s simply named “John Byrne” and John himself apparently isn’t that thrilled with it. Several of his regular forum members have even stated that they’re “apparently” members of the Facebook page and have now flagged it to Facebook administrators with a notice that the real John Byrne is not happy with this page’s existence.

me, being big enough of a dumbass to think I should be nice to a total stranger, logged into my Facebook account and sent the guy a message. I gave him a link to the John Byrne Forum page where the page was being discussed and mentioned that, given John’s long history with being a major prick over issues like this, he might want to change the name of the page to something like The John Byrne Fan Page” or something along those lines so that John wouldn’t have quite the case of getting his fan page killed that he might with a page just called “John Byrne” and sporting a picture of John where the owner’s photo usually is.

Hey, I figured I would be grateful for the heads up in a situation like that. I figured wrong.

About an hour ago I received this delightfully ignorant and laughably “outraged” response back from one Mr. Erik Black.

——————–
Subject: John Byrne Fan Page

 

Hello “jerry” 

Despite you running to teacher rest assured that the JOHN BYRNE FAN PAGE will remain as is.

John Byrne does not control the internet and we as TRUE FANS have the RIGHT to post on facebook and wikipedia ok?

Even if the page is taken down i vow to start a new one as is my right.

This is the USA not communist Russia ok?

Erik
——————–

You’re welcome Erik. I hope John shuts your ass down this and every time you create a page like this on a forum like Facebook and name it with simply the name ”John Byrne” rather than giving it a fan page title.

“EVERY OTHER DAY IS HALLOWEEN”

“EVERY OTHER DAY IS HALLOWEEN”
Has World Premiere at AFI Silver Theatre

Saturday, June 27, 2009 at 8:20 p.m.

Silver Spring, Maryland, May 19, 2009—The Spooky Movie Film Festival is proud to announce the world premiere screening of C.W. Prather’s new documentary, EVERY OTHER DAY IS HALLOWEEN, Saturday, June 27, at 8:20 p.m. at the AFI Silver Theatre and Cultural Center in Silver Spring, MD. 

This comedic documentary chronicles the career and legacy of Dick Dyszel, whose television alter-egos, “Count Gore De Vol,” “Captain 20” and “Bozo the Clown” helped raise generations of Washingtonians in the 1970s and 1980s (almost a half-million “Channel 20 Club Cards” were distributed during this time). But it was in the 1990s that Dick helped revolutionized the concept of entertainment-on-demand when he launched the first-ever streaming horror host show, “Creature Feature: The Weekly Web Program,”—predating Hulu, YouTube, and the iPod by years—which opened him up to the world.

“A nostalgic ode that makes you wish you had
your own Gore De Vol on your own TV!” 
-  BadLit.com

 More Here: 

http://everyotherdayishalloween.wordpress.com/2009/05/19/official-press-release-on-world-premiere-screening/#comments

Really, and such a simple name.

 The fine people in in charge of making signs for the state of Massachusetts really need to learn how to spell. It seems that the signs in Webster, MA directing people to one of their more famous lakes have been guilty of a glaringly obvious spelling error for the last few decades and only just discovered by the Worcester Telegram & Gazette a few years ago. 

The incorrect signs read Lake “Chargoggagoggmanchaoggagoggchaubunaguhgamaugg” whereas the correct spelling of this beautiful Nipmuc Indian word is of course “Chargoggagoggmanchauggagoggchaubunagungamaugg” with a ‘u’ as the twentieth letter rather than the ‘o’ and an ‘h’ in the thirty-eighth spot rather than the ‘n’ that were incorrectly placed there by the obviously careless sign makers.

Really, it’s such a simple little name. How could they ever have messed that up? And what’s up with the locals? News reports on the sign indicate that the locals refer to the lake as “Lake Webster” rather than using its beautiful given name in all its Native American glory.

http://www.ananova.com/news/story/sm_3291913.html

NBC/MSNBC and Fox News Both Call the Election at 11:00 PM

 

   History marches on and another brick in a very old wall has fallen to the ground and crumbled to dust.

