Steve Dockery

A bit late to post this, I suppose, but just in case it's of interest, I'm doing my first Second Life concert tonight since my rib crackage incident. It's at 8pm EST at the Blarney Stone in the Dublin sim.

As some of you may know, I sometimes inhabit a virtual world called Second Life under the name of Elmo Balderdash, and I both run a successful music store there, and perform concerts from time to time.

If you're a Second Life denizen, you can click here for a SLurl to take you to the Blarney Stone, otherwise, anybody can listen in by putting this URL into your favorite music player: http://66.34.54.162:8000/

If you get a chance to listen to the show, post a reply here and let me know what you think.

Most folks who know me would figure I'm a Star Wars geek. In fact, I do have a rather sizable Star Wars collection, but before Star Wars, my first Sci-Fi love was Star Trek (the original series, I should add).

A friend of mine in middle school got the Star Fleet Technical Manual, which I could not afford to buy, so I painstakingly traced page after page of starship and prop drawings out of it. I even made a phaser pistol in my wood shop class (I still have the remains of that somewhere, I think it's in my Dad's attic).

So, a few days ago I found a place in Second Life where they'd replicated all the sets from the original series. The picture shows my virtual self ensconced in the Captain's chair. Hee! (If you're a Second Life denizen, you can visit the place by clicking this link.)

Recently, I discovered they're selling the "Remastered" versions of the first season of Star Trek on the iTunes store. I'd totally forgotten about this - they've taken the show and upgraded the special effects with CGI version of the Enterprise, and stereo sound effects and music in some places. I bought several episodes and I'm working my way through them. I'd forgotten how much I really enjoyed that show, with overacting and everything.

Something like 12 years ago, I was Mr. Spock for Halloween, and by then, Playmates had come out with some really decent toys of the props from the show. The communicator, phaser and tricorder were very realistic, much better than the junky AMT model kit version we had to get by with as kids. These things were fairly accurately sized, and even made realistic sounds. Still got those things, too. (And I just looked them up on the web - they are worth more now than I paid for them!)

Well, there's an even better set of them available now from Diamond Select Toys, and for a pretty decent price.

I'm trying to behave myself, maybe I should put the little buggers on my xmas list. :)

Sunday night's combined Keltish/Elmo Balderdash/Mykel Singh show in Second Life came off splendidly. We had a great time, and the audience was large and enthusiastic.

(For the uninitiated, Second Life is a virtual online world, and Elmo Balderdash is my alter-ego in that world.)

We all set up in Chelle's living room, and streamed the audio into Second Life. We played two one-hour sets, consisting of a bunch of Keltish tunes (many from their CD), as well as a bunch of covers that Mykel and I each play, along with a couple of my original songs.

All-in-all we had a great time, but the one fly in the ointment was that I had a sore spot on my side. It started on Thursday, and just seemed to get worse day by day. I had to quit halfway through my show at Potbelly Sandwich Works on Sunday because of it. I just assumed I'd pulled a muscle coughing (it's allergy season), but it got worse and worse, until I started to suspect a cracked rib.

It got to the point where it was unbearable, and Monday morning, Chelle volunteered to take me to the emergency room. Well, it wasn't a cracked rib. It was THREE cracked ribs. They gave me a pain shot and took some x-rays and gave me a prescription for my old friends, Percocet tablets. I have a follow-up appointment at my lung doctor on Thursday afternoon.

My theory is that my ribs were not well supported on that side due to nerve dysfunction to the muscles due to my recent surgery, and a couple of extra-strong coughs later, I'm cracking up.

So, two steps forward, one step back. I'll be well one of these days. *sigh*

For some reason, I spent part of the day today on a musical memories search on the internet. Specifically, I went looking for local bands I used to see and even knew members of back when I was in college in the 80's, when I was playing in a band called *Batteries Not Included.

I went to Rutgers University in New Jersey in the mid-80's, and among the bands I used to see playing regularly (and I also played their demo acetates and tapes on the air while I was a DJ at WRSU-FM, the Rutgers radio station) were: Spiral Jetty, Lord John, The Blases, and Maximum America.

I do this search from time to time, and I was pleased to discover more information this time. Both Lord John and Spiral Jetty have MySpace pages, I found three of the members of Maximum America playing in a band called "Our Marvelous Lives," and I found a review of an album by The Blases on someone's blog, which had a comment from from the band's bass player.

