I've stayed away from this thread because when you're an underachieving, registered-user bum, it's difficult to make choices or sometimes even differentiate good from bad. But something about the humanity on display here has led me to make a weak attempt to contribute.
The Best is very difficult. It could be the day when my sick, elderly father started wanting to kiss me back goodbye whenever I left the house. It could be the day I took my Alzheimer's mom from her "rest home" out for a movie and an ice cream cone when I visited her after I moved out, and she knew who I was and remembered things. It could be any of the days involving my meeting of Brenda, our first date, our wedding, or the birth of Sarah, although Brenda did swear at me that day, somehow blaming me for a long, difficult birth. (She has no recollection of this, and I found her swearing more funny than mean, something for a script ) It could also be any of the accomplishments which Sarah has achieved so far. So, I don't know. Should I put up a poll or tear myself apart? I'm happy whenever anybody can express happiness, so don't be afraid to keep it going.
The Worst is once again something to consider, although I feel there are fewer choices available. I was the one who found my grandma dead in our house. I was also the last person to get a reaction from my father when he gripped my hand seconds before he died. But those were sick, older people, so it wasn't a complete shock. The personal worst day for me was probably when I was up on a shaky ladder in my garage tossing folded-up boxes into the garage rafters after we had just moved. Brenda and I had both quit the FAA, and neither of us had health insurance at the time. I decided to add just one more box, and that's when the ladder went out.
I was holding onto the rafters for awhile, but not exactly being skinny OR strong, I eventually let go and hit the garage floor. I immediately felt intense pain and a sort of numbness at the same time. When I rolled over to notice that my left foot was hanging off the end of my leg, I started calling for Brenda. She came out and almost got sick. It was unbelievably scary looking, much scarier than gore in a movie. I told her that I could hop on my right leg over to her pickup truck. I was already thinking about trying to save the money we had just earned from selling our share of my parents' house to another brother. It worked out and we got to the emergency room OK. Sarah was only about two, but luckily, the hospital was near our old house, so we had a neighbor watch her.
This is getting long-winded, but after spending two hours to get into the ER (including covering my dislocated, broken ankle with a towel, to hide it from those in the crowded waiting room), the docs finally saw me. They were discussing my case as if I wasn't in the room when one said we have to tell him he needs surgery. I said, "Hurry up! I'm leaving this place tomorrow." They gave me some painkillers through an IV, but I was still wide awake. They gave me some more, and since I was still talking to them, I said, "Go ahead and relocate my ankle, and if it hurts too much, I'll tell you." It took three of them on both sides of my leg, and I heard them grunt and groan for about five seconds, and then I said, "I feel it!" They said, "We're done."
I was discharged less than 24 hours after I went in, but the bills added up to $13,000. (I'm guessing it would be over $50,000 now.) After calling, writing and talking face-to-face with everybody I could, I got the total bill reduced to $7,000. I went back to subbing at school three weeks later (I had just decided to try to be a teacher, so subbing was the entryway). I drove the car to work and used a wheelchair and crutches to get around. I figured it would be too painful to use the clutch, but no problema. Four months later, I went back to playing full-court basketball.
Shut up, mark!
The Best is very difficult. It could be the day when my sick, elderly father started wanting to kiss me back goodbye whenever I left the house. It could be the day I took my Alzheimer's mom from her "rest home" out for a movie and an ice cream cone when I visited her after I moved out, and she knew who I was and remembered things. It could be any of the days involving my meeting of Brenda, our first date, our wedding, or the birth of Sarah, although Brenda did swear at me that day, somehow blaming me for a long, difficult birth. (She has no recollection of this, and I found her swearing more funny than mean, something for a script ) It could also be any of the accomplishments which Sarah has achieved so far. So, I don't know. Should I put up a poll or tear myself apart? I'm happy whenever anybody can express happiness, so don't be afraid to keep it going.
The Worst is once again something to consider, although I feel there are fewer choices available. I was the one who found my grandma dead in our house. I was also the last person to get a reaction from my father when he gripped my hand seconds before he died. But those were sick, older people, so it wasn't a complete shock. The personal worst day for me was probably when I was up on a shaky ladder in my garage tossing folded-up boxes into the garage rafters after we had just moved. Brenda and I had both quit the FAA, and neither of us had health insurance at the time. I decided to add just one more box, and that's when the ladder went out.
I was holding onto the rafters for awhile, but not exactly being skinny OR strong, I eventually let go and hit the garage floor. I immediately felt intense pain and a sort of numbness at the same time. When I rolled over to notice that my left foot was hanging off the end of my leg, I started calling for Brenda. She came out and almost got sick. It was unbelievably scary looking, much scarier than gore in a movie. I told her that I could hop on my right leg over to her pickup truck. I was already thinking about trying to save the money we had just earned from selling our share of my parents' house to another brother. It worked out and we got to the emergency room OK. Sarah was only about two, but luckily, the hospital was near our old house, so we had a neighbor watch her.
This is getting long-winded, but after spending two hours to get into the ER (including covering my dislocated, broken ankle with a towel, to hide it from those in the crowded waiting room), the docs finally saw me. They were discussing my case as if I wasn't in the room when one said we have to tell him he needs surgery. I said, "Hurry up! I'm leaving this place tomorrow." They gave me some painkillers through an IV, but I was still wide awake. They gave me some more, and since I was still talking to them, I said, "Go ahead and relocate my ankle, and if it hurts too much, I'll tell you." It took three of them on both sides of my leg, and I heard them grunt and groan for about five seconds, and then I said, "I feel it!" They said, "We're done."
I was discharged less than 24 hours after I went in, but the bills added up to $13,000. (I'm guessing it would be over $50,000 now.) After calling, writing and talking face-to-face with everybody I could, I got the total bill reduced to $7,000. I went back to subbing at school three weeks later (I had just decided to try to be a teacher, so subbing was the entryway). I drove the car to work and used a wheelchair and crutches to get around. I figured it would be too painful to use the clutch, but no problema. Four months later, I went back to playing full-court basketball.
Shut up, mark!
__________________
It's what you learn after you know it all that counts. - John Wooden
My IMDb page
It's what you learn after you know it all that counts. - John Wooden
My IMDb page