_________________________________________________________

   This is a rather odd sensation. As I sit here typing, Obama having finished his acceptance speech a few minutes ago, I can’t help but wonder if my father felt like this once. I am looking at a new world. I am looking at a country forever and irreversibly different from the one I grew up in for the last 37 (actually, 38 in one week) years or that I lived in even just yesterday that will be the only world that Ian will have ever known.

 

   This is the first Presidential election of Ian’s life even if, at a mere 16 months old, he will not remember it. This election is our man on the moon. This election is our Berlin Wall crumbling. A world that many did not think that they would ever live to see even ten years ago will be the norm for him.

 

   It doesn’t matter if you agree with Obama or even if you hate him. He has by his election to the office of President of the United States changed our world. When L. Douglas Wilder became the first black Governor of Virginia he decided to test the national waters and found them to be mostly indifferent of his accomplishments here. But he also found disbelief. My father’s family was having a huge family reunion at the time and I remember a number of us talking about the prospects of Wilder running for the highest office in the land. The general line of thought expressed by many was that he would never make it. America would not elect a black man to that office, and certainly not a black Democrat, and if America did he would be run out of the country by the Klan or Old South.

 

   My view wasn’t quite that pessimistic, but I certainly didn’t believe that I would see a black man elected POTUS in my lifetime. And I surely did not think the first black POTUS would be a Democrat. I knew it would happen one day, I was just resigned to the fact that, like my father’s generation likely thought about men on the moon or the fall of the Berlin Wall, I would never actually see it.

 

   And now I will.

 

   And my son, my 16 month old son who lies quietly sleeping not far from me will never know in any way other than academic what this moment in our country means. For him a black POTUS will be a fact of history. It will be the way things were for as long as he could remember and he’ll likely never fully understand what his mother and father and their friends are talking about when they look back on their lives and discuss the day our country kicked over one more domino and removed one more brick from the wall of racial inequity and injustice.

 

   This is no longer an optimistic fiction or a hopeful pipedream. This is now the reality of our world. This is the only reality that many of our children shall ever know. I wonder if I will be able to impress upon Ian the true meaning of what the last twelve hours in this country meant and what tomorrow morning will mean. I wonder if my father thought these things and felt these things when his world changed and he looked at the sleeping child that he would one day be explaining the changes of his world to.

Forrest J Ackerman

Word is spreading fast amongst horror fan circles that the great Forrst J Ackerman, who would be celebrating his 92nd birthday this November 22nd, is slipping away from us at an alarmingly fast rate of speed. So dire is his condition that Ray Bradbury, no spring chicken himself these days, dropped everything else that he was doing and rushed to his friends bedside to speak with him one last time.

Ackerman is an icon of horror historians. He’s famous for his massive collection of movie memorabilia and for his publishing the classic magazine Famous Monsters of Filmland. He was such a well known and respected character that true movie buffs turned pro would seek him out to give him bit parts in films just to be able to say that they had him in their films and many a documentary was made where Forrest Ackerman’s name was first on the list of must have interviewees.

Forrest J Ackerman is, quite unfortunately, another name in a long list of people that I wanted to meet but never did and, from the latest news, now never will.

Here’s a portion of his write up on his MySpace page as to what he has done with his 91 years on this planet.

“Some of my Achievements – I founded and Edited FAMOUS MONSTERS MAGAZINE that brought Halloween to kids around the World every month for almost 200 issues and almost 30 years. — I created VAMPIRELLA. — I coined the term SCI-FI. — I wrote the shortest SCI-FI story in the World, consisting of a single letter. — How did I start? Well, in 1922, at the age of 5-1/2, I saw my first fantasy film, ONE GLORIOUS DAY.

