April 29th

April 29th might seem like just another day in your house, but April 29th just happens to be a big day in our household.  It is the anniversary of our wedding:  April 29, 1995

17 years this  year.  For your 17th anniversary, this gift is supposed to be furniture.  Check that off, we furnished a whole house in September and October.  So we decided that it wouldn't be a gift type of day.  We would have a normal type Sunday and go out for a nice dinner.

Church had a twist.  Grace sang in the choir, nothing new about that.  J.J., however, had something new.  On Saturday, J.J. graduated to a new guitar.  We consulted one of my employees that is in a band and owns 7 guitars and he suggested a good place to go.  We headed out and had a good time trying out the guitars.  He settled on a Ibanez guitar that was previously owned.  It sounded great.  It's a full-size, steel-string guitar, so he'll be playing this one for a while.  While trying this out, he said to his Mom, "This is fun, like trying on new clothes, only much better!"  He was very proud showing off his new guitar to his two guitar-playing partners at church.  Other than having the guitar fall in the middle of the priest's homily, everything was great!

Where to go for dinner?  On my first trip to Dublin in June, I took the train down to a town called Dalkey. I got off the train and saw this restaurant called "The Guinea Pig".  Because we have a significant guinea pig relationships in this household, it was an intriguing name and I took a picture.  After relocating, we heard it was actually a great spot.  Kind of fancy, so it seemed like a good spot for an anniversary dinner.  We drove down to Dalkey for dinner.  It was a great joint.  It's been around for 50 years.  No guinea pig on the menu.  The name was taken from an old place where "you could eat like a pig for a guinea".

It was a cold, windy, and rainy day.  The Irish would say the rain was lashing.  On the way back, we drove along the coast and watched some huge waves roll up.  We had sea foam blowing onto the windows as the waves crashed.  It reminded us of our trips to the Oregon coast in the spring when the big storms would roll in.

It was a long day and with a big dinner and a warm car.  Not all of us made it home with our eyes open.

Rugby Road Trip West

Last weekend, Rod's rugby team had their annual road trip.  Last year, the team went to France!!!  This year, it was Sligo.  Not France, but still a good time and I'm sure much cheaper!  The plan was pretty simple.  Take 1/2 of Friday off, get on a bus, ride to Inishscrone in Co. Sligo to our hotel.  Have dinner and entertain thirty 12 year olds and be entertained by 19 Irish Dads.  Go to a rugby match on Saturday in Ballina, right across the border in Co. Mayo.  Do some mini-golf and go-karting and repeat the dinner and entertainment tasks from the previous night.   Get up on Sunday and take the bus to Sligo and have a match there and get on the bus and go home.  We changed things up a little by having Martha, J.J., & Grace drive along and participate in some of the things.  Plans are nice...Reality usually delivers something slightly different, but that isn't always bad.

The Bus Ride
The bus ride started in typical Irish fashion.  Late.  We left about an hour later than we planned after the bus got stuck in traffic and slightly lost.  Once the crew was on board, the trip was uneventful.  The kids were pretty wired and there was some singing (more on that later).  It took us about 3 hours to cross the country on a series of motorways (read: expressway) and national roads (read: 2-lane roads with no livestock).  Martha tried to follow, but the bus lost her in bus lanes.  Probably best, since our driver got misdirected a couple of times and made some awkward reverse around the corner moves.  This is the infamous driver's test maneuver that I swear I could never understand why anyone would want to execute.  Now I know and now I know why I'm not a bus driver.

The First Night

Martha and the two amigos had other accommodations.   Martha's childhood friend, Mary, married a fine Irish lad Enda.  Enda is from Sligo and they have a cottage in the area, although they reside in Miami.  Martha, J.J., & Grace went to there to set up shop.  The kids were delighted to have a pet for the weekend.  His name was Sparky.  Sparky resided in the back garden and loved to be petted and fed apples.

Rod and Joe checked into the hotel and went to a team dinner.  After the dinner was over, the young lads went out to spend their unearned Euros at the local Leisure World (read: video game and entertainment parlor).  The older lads hung out and to see if the Guinness truly gets better as you have more of them.  (Confirmed)  It was a delightful evening for Joe, but Rod didn't win as much as he had hoped.

