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spoopy computing
Ilhan Omar's gaming rig
From what I heard that thing is an absolute beast. A bit much for a game of Among Us.
Love her.
walk-ins
#IVoted
Memories of 95
don't mean to be political but
@mashcan
This may not be safe for viewing at work.
#NSFW, #scars
@mashcan asked how I was recovering in a comment and I figured since he was likely not the only one wondering and since today marks exactly 4 months since the accident I’d give you all a rundown…
For those who missed it on June 25th I was “doored” in the parlance of the bicycle commuter. A driver in a parked car opened thier door in front of me. The corner of the door then entered my chest resulting in a puncture wound requiring 11 stitches to close. Thus the scar you see above. More on that in a bit…
I was taken to the ER via an ambulance and met there by my brother. What some of you might not know is that while I was in the ER my mother, who had been ill, coded in her hospital room, was revived and rushed to ICU where four days later she died.
Back to that chest wound. Beyond a cursory field dressing applied by the paramedics the wound was left largely unchecked resulting in continued blood loss that didn’t seem to bother anyone but me.
When I was later rolled to XRAY and left unattended while waiting for the technician the bleeding continued under my gown, again undetected by anyone but me. When I was asked to stand for a chest XRAY it then became clear that there were bigger issues as I almost fainted and the pool of blood that had been collecting on my stomach escaped to the floor in front of the technician…
I was very quickly returned to the ER. Where I asked to please have my wound sutured to avoid further blood loss and me making any more of a mess… The attending concurred and after cleaning me up he stitched up the hole in my chest.
For those keeping count at home this puts my total body suture count up in the high 300s. 390 by my count but I might be off by a few.
While being stitched up CT scans I had gotten earlier, almost immediately after being admitted and the reason the field dressing was removed to begin with, showed that the pesky car door I’d met with had introduced a sizable air bubble into my chest cavity. A bubble that would have no chance of escape given the newly introduced sutures. Ergo doc was going to have to remove at least a few of them… Not minutes after having applied them…
A few other delights from this day include the fact that my apartment was being painted… rendering it, for all intents and purposes, inaccessible. So I spent my first night of recovery at my brothers apt…
The day after I consumed as much cannabis as I could and recovered as best I could still ensconced in my brother’s basement apartment. By that evening I was feeling OK and since my brother had dinner plans he left me and the dog to convalesce.
Shortly thereafter a summer microburst unleashed 6 inches of rain in a matter of a few minutes overwhelming the garden apartments sump and pumping a wave of black, brackish, foul smelling water all through the apartment… And me with a dog I couldn’t lift… Poor Chet looked like he was wearing boots.
Good.
Times.
Thankfully that Saturday night @Epski and her old man Big D came by and things weren’t just tolerable for a few hours, they were wonderful.
Then on the following Monday my Mom died.
Since then it’s been a real roller coaster…
My brother, who suffers from a number of spinal related ailments not least of which is spinal stenosis, has adopted a Joe Rogan/Wim Hof based treatment plan in which eating an all protein diet and supplements while taking a cold shower, or maybe its the other way around, is the answer to his problems. I don’t really think this is the healthiest approach but my brother has always been more about looking for solutions to his problems than actually solving anything…
So as a result we haven’t spoken in months.
Also, my sister is mad at me because while convalescing from a terrible car accident I was unable to be sufficiently emotionally supportive of her in the wake of our mother’s death. Our mother, a woman who I hadn’t spoken to for 3+ years mostly due to her inability to control her consumption of alcohol and drugs and the rampant untruths that accompanied that consumption...
That and no one wanting to come to terms with any of the other things about our family that are fundamentally broken…
Then a month or so ago I slipped a disc while walking though my apartment. Came to on the floor and couldn’t walk for a few minutes. Pure delight that stuff. Like watching something happening to you from the outside looking in… Unable to act on events in your own reality….
Back to the photo; imagine having a silver dollar super glued to your chest…? That’s what it feels like. Having something foreign and unremovable impeding your free flow of movement….
So to answer the original inquiry; How am I doing..?
About the same, thanks for asking.
@mashcan asked how I was recovering in a comment and I figured since he was likely not the only one wondering and since today marks exactly 4 months since the accident I’d give you all a rundown…
For those who missed it on June 25th I was “doored” in the parlance of the bicycle commuter. A driver in a parked car opened thier door in front of me. The corner of the door then entered my chest resulting in a puncture wound requiring 11 stitches to close. Thus the scar you see above. More on that in a bit…
I was taken to the ER via an ambulance and met there by my brother. What some of you might not know is that while I was in the ER my mother, who had been ill, coded in her hospital room, was revived and rushed to ICU where four days later she died.
