February 8, 2026

Yesteryear
One year ago today: February 8, 2025, WIP
Five years ago today: February 8, 2021, WIP
Nine years ago today: February 8, 2017, WIP
Random years ago today: February 8, xxxx, WIP

           Here’s a generic clip of the van rolling out the driveway. I have nothing else for you today and even this video is from the middle of last month.

           It’s another seriously empty and uncomfortable day. True, this is no resort, but anybody who thinks the ICU is a psychological aid to recovery should be locked in one of the rooms for a week. I brought what I thought was a week’s reading material. It is now evident they intend to keep me here twice that. When my incessant cough began to annoy others, they finally brought me tiny clear pills they called pearls. They got me some sleep, but only until the next crew woke me up for the next set of tests.
           As I said, I am no longer being treated for heart surgery recovery. Instead it is mostly conditions developed from laying mostly immobile for over a week. The pills help me fall asleep, they do not address the lung problem which is getting worse. If I take a deep breath, my system forces an exhale instantly so I am not getting enough oxygen. I’m wearing a nose clip and they double the flow rate, which circulates the air without needed to inhale—-but this is hardly a solution.

           Knowing the routine means another change of plans. I had to contact people to take care of things like my bills due around middle of next week. I’ve also run out of clothes and confined to wearing hospital gowns. The kind nobody has ever liked. Most bandages are changed daily wit enough left to prevent me climbing in the shower. So it is these wipe-downs that leave my big skin areas dry to the touch and making everything smell faintly of cat pee.
           I finally resorted to watching some TV, all repetitious re-runs. I’ve isolated two channels, History and PBS, that have semi-documentaries of material I first learned 65 years ago. Loch Ness, lost cities, and pyramid conjecture. The entertainment value for me is how little to nothing has been learned since then. As for any talk shows, it is truly astonishing how many people think getting married transforms them into somebody interesting.
           And I see Trump has posed the argument that he qualifies for a third term because the 2020 was stolen. He has a point, as the rulebook technically only limits consecutive terms.

Picture of the day.
Lonely Colorado homestead.
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.

           One of my miscalculations was my choice of reading. I finally got 3/4 of the say through “The Good Earth”, thinking it would be an informative read. Nope. Not even inspirational. I became curious about the author, as I have now picked up on several aspects of her personality not evident in her bio. Top of that list is her bad logic that men with money follow a path she seems over-familiar with (namely gambling and prostitution). I find this association very strong in the sort of women who never quite won any prizes, nomsayn?
           So I took another look. Yep, minister’s daughter, married another minister, got divorced, a host of college degrees, moving on to charity work. Nothing wrong with that, except such women are indeed likely to meet the sort of men who are what she expects. And in most media, such men and women are vastly in the majority.

ADDENDUM
           Here’s some further health info. Something is wrong and it is whatever the anesthetic did to my innards. My pee volume is back to normal, I now know I am a 300 ml person. But I’m expelling small black solids, a sure sign that I’m digesting blood. This began last Friday, once again late in the day after the “G.I.” people had left for the weekend. That means I’ll be here long enough to develop even more hospital type alerts.

Last Laugh