Saturday

After 9 months in Ireland, you get used to Irish plumbing...then you find some new Irish plumbing.  Probably not familiar to most Americans, but the Irish love (OK, maybe tolerate) their electric showers.  What do you do if you have poor water pressure and don't have the capacity to deliver a steady stream of hot water to a shower, put in one of these fellas.  It's the Irish answer to the on-demand hot water heater.  Our hotel had one of these.  Like all Irish bathrooms, the power switch to this baby was outside the bathroom, next to the light switches.  I turned this on and within 10 seconds a thick steam was pouring from the shower.  The joyous thoughts of cleaning the cobwebs generated by the previous night's Guinness propelled me into the shower.  The scalding temperature of the water propelled my exit twice as fast.  Must adjust temperature down...  After two or three minutes of turning the gauge lower and lower with no success, I reached the solid blue marker indicating cold water and like a miracle, the water turned ice cold.  Some further testing told me that I had two obvious choices in that shower

1. Die from 3rd degree burns.
2. Wish I were dead taking an ice cold shower.

Not accepting the alternatives, I managed to get cleaned up using the sink.  This sink had a hot and cold tap and was close to the shower, so I turned both taps on and would fill up my small travel soap dish with water with a little hot and a little cold and pour it over me.  It took a while and was not the pleasant shower I was looking for, but it worked.  I'm sure when Rod comes back from Ireland, he'll have learned some of the colorful language so prevalent in Irish culture.  Truth is, he will have learned some of that language listening to me in that shower in Inishcrone.

Off to breakfast, then to the bus for the trip to Ballina (pronounced:  bal-i-na') for our first match.  "Hey, where's the bus?"  Our first logistical challenge.  Turns out the great price we got on the transportation on this trip was not the result of the poor state of the Irish economy and desperate bus drivers.  It was the result of them not providing any services on Saturday.  Some of the Dads drove to Inishcrone, so we had a few vehicles.  We proceeded to load up the kids in each of the vehicles we had moved them to Ballina for the match.  Martha provided the last trip with 5 Dad's, J.J., & Grace in our vehicle.

The matches went well.  We brought two teams, one won, one lost.  The most entertaining aspect was probably the sheep dog that spent the entire warm-up time trying to herd the players.  When they were in the scrum, he would lay down and watch, but as soon as the ball came out and people spread out, he was rounding them up.  It was all really fun till this dog and two of his buddies decided to mark our equipment bags and clothes that were laying next to the field.

It was then off to the mini-golf and go-karting.  Out in the middle of nowhere, some farmer decided that a par-3 golf course, driving range, & go-kart track was a much better business plan than sheep.  It was a blast.  Nothing like getting 30 kids and 10 Dads through the course 5 at a time.  It took a couple of hours, but it was a blast.  

The Rames' decided to run to the beach near the cottage to explore.  Our hosts called the beach Dinosaur Beach because there are always lots of bones on the rocks.  It turns out that sheep and cows are pretty dumb and have a tendency to walk off the cliff and don't survive.  Their bones end up as souvenirs for visitors that can't pass up a find like that on a beach-combing mission.  In our case, we think we found the sheepdog too, as the jaw bone we found looked like that of a canine.  Here's Grace with her Ram's horn.

It was then back off to the hotel for an end of the year awards dinner.  Martha and the kids joined us for a typical Irish dinner with 3 types of potatoes.

The kids had another eventful night at Leisure World and the hotel grounds/dunes/beach, while the Dads congregated in one the rooms to determine whether Guinness in a can actually gets better as you have more of them (confirmed).  It was then that I found out what Irish men do when they head out with their friends.  They sing.  There was a group of about 12 lads in the room and the conversation slowed for a fleeting second.  Next thing you know, Pat had broken into an Irish drinking song.  As soon as the others realized what he was singing, they joined him.  The singing last about an hour as a number of them started their own tunes.  It was strange and delightful at the same time.  

There wasn't a whole lot of tight supervision of the young lads, but the visit by the Guarda (read: police) wasn't as dramatic as the stories to be told as the years go by.  The main topic of conversation at breakfast was how to discuss the situation with Moms.  When one found out, they would all eventually find out, so we'd better figure out what the official story was to be and stick with it.

Sunday

On Sunday, a miracle happened.  The electric shower decided to work.  I'm currently filling out the paperwork to file with the Vatican to get it beatified:  St. Mira.  On top of that the bus came to pick us up on time and take us to Sligo for our match.  Sligo didn't have a big team, so we split our teams up and the A team played the 1st half and the B team the second.  In the end, I think we lost in a close match, but they had a couple of 13 year olds that looked like they were 16, so it wasn't a real even match.  No worries, it all ended with smiles.

