Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Alas...Goodbye.

Hello dear reader

Just the other day, I posted an article saying that yes I was around, and yes I will write again.  Who would have thought that my creative juices would start flowing again mere days after that article.  I suppose that the title of this article is a bit mis-leading.  Some of you might read it and say to yourself 'oh no...he's leaving!!'.  Fret not, dear reader.  I am not leaving.  I re-iterate what I wrote the other day...I will continue writing.  With that being said, let me explain the meaning of the title 'Alas...Goodbye'.  Truly, yesterday was the end of an era. For 14 years, I endured.  For 14 years, I put up with it.  Finally I made a decision to start the process to make it all go away.  After months of deliberation, appointments, consultations and sleepless nights....the era ended.  Things are new again....a new day has dawned.  Read on, dear reader, for details on the previous era, and hopes for the future.

As I mentioned, dear reader, it's been a 14 year era.  Now, before I go on, I give you fair warning...the following article contains graphic images and descriptions, and I will not be held responsible for any nausea you may encounter by looking at the pictures.  Have you figured out what I'm talking about?  If you're a Facebook friend of mine, it should be clear.  Yup, that's right.  Toenails.  To be precise...big toe toenails.  14 years ago, I had them surgically removed.  They were not supposed to grow back, but they did.  I found out that with the surgical removal of the nail bed, there is a 15% chance of re-growth.  I fell in that 15% group.  So for 14 years, I walked around with my toenails growing into my toe.  Oh, I would perform self-surgery and dig out the embedded nails....but that was always a temporary solution.  I knew that I'd have to go for surgery again...but I was scared.  I'll explain.

I think I was 11 years old the first time I had this surgery done.  I remember little of it, except the pain of removing the bandages for the first time.  Back then, they wrapped up the nail-less toes with gauze....and didn't unwind it for 3 days.  So, in those 3 days, the wounds started to heal....around the very strings that make up gauze.  Just imagine, dear reader, yanking those bandages off and causing the whole thing to open up again.  I remember the pain...I remember crying.  I was 11.

Since then, I've had my nails removed 4 more times, including this time around.  3 times I've had it done under a general anasthetic, and twice I've had it done with local freezing.  The 3 times under general were the easiest...except for the initial bandage removal as briefly described in the previous paragraph. The first time that it was done with a local anasthetic was the cause of my fears.  You see, when it was done that way, my toes didn't really freeze properly.  I felt the entire operation.  I mentioned this to the doctor in passing (as in "Hey Doc...I can feel you slicing the nail off").  He kind of sloughed it off (as in "Hey Rod...don't worry about it.  We're almost done.").  Yes, dear reader...it hurt.  Some of you may think I'm a wimp.  Some may think coward.  Some may laugh.  And that's fine...it was 14 years ago.  The scars are mine alone.

Enter 2010.  Once again, the toenails have grown in.  No, it has nothing to do with poor trimming practices.  It is hereditary.  My dad has the problem, my uncle had the problem, and same with a cousin.  It runs (no pun intended) in the family.  I have spent 13 years digging out the nails myself with a nail clipper, a tweezers, and sharp pointy object for digging and lifting.  After 13 years, it got old.  And it got to the point where the left toenail could not be dug out any more, and the right toenail was so mis-shapen that it was too much work and too painful to do self-surgery.   Here are some pics of the toenails.



The left picture is the right toe, and the right picture is the left toe.  Don't ask.  Just accept it as it is.

So, I went to see my family Dr., who referred me to another doctor.  The second doctor only performs toenail removal via local anasthetic, and I was going to have no part of that.  I insisted on being knocked out.  Yeah, i know....I'm a wimp.  So, this second doctor put the word out, and found a surgeon willing to do this.  A consultation was booked.  I went in to see him, he looked at my toes and we talked.  We talked about my fears of local anasthetic.  He laughed....I didn't.  But, not only is he a doctor....he  is also a salesman.  He convinced me to have the surgery done with a local anasthetic.  And this, dear reader, was the start of a few sleepless nights.  I worked myself into a real fret imagining the horrors of 14 years ago being replayed.  But, the surgery day was booked, my time off work was booked and coverage for my schools was arranged.  I couldn't back out now.

The day arrived. My dear cousin gave me a ride to Grey Nuns Hospital.  I was nervous.  I had taken a couple pain killers before I got there as preventative medicine.  I could tell I was nervous (and maybe a wee bit stoned) just by the conversation I was having with the nurse as she took me to my room.  The doctor came in, followed by a couple nurses.  He prepped his needles.  After looking at the size of the needle, I said "You're not sticking that thing in my toe!!".  He laughed and said "No, it's just a filling needle."  He then showed me the needle he was going to jab into my toe.  I didn't feel too much better.

