Where is Chuck Liddell the ULTIMATE FIGHTER???
GETTING INTO THE MAIN STREAM PT 1
In January, 1974, my father had a massive stroke and heart attack following the unexpected death my younger brother, Bill. Sadly, I left my teaching job at Indiana University, drove back to California and moved in with Dad on Catalina Island so I could take care of him. Little did I know that this commitment would last for the next seven years!
Don't get me wrong, I don't regret giving my time to Dad, in fact, I should really be thanking him. Not only did Dad and I grow closer to each other, but this 24/7 commitment caused me to really push myself to find the edges of my stamina "envelope". I learned more about myself and my capabilities than I ever would have if I had been teaching or concentrating on myself. I now know that I can do "almost" anything.
Eventually, after the stroke, Dad was forced to utilize a permanent catheter. However, prior to that, one of my tasks was to collect his urine samples so that his doctors could monitor his health situation. One day I was told that the doctor needed me to obtain a "sterile urine sample", because they thought that he might be developing a bladder infection.
So, I went up the hospital and the nurse told me that I needed a "special kit" to collect this urine sample. She instructed a Candy Stripper
(probably one of the same ilk who offered so much “help” with my kidney stones - see my previous "BLOG" called Special Delivery While Stoned) to get me a boxed kit from the back room. After a slight delay, she came back with the box. I took said box and rushed back to Dad.
I informed Dad that this sample had to be "sterile", whatever that meant, and that I had to follow special directions that were inside the box. Neither of us understood what made this sample different than all of the other samples that we had been collecting for the last couple of years, but we had learned not to ask questions, but simply "DO IT". I opened up the box to find an iodine (do they still make it?) solution, gauzes, q-tips, and an assortment of other strange implements.
In January, 1974, my father had a massive stroke and heart attack following the unexpected death my younger brother, Bill. Sadly, I left my teaching job at Indiana University, drove back to California and moved in with Dad on Catalina Island so I could take care of him. Little did I know that this commitment would last for the next seven years!
Don't get me wrong, I don't regret giving my time to Dad, in fact, I should really be thanking him. Not only did Dad and I grow closer to each other, but this 24/7 commitment caused me to really push myself to find the edges of my stamina "envelope". I learned more about myself and my capabilities than I ever would have if I had been teaching or concentrating on myself. I now know that I can do "almost" anything.
Eventually, after the stroke, Dad was forced to utilize a permanent catheter. However, prior to that, one of my tasks was to collect his urine samples so that his doctors could monitor his health situation. One day I was told that the doctor needed me to obtain a "sterile urine sample", because they thought that he might be developing a bladder infection.
So, I went up the hospital and the nurse told me that I needed a "special kit" to collect this urine sample. She instructed a Candy Stripper
(probably one of the same ilk who offered so much “help” with my kidney stones - see my previous "BLOG" called Special Delivery While Stoned) to get me a boxed kit from the back room. After a slight delay, she came back with the box. I took said box and rushed back to Dad.I informed Dad that this sample had to be "sterile", whatever that meant, and that I had to follow special directions that were inside the box. Neither of us understood what made this sample different than all of the other samples that we had been collecting for the last couple of years, but we had learned not to ask questions, but simply "DO IT". I opened up the box to find an iodine (do they still make it?) solution, gauzes, q-tips, and an assortment of other strange implements.
Before I had a chance to study the diagram and read the instructions, Dad informed me that he was about ready to "BLOW", which meant I had to work fast. You could hardly set you watch by his "number ones" and I knew that I had to work fast to collect a sample as the doctor said that he needed it back STAT! ("ASAP!").
I quickly took off Dad's external catheter and began by first, reading the instructions, and then, working through the process as I read and interpreted the pamphlet," CATCHING THE MID STREAM ".
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