Category: beer

Foley Memories

I’ve had two Foley catheters installed in me in 2019. The Foley has a long tube that’s snaked up your urethra and into your bladder. A balloon filled with fluid in the bladder keeps it anchored in place. Meanwhile, the catheter extends from the tip of my penis to a clip on my leg that holds the catheter in place. Another tube is connected to the catheter’s exposed end. That tube is attached to a collection bag. The installed Foley let me pee, so the bag is emptied when it fills. In essence, I was just about always peeing when the Foley was in, which amused me. I liked to drink a beer and say, “Look, I’m multi-tasking. I’m drinking and peeing.” I thought it was hilarious. Nobody else did.

As background, I had the first Foley installed because I couldn’t pee. My prostrate gland had enlarged (BHP), blocking my urethra’s access to my bladder. That meant that I couldn’t urinate. The result was a medical emergency.

The second Foley was installed after a cystourethroscopy and direct vision internal uerthrotomy. Essentially, scar tissue from the first emergency was blocking about ninety percent of my urethra. While I was still peeing, because I’m now on Flomax (Tamsulosin), the cysturethroscopy was a proactive measure to prevent another medical emergency. It has a fifty/fifty chance of working. We’ll know more in a few months.

While I was conscious during the first time a Foley was installed, I was unconscious under deep conscious sedation for the second. That was mostly because the cystourethroscopy required them to delicately cut the scar tissue in my urethra until they reach healthy tissue. There would be pain.

The procedure went great. After fasting, reporting in, being prepped, and waiting, I was wheeled into the OR, given the anesthetic, and was gone. I woke up a second later, it seemed like, and it was all over, except the aftermath. That’s where the Foley came in.

Like the first time, I had two bag options for the Foley. One is a bag that attached to my leg. That let me walk around more freely. It’s not a big bag, and had to be emptied several times a day. It also couldn’t be worn at night. The leg bag had to be worn below the knee, which meant I had to loop the tube around the leg but leave it loose enough that it didn’t pop free of the catheter, and had enough give to move.

The larger bag, which hangs separate from my body, must be worn at night. It also must be dragged around. That makes it inconvenient. I kept it in a clean plastic garbage bag and hung it inside a small waste basket. No, we didn’t put any trash in with it. It was only used to hold my urine collection bag.

I did need to discourage the cats from investigating. They were always walking up to the waste basket and trying to look into the bag with a “What the hell is this?” attitude.

I appreciated the smaller bag and the flexibility it allowed, because it freed me up. I admit, though, walking around with felt like someone was using a saw on my pecker’s tip. Every once in a while, too, a little blood could be felt squirting out. I monitored the blood levels through the days, watching as it decreased. The first day’s blood, after the surgery, was about a quarter cup. Ruined my underwear, but I was wearing old underwear which really should’ve already been tossed. By the last day, it was very light spotting.

Opiates had been prescribed for me for pain management after the surgery, but I just shrugged the pain off. It was mostly mild discomfort, at first, like someone was trying to pull something up out of my pecker. Sometimes, there was also light stinging. Not of it was a bad as a bee sting for me, though.

I sometimes fantasized about having a longer tube attached to the big bag. Although the big bag meant that I was tethered in location, the leg bag wasn’t that comfortable. If I was wearing the big bag with a longer tube, say twenty feet, I could leave it hanging in the waste basket in a central location while I walked around. I also speculated about putting wheels on the waste basket or putting it on something wheeled, but it was only five days, and I’m lazy. Walking around with the big bag meant picking it up every time that I moved more than three feet. Oh, the inconvenience.

Each morning and night meant a routine of cleaning off blood, showering, and then switching bags before dressing for day, or getting into my sleep clothes. The first time that I had a Foley, I went into the hospital and a nurse deflated the ball and ripped it out. The second time, I did it myself, per their instructions. Just grab hold and yank, right?

But first ensure you deflate the ball holding it in place, right?

Right.

All went well, and I thank the doctors and nurses who took care of me. All were friendly and professional. Sometimes, the system works as designed. I’m one of the fortunate ones, because it did.

 

 

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Genius Drinks

So you know that they’ve come out with Genius Coffee. It’s about time, innit? But, I hasten to inquire, where is our genius booze? I’d like to walk into my fav beverage hangout and ask for a Genius IPA.