I sent off emails to some folks, and sent friend requests to the ones on MySpace, and put my own comment on that blog page. It'll be fun to hear back from some of these folks if they respond to my queries.

As some of you may be aware, I lead a double life. In an online virtual world called Second Life, I am a successful music store owner and live music performer called Elmo Balderdash.

On March 19, I will be returning to the virtual stage. I haven't been making many appearances in SL lately, and my recent surgery completely prevented me from performing for the last month, but I'm going to ease back into it next Wednesday. I'll be appearing in Second Life at the Oceanside Bar from 9:00 - 10:00pm EST, accompanied by Lynn Cunningham ("Lynne Singh" in SL), the vocalist for Keltish.

If you are new to the concept, basically, what you see is a 3D "avatar" of me on stage (that's my avatar in the user pic), but what you hear is a live audio stream, as I perform at home.

I'm really looking forward to the show. I'll be playing several originals, some old cover tunes, and possibly some celtic tunes (since I'll have the impressive vocal talents of Lynn at my disposal). If you want to check it out in SL, click here for a SLURL link right to the Oceanside. If you just want to listen in, you can tune into the stream, and I'll post the URL for that soon.

Wish me luck, and come be part of the virtual audience!

Hey Everybody -

It's getting almost to the point where I should shut up about this lung thing and talk about something else finally!

Today I went to a follow-up appointment where they checked me out and took out the stitches where the chest tubes were. I couldn't look, but Chelle was watching and said they were really long, like at least a few inches. Ick.

Apart from taking an x-ray to check out why the lung doesn't seem to have breath sounds far enough down (possibly some fluid or irritation from the surgery), they said I'm doing very well. We asked if it was ok if I did some walking, and they said (at first) to keep it under a mile at first. Chelle and I looked at each other and grinned and admitted I'd just walked about 2 miles yesterday, as well as three days in a row a couple days ago.

One of the two medical folks was appalled, but the other was impressed. They ultimately said to go ahead and do whatever I feel capable of doing, just don't overdo it.

I also managed to do a little bit of work from home yesterday and today, so I'm starting to get back in the swing of things. This Sunday I have a small musical gig, playing something like 6 songs, and only singing on the choruses of one song, so I'm easing back into that as well.

Onward and upward!

Hi Everybody -

Sorry I haven't posted lately - life has been a whirlwind of ups and downs, advances and retreats, but always improving. This weekend I seem to have reached something of a milestone, of which I am very proud: Yesterday and today, I managed to hike approximately two hilly miles at Great Falls, VA, both days.

Sure, I had to stop for a breather pretty often, but my energy level has increased and my pain level has (finally) decreased to the point where it's possible to picture myself back in good shape. I had a stressful morning (for reasons I won't go into here) but my walk this afternoon, though tiring, invigorated and relaxed me. I'm definitely on the mend, and very optimistic for the future, for both my recovery from the surgery, but also for my health, strength and well-being in general.

Soon, these posts will cease being all about medical issues, and none too soon, as far as I am concerned. The future is full of possibility and ideas and adventure. What I really want is to talk about all that, now that this little ordeal is nearly at its close.

Thank you to everyone who has wished me well - your comments and helpfulness have been very welcome, and I cherish you all. And thank you most of all to my darling Chelle, who has been invaluable and indispensable in helping me get down the road to recovery. She knows exactly how to motivate me, exactly what to say to buoy me up when I despair, exactly what I need to do to successfully reach the next rung of the ladder to being well again.

In a previous post, I referred to my "pain buster" being removed, and I figured I should explain that one to you.

After my surgery, I discovered I'd been outfitted with a couple of accessories: My suitcase (the box that my chest drain tubes terminated in) and my purse (a little bag containing my "pain ball").

The pain ball was this thing called an On-Q Pain Buster. What they did was implant a couple of long thin catheters along the surgery site and left them in there when they stitched me up, and after that, some numbing medication was being continuously infused directly into that area from the pain ball. A brilliant idea - rather than numb ALL of you up, they numb only the part that hurts. In practice, of course, I did need additional pain meds, but not anywhere near as much as I'd have needed them without Buster.

