Whatever happened to Michael Writes?

 He learned what bleeding was

end of blog.

It could be, but I'd like to think that you came here to learn what I learned about bleeding.

I am an overweight single man of 51 years. I work for my mother these days as her Administrator of the Knox County Museum of Education. Up until I took over, I had no background or experience in managing anything bigger than a small TV studio and a private eBay business. So, it was a learning experience.

My mother's mental state has been in decline since she turned 86, I wasn't aware of it until she stopped driving. Then last year she had the rounds with High Blood Pressure and ERs and nervous doctors and it spelled certain doom for her as her activity decreased to the point that by November of 2019 she semi-officially retired from the Museum's daily operations, She was already not going in daily. Things were rocky but I managed to keep everything afloat until COVID-19 came along and ruined the world. I was under incredible stress, taking care of my mother had become full-time, and trying to work full-time as well. Then I got a couple of scratches on my left leg.

Of course, I treated it and bandaged it, but thought nothing of it until it started leaking a water-like substance. Epidermal fluid. I had something like it in October 2019 but it only lasted a few days and dried up. This did not. I went to the doctor and went on a water pill and potassium and antibiotics.

Again, I wasn't too concerned as it was only water, I could still work albeit there was a lot of leaking. Eventually, I decided to stay home, a second wound appeared on my ankle below the wounds on my shin, it was quite painful to touch and I bandaged it as well. Then on a Tuesday night in July, I was putting mom to be around 12am and had just was the wounds and bandaged them. As I was getting her water in the kitchen right after that, I felt something wet and looked down to find myself standing in a puddle of blood. The kitchen floor was covered by blood. Not sure how bad, but by the time it registered in my head it was my blood I was calling for my mother and headed towards her bathroom which is adjacent to the kitchen.

I managed to get into her bathroom which is narrow, get on her toilet and get the bandage off. Meanwhile, mom is in a panic and trying to get her Google Nest Hub to call the neighbors and, of course, Google isn't cooperating which make everything worse, I finally talk mom into the bedroom to get her phone which I had put by her bed (mine is on the charger in my bedroom)

She starts calling our neighbors.

I get the bandage off my ankle and the blood sprays out of my ankle like a leaking pipe. I stare at it in disbelief. I have NEVER bled like this in my life (and I have bled quite a bit). As I try to decide what to do the blood just continues to spray. The problem is that because I am overweight (huge belly) it becomes an obstacle to get over to reach down to my ankle. 

Mom finally reaches out to next-door neighbors who say they will be right over. Gary is a retired postman and his wife Robin is a retired school teacher. Mom then calls our handyman who is a true superhero because he always comes no matter how early or how late it is. By this time it's 12:30 am

I have managed to twist on the toilet and get 2 fingers down to my ankle, but I don't know what to do, the bleeding won't stop, I have a hysterical moment where I start thinking about the Black Knight scene from Monty Python & the holy grail. "Tis but a flesh wound," I say and giggle.

Mom can't reach our handyman Ronnie and gets hysterical too.

In the middle of this, I start praying "I'm not going to die." I believe that I am going to die.

Then someone tells me to push my two fingers down into the bleeding wound, so I do and the bleeding stops. At this point, I am pouring sweat out of my head, my vision is blurred and everything is slippery, my hand cramps and the fingers slip out after awhile and the bleeding starts again.

Again, I hear a voice tell me to place my fingers back into the wound. The world slows down and the bleeding stops. I know I am going to live. I also know the voice is in my head and it is the voice of God. I might doubt it now, but right at that moment,I know it to be true. 

My neighbor Gary and Robin arrive to discover that I had locked the front door, Mom can't get to the front door and end up coming in through the backdoor so the first thing they see is all the blood. I suspect they figured that I had been savagely attacked. It's at that moment we find out neither of them can deal with blood.

Gary gets my mother's cell phone and calls 911.

By the time I see them, Robin is trying to calm Mom down and Gary is standing nervously as far from the bathroom as he can without leaving the house. At that point, our friend Ronnie arrives. 

I lean back and ask Gary to shine his flashlight in the bathroom on my leg. I confirm that the ankle is no longer bleeding. I am sitting in a pool of my own blood, but I am still alive.

Ronnie starts cleaning up the blood in the kitchen.

The EMTs arrive and it dawns on me, no one is wearing a mask. No one.

My neighbors take their leave at this point.

I laugh.

They look confused. I ask them what I should do. 

They get a chair and help me out of the bathroom. The bleeding has stopped. I am morbidly terrified it will start bleeding again. This fear will be with me for about 23 days.

They bandage my ankle and leg.

I ask them if they think I should go to the ER.

They look uncomfortable and I discover that they cannot make that decision. I have to ask to be taken to the ER.

I laugh again.

They look uncomfortable. 

Mom tells them I am not going to the ER.

I ask their names and thank them for coming. Ronnie gets mom into bed and I thank Ronnie for coming and help him clean up the rest of the blood meaning I watch him throw out a complete set of towels, a new set of washcloths,  and my favorite slippers. 

