I’ve had enough of this ride, and I’d like to get off now please.

Baby Max is doing great, and now 10 days old, he’s getting used to us and we’re getting used to him. He’s quiet, active, attentive, curious and very much a beautiful little boy.

The whole story is long and not attractive. It’s also not uncommon, but you don’t read about C-Sections like this often, and I want other fathers to understand – you aren’t alone when you feel the things you feel.

Here’s a synopsis of the last 7 days. Inserted are my journal notes tapped into my iPhone along the way…

June 21, 2010

Mom is now 10 days post-partum, and 7 days out of the hospital. What we’ve learned? 3 days is simply not enough time to heal from a caesarian before removing staples.

After their removal on Monday morning last week, Lin suffered some rapid bruising. By 10pm Monday, we experienced the first of what would be a number of discharges of fluid from the incision that had been completely sealed that morning.

4am brought us via ambulance to the hospital after an extensive draining of blood and fluid that pooled on the floor and soaked her bedclothes.

By 7am Tuesday morning, we were home with a diagnosis of ‘Yes, that can happen. Take it easy, keep it clean.”

We had a clear day, and at 10 the next morning when planning to leave for our day-home as a full family, the wound released again, blood and fluid pouring to the floor.

Spending a little more time watching, and less panicking confirmed that the discharge was mostly serum – the bodies fluid media for healing. We dressed as best we could with materials on hand, and we saw no major discharge for the next few days.

Late Thursday, with Lin’s sister up to help us out and balance our sanity, we noticed an odor to the discharge, and concerned about infection planned to get to the doctor again.

Thursday night, 12:41, June 17.

Today I’m scared. Not so much about our longer term situation but about keeping myself together for lin. She’s fragile. She’s saddened that she cannot have the perfect recovery. Saddened that she cannot do what she expected to be able to. Feeelin that her desire to have our second child has had such a negative impact on us.

In reality no such thing has happened. We’ve had a stretch of bad luck during her recovery. Difficult healing isn’t something you can plan for. I know that well make it though the next week, and well get back on the road to well, raising max well as we have Ben.

What scares me is not knowing if I can be strong enough for both of us in the coming days. To keep her spirits up while I feel so overwhelmed with joy and fear. I can’t bear to see her hurting, and yet I know that this is something I have little choice in.

Tomorrow morning she will contact her surgeon, failing a visit with her – Lin will go to emergency with Eliza while I sit at work a wreck, and she’ll wait was LONG as is necessary to get the right treatment, supplies, antibiotics etc, as are required to allow her to heal correctly.

I’m glad my folks aren’t here – because I’d be crying on a shoulder – begging for them to tell me that everything will work out fine – wishing just for a moment that I believed I had the strength to take care of both my sons while holding Lin together.

Friday morning, 10:25, June 18

Lin should be at emergency now. I hope that she’s not waiting too long and I feel exhausted, guilty, and lost. I should be with her at the hospital, and she needs me, but Eliza is with her and I don’t think I’d be much help on the edge of tears.

Check that she just phoned and is still at home. Her doctor is calling her back right now. Hopefully she’ll squeeze in. If it’s emergent she’ll get her into the hospital quickly I hope, or home and on the right meds quickly.

An hour later and her doctor still hasn’t given her an answer. I told her to get to the nuns and get into emerg. Perhaps the gods will smile a litle and they’ll get her to the mat ward but I’m not holding my breath.

I need desperately for someone to say we can fix this. To say yeah man . Shit happens. But don’t worry – well get her better. Instead we keep hearing “look out for” and “watch out for” and “don’t go to the hospital for”.

This is their fault. Rushing out three day caesarians, not providing appropriate cautions and supplies to deal with possible complications.

Now were struggling to stay positive and move forward.

I feel abandoned.

After some lunch now and Lin is at the hospital in chairs waiting for the on-call Doc to look in on her. I want this to be a non-issue; to be sent home with a smile and good news but at the same time I’d love for her to be admitted and assisted to heal properly, letting me care for Ben’s needs – rather than worrying about her.

Doe that make me sound cold? Audra says guilt is useless and to toss it aside. I’m doing what i can and if this is my limit so be it… Work to my limit. So knowing All that – why do I feel so shtty beyond the worry?

Friday Afternoon, 1:45 June 18
Three hour at emergency now. The doctor just got to Lin and were about 30 minutes into this one. I don’t know what result I want. I want wellness however that can be found given the situation.

I still want a shoulder that I’m allowed to cry on. The drive home will have to do.

This time we were told that – and I’m not kidding here – ‘Larger women often get that smell’ from a wound.

Friday Afternoon, 3:30 June 18 2010

Oooooh fumin. Doc on call at the grey nuns was a dick. He suggeted we overreacted because “women of size” often get a smell to the discharge in an abdominal incision… Ok – I get it – the fold of skin that incisions are usually made in tend not to be air-exposed. Yeah – anaerobic – I get it.

