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John phoned me last night from the doctor place and we had a very informative chat. He is in great spirits as they say and is something of a phenom in the recovery annals of slicing and chopping on legs. My suspicion is that he is more drug assisted than anything else. He mentioned a massive inadvertant overdose of a rat poison based blood thinner that I'm guessing his drug saturated corpus just lapped up like mother's milk was instrumental in his recovery time.

At any rate he proported that he would be on the streets early next week. I got an email fro Martha Anne this AM that conveys much the same info.

I will leave it to John to regale you all with his adventures. I'm sure that his "Red Mist in the Morning" attitude will provide you with a far better picture of recent events than I would care to indulge in.

Charlie

Great news ---- thanks, Ken

Thanks for the report, Charlie.

Egad, they can't kill him with coumadin, must be a tough cookie, indeed. Hope he is well on the road to recovery. The anaesthesiologist is usually made aware of what abuse the liver has been seeing, after he tries to get you out. Nervous moments, when the patient is counting backward from 100, and has made it to the low 70s...
Best,
Ted

I missed a chance meeting with John due to a family illness - I'm glad I'll have another shot at it, if and when the laddie comes to towne again.
Time we've had some good news, and I can't think of a better fellow to start it out with.

.....good news, Charles.....he's one of the "good guys"......

Thanks Charlie, good news and good to hear from you!!

I don't know what I would do without the email updates from John!

CB

Well.. thats what I get for being off the net.

I didnt know Meeker was in a bad way. Wondered why he didnt edit my last essay.

Good news indeed to hear that once again John is apparently bullet-proof.

Good to hear from you too, Wonko.

Regards

GKT

I'm sprung.

From Monday to Sunday, inclusive, to receive a nice new Kevlar and Silicone femoral artery in my right leg, from groin to below the knee. Some ancestors of mine are gonna catch Heck, when I run into then, for introducing 'sludge blood' into the clean-livin' Meeker clan. Or optionally, one can say that I just have been blessed with "aggressive platelets".

Hence the dynamite charges of coumadin, I guess. Had to go back four hours after closure and open up the femoral again, to remove a clot that stopped up the works. Combined with all the other post-op drugs and considerable blood loss while the docs slithered around inside chasing that bad boy, I actually experienced one of those 'events' one reads about or sees portrayed on psuedo-psychic TV-umentaries.

Just had chugged down another handful of pills from the nurse, which were laid in over morphine, and was sorta flopped back on the ol' sweatsack, when I was suddenly about as thin as one of those Warner Bros cartoon characters, that usta get comically steamrollered into one dimension.

While pondering this sudden change of physical space, I felt my head and shoulders rising. Thinking a nurse had just cranked me back up, I opened my eyes to see...me! Yup...looked right down on the ol' corpus, whist hovering somewhere around the ceiling. About then, I began an ascension not unlike that of a balloon, existing as both a luminescent golden sphere and yet retaining my sense of body. Very pretty view, nice fresh air, sorta soaring up over a Garden of Eden-new Earth.

I could see it macroscopically and microscopically, with a view that outdid anything I've ever experienced for sheer beauty. For some immeasurable time I was just 'there'. Eventually, I noted that my energy trailed off into a looooong shimmering thread all the way back down to my feet. They were firmly on the ground, but I could easily lift them and rock around a bit. It struck me that I was quite happy where I was, and had the equally attractive options of lifting off, or could continue to keep my feet on the ground. I didn't even snicker at that line, either.

It was pretty much heads or tails, but eventually picked feet on the ground and the process slowly reversed itself, until I was back flat on the bed. Then, much like the Warner Bros cartoon character, my body popped back into three dimensions. Things sorta bobbed around with minor excursions into angles of geometry and perceptions of energy that were new to me, but eventually snoozed off, at the next morphine shot.

I have no real opinion on the event, it's rational validity, causes, or much beyond what I just reported. However, I will say that I have never smelled air so sweet, seen light so clear, or held such a fine appreciation for existence as I did in those moments.

Mind you, I'm not gonna have another perfectly good artery done up, just to repeat the event. However, if I do run across that place again, can't say that I'd be distressed if I stayed there to explore it. And...my friends may wish me the finest 'Bon voyage!', for who knows that the Road to Tinkemtown may not be found in such regions.

Thank you to all who send good wishes, I'll be a while before I sit at a 'puter, again. But, hey: there's fish in the water, birds in the air, and the Chessies tell me that the game will be afoot this fall. Gotta march!!! :~`)

Best to all,

John

I'll presume the grim reaper was making a beer run, and missed you. Welcome back, and hope the recovery continues a a good clip.
Best,
Ted