Weekly Briefing from the North Texas Apocalypse Bunker, 5/13/22
Double Sized Convalescence Edition
Everyone in Administration would like to personally thank you for you well-wishes, covered dishes, and cards full of birthday money that showed up this week. It was not the administrator’s birthday, though it did feel rather like he actually gave birth. See below.
It’s been difficult to sit and concentrate for very long, so I have been writing as I can, and the result is this massive missive you have before you.
Special Report from the Agency of Health and Wellness
Operation: Pac-Man Was a Rousing Success
I have two lines of surgical tubing coming out of my groin, leeching lymphatic fluid out of the inside of the surgical site, leading to two bulbs I’m carrying around in a lavender sack on my neck. I’ve got a half-inch hose affixed to the top of the surgical area to keep the incision closed and moisture free, and it’s attached to the most bulky, least ergonomic, not-designed-for-the-human-body wound vac I’ve ever seen in my life.
And they are all coming up from my loose-fitting pants.
I’m wearing a binder, or as I like to think of it, a “Sinatra Corset,” to cover the massive cut the doctor made across my body, from hip to hip, apparently with a Hanzo sword, which he then stitched and stapled back together again.
My hernia is gone, along with my belly button. Neither one was really doing much for me anyway, so I’m okay with that.
It hurts to breathe, and especially it hurts to cough. Every time I do it, I have to hold myself together so I don’t open up like a wet paper sack full of grapefruit.
I can handle all of that, though. I feel so different. I can’t quite describe it. Oh, who are we kidding, of course I can describe it.
5. I feel like I’ve been carrying all of the balls for our four-man bowling team.
4. I feel like I’m walking on the moon’s surface, all light and bouncy.
3. I feel like the giant bag of dog food I had slung around my neck is gone.
2. I feel like a toddler, trying to figure out where his center of gravity is.
1. I feel like the world’s worst juice box.
But despite all of that...I also feel great. It’s as if a massive, 35 lb weigh has rolled off of me. That’s the size and weight of the panniculitis they cut off of me, by the way. Thirty-five pounds. Holy shit. The first one that they cut off of me, in my lower abdomen? That weighed thirty pounds. I’m not talking about the belly fat, either. Just the panniculitis.
I will ruminate more on this when I’m not so heavily sedated.
Surgery Notes
My second time on this particular ride went off without a hitch. I knew what to expect, and if I’m being totally honest about it, I’ve been thinking about it for years at this point.
When I came out of the anesthesia, I was on the table, mostly naked, with the wound vac and two drains in place...and I felt great. I was groggy, disoriented, having trouble waking up because the sleep felt so good, but I still felt great. Lighter. More jovial. I woke up joking.
I wasn’t dead wrong about myself regarding my fear of needles; I have made some progress. Evidently, getting a shot doesn’t bother me nearly so much as a blood draw. I was still feeling the Xanax from the previous night when the guy came in to install the IV, but I wasn’t loopy or out of it. Janice saw what was about to happen and grabbed my free hand and immediately asked me to explain the differences between the various Green Lanterns, but as it turned out, she was forced to hear my views on Guy Gardner for nothing. I felt the IV poke, and it was a “big pinch” as they like to call it (phlebotomists, amirite?), but I didn’t have a panic attack. Bonus: while he was in there, he drew some blood, which I thankfully didn’t notice. That guy was good.
All hospital television was set-up by the aliens the government has been detaining since the Roswell crash. I’ve never seen a TV set up that is a three-digit channel, of which the first two numbers are huge, and the last number is not only small, but also hyphenated. I read that has a sub-category set in a larger list. 36-1, 36-2, and so on. Yet on the laminated channel guide, the numbers are 361, 362, etc. To all of the health care workers I know: what’s wrong with y’all? Who hurt you? Show me on the doll, will you? Why is the crappy TV so needlessly complicated?
Thankfully, I stumbled across an Office marathon on some damn channel or another, and was able to sleep in the hospital until they woke me up in the dead of night to see how I was doing.
Janice was a trooper through all of this. A rock. A veritable angel. She not only kept my mother up to speed, but she took over my Facebook for the day and kept everyone there informed and entertained while I was in the clutches of the health care system. She spent the night on an uncomfortable recliner, scooched up next to the bed, out like a light. She didn’t really get to rest until we got home the next day. Ever since then, she’s been helping me, and I’ve been letting her. It has kept us both on a more even keel.
Week One Update
My follow-up visit to the plastic surgeon’s office was fun. All of the women there were standing around, waiting to get a look at me. I felt like a celebrity. The doctor, without looking up from his computer, said, “They’ve been talking about it all day, Mark.” It was very rock-and-roll, I tell you what.
In the exam room, I got down to my birthday suit so that the doctor could look upon his works and despair, but what happened is this: the doctor came in, followed by two of the women on staff. They all crouched down, like Johnny Bench signaling to throw the heater, staring intently, smiling and nodding. They were particularly impressed with my formerly tumescent scrotum and all of them asked if it felt better.