I realize these are ER Docs but let’s show a little class. Bedside manner? None.

On the upside, home care is suppposed to contact us and get things settled over the weekend. Lins hip-abdominal pain contnues, but she never had the oppertunity to talk with the asshole about it. Thinking back, we had a similar experience last time. Will confirm with the nurse tomorrow. They tend to know more about healing than doctors anyway.

One more night. One more day. Healing will come…

The ER physician should have his head removed from his ass so that I can place my boot up there. That ‘closed’ incision from Monday now had an angry 1.5 x .75 inch opening where it had been stapled closed. (For the uninformed – the incision is about 8″ long total).

He did however, order home care for the wound – to ensure that it healed correctly, and for the first time in days we had some peace of mind.

Saturday night, June 19 2010

Today was a big day. It was a good day because as a result of Lins visit with the cockbite ER doc we got a visit from a home care nurse. She looked at the incision, made some solid assessments, properly dressed the wound, and gave us the first sound answers yet. We talked about the nautre of recovery, want to expect, supplies should they be needed, a number to call for backup without the need for the er or three hour waits. She gave us the first hope since this began that we could get there. The first hope for and end to this struggle to heal, and the first person to say it’s not bad, and you’ll get there if you’re patient and positive.

That’s not to say my folks and sister haven’t said that – but they aren’t here looking into the two inch opening.

Eliza was invaluable as she gave Lin a soundboard and gave me a feW moments to get out of the house without worrying about Lin alone at home. She told Lin to shut up, and gave her the chance to be down without me seeing it.

I told lin about my guilt and how I was at the end of my rope, not fearful about her long term health but about my ability to be a good father to two, and take care of her without losing my marbles.

We are still trying to sleep, trying to find normal, trying to heal.

Today she ate well again. She slept. She drank. She smiled.

Tonight, max is the fussy one. I hope that he can rest, or it will be a long night….

Our nurses came Saturday and Sunday, cleaning checking and re-dressing, and both days showed improvement in the now open wound.

Sunday night 1:39am, June 20 2010

Today was a good day. Our nurse arrived at 9. Cleaned up the incision and got us squared away for the day. Lins movement was better, and aside from the discomfort of emptying bladder and the stich in the hip – I think there was some progress in her healing.

The incision still looks angry, but today seemed healthier. The open portion wanted to be closed and responded well to cleaning with no bleeding or additional seepage. It looked like a healty cut and was in healing mode.

Aside from a little leak on the dressing the previous day, the nurses efforts as well as a better mental state for both of us resulted in a busy fathers day that saw me getting food on the table, six loads of laundry done, and a clean kitchen counter and sinks, mowed lawn, and low stress. It still looks like a bomb went off in this house, but here is progress.

I may actually sleep soon which is good since I’ve got 5 hours till I have to get Ben ready for the day…

Today is Monday the 21st. Before lunch, Lin had a fever. After some additional hydration, and the nurses visit – her temperature had returned to almost normal. I’m on pins and needles all over again.

http://www.fiftynorth.ca

Since my last blog post the Canadian federal election has come and gone, and unsurprisingly there has been virtually no change in Canada’s political landscape, with the exception of moving around a few deck chairs.  The conservative minority government is still a minority, with an official opposition too weak to act decisively in a positive direction for Canada, and a leading party in too weak a position to drive real change.

The Harper government has held to many ‘conservativisms’ but has not crippled us or buried us in scandal yet however so I’ll bide my time before deciding on a real opinion.  There were a lot of us who saw the election as nothing more than an opportunity to hold an election called by the lowest bidder.  Harpers campaign of “You’re better off with Harper” rang dead-on.  No frontrunner emerged from ANY party to truly steal the stage and bring voters out of their cocoons.  In order for a real change I think a few things must change.

1.  Voting should become MANDATORY for all ‘new’ Canadians.  We must get these new members of our ‘Cultural Mosaic’ [ED. Note: @bgrier says I should use the phrase 'Cultural Mozaic' instead of my original 'melting pot' because the 'pot is in the "US and A" Ok... ] out, educated in the issues, and at the polls.  No – I’m not done.  Voting should also be mandatory for all CITIZENS period.  It is NOT acceptable for less than 60% of eligible voters to share the responsibility for 100% of Canadians.  This is ludicrous.  Come on people – this is your COUNTRY.  Act like that means something.

2.  Through Election reform, we must enforce NATIONAL party criteria.  If you can’t run in every riding across this nation, you cannot effectively represent Canadians.  As a party, this only leads to divisive voting and a lack of cohesion.  Yes Monsieur Duceppe – this means you.  Quebec holds 75 of Canada’s 308 electoral ridings.  Quebec has a history of ‘a quest for distinction’ and it’s high time this country functioned as a Nation.  Either the Bloq runs nationally, or they turn their efforts into creating a Nation with a foundation of leadership and solidarity, by running under a national platform and leading the advancement of french culture through their elected representatives, rather than by stymieing the efforts of National parties to lead.