Wouldn’t it be excellent if McDonald’s and Wendy’s began selling genius milkshakes? (Picture those television commercials.) Have a Genius Coke with your Jack? Prefer a Genius Red Bull? No doubt we’d need to have genius wine, vodka, tequila, to be fair, along with genius water, for those who don’t partake.

Maybe, then, if all these genius beverages work, we can make progress on what humanity is doing to each other and the rest of the world. Doubts force me to say, probably not. More likely, some will declare, “I don’t trust geniuses, so why should I swallow a genius drink?”

I don’t blame them. I’d be dubious of genius drinks. God knows what I’d learn about myself that I’ve worked so hard to hide.

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Thursday’s Theme Music

Ever experience something unexpected that turns out to help you? Sometimes it’s a friend, an encounter with a stranger, or a pet, but you end up telling them, “You’re just what I needed.”

Yes, had that last night with my beer buddies. My time with them was just what I needed, prompting today’s theme song by the Cars, “Just What I Needed” (1978).

Cheers

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Beer-floof

Beer-floof (floofinition) – housepet who enjoys drinking beer.

In use: “He had to watch his dog because the little beer-floof always lapped out of his mug of beer whenever the opportunity came.”

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Monday’s Theme Music

You know, in the U.S. of A., it’s winter. Because of that, many towns are having beer festivals. At least, this is true out here in Oregon and California.

Some places call the beer festival a collaboration, a beer walk, or, if the organizers are feeling more stylish, a brewery tour. SF’s Beer Collaboration isn’t starting until Feb. 1. They have a theme, you know, like they do at a prom, Game of Thrones. I’m sure that some high school has had a Game of Thrones themed prom. That seems like it would be something like the red wedding or the prom from Carrie.

Anyway, in honor of beer strolls everywhere, I’m streaming Tom T. Hall’s 1975 classic, “I Like Beer”. Pretty self-explanatory what the song is about.

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The Speed of Time

I’m returning to a favorite topic, the speed of time, because I’ve discovered more about about it.

The speed of time is not universal. As everyone knows, according to the School/Work Principle, time’s speed isn’t constant. When you’re waiting for the school or work day to end, time not only slows, but sometimes goes backward, forcing you to repeat several minutes. Some movies, are like that, too.

Learning of this, the NFL manages to employ this in their football games. The last two minutes of an NFL game often takes as long as most of the rest of the game. My wife can attest to that. She’s endured it. “When are we leaving?” she asks.

“As soon as this game is over.”

“How much is left?”

“Not much.”

That waffling, of course, warns her. “How much time is left?” she asks.

“It’s the last two minutes of the fourth quarter.”

“Okay, I’m going to go bake some cookies.”

Using that as a basis for my research, I confirmed that traffic-jam time drags almost as slow as the final two minutes of an NFL game, or the last ten minutes of work or the school day.  Shopping time remains the slowest of all, though. Even the NFL has not been able to slow time like shopping will do. Figuratively speaking, shopping time can literally last an eternity. I’ve endured several election cycles while I’ve been shopping. I found that having a Fitbit helps deal with shopping time. It doesn’t change the rate of speed, but I can get a couple of million steps in while I’m walking around, waiting.

Waiting in line time is almost as bad as shopping time. I’ve had clothes wear out while I’ve been standing in line to pay for my purchases, especially at Costco. Costco cashier lines exist in a weird time zone of their own where time gets very sluggish. I’ve spent hour-minutes in line, gazing at what others have bought and comparing them to our purchases.

On the other end of it, I’ve discovered some periods of time that pass quickly. Sleep time is very fast. I don’t know how many times I thought, I’ll just sleep for a few more minutes, and then close my eyes, and, snap, forty minutes have elapsed.

Writing time is frequently often as fast. I have three hours to write, I think, and a cuppa coffee. Then I begin, and the next thing I know, writing time is ended, and I still have coffee.

Which is sort of weird. Coffee time by itself seems to flow at an ideal pace. That’s not true for all beverages. I can tell you, beer time goes fast. Sit down to have a beer, and next thing you know, it’s hours later.

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Changing Tastes

Perhaps, if you’re old enough, you remember having thirty-three and forty-five RPM records that you played on your phonograph.