The Rames' separated from the team at that point.  The team boarded the bus and headed for Dublin.  We thought since we had come that far, we might as well spend a couple of hours exploring.  And sitting right behind us was a very large hill with a big bump on the top.  The hill is called Knocknarea.  The bump is allegedly Queen Maeve's Tomb.  It was a short walk (45 minutes) up the big hill to the top through pastures and old rock walls and buildings.  Tradition says that you bring a rock with you to the top and we didn't fight that tradition.  We added to the already huge cache of rocks.

It was then time to head back.  The weather started to turn, but we managed to catch a few beautiful rainbows on the drive.  It was a delightful weekend in Sligo with new experiences for all.

Joe Survived

Due to the overwhelming response from my reading public to update all on my condition, I would like to report that I have survived.  (Thanks Terri for your concern!)

This weekend, I made a 45 minute climb up a small hill to view a pile of rocks in Sligo (story to follow), so my lungs are feeling good.

Yesterday I had a (hopefully) final chest x-ray to verify that my lung is clear and that I am able to continue my life in the manner I am accustomed to.  A Friday appointment with the Dr. should get me on my way to a normal life.  Mainly this means that I will be able to get on my bike and ride to work and rid myself of the following:

1. Having to walk to and from the bus stop. (Save 30 minutes / day)
2. Having to ride the bus.  I think my informal observation and study of my fellow passengers (temporary) tells me that, after hospitals, buses are the places sick people are most likely to inhabit. (Save 10 minutes / day as I can ride  my bike faster than the bus can go)  (AND I avoid the sick of Dublin...)
3. Having to shell out about EUR 4 / day.
4. A feeling of lethargy brought on by having little opportunity for physical exercise.
5. Losing weight.  Yes, Joe loses weight when he quits riding his bike and his pants are hanging a bit lower than they really should for a man of his age. (Get back those 10 lbs.)
6. Being late for work.  You never know when the buses are going to stop.  I had 8 full buses drive by me last week until one that had capacity stopped.
7. Having to depend on Martha for rides.  She is a saint (as we all know), but it's still not fun for her or me to endure the traffic to my office during rush hour.  It took us 40 minutes the other day for a 3 mile ride on a day where I didn't take the bus.

And the diagnosis is .... Pneumonia

So I don't think this actually means that I didn't have the flu, but what I did have resulted in me getting pneumonia in my left lung.  I'm going to stick with my vows in the previous posts to not use the word flu in a minimal way in the future as I believe that is what got me here.

From a life standpoint point of view, this all makes sense.  My brother Rick hit me in the left eyebrow with a shovel.  Couldn't write left handed.  I was never really good dribbling with my left hand.  Couldn't bat or throw left handed very well.  The prescription for my left eye is definitely stronger than the one needed for my right.  Voting toward the left?  We all know how that direction hasn't resonated with me.  My last symptom with this illness was to develop some red bumps on my back, nearly all of which appeared on the left side.  Suspicious?!  I say no.  This was a conspiracy from the left that goes back as far as my childhood.  If there was ever a lung that was going to get pneumonia, it was that one...

The prognosis and approach seems pretty simple.  Take the antibiotic originally prescribed twice as much and rest for 4 weeks.  So Martha is off to re-up my prescription and ........hold on a minute........The only words where 4 weeks and Joe Rames should appear in the same sentence are related to paternity leaves.  Resting for 4 hours is somewhat challenging!!!

We're at the point of trying to define what "rest for 4 weeks" really means.  The definition comes somewhere in between:

1. Joe doesn't do any work or exert himself for 4 weeks, and
2. Joe continues to work and exert himself as he has been doing for the past few decades.

Like most complex problems in life and the world, the answer is somewhere between the two positions and the devil is in these details.  Hired to represent position #1 will be Martha.  Representing position #2 will be Joe himself, desperately trying to avoid being yet another living example of the old adage, "He who represents himself has a fool for a client."

On the road to recovery, no doubt.  No clue what road we're actually on.

A confession and Irish flu

It's very difficult to get to this point in my life having lived it in a way that I felt was honorable and honest, simple in values, but full of experiences, and find that I have actually lied to so many people over the years. It wasn't intentional, it wasn't with malice, but it was full ignorance, and for that my apologies. OK, here's goes....

For all those I've told over the years that I had the flu and couldn't come to work, I apologize.

For all the times I said I couldn't do something I promised, because I had the flu, I apologize.

For all those that told me they had the flu and were unable to do what they had promised, and I didn't believe, I apologize.