3. Election Reform to produce REAL candidates.  Low voter turnout is often (yes – I’m making a leap here) the result of a lack of charismatic candidates.  Candidates with passion and devotion to the country in which they live.  Candidates with a desire to impart REAL change to a system with real issues.  Candidates with the stones to stand up on the world stage and say THIS IS WHAT WE BELIEVE IN.   Before Elizabeth May got to stand before this nation she was an unknown, but after the debate public opinion the Blue bloods and the Red bloods seemed to show some notice of her.  Were she a member of a party without a history of granola eating vegans and Greenpeacers – she could have a real shot at influencing positive change for this country.

4. An END to Partisan Bullshit.  When was the last time you saw a Liberal suggest that a Conservative policy would work?  When was the last time Jack Layton said, you know “Mr. Duceppe – You’re right…”?  Why is it that everyone MUST take a viewpoint contrary to the person to their left and right? (Or just your right if we’re talking Green of course.)  It’s time our elected representatives went to work for the people, set a course based on sound economics and moral fundamentals, and got the job done.

I certainly hope for my country’s sake, and my child’s sake that our new(?) government can put down the campaign literature and set a course for the good over the next 4 years (18 months) and put a sound economic plan in place that takes environment, social responsibility and fiscal responsibility as foundations for the future.

What can I say. He’s as big as a teenager – so why not give him the same kind of support.

Of course – it was his mom who cajoled the be-spandexed young lady to pose with Ben. Dad was far to ashamed after having “checked her out” to actually speak to her at all. The girls of the Grand Prix of Edmonton booth at the EMDA motorshow on the weekend were (if there is a polite way to put this) nicely put together. As Paul, Greg and I looked on (another Greg, not my more sensible, or ummm politically correct side.)  “April” if I recall her name, was most obliging.

Benjamin, of course, is grabbing a handful of boobie.

Nice. Good boy.

Main Entry: meme
Pronunciation: 'mEm
Function: noun
Etymology: alteration of mimeme, from mim- (as in mimesis) + -eme
: an idea, behavior, style, or usage that spreads from person to person within a culture

These ‘things’ that spread like wildfire on the internet – like the dancing hamster (grrr) or the bananaphone – which I won’t taunt you with. But now – bloggers are purveyors of the meme.

Not only do we START them (Nickerson, Hawesome here STOP) but we create them… by introducing a challenge to create shared culture. Again – Nickerson has challenged us to create fiction around a photograph. Under 300 words.

Sorry – I landed about 450, and ended up writing future – not past fiction.

A drunken whore lay passed out – sprawled across a torn and smelly sofa in the front window of the room near an uninviting entrance. The sounds of the street outside rattled the few unbroken windowpanes. Coated with a hundred years of nicotine, sweat and the odd splash of urine, the ancient glass passed only a little of the golden late afternoon sun tainting it with an organic tint.

A photograph, tattered and stained in its scratched Lucite frame on the wall betrayed the real nature of the haphazard surgical loft. Once a tidy gentleman’s hotel this building was now a 60-bed brothel with surgical service. A setting sun signaled the beginning of the busy hours. One by one the great neon signs advertising skin cutters and neural-hackers flickered to life like sick giant fireflies pulsing in unhealthy hues of magenta and cyan.

As prices on the strip increased new cutters would take residence on these back streets – installing their neon and glitter to coax the downtrodden and unexpectedly wealthy inside. The cutter’s only hope – to catch those souls desperate for implants and sensory upgrades but unable to pay the high-priced strip surgeons rates.

Looking out from that photograph was a young man in a poorly cut but clean white shirt and second hand pants. His outward appearance clashed somewhat with the simple look in his eyes. He had the look of a man who could scarcely count, let alone comprehend the business of those insurance men selling numbers. His hands were working hands and they didn’t match the shirt and tie he was forced to wear. When the Midwest farms couldn’t support themselves he had moved to the city and now stood by the counter ready to assist a traveler with his case of samples for just a few cents.

What was once a lobby for men making notes in their leather folios before slipping on a jacket and a fitted hat for the day was now a waiting room for the macabre side of technology. His contemporary counterpart stood at the counter but lacked the simple down home feel of that thin man in the photograph. The orderly was a large man, bearing a tattooed frame and facial alterations. The corner of my lip curled slightly as I imagined the two men meeting in the stairwell. The slow gentle farm hand from a world long passed meeting the watchful ogre from this place. That poor farm boy would run screaming from this devil – provided of course that he was in the ogres presence long enough to catch a glint from the titanium horns extending from the heavy set brow. No doubt a sensory upgrade with a small interface port for adjustment. Based on the questionable placement of the sensors a less skilled surgeon did the work, perhaps one of the cutters from this very establishment.

It was then that I realized that I didn’t know if I was coming, or going.