In October, 1926, I read and collected my first “scientifiction” magazine, AMAZING STORIES. In l929, I won a contest in the San Francisco Chronicle, entered by over 200 teenaged contestants, with my short story about a trip to Mars. In that same year I founded The Boys Scientifiction Club (I would have included girls but at that time female fans were as rare as unicorns’ horns). In l932, I presented the world’s first known list of “imagi-movies” (one of my many coined words) on the first page of the first science fiction fanzine,The Time Traveler. By l935 I was correspondingwith l27 sci-fi fans around the world– although it would be l954 before I coined the ubiquitous abbreviation, “sci-fi .” Since l948 I have served as literary agent for approximately 200 clients including: Pierre Barbet Nelson Bond Jerome Bixby Bradbury & Asimov (early foreign reprints) Harry Bates Arthur J. Burks Cleve Cartmill Mark Clifton Stanton A. Coblentz Mary Elizabeth Counselman Hugo Gernsback Horace L. Gold L. Ron Hubbard Raymond F. Jones George Langelaan Ib Melchior P. Schuyler Miller Kris Neville Andre Norton Ross Rocklynne Victor Rousseau Curt Siodmak Sherwood Springer William F. Temple Lyn Venable A.E. van Vogt Stanley Weinbaum Jack Williamson and S. Fowler Wright and I represent the estates of artists Frank R. Paul, Elliott Dold, Albert Nuetzell, Charles Schneeman and Hannes Bok I have collaborated with Catherine Moore, A.E. van Vogt, Robert A.W. Lowndes, Francis Flagg and other sf authors.

Among 50 stories, I’ve written the world’s shortest one myself: one letter of the alphabet. I have seen my favorite film, METROPOLIS close to 100 times. I have appeared in over 50 motion picture cameos, in films such as THE TIME TRAVELERS, AMAZON WOMEN ON THE MOON, THE HOWLING, BEVERLY HILLS COP III, THRILLER, INNOCENT BLOOD, VAMPIRELLA, and DRACULA VS. FRANKENSTEIN. My handprints and autograph are enshrined in cement in front of the Vista Theater in Hollywood (est. in l926; former location of the Babylon set pieces from D.W. Griffith’s INTOLERANCE and the upstairs office of Ed Wood, Jr.). My life companion, Wendayne (the only one in the world) Ackerman, as the aftermath of a mugging in Italy, died some years ago, but not before translating l50 sci-fi novels from French & German, moonlighting while teaching for 20 years at university.

It would be nice to look forward to going to a Great Sci-Fi Convention in the Sky when I expire and reuniting with Wendayne & Boris & Hugo & Paul & Bela & Isaac & Bob (Bloch) and my beloved maternal grandparents, last of the big time angels (my grandfather, George Herbert Wyman inspired by the sci-fi bestseller of the day, Looking Backward, architected — for $5. a week — the monumental Bradbury Building in Los Angeles, which has been seen in BLADERUNNER, WOLF, DEMON WITH THE GLASS HAND and many other films). I am vaguely contemplating opting for a cryogenic comeback but in case I don’t become a human people-cicle, I, like Isaac Asimov and other thinkers I admire, don’t expect to wake up in some spirit realm of an afterlife. I’ve been a secular humanist since I was 15, long before the term was invented, and nothing since has changed my mind. I regard myself as a sci-fi sponge that should be squeezed for information and anecdotes as long as I’m here. So while I’m still around, squeeze me.”

His official MySpace page can be found here:

http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendID=67699686

 

Three of the Giants of classic Sci-Fi.

Kareem Rashad Sultan Khan

The picture Powell mentioned in his Meet the Press appearance that partially moved him to publicly endorse Obama.

The story behind it was of a boy who was 14 when 9/11 happened and stayed determined to serve and fight for his country by the time he was of legal age to join the military. He won a number of decorations for his service before being killed in action in Iraq. Powell had become disgusted that an entire political movement in this country would tell someone like Kareem Rashad Sultan Khan that he could serve and die for his country, but that anyone of his faith should never be allowed to even dream of becoming President of the United States. He became even more disgusted that an entire political movement would use the specter of extremist terrorism to try and cow the American public into fearing a man, Barack Obama, who was actually a Christian.

There are Muslims in this county today who will fight and die to protect the same freedoms that many of us hold dear. There are critics of these Muslims and their faith who, when given the chance to serve, especially some in the media, found other things to do or ducked service all together.

While I don’t believe that everyone should vote Obama because of this issue; everyone should be as disappointed or outraged as Powell must be at this point with the situation. Some of what’s been said and directed at Muslims and people of Arabic faith since 9/11 and especially in this election season is every bit as vile, ignorant and baseless as what was directed at Catholics up until only a few short decades ago and the Irish in America just some few years before that.