Let me interject here for a moment, dear reader, and explain something.   When the doctor sold me on local anasthetic, he told me that he would only give me one needle per toe, for a grand total of two needles.  He said that two needles was hardly anymore that the one needle needed for a general anasthetic.  *sigh*.  I fell for it.  But, here's the kicker (no pun intended).  What the Dr. failed to tell me was that each needle was going to be jabbed into each toe 4 times.  One needle.  4 Jabs.  One prick.

Back into the room.  I'm lying on my back, my pant legs hiked up to my knees.  The Dr. is ready, and he is swabbing my toes with cleansing alcohol.  He asks me that no matter how badly it hurt, not to move my foot.  He will stop if I ask him, but I cannot move my foot.  Great.  And here goes.  The first needle jab is on the outside part of the toe, right beside the the joint at the foot.  This particular jab hurts...bad.  I do not scream, or cry.  But I think I emitted a moan or a groan.  The second jab hurts, but not quite as much, as the freezing from the first jab is already taking hold.  I slightly feel the third poke, and I wasn't aware that there was a fourth until I saw the marks on my toe.  The Dr. has effectively created a ring block...freezing the nerve that goes down into the toe.  The whole process to freeze the first toe takes about 14 seconds.  The second toe goes just as quick, with the same amount of hurt.

So, now I'm frozen.  The Dr. leaves for about 10 minutes, letting the freezing take hold real good.  The part that I remember most about the operation 14 years ago is coming up...the nail removal.  The Dr. and his nurse come back in...he does a few things and I can feel some bumping on my foot.  I ask him what's happening and he says the nail is gone.  Wowsers....I ddin't feel a thing!!  It was at this point that my 14 year old fears were gone.  The Dr. and his nurse talk abou the chemical that they are applying to the nail bed.  He says that normally they leave it on for about 40 seconds, but for me they will leave it on for 3 minutes.  Hopefully this lessens the chances of re-growth.  The deed is performed on the second toe, and before I know it, they are bandaging me up.  I am instructed to lay still for 5 minutes, followed by 5 minutes of sitting up with my feet dangling down.  After the 5 minute dangle, they change the bandages and I am free to go!!



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And that, dear reader, is the end of it.  Nothing much more to tell.  I popped a couple of T3's once I got into the car, but as it turned out I didn't really need them until much later.  My wife and I changed the bandages twice that first day.  We figured it was better to do it a couple times whilst I was still frozen.  I suspec that the good Dr. took heart to my horror story, and that he gave me enough freezing to freeze a horse.  I fell asleep around midnight....still frozen!!  By morning, the freezing was out, but I had very little pain.  As of this writing, I hurt a wee little bit, and I am still bleeding a little bit, especially if I walk on them.  Thus, I stay on the couch as much as possible.  The toes cleaned up nicely in a warm bath, and it did not hurt horribly to submerge them.

So, you want pictures of the finished product?  Here are a couple pics before I cleaned them up:



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And that, dear reader, is all I got.  Thanks for coming on this journey with me.  I hope you enjoyed the ride as much as I did.  Until next time.....goodnight.

FF

Monday, January 24, 2011

Yup, I'm still around...

Good morning, dear reader

In case any of you are wondering, the answer is yes.  Yes, I am still around.  Yes I am still interested in my website.  Yes, I am still interested in writing.  But, no, I have not written anything for quite a while...I am very much not inspired.  Once the inspiration hits me again, I'll write.

Thanks for your patience.

FF

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

A Prayer for Stef.

Hello again, dear reader.

Almost a month has passed since I've written an article, and that is mostly due to a lack of interest.  Nothing of note has caught my attention...at least nothing that inspired me to write.  And now I'm back, but I have to warn you now, dear reader...I am not back under happy circumstances.  No, the subject of my writing today is a sad one...and a tough one to write.  But, write it I will, because it is important to me that the request I bring gets out there.  Read on, dear reader.  For Stef.

On Friday November 19, my 22 year old cousin Stephanie was involved in a horrific car accident involving a semi.  Today, Stef is fighting for her life in the Royal Alex Hospital in Edmonton.  I won't go into many details, but she is a very injured girl.  Most worrisome is the brain injury, and the extent of it.

