Well, first let me get the obvious, long-awaited answer out of the way - I am now PROUD to be the Chief Technical Officer for Workflow Studios. Workflow Studios is a collaborative consultancy based in Dallas, TX but with associates all over the country. Workflow Studios was founded by a long-standing member of our community, Lance Spellman. Lance and I have been friends for many years, as he has been growing Workflow and I have been on my wild and crazy ride. I am thrilled to be joining Workflow Studios, and to get to work right away helping the Workflow Studios team continue their longstanding pattern of success.

But the more pressing question on your mind, I would venture to guess, is where the hell have you been, and what happened? Well, get a Coke, sit back, and let me spin my sordid tale...

Background
For a few weeks before joining Workflow I had been feeling run down - just not that great, TONS of stomach problems, constant aches and colds, etc. Basically I felt miserable more often than not. I had been to the doctor many times about it, but nothing was able to be found - and I have to admit it was becoming really frustating. Well, about a week or so before joining Workflow I had a "strike" in my bowel - it refused to work, at all. No blockage was found, but there was no movement either. After a bunch of various treatments I wound up at the hospital and had to get some assistance in getting things working again. After a few days I began feeling decent again, and that's about the time I flew out to Dallas the first time to meet with Lance and consumate my joining Workflow.

A couple of weeks' later I went back out to Dallas for some meetings, to meet the staff, to work on a couple of projects, and to take in the Dallas-Atlanta NFL game at the new "Death Star" stadium. I was really excited, and took off for Dallas ready to go... Ready, except that I noticed I had been feeling down again...

The Dallas Trip, AKA the Dallas Nightmare
By the time I get to Dallas I am feeling really puny again. I couldn't eat, and I felt like I was getting a cold or flu again. I got myself some cold medicine (Nyquil tabs, etc.) and pressed on. I have had tons of colds, and figured I'd just press through. Well, the operative part of this description is "not eating" - I was just not interested in eating, and when I did I would usually get nauseous. I took care of some things the first day or so while in Dallas, but by Friday AM (I think that's right) I felt horrible. Lance sent me to the hotel room, and I crashed - hard.

Then things got REALLY bad...

I went straight to bed when I got to the hotel room on Friday morning, and had a horrible day/night of sleep. I tossed, turned, sweated/froze, felt delirious, and basically went in and out of consciousness. Not sleeping, mind you - I was literally fading completely off and on, not remembering anything, and actually beginning to forget even the basic things. I would have moments of clarity - brief moments - and then I would be gone again. Sometime Saturday I made a desparate call to Lance, because my phone was almost dead (I had forgotten my charger), and I was scared I was too.

The Calvary
Lance shows up Saturday, and to be honest a lot of this was a blur. I remember hotel security, I remember Lance being there, and then I remember the ambulance EMTs being there. I couldn't answer even basic questions - name, where I was, etc. - and they took me to the hospital. Lance followed, and I must say - and I'll say this again and again - Lance is a fantastic friend and boss. He was there for me, no matter what, to help in absolutely any way possible. He got in touch with my wife Debbie through our fantastic Lotus community of friends, and they helped get Debbie to me in Dallas. People like Bob Balaban, Kathleen McGivney, Henry Newberry, and a cast of thousands helped make sure Debbie connected with Lance and found me in Dallas. But while all of this was going on, I had no idea what was happening, outside of my experiences in the hospital - which I want to discuss briefly...

My Strange Ride in Hospital-land
As most of you know I am on a pain management program for chronic, severe pain from a car accident in 1995. I do not abuse my drugs, and my program is well-managed - but Debbie made sure Lance knew about these meds, who in turn made sure the EMTs and hospital knew about them as well, as this would be important to know when trying to figure out what is going on with me. Well, I must say that I think the EMTs - and in turn the Emergency Room staff - assumed I was ODed on my drug meds (I wasn't - more on that later). I was delirious and fading in and out of consciousness, and normal problems weren't found - flu, etc. While I was in the Emergency Room, however, I am convinced the staff just kept assuming druggie by their actions.

Now, let me be clear - I understand they didn't have much to go on, and in the abscence of a "smoking gun" cause they had to apply Occam's Razor and assume the simplest explanation is the right one. And since I was not fully cognizant all that time, I guess they did what they had to do - but I must say that they truly treated me horribly. At this time Lance had left to go take care of getting Debbie there, and during that time the Emergency Room nurse in charge of me was a total ass. First he didn't try very hard to get a urine sample from me, he just decided to catheterize me. Nothing to help with the agony of it, nothing at all, no real reason for it (if you pressed enough I would get awake enough to respond to commands, etc. so all he had to do was help and be patient and I am sure I could have given him a sample). He applied it - roughly - and then didn't check on it. I SCREAMED in agony - and trust me, I KNOW what the hell agony is - and he did nothing to help me except speak to me condescendingly, "You might as well shut up, there's nothing we're going to do for it. Just accept it and shut up." I kept pleading for him to remove it, he kept telling me he couldn't because he didn't have "dr's orders" to do so. I told him that I can urinate, please take it out, and he said that didn't matter he already got his sample, it didn't matter. I begged and pleaded to ge the dr to remove it. After awhile he got dr permission, and just PULLED it out - no warning, no help on how to deal with it, nothing - and I was in agony again. In fact it didn't stop hurting to urinate until last Thursday - FIVE DAYS after the catheter had been removed.

