Thursday, October 2, 2025
D+331/227/-1208
1904 German General Lothar von Trotha issued an order to exterminate the native Herero and Namaqua peoples of German South West Africa (present-day Namibia); 1st genocide of the 20th Century, killed 65,000 Herero and 10,000 of the Namaqua tribe
1919 US President Woodrow Wilson had a stroke, leaving him partially paralyzed
1928 "Prelature of the Holy Cross and the Work of God", known as Opus Dei, was founded by the Catholic priest Josemaría Escrivá in Madrid, Spain
2020 US President Donald Trump announced via Twitter that he and First Lady Melania Trump had tested positive for COVID-19; Trump was hospitalized later that day
In bed almost all day in the ER and my inpatient room, had dinner at about 10:30 p.m. and grateful for it and to my night nurse Alex for getting it for me, awakened at midnight for my "vitals," then 15 minutes later by another nurse for the same thing, but she settled for listening to my heart and lungs, then awakened at 1:15 by sharp pain in my left ankle under the compression sock which went away after 5 minutes or so, but left me awake to open my laptop and write this.
This has been my year for living with the reality of my "Advance Directive," my Health Care Power of Attorney, and my Living Will, each of which contains Do Not Resuscitate and Do Not Intubate directives. Normally, I wouldn't know whether those wishes would be effective since it would depend on whether the people in charge of resuscitating or intubating knew of the advance directives and honored them. This year I've been asked directly by my cataract surgeon and twice now by the VA Emergency Department and attending docs in the inpatient hospital about the directives. I waived the DNR and DNI instructions for the cataract doc, but discussed the matter with Geri after the surgery, and I was ready to waive them again before my penis and bladder surgery, but that doc never asked. Had he asked, I was prepared to say I didn't waive them. In my first hospitalization this week, I was asked while Geri was in the ER with me, and I said, "Let me die." I said the same in this current adventure, let me die. On this readmission, the possibility that my heart might stop beating seems more real or vivid to me than on the earlier occasions. Despite the four days on antibiotics (Saturday through Tuesday), the swelling and inflammation of my leg not only didn't get better, it got worse and the docs don't know why. I'm in pain as I write this, both the dull pain from the compression sock on the lower leg and foot, and also a recurring sharp, shooting pain around my ankle. Meanwhile, the little finger on my right hand keeps defaulting to its claw position, reminding me of an upcoming test on the ulnar nerve in my right arm. I think of my Grandmother Charlotte who lived (in a manner of speaking) until she died at 95, and of my Atheyunt Mary Healy, Uncle Bud's wife, who lived long after she was ready to die, and wonder whether I have Charlotte's heart genes and am destined to live a long, debilitated, unwanted life, perhaps a painful one, or might be blessed with a sooner, easier death here at Zablocki or anywhere. The things one thinks of at 2:23 in the morning in a hospital room at the VA.At 2:30, I called the nurse about the sharp, shooting pains. There were no pain meds listed on my chart, so she called the on-duty doc who authorized, what a surprise, Tylenol. I've never found Tylenol to be very effective as a pain reliever, but she gave me 2 pills and, though I didn't ask, perhaps they are 500 mg. each, and will help. I'd like to get some sleep tonight. . . I tried, but no luck. It's 5 a.m. and I'm out of bed, with the sheets and blankets a tossled mess, sitting in the one chair in the room, cold.
A stray thought: As I read Michelle Goldberg's column in this morning's NY Times about James Talarico a Texas Democrat running for Cornyn's seat, and also a Christian, I thought to myself: Even if he's a great guy, I'm afraid of most, maybe all, patently Christian politicians because they are so god-damned un-Christian.
Another stray thought: Russell Vought ought to be called the Grim Reaper. I wish I knew more of his brand of Christianity. Lord, protect us from your followers.
How to keep my toes, foot, and ankle moving while elevated: in bed, dancing to favorite old tunes;
This Shirt, Mary Chapin Carpenter (1989)
This shirt is old and faded / All the colour's washed away
I've had it now for more damn years / Than I can count anyway
I wear it beneath my jacket / With the collar turned up high
So old I should replace it / But I'm not about to try
This shirt's got silver buttons / And a place upon the sleeve
Where I used to set my heart up / Right there where anyone could see
This shirt is the one I wore to / Every boring high school dance /
Where the boys ignored the girls / And we all pretended to like the band
This shirt was a pillow for my head / On a train through Italy
This shirt was a blanket beneath the love /We made in Argeles
This shirt was lost for three whole days /In a town near Buffalo
Until I found the locker key /In a downtown Trailways bus depot
This shirt was the place your cat / Decided to give birth to five
And we stayed up all night watching / And we wept when the last one died
This shirt is just an old faded piece / Of cotton, shining like the memories
Inside those silver buttons
This shirt is a grand old relic / With a grand old history
I wear it now for Sunday chores / Cleaning house and raking leaves
I wear it beneath my jacket / With the collar turned up high
So old I should replace it / But I'm not about to try
Hi Chuck, I hope you are feeling better and that you get sprung from the hospital today! Thinking of you. 💕
Thanks, Sweetie. I have my fingers crossed.❤️
I heard you are out… YAY
Also, I have only made it through snippets of that disgusting spectacle yesterday. I am overwhelmed by rage, embarrassment, and deep sadness. Curious to hear your thoughts as someone who served. And in general too. I like your tak
Hi, Sweetie. I’m back in. They’re not sure what the problem is, but my leg and foot are like a big water balloon. They ruled out blood clots with an ultrasound today. I’m not in a lot of pain, so the big problem is boredom, being confined, constant interruptions and being sticked, poke, and prodded. Back in my youth, we used to say “I didn’t know whether to shit or go blind.” That was kinda what I thought of the Hegseth/Trum shitshow and national embarrassment yesterday. Like living a nightmare, everyday we get deeper and deeper in shit. And as bad as we know things are, we’re only seeing the tip of an iceberg. I’m despondent. Love you, though, and my doppelgänger stepson.❤️❤️
I’m really sorry that you’re back in the hospital! Frustrating to have to wait as things are ruled out. I hope they figure it out soon. I know my dad is so wrong about so many things but he’s a brilliant doctor. If you want me to get his thoughts, I would be happy to do that. Just let me know.
And I agree with the tip of the iceberg. I get very frustrated with my friends who look at where we are and say “yeah, but things eventually will return to normal.” WTF? In reference to Nazi Germany? Well, that was years of world war and then more years of rebuilding… I just can’t. I am just so tired.
I love you. Keep me posted about what’s going on with you! 😘
Thanks, Sweetie. Brilliant as your Dad is (except for religion!) he won’t have access to all the labs, etc., that they have here 😘
True. Are you feeling any better
Hi, Sweetie. I had a long, rough, awake night and busy morning, but I’m through all that, lying in bed with my foot elevated, listening to Faure’s Requiem on my phone, and enjoying the peace and quiet.😇♥️
Whoops!
More of the Grim Reaper. From today's Wall Street Journal, Trump’s Budget Chief, Slayer of Big Government, Moves Quickly in Shutdown: Russell Vought is taking aim at Democratic priorities and projects.
Peace Prayer of St. Francis
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace:
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy.
O divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.