It became clear to me over the past 5 days that I have never had the flu. If what I had was characterized as some type of flu, it was the pansy flu that came and went in a day or two. It was the flu that inconvenienced you and changed your plans, but it didn't change your outlook on life. It was the kind of flu that made you feel bad, but it didn't drag you into the gutter, beat the living crap out of you and then bring 5 more friends to take a few kicks while you were down. It wasn't the kind of flu that beat on you for 3 day days, then gave you a vision of wellness, before bringing you back into the gutter for another round. Ladies and Gentlemen, this will be EVER known as the Irish Flu in the annals of Rames folklore.

Last Wednesday started out normal enough. Alarms, whining about getting up, cajoling, lack of adequate showering facilities...normal stuff. As I finished my breakfast, I had a bit of a feeling of emptiness in my stomach that was strange after just having breakfast. I hopped on my bike and headed for work. Twenty minutes later, I was at the office, and changing into my work clothes (jeans and polo...). I walked into the office and gave my greetings and promptly said, "Do we have to have all the windows open, it's freezing in here?!" I got a look from about 5 of the 6 present like, "Are you serious?" Turns out the sun had been practicing the greenhouse effect on our office and the temp was actually about 80F. Something was amiss....

I sat down and immediately typed my password wrong 2 times because my fingers were shaking. Hmmmm? I put my jacket on and sat staring at my now functioning computer without any focus or purpose. Anyone that knows our office knows we do not lack of things to work on. After about 30 minutes of contemplation, I decided I should leave. No one argued. I got on my bike and that was really the last I saw of outdoors. Unfortunate for me as it was a beautiful week in Dublin.

Wednesday: Rode my bike home and got in bed. Proceeded to sweat and shiver my way through t shirts and sheets. No congestion, just fever and body aches. No food or desire for any. Actually made a call for work late in the day, but nothing more. Listened to my heart beat speed up/ slow down as my temperature fluctuated. It was scary as I could feel my heart rate move up to twice what it normally would be.

Thursday: Symptoms grew to pain in head. When I say I had pain in my head, I don't mean I just had a headache, which I did have. My skull actually hurt, too. As I sit here, I can run my fingers across my very short hair and generate pain. I equate it to the worst sunburn I've ever had on my scalp. Every nerve is on edge. Food, yeah, right. No food coming in today. Still staying hydrated, but little else.

Friday: OK, let's go to the doctor. I know what they're going to tell me. There's nothing they can do... You'll just have to let it "run it's course"... What the hell, let's go anyway. You could have convinced me to go to a voodoo doctor at this point, I was desperate. Dr. was great. She actually said all those things, but also said, I'm going to prescribe an antibiotic. Likely NOT going to be effective, but if it is not a virus, this will help. Martha made the comment that she couldn't ever remember me being on an antibiotic. I couldn't either. Prescription filled, went home.

Saturday: I had a great night's sleep. I thought I was on the way back. I was the same old task master for Saturday AM cleaning, much to the kids chagrin. I wasn't doing somersaults, but I got up and made pancakes and ate them. Life was looking up! Then I started coughing. The cough and congestion that hadn't been there was now all over the place. Uncontrollable and painful, accompanied by throbbing in my skull. Nothing like have a shooting pain inside your skull every time you cough and not being able to keep yourself from coughing. Martha got some awesome hot/sour soup from our local favorite and my appetite was back. Some setbacks, but still felt I was heading back. Woke up in the middle of the night requiring a wardrobe and sheet change due to another session of excessive sweating.

Sunday: Today. Still don't feel like the end is in sight. Missed Palm Sunday Mass where Grace sang, Rod read the part of Pilate, and J.J. played guitar. Rod also had a Rugby game that I couldn't get to. I've been able to eat, but the cough is still persistent. My nose started slowly bleeding, funny since I had hardly ANY congestion or had to blow my nose. Had up and down temperature today, so am pretty convinced the antibiotics are not doing anything, but will run them through. Looking at tomorrow and can't imaging exposing the office to my condition. Undoubtedly, I've never been off work for illness for 4 days in a row, especially with a weekend in the middle

I have a new-found respect for the word flu and vow to never use it in a way that would make it seem routine or normal. I can know see why so many people die from this. My temperature, heart rate, appetite, and outlook have all been impacted. If I get the flu, I vow to do my best to keep others from getting it. I think I've washed my hands 75 times over the past 5 days.

I vow to get a flu shot for myself and family and not find ways to be too busy to get it done. We had a few things going on during this year, but there's always time to get this done.

Sorry for the dark post, but it's been a dark week. Hopefully, the light will begin to come out and I can begin to fill out the jeans I have that currently look like my fat pants. I have no idea how much weight I lost as we don't have a scale, but it's been significant.