Maybe you had eight-track or cassette tapes. Perhaps you had a VCR later, playing VHS tapes. Maybe you went with Beta.

Then you switched to Laser Discs, Blue Ray, CDs and DVDs before you started streaming.

You may have used a Walkman a couple decades ago, before changing to an iPod Shuffle. Maybe you use your phone now, downloading your songs from the Cloud.

It’s fun living through these changes. Now we’re embracing more changes. Ford and GM have both announced moves to curtail selling cars in the United States this year. The profit margins on manufacturing cars is small, and sales are down. People are buying more SUVs and pick-ups, if they’re buying a motor vehicle at all, because motor vehicles overall have declined. Young people aren’t buying cars as often.

Just curious, but do you remember talking about SUVs in your youth? I didn’t; we had utility vehicles then. The sports came later.

Do you remember the mini-van craze, or are you too young to remember that?

Young people are marrying less these days. The median age for a man in America to marry was twenty-nine point five years old, up from twenty-three in the early 1970s.

Young people are also dating less. They struggle with interpersonal relationships of romantic and sexual natures if they’re engaged face to face. It’s easier for them if there’s a cell phone involved.

Did you know what a Tinderella is?

Fun fact. My friend the professor struggles initiating class discussions in her class of twenty-somethings. Then she started posting texts, and the discourse began.

Ah, cell phones. Remember princess phones and wall phones, cordless phones? Remember pagers? Remember car phones?

Do you remember Instamatic cameras?

Meanwhile, NASCAR paid attendance is declining. Less people are watching the races on television, as well. That’s parallel to a trend of declining NFL paid attendance and television ratings.

Remember playing video games? Are you old enough to recall Pong? Did you ever think about playing a game on your phone? Did you ever believe that you would enjoy playing games on phones so much that you needed data plans to enable your habit?

Beer sales in America are declining. More people are drinking wine.

Over in the Olympics, snowboarding was a big draw in 2018 while the slalom was dropped. Word came out last week that the IOC is not planning to have boxing in the 2020 Olympics.

Went to the movies the other day. When I was young, over fifty years ago, we had a cartoon or short film before the feature. That’s been replaced with ads, trailers, and previews.

The movies cost thirteen dollars for two of us the other day, cheaper than many places, but do you remember paying less than a dollar for the movies? Mom remembers paying a nickel, but she’s over twenty years older than me.

A nickel to get into the movies was a long time ago, wasn’t it?

Shall we talk about the price of gasoline? How ’bout a quart of milk, a loaf of bread, or a cup of coffee?

Say, do you remember when you first thought about buying organic?

These times, they are a’changin’.

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Beer Etiquette

He found himself forced to explain beer etiquette to others. 

“Beer etiquette,” others said. “Like, the proper way to drink beer?”

Which led, inevitably to statements, “I know how to drink beer. I have a PhD in beer drinking. I’m a natural.” These comments were regarded as hilarious.

No, that is not what he is talking about. He is talking about when you take beer to someone else’s home, or to a social gathering. When you take beer, a six-pack, for example, to someone’s house for a party, for example, you should always remove one beer.

“That would make it a five pack,” someone quickly and acutely noted.

Yes, he agreed, smiling, preparing to continue his explanation.

“Why would you do that?”

If you’ll give me a moment, I’ll explain.

“Okay, explain.”

Yes. Removing one bottle or can shows that you like this beer so much that you had to take one for yourself before you brought it. If you don’t take one, people will think that you don’t like that beer, and wonder why you’re bringing beer that you don’t like.

Cries of, “Bullshit,” and “Come on,” answered, but he was adamant that this was good beer etiquette. Always take one bottle out, whether it’s a six or twelve pack, or a case. If it’s a growler, you should remove twelve to sixteen ounces.

“Do you drink it?” someone said.

You can.

“What about wine?” a wag asked.

Another laughed. “Do you take six packs of wine to people’s houses?”

Another said, “Do they make six packs of wine?”

No, he said, gently, this etiquette is about beer. 

Silent drinking pervaded the gathering. “Well,” the wag said, “Next time I go, I’ll just take an empty case and told them that it was too good to give away.” Then he laughed like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. 

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