Another thing that I felt was just - well, torturous - is that no one would bring me a pillow. I was on a gurney, I had about a thousand stickers for various machines attached to me, and I had an IV line in my hand with an empty bag hanging from it. I kept asking for a pillow and a blanket, and the torture-nurse and another one would nonchalantly tell me that they just didn't have one. I kept asking what was going on, am I being moved to a room or what; at first the nurses said they didn't know, and then they kept pushing for a spinal tap - and they said that they couldn't do anything until I agreed to it. I asked to speak to the doctor about it, to understand fully what they're doing it for, etc., and they would cut me off and say that nothing could be done until I had the spinal tap. Eventually I told them that I didn't think it was necessary, and I would decide later after talking to the doctor and my wife. After that the nurses just said there was nothing I could do, they were just waiting, and I might as well be quiet and wait too. BASTARDS.

At one point I had to go to the restroom pretty badly, but I had all this stuff hooked up to me. I kept calling for someone to come help me - I could hear voices right outside my door, laughing and just talking - and no one would come in. Eventually I just unhooked everything myself, grabbed the empty bag hooked to my IV, and staggered out of the room to find a bathroom.

Now let me add, for context, that I also didn't have my glasses on. I am legally blind without my glasses (-575 in my GOOD eye), so I felt even more disoriented. I got to the door of the "stall" where I was, and looked out to see hospital workers (don't know if they were orderlies or nurses). They looked back at me, then turned right back to talking and joking with each other. I then waddled/fell across the hall to a bathroom. I got in there, and SCREAMED as I used the facilities (catheter ripped out). No one came to help me. I then crawled - literally - back to my stall and laid down as best I could on my gurney.

From Hell to Room
Eventually I was moved to a room, where my treatment was diametrically opposed from how I was treated in the ER. I got to my room, they hung a new IV bag, took off the myriad of stickers (the nurses were surprised how many sticky sensors I had on me), and let me sleep. I actually laid there and cried for quite awhile, until I fell asleep.

Lance showed up again later to fill me in on what was going on, and that's when I found out about Debbie coming and how everyone had helped make this happen. That made me so grateful and happy for not only Debbie, Lance, Bob, Kathleen, and Henry, but for everyone in our extended "Lotus Family". It meant a lot to Debbie and me then, and continues to humble me to this day. After that I had some other visitors, such as a step-nephew of mine and his family, who live in Dallas/Ft. Worth (it was nice to see a family face). Lance continued to take care of everything, and made Debbie and my life so much easier. Lance is a Saint if there ever was one.

Getting Better, Going Home
Well, after a battery of tests and treatments it was determined that I had probably caught some stomach virus that threw my potassium levels off, and caused me to get severely dehydrated. These two items caused my delirium and overall malaise, and basically made me feel miserable. Eventually I was allowed to go with Debbie to the hotel room on Sunday, where I slept and attempted to recover for my trip home with Debbie.

The Aftermath
It has taken me until this last weekend to feel better than 40-50% recovered. I have finally begun to be able to eat, my lower GI tract is beginning to work again, and I have made it a point to be VERY hydrated (no, not with Cokes ) since coming home.

The worst part of this ordeal, however, has been the permanent loss of DAYS of my life. I cannot, for the life of me, remember most of what happened for 3-4 days BEFORE my hospitalization. I have notes and things I have HANDWRITTEN, and I can't, for the life of me, remember what they are. I have had to get (Saint) Lance to fill me in on my work life, and Debbie has had to do the same for my home life, because I cannot remember any of it. It is embarrassing, and disconcerting, but I am very glad that I have these two to help me fill in the gaps.

Summary (finally!)
Well, there's my sordid tale. I am sorry I left Rocky's Clues hanging, but I hope you understand now why I did. I will be back online and involved now that I feel well enough to do so - and I want to make sure to thank each and every one of you who has helped me get through all of this. I have a movie review I want to post later this week, and I have some other stuff (Lotusphere!) to talk about as well, so stay tuned.

And thanks.

Rock

P.S. - I mentioned earlier that I do take pain meds, and I am sure they were convinced that I had somehow OD'ed on my meds - I'm sure they see that a lot. Well, I am on 2 major meds that are considered "Class II", or pretty strong/hard-core. One is a time-release patch, one is a pill I can take many times/day. I have been on both of these for years with no ill effects. My tox screen came back from the emergency room, and during my couple of days "out" I didn't take a single pill. I take at a high-enough level that it shows up in my fluids for quite some time after I stop taking them, so had I been abusing them it would have lit up the tox screen. And no, what I experienced was not DTs or withdrawals either (I've had those too) - this was much, much more and as much as I feel the ER nurses assumed so, I was not ODing on my meds.