What have I learned?

I bled out of a capillary less than 10% of my blood supply.

I went into shock and only God saved me.

I probably would have bled to death, however, and if I hadn't stopped the bleeding the EMTs would have, but they weren't there at the moment of truth. They came late to that party

I learned that humans can and will spurt blood and whilst the Brits make light of it, it's a reality that I have lived through.

I have also learned that it was only the beginning of my education which I will tell you about next time.

and that is Life (and bleeding) According to Mike.

The State of the World According to Mike

It's June 25, 2020.

    The world as we had thought we knew it has spiraled out of control and ended for all intents and purposes. In my last blog I was concerned we would collectively forget about Covid-19 after it was over.

I was wrong. A fair number of people are already, actively trying to forget it now, in the middle of it, all the while swearing that it's over.

    The world ended a few days ago, no one actually noticed it. In fact, it's been over for a while. No one cares. REM sang their verse and went downstairs to get high or drunk.

    People will think I am kidding, but it's true. My own mother chides me for believing that this invisible disease is real as if all diseases aren't invisible until someone gets it and you have to watch them die. I cry for that person who, right up to the moment their father's hand goes cold, couldn't believe that face mask was necessary and that staying at home was ridiculous. Now she stands there, knowing that the disease is real, that her father's death was preventable and that the enormity of it all is so far past any single person's responsibility that it's almost laughable as she walks back to her car through the crowds of protesters and deniers running to and fro as if the disease was all the hoax that my 88-year-old mother believes it is. My mother does acknowledge that something is seriously wrong, but even her experienced mind cannot grasp the unreality of it all. Her dementia is localized in the fact that she is cut off from reality and society and even in denial she is living in isolation and quarantine thanks to me and her inability to age gracefully.

    I can't hold that woman who just lost her father, except in my mind. I can't even hold anyone else, because this threat has taken away our ability to touch for the fear that all of this presents. Meanwhile, our leaders squabble over tiny amounts of money while combatting public outcry while the Grim Reaper walks the halls of ERs and Retirement Homes. 

    I can only pray that somewhere in all this apocalyptic madness that someone finds a cure/treatment/vaccine before the world goes to war over a popularity contest and blames it all on Obama for starting it in the first place.

It is times like these that try the Soles of my fellow men...

It is the age of the Coronavirus or COVID-19.
People talk about this disease as if we will all remember it in times to come.
Bad news guys, we won't. Its probably going to last another 2 months on the news, 3 months on the web and someone will bring up that damned Gorilla and everyone will "move" on.
 This the Internet and America. There's a presidential Election and the mud will be flying between Trump and Biden in no time. Sorry, Bernie, the Democratic Party is throwing you off the bus again as unelectable. Anyway, that's another blog in itself.

The fact is that Americans will move on.
It's what they do.
Ask an American about the Ebola outbreak
The few who were paying attention will tell you it is over and besides, that was 4 years ago.
The truth is its not over and there are still cases popping up in Africa.
No one cares.
No one- other than those who had it or those who lost their families, friends, and neighbors to it.
Ask an American about 9/11. Some of them will get very serious for as long as it takes to remind you that there is no comparison but Congress was willing to forget the first responder's subsequent health crisis' and almost not renew the pledges of support that they had made to those men, women, and families.  
Does anyone remember the people who died in those buildings? Does anyone recall the panic and insecurity of this country as our President told the public to buy garbage bags and duct tape against the likelihood of the WMDs that would soon rain down chemical weapons upon our cities?
No, they don't.
Just like all those people who have no idea what happened in Detriot or rather to Detroit
or Flint
or Sandyhook
or Columbine
or Waco
or Katrina
or Puerto Rico
or (the list goes on)
Americans forget and they forget quickly.
Not all Americans, but many.
You can blame the media, the Internet, the Millennials, the Liberals, the Democrats, the Republicans- Hell, let's blame Obama (they will for many years to come); but, the bottom line is not whose fault it is. 
No, it's our Fault, America's fault.
We allow the forgetfulness. Welcome it even.
It's how so many of us cope with things we feel we cannot control.
So, in a few months, when the scare of the Coronavirus has worn off and toilet paper returns to the shelves and the disease has become treatable/curable, people will move on-
and all of the vows that we will never recover and never forget will be forgotten and people will stop washing their hands for 30 seconds.
Hand sanitizer will stop being a commodity and face masks will disappear
leaving the victims bereft and angry. It will join the ranks of the Flu and Pneumonia and this country will not give it much more thought until it comes around again
or doesn't.
There will be another, newer disaster, a volcano, earthquake, tornado, blizzard or terrorist attack to distract us from all the promises made by our politicians and heroes.

I don't really have a positive note to end on here.
It is what it is.
Okay, Fuck that.
It should fucking matter!
We shouldn't forget any of this!
I won't.
The fact I wrote this blog means
I haven't forgotten you Flint, Michigan!
or Waco
or Katrina
or (the list goes on)!