Yes, sorry, kudos to you Tater. And to Sethery for finding the exact image. But not quite as much - when I just type ‘Goran’ into Google the first entry is his imdb page, and clicking on that brings up that photo. Ahhhhhhhh, the lengths I go to.
Wonder what my current avatar would look like using the same effects, given that the guy is black........hurry back biafra and show me.
It’s Wendell Pierce byt he way - Det. Bunk Moreland from ‘The Wire’.
http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0682495/
Whew! I got the heck out of the hospital as quickly as I possibly could. Hospitals are no places for the living. There was rather typical indifference by the rather large non-native staff, threats quite casually leveled to have catheters painfully reinserted if one couldn’t “perform” regularly, unnecessarily and sadistically prolonging the seemingly interminable ordeal. Every single day was a lifetime straight from the very nether bowel tips of a Nigerian hemorrhoid.
Kudos to one very special Dr. Cattorini who worked a whole bunch of lil murkles, glued me back together and sent me on my way.
Glad to have ya back with your mind still functioning! A good friend of mine’s lady had a similar, benign tumor removed, and she wasn’t so fortunate. She’s about forty-five, and the first clue she had a problem was sudden blind spells. They found a tumor they said had probably been there most or all of her life, which had eventually grown large enough to cause problems by putting pressure on her optic nerve. They removed it, and she was near catatonic for a few months. Its been a year now, and she’s still learning how to talk again. You never really know how quickly or slowly recoveries are gonna go from brain surgeries. They say she’s still expected to make a 100% recovery, but its apparently gonna take a couple of years instead of the four months or so they initially expected. Obviously, you’re on a much faster track than that.
Welcome back, Biafra. It’s good to see that you’re writing style remains. Maybe when you’re up to it, you can give us some details of the surgery. I’ve been a big fan of watching surgeries ever since I got to watch a surgeon rebuild my left wrist--complete with removing, reworking and putting bones back into their normal position. I asked for local anesthesia and they complied. They also positioned a mirror so I could watch the procedures. Pretty cool, indeed.
Whew! I got the heck out of the hospital as quickly as I possibly could. Hospitals are no places for the living. There was rather typical indifference by the rather large non-native staff, threats quite casually leveled to have catheters painfully reinserted if one couldn’t “perform” regularly, unnecessarily and sadistically prolonging the seemingly interminable ordeal. Every single day was a lifetime straight from the very nether bowel tips of a Nigerian hemorrhoid.
Kudos to one very special Dr. Cattorini who worked a whole bunch of lil murkles, glued me back together and sent me on my way.
It’s good to see you back, biafra. I’m with crichton . . . would enjoy a full detailed report.
Yay, welcome back Biafra. I’m glad things went well, even if the hospital stay sucked.
crichton - 29 March 2008 12:19 AM
Maybe when you’re up to it, you can give us some details of the surgery. I’ve been a big fan of watching surgeries ever since I got to watch a surgeon rebuild my left wrist--complete with removing, reworking and putting bones back into their normal position. I asked for local anesthesia and they complied. They also positioned a mirror so I could watch the procedures. Pretty cool, indeed.
I consider myself somewhat of a “medical” fan, too, but not when it comes to me. With my first kid, as I was laying on the operating table about to be cut into, I was kicking myself for watching so much Discovery Channel. It didn’t help that, as it turns out, epidurals are not a great option for pain relief during surgery so around the stitching up phase of the procedure, I started to feel it. This last time around, during all the moving about and pushing to try to get the kid out the right way before being told he wasn’t going to fit through my pelvis, my epidural came out so when surgery time came around, I got a spinal which provided much better pain relief. Instead of focusing on how much pain I was in, though, I just focused on the fact that I was being cut open and almost threw up.
So yeah, bring on the surgery stories, Biafra. When it comes to me, though, I’m done with anything other than general anesthesia for anything more complicated than a tooth filling.