So Buster followed me around in my little black "man bag" everywhere I went, from the day of the surgery, until the they pulled out his little tubes and sent me on my way yesterday. It was a bit awkward trailing all these tubes and hoses - I pretty much had to have a ground crew gathering up everything. At one point I had Buster's tiny tubes, two IV's, two chest tubes, a Foley catheter (look it up, I ain't gonna explain), and several heart and breathing monitor cables.

The pain buster tubes inside were long, a good foot long, and there were two of them, little skinny things. Inside the bag, the Pain Buster was a little round balloon full of medicine that slowly shrunk over time. By yesterday morning, he was a shadow of his former self, and I had to have Buster put down. It wasn't anything like the ordeal to yank out the chest tubes. These came out nice and smooth and neat, along with usual, "All THAT was inside of ME?"

Oh well, Buster had been loyal to me, but he'd served his purpose. But I'd still like to thank you, Buster, wherever you are.

Hi Everybody -

They sent me home this afternoon, and after going to Target for some meds, and taking a most-needed nap after a busy morning, I finally got a chance to read all the comments. Thank you SO much for all your support. You all helped keep up our spirits in a pretty difficult time.

I got up this morning almost effortlessly, after having a decent amount of sleep last night - in one case, I slept continuously for over four hours, which is hard to do in the hospital! I also spent half the night on my side, letting my poor, abused back have a break - now that the chest tubes were gone, I could lie on my side without feeling them poking me inside.

Apparently, I was not intended to eat breakfast today. Just as my food arrived at 8am, the respiratory therapist arrived to make me wear a mask feeding me mist for 15 minutes (and making me look rather evil, too - Scott got me to say, "I expect you to DIE, Mr. Bond" the other evening while I was wearing it). After breathing the steam for 15 minutes, I was ready to tuck into my rice krispies when the nice fellow from Transportation arrived to take me for a chest x-ray. So, after marking my breakfast as "Do Not Remove", we went off to do that. Apart from getting more hot water for the tea, breakfast was eventually consumed and enjoyed, and after sitting up resting for a bit, I was told I was going home, possibly by noon.

So they removed my pain-buster (more on that later) and my IV line, and we packed everything up and off we went, in a gentle snowstorm. Now I'm supposed to be resting, so that's all I'll type for now. Just wanted to let you all know I was out and reasonably well, and happy to be free. Thanks again for all your well wishes!

Chelle here... Steve's unwilling to move at the moment. He's just had the chest tubes removed... the freedom of movement will be exciting to him as soon as he's actually willing to uncoil and move around a bit.

He did great with the removal, and it was fascinating to watch. Plus he had a whole team of ultra hot nursing students watching. He can tell you those stories later. :-)

Yay! We're down to only two attachments now! The word on the street... well, out in the hall anyway... is that he'll likely come home tomorrow! The cats would've enjoyed the opportunity to play with all those tubes and cables, but I guess they'll all be out by the time he leaves here.

Visitors are still welcome and encouraged. Phone calls are great too. I'm thrilled that Steve has such wonderful people in his life. Thanks to all of you for your continuing support. You've made it all so much easier and... um... painlesser.

~Chelle

Hi Folks -

Finally getting a chance to write my own post from the hospital. Nope, no wi-fi here to use, but I can at least type it and have one of my lackeys (ow, stop whacking my ear!) enter it in.

We're at day five here, and I'm pretty sure we've got at LEAST another day before they'll consider sending me home. I had a pretty rough day yesterday, but today I've made considerable happy progress. For one thing, they finally stopped waking me up every hour for some medical test of procedure or shot or other indignity. (Speaking of, just as I was typing that, somebody came in to get my vital signs.) That doesn't mean I didn't keep waking up every hour or two, I've been conditioned to expect it now, and there's also constant nighttime entertainment. For one thing, there's the old lady down the wall who's bellowing constantly at all hours, and her voice reminds me of the woman that Ben Stiller works for in the movie "Mystery Men" ("Just junk it!!!"), so now I just think of her as "Sally." (If you didn't get that reference, go find and rent the movie and watch. Now. I'll wait.)

Back now? Wasn't that great?

