On Tuesday night, a whole bunch of us went to the Randolph Fair. Coop really had a great time. We met Sammy, and his two kids. Just a really good time. We indulged ourselves in Americana fair food, (gyros, pizza, corndogs, sausages, fries, funnel cakes, etc.) watched the demolition derby, and walked from booth to booth as children of farmers displayed their prize animals in cages. Coop really had a good time at the demolition derby. He wanted Wendy to cover his ears the entire time (it was loud), but he certainly wasn't scared. He was a little worried that the cars were now "broken". Too cute. Here are some snapshots of our trip to the Randolph Fair:




Wednesday morning, Wendy and I got up before any of those prize roosters could crow, and headed toward the Cleveland Clinic. Hard not to be nervous before someone is about to cut out a part of your lung. I don't know about you...but not being able to breathe sort of scares me. Anyway, they got me all checked in, shaved my body, and the next thing I knew I was entering operating room #69. I smiled as they rolled me in.

When I woke up in the ICU, the first thing I remember is a couple of nurses standing over top of me saying that "we can't get his pain under control". They pump you full of all kinds of drugs, and you fade in and out of conciousness. The ICU is a little weird because it is just a bunch of people in hospital beds, seperated by curtains. You can hear what is happening to the patient next to you, and they can hear when you are in pain.

I do remember my wife and my parents stopping, but couldn't tell you what we talked about. I also remember that the lady in the room across from me had a trach in her throat, so she couldn't talk. She would continuously wave her arms, and until I figured it out, I was just waving back. The drugs made me a little rambunctions and outgoing on Thursday, and at one point, I remember saying, "I need some Obama-care over here!" Which I don't think that lady liked to much. Oh well.

On Thursday afternoon, some guy came by and pulled one of the two drain tubes from the incision site. Hurt like a mother-fucker as I bit down on a rag, while he yanked it out.

The Fever came to see me and scope out some of the nurses. We chatted for a while, but I felt bad as it was just hard for me to stay awake. They finally got me a room on Thursday evening. It was painful moving me from the ICU bed to my room bed.

Rhodes and Norm came by to see me on Friday. We laughed about the old days.

There is no getting any rest in the hospital. Thursday night...new nurse, blood draws, chest x-rays, lung specialist, pain specialist, vital signs, more blood draws, housekeeping, breathing treatments, more vital signs. Friday morning rolls around and they bring my breakfast. Nurse comes by with pain meds, they take some blood, pull out my cathader (holy shit that hurts), breathing treatment, take a walk, massage, x-ray, vital signs, and then the lady comes with my lunch and the nurse wants to know why I haven't eaten anything...ha! Wendy was a trooper and spent the night with me on a fold out bench. I'm sure she didn't sleep much either.

Tom stopped up again on Friday afternoon. Good to have a Dad like him.

Megan and Tim stopped on Friday night. Brought me a couple of movies. We laughed.

Saturday, Dr. Murthy stopped by in the morning, and told me that I could go home later that day. I streamed the Mentor High school football game on the internet, and watched the Browns 1st half on the TV. It seemed like forever before they finished up the paperwork to get me out of there.

What i really couldn't believe is that they let me walk out of there on my own feet. I was totally cool with it, but I have to admit that I was a little woozy from all of the drugs, plus the trauma to my body.

Sunday morning, I woke up and I couldn't move. I literally had to roll out of bed, and try to get up off the floor. I hope that tomorrow morning is not that bad.

And, while I am not looking forward to the 72 emails that I have to respond to, it will be good to get back into the groove of everday life. I hurt a whole lot, but pain is only temporary. Hopefully, we can put this behind us, and it will extend my life with my children. Because if it means extra time in this world with them, I would do it all again next week.

I love you Coop. I love you Knox.

Smile, today could be your last.