Back to that chest wound. Beyond a cursory field dressing applied by the paramedics the wound was left largely unchecked resulting in continued blood loss that didn’t seem to bother anyone but me.
When I was later rolled to XRAY and left unattended while waiting for the technician the bleeding continued under my gown, again undetected by anyone but me. When I was asked to stand for a chest XRAY it then became clear that there were bigger issues as I almost fainted and the pool of blood that had been collecting on my stomach escaped to the floor in front of the technician…
I was very quickly returned to the ER. Where I asked to please have my wound sutured to avoid further blood loss and me making any more of a mess… The attending concurred and after cleaning me up he stitched up the hole in my chest.
For those keeping count at home this puts my total body suture count up in the high 300s. 390 by my count but I might be off by a few.
While being stitched up CT scans I had gotten earlier, almost immediately after being admitted and the reason the field dressing was removed to begin with, showed that the pesky car door I’d met with had introduced a sizable air bubble into my chest cavity. A bubble that would have no chance of escape given the newly introduced sutures. Ergo doc was going to have to remove at least a few of them… Not minutes after having applied them…
A few other delights from this day include the fact that my apartment was being painted… rendering it, for all intents and purposes, inaccessible. So I spent my first night of recovery at my brothers apt…
The day after I consumed as much cannabis as I could and recovered as best I could still ensconced in my brother’s basement apartment. By that evening I was feeling OK and since my brother had dinner plans he left me and the dog to convalesce.
Shortly thereafter a summer microburst unleashed 6 inches of rain in a matter of a few minutes overwhelming the garden apartments sump and pumping a wave of black, brackish, foul smelling water all through the apartment… And me with a dog I couldn’t lift… Poor Chet looked like he was wearing boots.
Good.
Times.
Thankfully that Saturday night @Epski and her old man Big D came by and things weren’t just tolerable for a few hours, they were wonderful.
Then on the following Monday my Mom died.
Since then it’s been a real roller coaster…
My brother, who suffers from a number of spinal related ailments not least of which is spinal stenosis, has adopted a Joe Rogan/Wim Hof based treatment plan in which eating an all protein diet and supplements while taking a cold shower, or maybe its the other way around, is the answer to his problems. I don’t really think this is the healthiest approach but my brother has always been more about looking for solutions to his problems than actually solving anything…
So as a result we haven’t spoken in months.
Also, my sister is mad at me because while convalescing from a terrible car accident I was unable to be sufficiently emotionally supportive of her in the wake of our mother’s death. Our mother, a woman who I hadn’t spoken to for 3+ years mostly due to her inability to control her consumption of alcohol and drugs and the rampant untruths that accompanied that consumption...
That and no one wanting to come to terms with any of the other things about our family that are fundamentally broken…
Then a month or so ago I slipped a disc while walking though my apartment. Came to on the floor and couldn’t walk for a few minutes. Pure delight that stuff. Like watching something happening to you from the outside looking in… Unable to act on events in your own reality….
Back to the photo; imagine having a silver dollar super glued to your chest…? That’s what it feels like. Having something foreign and unremovable impeding your free flow of movement….
So to answer the original inquiry; How am I doing..?
About the same, thanks for asking.
fuck, man. i didn’t know so many of these details, and i’m so sorry this road has been so rocky. big love to you💜
So sorry to hear all this. You deserve better.
I'm really sorry you've had all of that family crap on top of what was already a very rough start to the summer. It's good to see you around here again, I hope the hits stop coming and the winter is smoother sailing.
mood
accepted.jpg
GREAT SPAGHETTI!
Hurdy gurdy boys. New York, 1860.
Cheeky Tiki
Meet Satan
US Topographic Map
Make me a zombie
The Cream of the Scream
stairs
New Project Flowchart
Every Surface Humankind has Visited [October 2020]
"Life of Saint Tractor"
nostalgic
I grew up in Connecticut and used to drive a Chevy Vega this color through snowstorms. This hits me in the feels.
source: https://78-s.tumblr.com/post...
source: https://78-s.tumblr.com/post...
My mom had a yellow Vega. But instead of banana yellow it was more lemon yellow. We drove from St. Louis to Colorado Springs with all of our camping gear in that lemon yellow Vega. Holy fuck
I think the car in the photo may be a Maverick. My earliest memories are of my parents' Maverick and the sleepy-eyed look of the rear taillights, and I think it was a similar yellowish color.
@notwebsafe that is, indeed, a Maverick.
amiga
source: https://twitter.com/thatsgoo...
I can just hear the empty floppy drives going “glip … glip … glip …”
Reliquary
but yes, I most definitely do, yes
Heartwarming
When they go low
The Daily Popcorn
Mr. Bungle "Sudden Death" (pre-order now)
Not an omen, a latté