Anyway, I went for a stroll around the hospital wing today, with my support crew surrounding me like fighter planes to my WWII bomber, with various people holding an elbow for balance, and somebody carrying my "drain box," for want of a better term, where the tubes from my chest end up and everybody gets excited if there are no bubbles and less fluid. Sometimes somebody is even pushing my IV rack, like some weird electronic hat stand, but this afternoon we left it behind. Chelle has been so invaluable as my crew chief. She's even helped load me into the CT scanner yesterday when the folks who are paid to do these things obviously didn't plan ahead enough to realize I'd need a hose wrangler with all these tubes sticking out of me. (OK, stop snickering, you people with dirty minds.)

Oh, speaking of hoses, the longest hour of my life was the time I spent, fully conscious, waiting for them to remove my breathing tube the day after my "procedure" (which is what you call an operation after you're 40, seemingly). Every few minutes they'd tell me it would be "just a few more minutes." At first, they had my hands restrained, but after they realized they could trust me not to just rip the darn thing out of my face, they let me have my hands back, which helped considerably - I was going a little bit crazy and getting claustrophobic. Once my hands were free, I could (very carefully) scratch my nose and ear, and gesticulate wildly trying to communicate with Chelle with some kind of weird medical charades game. They'd say "a few more minutes" and I'd roll my eyes, point to the clock, and stare fixedly at chelle as I showed all five fingers of my right hand - over and over ("five, ten, fifteen, twenty..."). I think we'd reached forty minutes of "just a few more minutes when it looked like some action was about to be taken. Chelle advocated for me fiercely, but she came to see the throat tube as something of an ally - what else could keep me from saying anything at all for over a day? Since then, whenever I've started to get out of line, she's looked at me sternly, and said, "Don't make me get the tube!"

Ok, lunch time is coming up, and I'm getting tired typing (this is hard work), so I'll sign off for now. No idea when I'll be back, but definitely when I get home from my ordeal - I mean, "procedure" in a couple days.

Wow, it feels like we've been in the hospital for two weeks now. We're only on the fifth day?

Thanks to all who have called or visited, or written here. He's greatly benefiting from hearing from, and seeing, his friends! Yesterday was a difficult day... bit of a scare with xrays and CT scans, but all turned out fine, and the company of friends in the afternoon and evening made it a very good day.

After everyone left last night, we took a walk around the floor - that's about 100 times as far as he'd walked before. Yay!!! He did great, and I'm betting he slept really well.

Visiting hours on this floor are 9am to 8pm, but they seem to be very flexible (I was there 'til after 10, with no sign of being booted out).

There's been no word on our escape date, but we're working hard to get outta there. Don't get me wrong, the care's been wonderful, the room's luxurious, the food's been.... well... food. But the sooner he breaks out, the happier we'll both be.

He doesn't have email yet, so the best way to reach him is a call to his cell phone, or a note here. Hoping I can get him to write or dictate his own entry today. :-) His right arm isn't working so well, so it might be a while.

~Chelle

Hi all,

It's tough to find time to write, to I apologize for not being more posty. Steve's doing very well. Yesterday, he came out of ICU, had a bit of a walk, and got a few more attachments detached. Woohoo!

Thanks to all who have visited him. You really cheer him, and me, with your presence. And goal for future visitors... make him laugh! :-) With his particular surgery, laughing 'til it hurts really is the best medicine.

Those of you who are waiting to hear from me in email... I appreciate your well-wishes and your concern for me. I'm too swamped to answer any but the most critical emails, so please don't be offended or alarmed. I'm fine.

Hoping to get Steve to write, or at least dictate, an update today. There's no internet at the hospital, so I'll post it when I'm home.

Steve has his cell phone, and he's completely ready for calls and visitors. Hope to see you all soon!

~Chelle

... but a long one. Keeping this short... more sleeping, less typing.

The tube came out this morning, and Steve has accomplished talking, walking, sitting in a chair, and eating (kinda). This is truly huge progress for The Day After.

Saturday would be a great day for visitors. Plan on any time between 1pm and 6pm. Call me for updates as to his location if you're coming, as he'll likely be moved tomorrow.

Thanks everyone for your kindness and support. And, to "Anonymous Coward"... this is the wrong forum for your BS. The rest of us would like Steve to feel *better*, thankyouverymuch.

~Chelle

I phoned the hospital a bit ago, and Steve's nurse said he had a restful night. She asked me not to come in yet, since every time he hears my voice he drags himself awake through any quantity of sedation, and they really need him to be asleep. Drat.

