On Friday January 13th, 2023 the flu was going around in Alliance Nebraska. One of my co-workers at KCOW was a strong fellow who would probably still come to work if a dog bit his foot off. But on this day, the co-worker took a sick day. This, combined with it being Friday The 13th, should have been a harbinger of things to come.
On Saturday January 14th my pal Dangerous Dave Kuskie and I had planned to get together and record one of our delightful internet radio programs. As the day wore on, I started to feel pretty lousy. But, trying to be a trouper, I did not cancel the taping. Later that evening, we were recording the show and I felt The Sickness®. Have you ever had a sickness just sort of engulf you? It’s not good.
I asked Dave to drive me home and we agreed to set up a new recording date. I went home. As someone who was feeling The Sickness®, I should have just gone to bed. Instead I checked the mail (my Pink Panther Pez set came in!) then spent about three hours writing a blog about Jack Benny television specials. THEN, I went to bed.
The morning of Sunday January 15th, I woke up, got out of bed and promptly collapsed on the floor. I couldn’t get on my feet. All I could do was crawl, bump into things and make unsucessful attempts to do bathroom things in the bathroom. This went on for the better part of the day, because I left my cell phone in the livingroom and had no way to contact someone.
Sunday January 15th was a noteworthy day even without me soiling myself and bonking my head on baseboards. It was the KCOW Staff Christmas Party. And Kalin Krohe, savoir of Wenty, tried to call me to arrrange a ride to the party. When I did not answer, he came to my apartment. The door was unlocked, which I swear to God is ALWAYS locked before I go to bed. But this time, perhaps because of The Sickness®, I forgot.
Kalin walked in, saw me crumpled on the shag carpet, and called 911. Marking the second time in our years of friendship that he legitimately saved my life. I need to buy him a boat or something.
The ambulance came. They were driving me to BBGH but along the way they were taking vitals and such and realized, “This dope is at death’s door. He must have stayed up all night playing with Pez Dispensers and writing pointless blog entries.”
They told me I was going to Poudre Valley hospital in Colorado via “da choppa”. The flying part I don’t remember at all. Which is really kind of a gyp.
I had an influenza bouquet consisting of pneumonia, sepsis, hysterical pregnancy, dropsy, putrid fever and 14 other diseases. (Okay, most of those are fake.) The first couple of days, to my recollection, were rather uneventful. But before too long I started having…illusions? Fever dreams? ICU PTSD? They call it delerium. I thought Kalin was piloting a plane full of his music cronies. I thought I got arrested, I thought I spent an evening viewing vacation slides with Rosie O’Donnell. I thought Jack Benny wrestled a tiger. Honest to God. My brain was high on something.
You know that song “Patches”?
The part where he sings “Then one day, a strong rain came and washed all the crops away” reminds me of the time I woke up in the middle of the night, realized I needed to use the bathroom, hopped out of bed and–forgetting that I was entangled from top to bottom in cords and tubes and such–fell face first on the concrete floor.
Oh, did I mention the kidneys? I had an acute kidney incident which introduced me to dialysis, which I did for two years or so. I am very blessed to have my kidneys get back in shape. I’m just blessed all over. Friends visited me at Poudre Valley, which is not exactly a couple of blocks away from Alliance. Kathy Worley, a Husker Elvis, three of my very best friends–Kalin, Dustin Harris and Dave Kuskie. James Durkee from our “Daily Doubleshot” feature. And cards! An unbelievable avalanche of cards and gifts. To this day I am absolutely stunned by the outpouring of support from my friends, family and radio listeners.
Speaking of family, my brother and sister drove all the way out to Colorado from New York. I don’t know if it was the delerium, brain fog or just weariness of being in the hospital, but my brother and sister saved me and helped me prepare for after-hospital life. I couldn’t have done it without them.
One of the more unusual parts of this thing is that I was in the hospital on my birthday. And folks sent lots and lots of balloons. Which was very nice. But for two or three days after my birthday the nurse would ask, “What date is today?” and I would look at the balloons and say “January 25th.”
After the Poudre Valley folks were done with me, I spent two weeks at a rehab hospital. The nurses re-taught me how to walk. I needed it.
Ever since this all happened, I found myself being a little cavalier with my travel budget. During the time I was on dialysis my travel was restricted. And much as I hope for the best, dialysis may pop up again in my life down the road. So I’m going places and doing things, perhaps a little foolishly. But when you’ve come pretty damn close to the pearly gates at age 51, it leaves a footprint on you.