Infarction

Sunday was my birthday, and as a special treat Milca took me to Knott’s Berry Farm.  I hadn’t been in ages, and she’d only been once for Knott’s Scary Farm (which is hardly the same), so this was bound to be a good time.  While there we ate at Johnny Rockets.  I had a turkey burger.

While we were on our way out, I felt a little grumblin’ in my belly.  It wasn’t bad, but it was an annoyance.  We went home, cleaned up, then went to a friend’s house for a small gathering completely unrelated to my birthday (long story, but it was a good time).  On the way to the car, my belly had a sharp pain shoot through.  I undid the button of my shorts, and the pain increased.

I got home, took care of things with the Basilisk, then went to bed.  I woke up still in pain.  I took care of things with the Basilisk all day, but the pain was always there.  I figured it was food poisoning; the turkey burger could have been the source.  The next morning Milca made me check if I still had insurance coverage, and I do, so we set an appointment with the doctor.  He checked me out, poked and prodded my belly, then said that it could be appendicitis, or gastritis (sp? & sp?), but to be sure I would have to go to the ER.  He wrote his referal, and sent us on our way.

So, it was a slow day at the Huntington ER.  Milca dropped me at the door then  went to park the car.  I was already in a room taking my shirt off by the time Milca had parked the car.  They did bloodwork, a CAT scan, and gave me morphine.  This was all a new experience for me, and it wasn’t all that bad.

After several hours, the doctor came in and told me that I have an infarction in a piece of fat on my colon.  This piece of fat is in effect dying, which my body can handle, but the pain is an unfortunate side effect.  So, I’m on antibiotics and vicodin, and I can eat normally.

Pain sucks.

15 Minutes

I came in late from lunch one day, unaware of the time (common for people running late), sat at my desk, and went straight to working.  After working a while, I realized that I forgot to clock back in, so I sent an email to my supervisor with the time I came back in.  The thing is, I didn’t really remember when that was, and the time I gave was off by 15 minutes, and not in the way that lets me keep my job.

So, I’m unemployed, and, frankly, breathing a little easier.  That place was sucking the life force from me, and I believe that this couldn’t have come at a better time.

VIVE LA RESISTANCE!

p.s. They got rid of my supervisor, who has had an outstanding HR investigation for a while now, at the same time.  These grapes are mildly bitter, but, I mean, come on.

Surprises

I love my birthday.  I will never fear it, or loathe it.  It’s my day, and I will always revel in that.  I also like surprises, however I also hate them.  I love that someone is putting the effort in making me happy, and they’re putting the extra effort in so that I don’t know in advance.  I can’t stand not knowing.  I try to play detective.  While being driven south on the 5 once with Milca, who was taking me to some surprise location, we were coming up on Disneyland, and she starting moving to the right.  We passed all the exits, only to switch lanes again to go to the left.  My wife taunts my pain, which is what I’d do, of course, so I hold no grudge.

Milca let on that she’s taking me somewhere for my birthday.  Last year she threw a huge surprise bday party, which I had no clue about, which went over splendidly.  This year is likely to be a bit more low key, but I’m holding out for some sort of amusement park or some sort of dorkery.  Of course, something tells me that it might be something where we go out in to the wilderness…

and so the insanity begins.  16 days and counting…

RoboLoop in Binary

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http://text-image.com

My bottom triangle

The yoga class that I’ve been hopelessly sprung on for the past several months is now part of my routine, and a welcome one.  Every Tuesday and Thursday I go after work and get out a lot of stress/tension/anxiety/fear/aching/pain/etc. and come out the other side feeling like a million bucks.

It really is better to park behind this place, because if you park in front you’ll have to walk down the spiral staircase in the front to get back to your car afterwards.  So, I park my car very close to the alley that leads to the back of the place.

Every time, and this is without exception, I have gone to yoga, there has been this guy sitting in a folding chair outside of what could only be described as his mechanic “shop” just sitting there.  He always looks at me, and I always give him a smile, a nod.

Up the standard staircase to the patio outside.  I typically spend about 15 minutes or so here because the prior class is finishing up, and you can’t go in while class is in session.  So, there I stand in the early night air, pondering the upcoming experience.  Initially I would wonder what would hurt the next day.  In the weeks that have passed, I have used this time to gain control of my breath.  I have also started relaxing in to my third eye point, which has become easier and easier.  Then, the door opens.

The people that go to this place are all happy people.  Good people.  The kind of people that, in this crazy world of non-social cavemen, would smile at you and talk to you if your paths crossed.  The instructors are all fit, but not necessarily ripped and trim.  They are all obviously healthy, and truly have a glow about them.  The instructor that teaches both nights is Beatris, a blonde Belgian with the craziest accent I’ve ever heard.

The level of the class greatly depends on whether there are any beginners in class, or people that have only started coming.  I don’t think there have ever been more than 6 people in any given class, and in some there have only been two of us.  The first time that happened, it was me and this other guy.  She kicked both of our asses, as we were both young and could likely take it more than some of the older, less bendy types that come in.

The class itself is a combination of differents sets, each focusing on a different area of the body.  The motion is typically synchronized with the breath, and done back and forth, up and down, left and right, etc. over the course of several minutes.  Breath of Fire is also used, where you pump your abs rapidly with your equally rapid breath, taking deep/short breaths in and out, typically while holding some sort of pose that, otherwise, would be much more painful.

After working us through a series of these sets, leaving us in a completely wiped out state, deep relaxation happens.  I have but two words.  The gong.

Refreshed, I get some of the free tea and make my way back to my car, breathing deeper, feeling the cool air more.  Opened.

This last class on Thursday was another such occassion where only two people were there, except instead of a guy the other person was one of the other instructors, which means that Beatris was aiming for my level and what I needed.

It is believed that when energy flows through the body, blocks are created by general stress/tension/anxiety/fear/aching/pain/etc., and once cleared they allow the energy to flow freely again.  The bottom triangle is the triangle created by your navel, and your two hip joints, and it is believed that creative/sexual/passionate energy flows through the bottom triangle.

I’ve always told Beatris that of all the sets we do, the ones that focus on my hips are typically the ones that are the most challenging/rewarding/painful.  This was the focus of her sets that night.

I can still feel my hips pulsing, and the energy is flowing.  My cup runneth over, and I love it.

Oh, and I’m going to make millions of dollars.  Just warning you in advance.  The world is my burrito.