Kareem Rashad Sultan Khan went to war for this country to fight the terrorists who attacked us on 9/11 and was killed while performing that duty. He was not the only Muslim nor the only person serving who is not a follower of the Jewish or Christian faiths. It’s time that we assign the bigoted specter of “the wrong religion” to the dustbin of history along with “the wrong nationality” and “the wrong color” as should have been done before now.

Found some old stuff the other day…

   I was doing some long over due cleaning and organizing the other day and came across some stuff that I had thought had long ago vanished into the mists of time. One of my finds required a lot of computer time but yielded a few small rewards. I found some old stuff that I wrote years ago on a Brother PC & Word Processor back when I was in high school, college and even a few years into “real life.”

   I think Sean and Bill M. (our resident script guys) would laugh their asses off at the scripts that I found. Not just because the stories in them are bad, but because they are to professional script writing what Uwe Bowl is to quality film making. They’re just not there in the least.

   I did find a couple of good(ish) things in there though. One of them is now at the following page on my blog.

http://jjchandler.wordpress.com/the-importance-of-dreams/

   It’s not bad I guess, but it’s more interesting in what it says about who I was when I was in my late teens and how there are noticeable difference in the way I see the world now VS back then.

   If you check it out I hope you enjoy it a bit. If you want to comment on it, please do so on that page and not on this post.

Thanks.

Nakota Nuku Nuku Morris Chandler

 

 

   Nakota had been Jenn’s long time constant companion and watchdog. I first met Nakota when I first met Jenn. After chatting with Jenn via email and telephone for some time I drove out to where she lived to go see an all day festival as our first date. Upon entering her home, I was smothered by a puppy parade. There was a giant beast with a fifty foot tongue covered in slobber, a medium sized dog that just looked up at you with huge brown “love me” eyes and a smaller dog that carefully ducked under the front legs of the slobbering beast to inspect the stranger.
 
   And then there was the one in the back. She was The Mamma.
 
   Nakota pushed her way through the pack and, with me now seated on the floor with my back to the wall, sniffed me up and down. She then gave me a look as if to say that I was now allowed to scratch her ears. When I had done that, she walked over to where Jenn was getting some stuff together and laid down beside her… Leaving me to the slobbering tongue and the “Love Us We’re Cute” brigade.
 
   I was later, much later, told that this inspection by Nakota was one of the reasons Jenn knew she could trust me. It turned out that Nakota had a habit of vetting Jenn’s boyfriends. Sometimes the vetting was rather painful it seems. Nakota apparently knew what male genitalia was for. It was for target practice if she didn’t feel that you were an acceptable suitor for her person. Family legend has it that she even sent one poor dope to the hospital.
 
   Despite what that line may suggest, Nakota was actually a very gentile dog. When she had her litter of puppies (three of whom were in the attack pack I mentioned above) she adopted Jenn’s new kitten Nio into the litter. Years later when I got Jenn a kitten for her birthday, Nakota adopted Rikki like he was her own puppy.
 
   It was endearing and hilarious on several levels. It was cute seeing Nakota as excited as she was. Her tail would wag ferociously and she would get a happy “I’m a Mommy Again!” look in her eyes. She treated Rikki like a puppy that needed protecting whenever anyone came into the house. She also tried to pick Rikki up and move him to safer locations with… mixed… results.
 
   Jenn had told me once that Nakota was a good mother to her puppies, but that she was also a bit unsure of herself in some regards. One of these areas of uncertainty was in picking her pups up to move them when they went where they weren’t supposed to go. She would act like she was afraid of biting down on them too hard and would basically just keep gumming them. Well, that’s what she did with Rikki. She would walk over to Rikki, reach down and place her jaws gently around the loose skin at the nape of Rikki’s neck and gently lift. And Rikki would stay exactly where he was on the floor. She would then try again and Rikki would again stay were he was at. This bit of comedy would repeat itself several times over the next minute until Nakota would give up and simply plop down next to Rikki and Rikki, now covered in dog slobber, would look up at Jenn or I and let out a quiet, pleading mew.
 
   She was that way (minus the picking up attempts) with children as well. Jenn had Nakota when she worked at a day care center and Nakota grew up around small children. She was happy to play “pony ride” whenever she could or to simply play tag with children. Amongst Jenn’s nephews, nieces and nieces by osmosis; Nakota was one of the favorite attractions of any visit. Everybody loved her.
 