Dear reader, normally I am not very expressive when it comes to religion, my faith or what I believe.  It is not me, not who I am.  Today I step out of my comfort zone.  Today I am writing a simple prayer...a prayer for Stef, a prayer for her husband Aaron, her Mom and dad, her brother Justin, Aaron’s parents...yes, dear reader, I am writing a prayer for the whole family and all her friends.  Please, dear reader, pray for Stef.  Pray for healing.

Dear Lord

You alone are the great healer, the great physician.  You guide the hands of all doctors and nurses and medical professionals.  When things seem bleak, You can provide us with the hope of a better tomorrow.

And today, O Lord, we ask for Your strength, Your healing power and Your love to be on Stef.  Cause her body to heal, and restore her to health.  Preserve her life, O Lord.  Give the medical professionals all they need to do their work...guide their hands and their minds.

Give strength and comfort to her husband Aaron, her mom Regina, her dad John and her brother Justin.  Give them all the knowledge that Stef is in Your fatherly hands, and that You love her.  Also give strength and comfort to Aaron’s family, and to all of Aaron and Stef's extended families and friends.

O Lord, many prayers are being offered for Stef and her family.  Please answer our prayers, Lord.  If it is Your holy will, let Stef be restored.

Amen

Thank you, dear reader for praying for Stef.  The power of prayer is an awesome power.

FF

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Hacked and back

Hello dear reader

Some of you may have noticed on Facebook last weekend that my website had been hacked.  Yes, it's true.  Now, I don't profess to be an expert at this whole website thing, so it was very unsettling to get the email from my webhost saying my account had been suspended.  At that time, I didn't understand how this all worked.  Now, a week later, I still don't understand a lot, but I do get it a bit more. Read on if you care,dear reader.  I'm venting my spleen.

When I received the email from my webhost, I replied with the question "What can I do to fix this?"  The response I got was "Terminate your account and re-apply".  Wowsers.  That seemed rather harsh...were there no other options other than 'start from scratch'?  I didn't care so much about the site itself...I can rebuild that.  What had me very concerned was that, due to ignorance and lack of foresight on my part, I did not have my articles backed up.  That's right, dear reader....as much as I preach to people to back up their data, I did not follow my own advice.  And I almost paid dearly for it.  Articles such as 11 Years Ago, Papillons de L'Amour, Wanna Smoke and A Mistress to Many were going to be gone.  There was no way I could re-write these articles.  Clearly the emotion of some of them were of a time sensitive nature, plus there's no way I can remember what I wrote.

And so, dear reader...I fretted.  I stressed.  I worried.  And I worked my a$$ off trying to figure things out.  The part that made things oh so difficult was that my webhost had changed that way the control panel and site controls worked.  So, instead of installing Joomla into my site space using Fantastico Deluxe, I now had to do this via Simple Scripts.  Because of this change, my website files were no longer where they were supposed to be.  I could not find fifafan.ca.  I could not find my articles.  And for a while, I could not find my happy place.  Losing these articles would have been devastating.  As a writer (or a wannabe writer), my words are pure emotion, pure energy, and my heart on my sleeve.  As an IT professional, backups are one of the most important things we preach...and the fact that I didn't do it hurt.  Yes dear reader, I can admit that my pride was hurt.  And that made me even more convinced that I would stop at nothing to recover from my own stupid mistake.

In the meantime, the emails were flowing back and forth between my webhost and myself.  After I questioned them on the whole 'termination' thing and asking if there was another alternative, they did come back and say that the problem was caused by an old WordPress installation, but since I didn't know how to get rid of it, 'termination' was the only alternative.  Really?  I didn't know how to get rid of it?  I think they just called me stupid!!  And as right as they might be, I did know how to get rid of the security hole.  Now that I knew where the problem was, I could fix it.  So this begs the question "Why didn't they present that option in the first place?"  Now, don't get me wrong, dear reader.  I really like the webhost I'm with.  They offer some very cool stuff.  But, I did find that in crunch time, the one person I dealt with was very un-professional.  Suggesting in an underhanded manner that I'm stupid (rightly or wrongly is irelevant) is simply not acceptable.  And I told them that...not that they care.

