Explosions are Flowers For Men

(Dec 2009)

I've decided to have a guest blog post again.  This time it is going to be from Michael himself this is something he wrote when we were dating.  Michael always said he liked my sass (I think he may feel differently these days) and I think this proves it. This post is an encounter we had while we were dating.  I like it because I totally won and he liked it:

Last night, I was having a discussion with my girlfriend, Lisa, about the differences between Men and Women. In case you are unaware, there ARE differences. It was rather insightful, so I decided to post a couple of the highlights here.

 
First, Men are jerks and Women are crazy. But there is a reason for it. Men are very analytical people. We rely on logic and reason and try our hardest to keep emotions and feelings out of our decisions. So when we don’t take into account a women’s feelings, we end up coming across as jerks. Conversely, women tend to think with their emotions and feelings. And those don’t make any logical sense. So we end up seeing women as crazy.

 
The real reason that this is becomes a problem is that men judge women as if they were men. The same is true of women. They expect men to make decisions like women. When a women says, “He was such a jerk! He didn’t even think about how I would feel about that!”, the guy isn’t trying to be a jerk. He simply has no idea how to think about that. He can try, and will occasionally have success, but by far and wide, he will not have any clue on how to do that. And when a women goes and buys her 50th pair of shoes, the guy will get upset. That’s because he doesn’t understand why she needs yet another when she already has 49 other perfectly good pairs. Currently, I own 4 pairs of shoes. A dress pair, an everyday pair, a work pair (which is the old everyday pair), and my riding boots. Why would anyone need more than that? Ok. Maybe a couple more pairs, if they have a specific purpose. But no more than about 8. But a woman will buy a $100 pair of shoes to go with an outfit that they wear once a year. How does that make sense? But like I said, the reason for these misunderstandings is because men are judging women by mens standards and also, women are holding men to womens standards.

 
Second, she finally helped me to understand why women like when men give women flowers. Here’s the conversation to the best of my recollection.

 
Me: Why do women like flowers? I mean, I understand the WHAT of it all, it’s just the WHY that I don’t get. I mean, I know that if I’m in the doghouse, or if you’re having a bad day, I can get you flowers and things will be better. But WHY is that?

 
Her: First off, it really depends on what you did to get in the doghouse. Flowers may not be enough.

 
Me: Fair enough.

 
Her: Second, it means that you went and did something really outside of your norm that it couldn’t be anything other than completely for me.

 
Me: So, it’s a test?

 
Her: Well it’s more than that. That’s only a small part of it. The real reason is that they’re also pretty and they smell good.

 
Me: You’re proving my point. What purpose does that serve? I mean, last week, when I was having a really bad day, you took me out to my favorite place to eat and bought me dinner.

 
Her: Yeah. You ate it and it was gone. At least flowers last.

 
Me: Not that long. And besides, dinner at In-N-Out was taking something that I would have done anyway and did it for me, so I didn’t have to do it. It wasn’t doing something for the sake of doing something. It was taking something that I would have done anyway and doing it for me. And doing it in the best possible way.

 
Her: But they are pretty and they smell good. We like those types of things.

 
Me: But WHY? It doesn’t serve a purpose.

 
Her: Let me try this another way. What if I gave you an explosion? I don’t mean blowing something up that needed blowing up. Just taking you somewhere and igniting a bunch of explosives. Just blowing stuff up for the sake of blowing stuff up.

 
Me (thinking): I don’t like where this is going.

 
Her: Would you like that?

 
Me: …

 
Her: Would you like to go out to the desert and light off explosives?

 
Me: …

 
Her: Why would you like to go out to the desert and blow stuff up?

 
Me: …

 
Her: It’s because it looks pretty and smells good.

 
Game, Set, and Match. I thought I was doing pretty good right up until the end. Then Bam! I was against the ropes. I had nothing.

 
Finally, the funniest part to me was how we ended this conversation.

 
Me: Babe, I’m glad that you love me despite the fact that I’m a jerk.

 
Her: And I’m glad that you love me despite the fact that you think I’m crazy.

Shirt Cutters Will Be Prosecuted

(November 2010)

From the moment Michael was in "The Accident" Mike and I  have had no control over our lives (well most of our lives).  The doctors, and nurses, and hospitals are in control.  At first you barely notice but as time goes on the helpless feeling sets in and you begin to get frustrated.  Lauri and I have had to fight tooth and nail for every little thing to help Michael and by the fall of the first year we were already worn out.  We had just had the most epic battle to get his trach removed (I will give more details in a different post) and Mikes day to day life was in the hands of "the facility".  This is where my story of lies, betrayal, and triumph begins......

It all started on very depressing day, well the day itself wasn't really depressing I was just having a sad day.  I went to the facility to see Michael in the evening, which always cheered me up, and I noticed he was wearing the shirt I gave him our first Christmas together (very sentimental).  This made me happy because I liked the shirt and it was good to see him in it.  I bent down to give Michael a hug and to my horror I found that the shirt had a slit all the way up the back.  I was devastated the shirt that had so much meaning to me was ruined.  For a little background info when Mike had his trach in we did have some shirts that we cut up the back so he could wear shirts and shorts instead of a hospital gown but he didn't have a trach anymore and could wear normal shirts. I felt so helpless that someone could just cut his shirt and there was nothing I could do about it.  I gave the CNAs a break because we did have some cut shirts for Mike to wear and I reasoned that they must have thought that's how his shirts were supposed to be.  It was too bad the lesson had to be learned on my favorite shirt.  I told the CNAs not to cut Mike's shirts and left them a sign on the white board so the could remember. The sign wasn't just clever it was a real depiction of what happened when they cut Mike's shirt.