   Nakota also had a tic that I loved to tease her with. Nakota loved to have her belly scratched. Scratch her belly and she was a happy puppy. And it didn’t matter what positions she was laying in. If you reached over and scratched her belly she was going to shift over and lift one leg to expose that belly. She even did it in her sleep. If you just brushed against her belly when she was sleeping she would lift her leg in her sleep. So, of course, when Jenn first moved in and I discovered this I would reach over and touch Nakota on the belly, saying the word belly in a silly, child like voice, about a hundred times a night. The leg would go up and stay there as she waited for the scratching to start and would only slowly begin to fall back into place after ten or so seconds. I would then wait about five seconds and do it again. After five or six times of this Nakota would shoot me a look like I should sleep with one eye open and I would make it up to her by scratching her belly and her chest. Long before Jenn was even pregnant I was jokingly threatening to teach any and all kids we had how to do that.
 
   Good to my word I started trying to get Ian to learn how to say belly while poking Nakota’s belly in the week before we left for Dragon*Con. Ian never got to learn how to do that trick.
 
   Two days ago Nakota starting walking funny. She didn’t want to move her rear legs and when she did she walked slowly and swung her legs in an unusual gate. Jenn was worried about the possibility of hip dysplasia coming on but hoping it was just bad arthritis combined with the weather fronts shifting as violently as they were. It’s unfortunately an all too common problem for an older Husky and Nakota was approaching ten years of age. My mom came over and watched Ian for us while I went out and got some over the counter stuff from Pet-Smart. We gave her some hip chews and senior vitamins, kept her comfortable and she actually seemed to be doing better by bed time.
 
   Yesterday morning she didn’t want to get up at all. She wouldn’t move her rear legs and just wanted to lay in the floor. We took her down the street to the local vet and came back home while they examined her. Shortly after we got back home the vet called and said that Nakota was bleeding into her stomach from unknown reasons. They knew there was a problem, but they didn’t have the equipment to really tell us what. We got my mom to come by and watch Ian and take care of Jenn (who could barely move around with the knee pain she was experiencing) while I went back to the vets to get her and take her to the emergency vet in town. The vet had pumped her full of vitamin K since she believed that the bleeding was caused by the ingestion of rat or groundhog that had been dosed with high amounts of rat poison. Good news since that meant the problem could be cured in a day or so.
 
   I was at the EV with Nakota for less than 40 minutes when the vet brought me in to a side office and told me that there was a lump of some sort in Nakota’s stomach and that they needed to perform $4,500 to $6,000 surgery, but that the surgery might only give Nakota another 60 days of life in discomfort. Jenn told me over the phone to let Nakota go. I asked the vet if Nakota was in pain at that moment and he said that there were no signs of pain. I told him to wait while I went to get Jenn and bring her to Nakota. He said he would but asked that I sign off on one piece of the treatment schedule. He wanted to run the full scans of Nakota to get a better idea of what was wrong with Nakota before Jenn got there. Maybe he would find good news.
 
   When I got Jenn back to the vets they moved us into a back room. The scan showed a number of growths in Nakota’s stomach, liver, spleen and surrounding tissues. The largest was the one in her stomach and it was causing the bleeding. Nakota had widespread cancer and there was nothing that could be done at this point. They brought her in to us so that we could hold her one last time. When Jenn was ready she gave the vet permission to inject the sedatives into Nakota’s IV. A few seconds later she had quietly slipped into unconsciousness. A few seconds after that she was gone.

 

   She’s now at rest on the family land next to her daughter, Jenn’s mother’s dog Gidget, who also passed away too early. She had been a constant, loyal and loving companion to Jenn for ten years. She’d become a much loved member of my household for over four years. She was a wonderful, smart and loving soul who will be greatly missed by many.

 

Jenn’s Knee… Again.

AKA “Why Doctors are Useless Idiots!”

 

   Ah, the fun just never ends. One of the things that the doctors warned Jenn to be on the lookout for was if she started running a high fever. They said that it would be “really bad” if the her temperature was floating at 101 or above. So, of course, Jenn decides to start running a fever of over 101 Sunday morning.