Whew! I got the heck out of the hospital as quickly as I possibly could. Hospitals are no places for the living. There was rather typical indifference by the rather large non-native staff, threats quite casually leveled to have catheters painfully reinserted if one couldn’t “perform” regularly, unnecessarily and sadistically prolonging the seemingly interminable ordeal. Every single day was a lifetime straight from the very nether bowel tips of a Nigerian hemorrhoid.
Kudos to one very special Dr. Cattorini who worked a whole bunch of lil murkles, glued me back together and sent me on my way.
It’s good to see you back, biafra. I’m with crichton . . . would enjoy a full detailed report.
Well, lets see… I’ve lost almost 20 pounds by now, which makes me feel just plain good and energetic overall. The wounds are healing just fine. I do have to repeatedly remind those woud implore me to do nothing but lie down and rest all day to KISS - keep it simple, stupid, not languish and act the victim.
Various worst case scenarios describe me as a numb, babbling incontinent for the rest of my life; at burger lunch at Friday’s yesterday both an ancient, earless Earlish-looking geezer and a retard greeted me jovially. Go figure.
I did develop a really annoying partial clot in my leg thats not uncommon in folks who’ve suffered rather severe trauma, despite my doing PT almost incessantly. I had a simple blood filter inserted quite painlessly that can pretty much stay in my vein forever. I do now have to inject one pre-sized dose of anti-coagulant into my tummy daily for a few months, but I’m not very squeamish about discomfort, and the needles are exceedingly sharp. Docs said I could get some bruising after a while so I they recommended I shoot up around my navel in a clockwie fashion (or die), but I’ve gotten no discernable black and blue marks yet. So its all good.
Buncha people have come around by now to say “hi”. A fairly new neighbor had an “emergency” and needed a lift to the nearest gas station for some free gasoline, so I went right along with the adventure. I’ve done light yard work, bought a new cheapie mower, cut the grass, washed my siding, taken leftover copper scrap to the recyclers, cleaned the garage. I wear light weights on my arms and legs ("under 10 lbs") to keep some muscle tone.
I did do some research to learn more about “calcified melangioma… a benign form of a VERY SLOW growing cancer. ...” which will be monitored within 6 months to see if its growing back or not. If so, all that will likely need be done anymore is some occassional Gamma Knife treatment - through my nose, of all places. There are a few bad things that can still happen, but I’m not gonna worry too much about it. My job will quite possibly go belly-up before I do.
We’ve also had several tornado warnings by now. Fortunately they all blew over benignly cuz they’d, uh, calcified.
Jeez, the least they could do was make you look more like Goran Visnjic.
I’m afraid I’m gonna look more like a Pollack who stuck his head in the trash compactor cuz it sounded like it had a Dutch accent, even though it was allegedly “made in China”.
Whew! I got the heck out of the hospital as quickly as I possibly could. Hospitals are no places for the living. There was rather typical indifference by the rather large non-native staff, threats quite casually leveled to have catheters painfully reinserted if one couldn’t “perform” regularly, unnecessarily and sadistically prolonging the seemingly interminable ordeal. Every single day was a lifetime straight from the very nether bowel tips of a Nigerian hemorrhoid.
Kudos to one very special Dr. Cattorini who worked a whole bunch of lil murkles, glued me back together and sent me on my way.
It’s good to see you back, biafra. I’m with crichton . . . would enjoy a full detailed report.
Well, lets see… I’ve lost almost 20 pounds by now, which makes me feel just plain good and energetic overall. The wounds are healing just fine. I do have to repeatedly remind those woud implore me to do nothing but lie down and rest all day to KISS - keep it simple, stupid, not languish and act the victim.
Various worst case scenarios describe me as a numb, babbling incontinent for the rest of my life; at burger lunch at Friday’s yesterday both an ancient, earless Earlish-looking geezer and a retard greeted me jovially. Go figure.