The sign seemed to work Mike's shirts stayed intact and I felt like the unfortunate event was and isolated incident.  Then a couple of weeks or so later the unthinkable happened when Lauri was visiting we discovered that the shirt Mike was wearing had been cut and not only that but we found another shirt that had also been cut.  We asked who was cutting Mike's shirts and of course no one had any idea everyone seemed surprised, it's like a phantom was coming in and cutting Mikes shirts.  I can't explain what happened to me but it wasn't pretty.  I was like the Grinch who stole Christmas but instead of my heart growing 4 sizes it was my frustration that grew.  I just couldn't take it, the feeling of complete helplessness that I had been feeling from the beginning was compounded by the fact the I couldn't even prevent Mike's shirts from being vandalized and I just snapped.  That night I tried to sleep it off but I couldn't take it anymore I was taking back some control of my life.  The next morning I went to my computer and started making signs. I made several "Do not cut Mike's shirts" signs then I found a "Shoplifters will be prosecuted" sign on the internet and changed it to Shirt cutters. Then I drew a few cartoon signs do drive the point home.

I put the signs up all over Mike's room and I put the "shirt cutters will be prosecuted" over his bed so they couldn't miss it.  A little childish? maybe but it worked, Mike's shirts have never been cut again.  The signs were taken down a month of so later by the facility.  They said the State came in and made them take the signs down but I have a sneaking suspicion they took the signs down before the State got there (I would have).  They told us "Everyone knows not to cut Mike's shirts".  It's funny that this little rebellion really did make me feel like I was taking back some control in my life.  Now at least there is one thing I have control over, I can keep Mike's shirts whole (who knew that could ever be an accomplishment).

Side note: the cute pock-a-dot pillowcase you see in the picture was only used this one time then it came up missing and so did the shirt you see Michael in but that is a different not so triumphant story.

There is No Easy Way to Say.......

(March 2010)

......Your Son is Going to Die

After the first day the main focus was on getting Mikes brain to stop swelling to prevent further damage.  There was a monitor in his head that would tell what the pressure was and a shunt in his head to drain the fluid (brain juice) around his head when the pressure got too high.  The pressure would go up and then back down we were watching all monitors like a hawk and knew what every number meant and what they should be.  Things would change with Mike for good and bad in the blink of an eye and so did our moods and emotions.  It was a taxing visual but there was such a sweet spirit in his room it felt like a sacred place and we often played soft music and hymns for Mike.

The next day we came in and Tom the trauma PA (remember him from the first day? booo)  showed us that Mikes brain had stopped swelling and things seemed to be turning around he thought that by the next day they would be able to get a clear cat scan.  He told us that the neuro surgeon would be very pleased and that he was "cautiously optimistic"about things.  We were all so excited, finally our thoughts and feelings about Michael living and getting better were being manifested.  We thought this was the start to really good things and the mood the rest of that day was much lighter and hopeful. 

Despite our high hopes I didn't get a good nights sleep and soon I was back at the ICU to see Mike.  I had gotten there a bit early and  was waiting for the visitor nazis to let me in.  As I sat quietly I had this overwhelming feeling that today was not going to be a good day.  Lauri and Aunt Debbi came and waited with me and talked about what we should do with Mikes bills and stuff.  Then we were finally granted permission to enter.  Tom found us and wanted to tell us about the cat scan.  We stood around him as he pulled up the cat scan, then he looked at us and said "This is the cat scan of a man who will never ride a motorcycle again."  Lauri replied "good I don't want him riding one ever again" then leaned over to look at what a cat scan looks like if you are never going to ride again.  Seeing that we weren't getting at what he was trying to say he regrouped and told us "now that the swelling is down we can really see the damage and he has a lot of damage".  We all leaned forward as he starts pointing to different areas on the cat scan.  "See here..and here..and here..and a lot of damage here..and here..and......".  He kept pointing and pointing it was getting annoying then he turns to us and said "so I give him 5%".  We all looked at him with a blank stairs not getting what he was talking about finally we had to admit our stupidity.  "Five percent of what?" we asked and suddenly Tom looked very uncomfortable and just blurted out "that he will live". We couldn't believe what he was saying (even despite the fact that he told us he could die the first day) first he was talking about being cautiously optimistic and Mike not riding a motorcycle and now he is saying he is going to die, very confusing. Then he told us that given the trauma to Mikes brain that if by chance he doesn't die there is only a 2% chance that he would NOT be a complete vegetable, and if by chance he wasn't  complete vegetable there was 7% chance that he could ever live without complete care.  What a crappy thing to be told first thing in the morning. 

This information was devastating and confusing given the strong feelings we were having about Mike and his recovery. I took the day to digest what we were told and by the end of the day I still knew that Mike wasn't going to die.  I had concerns about his head trauma but the Lord made it clear to me that he was aware and Mike was in his care.  My premonition had been right, this day was hard, I thought it might have been harder than the first day but I was able to drive myself home so probably not. As I think about Mikes prognosis now, it makes me realize how far he has come, he has beaten two astronomical odds: 1. He is alive.  2. He is not a vegetable. Now he only has one more odd to beat and I think he can do it.

Although this story is very serious and the things Tom told us were devastating and horrible, when ever Lauri and I talk about this it totally cracks us up.  The main reason is that it took us months to realize that when Tom said "This is the cat scan of a man who will never ride a motorcycle again" it was his way of breaking it to us easy that Mike was going to die.  It not only didn't work but confused us so much that by the time he said 5% we had no clue what he was talking about.  Also for some reason all the constant pointing at the damage is now funny to us.  Don't get me wrong it wasn't funny at the time but you gain a sick sense of humor when you go through terrible things.  This is not the only inappropriate thing Lauri and I laugh hysterically at. For those of you who don't think this is funny all I can say is "I guess you had to be there".