 

   So we called the emergency number they gave us. They said that we would get a call from a doctor on duty in about thirty minutes.

 

And

we

waited

almost

forty

minutes.

 

   Jenn called again. They said we would get a call from a doctor on duty in about thirty minutes. We didn’t have to wait so long this time. However, by the time the conversation was over we were wondering why we even bothered.

 

   Jenn was told that the usual advice was to take an aspirin, but since her pain meds had Tylenol in them it wouldn’t do any good to take an aspirin. Their advice? Keep warm and call back if the fever got too much worse than its present 101.5 reading.

 

   Uhm… Yeah… Ok…

 

   Today she’s still floating around 101 and the leg still flairs up in really bad pain from time to time. We’re watching for any obvious signs of problems (swelling, red streaks, drainage, etc) with the area of the operation, but everything other than the fever and the pain seems normal. Hopefully things with her knee will be calming down a bit in the next 24 hours. I have to go back to work on Wednesday of this week and I really don’t need to be zonked out of my mind Wednesday night due to another ER trip unfortunately timed for around Tuesday night.

Jenn’s Knee Surgery.

   The annoying thing about life is that it likes to let you go to sleep on a high note only to wake you up to a low note. Or, as the case was this morning, a shrill note.

 

   Yesterday was Jenn’s scheduled knee surgery. We went in at just before noon for the run of the mill question and answer sessions that hospitals love to do and got to wait for what seemed like forever for her 2:30 surgery. The surgery itself only took about half of that time and seemed to go pretty smoothly. They were going in to repair a torn meniscus tendon but they found that it wasn’t torn. The pain and swelling issues, along with the knee actually failing to support her standing up from a seated position from time to time, were actually the result of a minor worn spot in the tendon caused by a “stress fissure” on the underside of Jenn’s kneecap. It was something like a crack from the way they described it, they just don’t classify it as such.

 

   Jenn surprised them by coming around before they had wheeled her back to the recovery room and they watched her closely since her readings (blood pressure, respiration, etc)  were all on the low side. Didn’t surprise her in the least. They’re always low and she told them that before the surgery. After an hour’s worth of extra waiting they finally called me and told me I could come back to the waiting area.

 

   We did the mandatory sit around and do nothing before they finally let me get the car and load Jenn up for the journey home. Once home, we set Jenn up with a comfy recliner and a comfy bed and let her relax. Last night we waited until midnight for Jenn to be able to take her first pain killer and rack out for sleep.

 

   About 4:30 this morning Jenn woke up in extreme pain. Her leg was getting worse and worse even after taking another pain pill. She got up and called the hospital about the pain. They told her to take another pain pill and wait an hour or two.

 

   Now, you have to understand something about my wife and pain. She doesn’t really notice it that much. Because of several medical issues she has she’s been living with a low level of constant pain for over half of her life now. She’s also had two knee surgeries, a broken back, a botched cesarean section that came open the day she was supposed to come home from the hospital and various other painful things in between. She knows pain, she knows what is and isn’t supposed to be right and wrong pain levels when under medication and she usually has a high level of tolerance for it.

 

   That tolerance was getting slapped into the dirt this morning. After her third (recommended by the doctor on the phone) pain pill in three hours she was in tears and clutching my hand so hard that she was about to put her finger nails through my palm and out the back of my hand. She decided that she wasn’t waiting any longer and that she was going to the ER right then and there.

 

   Jenn’s mom took her in (she was staying with us to help out) as Jenn wanted me home for when stinky butt woke up a couple of hours from then. The plan was for me to get him up, changed and fed and then go on in to the hospital. Well, three out of four ain’t bad.

 

   Jenn called a little bit a go. She’s headed for a spot of breakfast with her mom and then coming home. The surgery went a little farther than it should have and the extra work caused some additional pain throughout the leg. The doctor also prescribed the wrong pain medication. On a scale of one to ten he prescribed a pain medication that was around a little over a one.

 

   Jenn and her mom are picking the new meds up after breakfast. Hopefully, this evening won’t be a repeat of last night and this morning and we can all get as much sleep as stinky butt. We need it to keep up with him.