One of the problems I faced is that, as mentioned, I am not an expert in all of this.  And apparently, neither is my webhost.  That's right, they offered pretty much no support to get this resolved.  "Not our problem" they said.  "We don't care about your website" they insinuated.  And so, there I was....on my own.  But, with my bulldog approach to this issue, I figured a few things out.  I figured out which zip file on my webspace actually contained my data.  And so, after I cleaned up the old WordPress installation, I copied the clean data back up to the server, and kindly asked my webhost to reactivate my account.  Which they did......just as their server developed issues.  So, for 24 hours, I still could not see my website.  I didn't know as of yet if I was going to be able to recover my articles.  I did not sleep well that night.

Yesterday morning (Tuesday), I emailed them once more and asked if the problem had been resolved.  With a very quick apology, they did something on their end to make things right.  And there, dear reader, there on my screen....there in the exact layout I remembered, were my articles.  I just about cried with happiness.  And I immediately made backups of each article, and firmly resolve here and now to make sure that each article I write is also pasted into a Word document and stored safely.

It was at this point, dear reader, that I became un-stressed.  I completely understand and agree with the position my webhost took in suspending my account.  I do not like the un-professional attitude of the one person I dealt with, but I cannot fault the entire organization because of one person having a bad day or two.  The bottom line is that I got my articles back, I have my site back and I have happy back.  The only thing that didn't work out in all of this was my photogalleries.  And that in itself is no big deal....I can recreate that.  Now I am looking into security for my site.  If I can protect myself from hackers, then a small fee every month might be worth it.  Yes, dear reader, fifafan.ca means that much to me.

Thank you, dear reader, for your patience in waiting for my site to get back online.  And if you're reading this sentence, thank you for staying with this article.  I did something I rarely do in my articles in this one....I wrote it mostly for me.  But thank you, and please come again.  Soon.

My spleen is vented.

FF

Saturday, October 9, 2010

A Mistress to Many

Today, dear reader, I muse.  I muse about a love affair that has consumed me for a good part of this summer.  The beginning of the summer saw me and my unwilling mistress spend a lot of time together.  I put a lot of effort in this affair, but the effort was rarely returned with the same enthusiasm.    I sometimes wonder if I should have seen the writing on the wall much sooner, but my love was such that I continued to pour my body and soul into her.  And yes, dear reader, I spent a lot of money on her.  And as much as she continued to expect me to lavish her with monetary gifts, she never once gave anything substantial in return.  She would tease me here and there, but not once did I feel appreciated.  And so, dear reader, I need to ask a question of my mistress.  And I need to do this in a very public way, for it seems the only way she will listen, although I do not expect her to answer.  She’s fickle that way.  And so I ask “Ah golf…why do you hate me so?”

I suppose it would be easier to deal with her if she wasn’t adored by so many people.  And the more people that spend time with her, the happier she is.  She will never be a mistress for just one.  I refer to her as the mistress to the masses.  But she holds a powerful sway over each and every one of us.  And in some form or another, she is in our hearts.  I’ve tried to leave her, but she draws me back.  She won’t let go.

Yes, dear reader, golf is an affair of the heart.  For some, it is a casual affair.  For others, it burrows  down deep into the heart.  I suppose I fall into the ‘casual’ category, and maybe that is my mistake.  For this particular mistress demands more time than I am willing to spend with her.  And although she doesn’t always need me to spend a pile of money on her, she does expect that every time I see her, I spend something.  She also doesn’t like it when I drink in her company, although it is a common practice.  Most everyone I know can’t help but drink when with her…such is her personality.  Aye, the more I drink in her company, the more she seems to hate me.  I try to control it, but she frustrates me.

Alas, I must admit that my frustration is most likely due to my own failure to do exactly as she expects.  When she expects a 3, I give her a 4 or even a 5.  When she expects a 5, I throw up a snowman.  She demands that I be a straight shooter, but inevitably I veer either to the right or the left.  But honestly, dear reader, it’s not all my fault.  She doesn’t make it any easier for me, what with all the trees and long grass she throws into my path.  And I can hear her evil laugh every time we are in the water.  Or the sand.

The very afternoon of this writing, I gave her one last chance.  I gave her the opportunity to repay me in a meaningful way.  But alas, she threw back her head and scoffed.  Oh, along with the scoffing she threw me a brief glimpse or two of how much she wants me.  But I was not fooled, dear reader.  She really doesn’t like me that much.  And so I told her that our affair had run its course.  I was calling it quits.  I am done with her, dear reader.  I cannot, in good conscience, continue to see her.  I don’t see it ending well if it continues.  And thus we part.  Not as friends, but as enemies.  For on the final 9 holes of the year, I shot a 51.

Ah, golf.  Why do you hate me so much?  See you next year.

Cheers,

FF