I did develop a really annoying partial clot in my leg thats not uncommon in folks who’ve suffered rather severe trauma, despite my doing PT almost incessantly. I had a simple blood filter inserted quite painlessly that can pretty much stay in my vein forever. I do now have to inject one pre-sized dose of anti-coagulant into my tummy daily for a few months, but I’m not very squeamish about discomfort, and the needles are exceedingly sharp. Docs said I could get some bruising after a while so I they recommended I shoot up around my navel in a clockwie fashion (or die), but I’ve gotten no discernable black and blue marks yet. So its all good.
Buncha people have come around by now to say “hi”. A fairly new neighbor had an “emergency” and needed a lift to the nearest gas station for some free gasoline, so I went right along with the adventure. I’ve done light yard work, bought a new cheapie mower, cut the grass, washed my siding, taken leftover copper scrap to the recyclers, cleaned the garage. I wear light weights on my arms and legs ("under 10 lbs") to keep some muscle tone.
I did do some research to learn more about “calcified melangioma… a benign form of a VERY SLOW growing cancer. ...” which will be monitored within 6 months to see if its growing back or not. If so, all that will likely need be done anymore is some occassional Gamma Knife treatment - through my nose, of all places. There are a few bad things that can still happen, but I’m not gonna worry too much about it. My job will quite possibly go belly-up before I do.
We’ve also had several tornado warnings by now. Fortunately they all blew over benignly cuz they’d, uh, calcified.
Well, it’s good to have you back . . . even though you’ve developed a compulsion to do yard work. Thanks for the update.
Last night we camped out in the bathroom because near-tornados swept through the area pretty darn close to home. Now i’m doing a Venetian Plaster finish in it to make it more cozy
My biopsy result came back A-OK, just like I thought/felt, although I’m still due for another test in 6 months or so. I’m really sorry about your situation.
Yep. Looks like I’ll soon be a deaf, dumb, and blind imperio-quisling greasing the warmongering US oil machinery again soon enough.
From a greener, more sedate and contemplative, highly cultured Germany, I got three (3) cards from old friends offering condolences, but also opining that whats to blame for my malady is the familair:
- American junk food stuffed with chemicals
- American pollution
- sedate American lifestyle
One person said it was too bad I couldn’t get treated by superior German doctors. This stumps me: If Germany is so green, ergo cancer-free, how can they be so good at treating cancer? Do they fly in global-warming afflicted minorities from abroad to practice the skill, just in case, all for free and stuff?
Quisling, after Norwegian politician Vidkun Quisling, who assisted Nazi Germany to conquer his own country, is a term used to describe traitors and collaborationists
Thats odd: After I, a vocal Michael Moore detractor, announced here that I had a potentially fatal illness which was gonna cost me dearly either way, I was certain that the one American who is certified blind to a sick’s person’s race, creed or color, and, unlike, say, Roger Smith, would never turn a deaf ear on anyone, period, would perhaps send me some money.
I would graciously decline it, but so far not a word, much less a check, from Michael Moore.
Last week I was back at work, chatting with coworkers about best-case worst/case scenarios. One guy mentioned he’d once done concert promotion, and the worst of the lot he’d ever experienced was U2, specifically (The) Bono.
I had to remind him they were the best band ever; modest, tender rock poets, forced to jet the globe to spread the message of peace and love in uncultured countries, far away from their loved ones and their DATA hq.
Well, The Bono, anyway.
(The Bono] he admits: “It’s pretty un-hip work’’, adding that at times mixing with the various international political big-wigs isn’t every band member’s cup of tea.
He explains: “From the band’s point of view, it’s a little difficult for them to swallow the kind of people that I feel I have to hang out with to further our agenda.
But it was a good idea not to make the fight against poverty a left wing issue.”
Along with giving viewers an insight into the political side of the U2 star, Bono also offers his tuppence on the best ways to attract the attention of the right people for campaigns to help target debt.
While he works to lobby governments through his own organisation, DATA, (Debt AIDS Trade Africa), he says that tugging at people’s heart-strings, with stirring ad campaigns or documentaries, also has to be done at times.
“You need to be emotive,” he explains, “to get across the tragedy of watching someone die, simply because they can’t get access to drugs.”