At one point, the room looked like something out of A Night at the Opera; me, sitting in a chair, naked as a jaybird, save for the paper gown the put on me that did absolutely fuck-all since it had to be open in the front; Janice, sitting beside me, fully clothed, trying not to laugh; my plastic surgeon and his assistant, crouched down: an observer shadowing the two of them: and two more nurses chatting with me about how much different I looked and how excited they are for me. If Margaret Dumont had somehow managed to squeeze into the room, I wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised. The only person missing was the receptionist, and I’m quite sure she got an earful after I was gone.
I found it fascinating, honestly, how little I cared that they were all staring with clinical indifference at Thor and his two magical goats, and also how easily they were able to look me in the eye afterward. Granted, there wasn’t much to look at, as everything south of my horizontal zipper was evidently shocked and awed that they were able to taste fresh air and sunlight again, rather like rolling the seal away from the mummy’s tomb. After two thousand years in the dark, everything looks desiccated and weird.
The wound vac is off, now. The drains are still doing their thing. Janice bought me some workout pants off of the rack and I was surprised to find that they were a little big. It felt like a magic trick. I’ll talk more about this later.
Supplemental Report from the Division of Media Review: Janice talks about Roar (Apple)
The boys in the DMR and Bunker Administration asked me if I wanted to do a guest review of the Apple TV anthology series Roar, mainly because I am one of two females in the bunker. The bunker mascot might have been their first pick if it wasn’t for the whole opposable thumbs thing.
Roar may have been an overstatement, but calling them subtle feminists moral fables would not have garnered a very big audience. Don’t let the idea of feminist fables scare you. I am a feminists. Most everyone I know is a feminist.
Feminists - noun - a person who supports feminism.
Feminism - noun - the advocacy of women’s rights on the basis of the equality of the sexes.
There is nothing ugly, nothing scary and no male bashing. Advocating for one does not mean attacking the other. Okay, now that the paperwork is done, I can tell you why I was left feeling rather “meh” by Roar.
Before I started watching the show, the Apple TV synopsis “literally” caused me to grind my teeth. No, wait. I should not have put literally in quotes, because there was teeth grinding and some ranting to Mark. They ended every synopsis with the word literally, except one. If you are going to embrace a bit, even a bad bit, you need to go all in.
The eight episodes are around 30 minutes long. It is based on a short story collection by Cecelia Ahern. Aherrn has published several novels and created and produced the ABC comedy Samantha Who? Starring Christina Applegate.
The trailer made some promises that it did not deliver on. I am going to tell you about my favorite, my least favorite and the one that made me laugh out loud (literally) and twenty minutes later feel ashamed that I watched it.
“The Woman Who Solved Hew Own Murder” – Synopsis: A woman solves her own murder. Literally. I believe that is redundant. It stars Alison Brie (Mad Men). She’s dead. It’s not a spoiler, they told you about it in the description and in the title. When her ghost realizes the two detectives are not working very hard to solve her murder, she starts looking for answers. She gets some insight into herself and those around her. It had funny moments, it had sad moments and it had some current event elements. If they had all been like this, I might have said it was an emotional roar. But…
“The Woman Who Was Kept on a Shelf” – Synopsis: A woman is kept on a shelf. Literally. (sound of teeth grinding) This starred Betty Gilpin (Nurse Jackie) and Daniel Dae Kim (Lost and Hawaii Five-0). She is a model and he is rich. He builds a shelf for her to stay on. His desk faces her so he sees his motivation. Things change. Later there is another shelf. I didn’t get it. I don’t know what the moral of the story is. I cannot think of anything positive to take away from the story and how it ended. If this had been the first one I watched I would not have watched any others. And then…
“The Woman Who Was Fed by a Duck” - IMDB description: A woman is fed by a duck. Emotionally. I could not take it anymore from Apple. This one stars Merritt Weaver (Nurse Jackie) as Elisa. It also stars Justin Kirk (Weeds) as Larry the Duck. Elisa is studying for the MCAT in the park. She is overheard by Larry complaining to her sister about her poor choices for dates and referencing the male duck anatomy. Larry comes over and starts a conversation. Larry definitely gives off Howard the Duck vibes. He is funny and self-assured and he seems to listen to Elisa. They begin to build an emotional bond.
A few things you need to know. Ducks are mean. Male talking ducks are very mean. And duck/human bestiality cannot be unseen. This story did have a moral. It had a message about being strong and confident, but the feathers flying through the air and then the final feather floating past her as she sips coffee in a post-encounter afterglow just seems to take up all the oxygen. I wanted to love this story and it would have been really good without the uncomfortable scene. The same message could have been told.
The other stories deal with aging and memory loss, working mothers and the guilt they put on themselves, society not acknowledging individuals or their experiences, incels, growing older and growing apart, communication failure, tunnel vision, revenge, acceptance and friendship. Is it the worst thing I’ve ever seen? Far from it. Maybe I just need some other people’s insight. I can’t wait to hear what you guys think of Roar.
Hey long time reader, first time commenter. Man, it is such a delight to hear your voice every week! I read every report and through the ups and downs and ups again, your candor and wit and heart... it's such a balm for the soul. Too high of praise? Nay. Your writing and constancy gives me strength and hope in my own life when things are rough, as well as joy and laughter. Glad you're still in my life, even if just in print. Thank you and keep punching! Best to you and Janice
Glad it went as smoothly as it did!
(Also glad you're resting well.)