So, this morning they'll hopefully decide to remove the breathing tube. I'll keep obsessively calling for updates, and go over the minute they'll let me in. I'm thinking, don't plan a visit today... but I'll let you know for certain as soon as I have any information.

Tomorrow should be a good day for visitors... I'm guessing...

A couple rules that they actually enforce: No one under 16 is allowed in the ICU. No more than 2 visitors can be in the room at once. And they shut down from 6:30 to 8 pm for shift change and meetings and such.

The cool thing is, visiting hours don't end 'til 10:30pm. Pretty generous for an ICU.

I'm going to go ahead and post my cell number here, hoping that posting it in a public forum isn't a completely insane thing to do. Please feel free to call me at any time, if you'd like to visit or get a better update or ask any questions at all. I'd love to hear from you, and I'll pass all messages on to Steve as soon as he's able to retain them. So here it is: area code 301, number 366.5579.

Since this is a public forum, I'm not posting details, but I'd be happy to answer your questions by phone.

~Chelle

Hi everyone!

Steve's surgery is done and completely successful. I'm with him now, and he's mostly sedated and feeling wretched. Nothing unexpected there. Dr. G gave me all the details, but I think I'll refrain from posting all that and just stick with the bit about "successful".

It took considerably less time than expected... I got the call at home and came back to find he'd already been delivered to his room and hooked up to a bajillion monitors and tubes. He was awake enough to greet me and understand and respond to conversation. The breathing tube keeps him from talking, for now.

Please feel free to contact me for any reason. I'll keep you posted on progress, visiting possibilities, and all that. No company today or Friday, please... with a couple exceptions (you know who you are) who are welcome any time. :-)

Thanks for your caring and kind words. It means the world to both of us.

~Chelle

Hi Folks -

Just a quick note to say I'm up and washed and ready to head for the hospital at the ungodly hour of 5:30am. I have to check in at 6:00, which is easy, 'cause the hospital is only a couple minutes away.

Thanks for all the kind words everybody has been sending me. I appreciate your warm thoughts.

Wish me luck, here I go!

Thought you might ask that.

Well, my right lung has been partially collapsing every now and then (every few years for a while, but now every few months) ever since it completely collapsed in 1982.

That time it was way big scary. It was a "Tension Pneumothorax." Any lung collapse is a pneumothorax (literally, "air in the chest") because air has managed to find its way between the lung and the chest wall, where it has no business being. In this case, however, the hole letting the air in was like a flap - like a valve, actually - and didn't let the air back out. With each breath, the pressure would increase slightly inside my chest.

I was a 20 year old with no sense of my own mortality. So I asked, quite casually, "What used to happen to people before they could operate on them for this?", thinking I'd get the answer that the poor souls would live out their lives with only half their normal lung capacity.

"Oh, they died."

Seems the pressure inside the chest increases until it stops your heart beating. Eek. Pretty heavy for a 20 year old to deal with. Apparently, it was all due to some kind of congenital abnormality in the way my lung is put together. Anyway, to make a long story short, they cut me open, took out a small piece of lung, and roughed up the surface where the hole was so it would stick to the inside of my chest and not be able to leak again. They told me that lung would never collapse again. Nice try.

So, 26 years later, we're going back to finish the job. The surgeon wants to do this mostly to head off future complications - one of the lobes is twisted and stuck that way, constricting airflow, and there are air pockets where the lung has grown around an air bubble, creating a place for a nice infection to take root some day.

Medical technology has improved, I'll be in the hospital 5 days instead of ten like last time, and it'll probably hurt a lot less, but I'm still pretty freaked out about having my chest opened up again.

Oh, and it's happening on Valentine's Day. Because nothing says "romance" like spending the morning in the operating room and the evening in intensive care. My sweetie will be there for me, thank goodness, which is what will make it all bearable.

So, the plan is to have said sweetie post here now and then while I'm in the hospital, and I'll start posting myself when I'm able, so interested folks can see how I'm doing.

Wish me luck!

Hi folks!

I'm mostly setting this up as a place to post how I'm doing while I'm in the hospital and recovering from surgery for the next few weeks, but after that, I hope I'll post to it occasionally for other purposes. I've attempted to blog before, and frankly, I've always been too lazy to stick with it. Months would go by without a post.

Let's see if this time is any different, shall we?