Doc Daneeka

Anyone know how much of the weight loss, typically, is fat vs. water vs. muscle if nothing changes in activity?

Two months ago tomorrow was the last morning I didn’t wake up absolutely miserable. Two months ago tomorrow was my GF’s last night alive. I won’t be in any condition to write this tomorrow. I’ve spent the last couple of weeks accepting that the world has gone pretty much back to normal even for the people who were at her memorial, except for her mother, me, and possibly my younger daughter. I have no one feasible to whom I can whine except y’all. so, yeah. I’ve taken my five year old “niece” to breakfast at her favorite restaurant alone for the first time. She misses her aunt, at some level, but she had fun. I’ve gotten my first tattoo and, though I am a bit unhappy with the color saturation right now, I’m glad I got it. My younger daughter got her first color tattoo. The same one I got. I went to my “brother-in-law’s” house for his birthday and spent some time talking about movies and shows we’ve seen, because that’s what he used to talk about with her. I spent a couple of hours on the floor — which is much, much farther down than it used to be — playing Barbie with a five year old, as usual. After I left, I pulled into a parking lot and sobbed into my steering wheel for about 20 minutes, which isn’t usual at all. I accidentally snuck up on one of my dogs and found out that he’s been sleeping in her spot on the bed. So maybe things aren’t back to normal for him, either. I got yelled at for saying I was fine with dying. I tried to clarify that I just meant it was like property taxes or something. I’m not going to seek them out, but when it comes time to pay them, it won’t be a big deal to me. She wasn’t having it and I guess I can understand why. And I’ve read this, from her cousin at the memorial service, probably 1000 times. (Spelling, punctuation, capitalization, etc. as in the original): God. Fucking. Damn. This. Is. Bullshit.

As someone who recently relied on iCloud to retrieve 36,058 texts that turned into a 2,134 page PDF, I cannot agree more with your statement. If you have something you want to keep, act like it and don’t just presume it will magically manage itself.

I will watch that. One of the strangest / most unexpected / whatever, things I’ve come across in life is that people who have a lot in common, or next to nothing in common, can be fans of a college football team and bond so much over that. I’ve made friends at tailgates with whom I stay in touch year round. I’ve made friends I saw six times a year — maybe more if they also went to the away games — but those six times were awesome. I’ve seen people in bars or wherever in Texas gear and, depending on their age, something as simple as “remember Steeler roll left,” or “remember 4th and 18 at KU,” or “did you see Richard Peavy make Marcus Dupree question all of his life choices, or at least the ones he could still remember” would lead to hours of football talk and family stories, then I’d never see the person again I’m not normally an emotional person — my ongoing self-pity party here notwithstanding — and, in fact, “robotic” has been used to describe me on more than one occasion and not always in the positive way you’d think it would be. But the fact that people here, very few of whom I’ve met, read my rants, respond to them, and even have them in mind enough to make a recommendation like this one almost gives me hope for humanity. Almost. I’ll be driving in traffic later so that hope won’t last much longer, but it’s here right now, anyway. Thanks. Seriously and profoundly.

Well, my goal for 2024 was 9 million steps. I was doing 30k steps a day through almost all of January. Hell, maybe I can actually do this. Then on the 29th my GF’s replacement kidney said, “Nah, we’re done here.” So for about 2.5 weeks I’ve just been slogging through just trying to make it to the next day. Her best friend called today to see what’s up and we talked awhile and I told her I wasn’t walking much. She said, basically, “Of all the things she wouldn’t shut up about regarding you, the thing she wouldn’t shut up the most about was that you walked if Texas was frozen and without power, you walked when it was 110°, you walked when it rained, you walked when you didn’t feel like it. She was so proud that your determination kept you going that it kept her going, too. She’d be so disappointed that she’s the thing that stopped you.” Can you hear the Rocky music of whichever of those movies you liked the best? I basically could. After we hung up I went and walked for real. Then after dinner. Ended up with 19.2 miles and 33k steps. Hell, maybe I can actually do this.

Since I feel certain y’all have been eagerly anticipating another episode of my venting my spleen, here you go. I’m considerate like that. I’d like to lead off with a big “fuck you” to the universe, in general, and to Facebook’s “memories on this date” for the last six years, in particular. So, fuck you both and fuck me for trying to get rid of the notification bubble when I should’ve known what was up. My quasi-mother-in-law called yesterday to ask me to take her to the funeral home to pick up urns, ashes, and jewelry because her son was at work and she hasn’t driven since her daughter died. That was pretty brutal. She still has the flowers all around the living room and she sits in a guest bedroom most of the day surrounded by my GF’s clothes that her brothers picked up from our house. Loosely translated from the Spanish, “My daughter was so tall and now she’s in these little urns.” Fuuuck. I’m worried about her, but everyone says she’s strong and will be ok. Not sure what to do there. I got one of the copies of the death certificate, for no reason in particular except I wanted one. “Acute renal failure,” as expected. Another “fuck you, universe” for my not being a compatible donor. I also had her cell phone line turned off, since it was on my account. So much of that phone is her and and having her move her service onto my account, though not momentous in the grand scheme of things, was a pretty big step toward “yeah, we’re actually going to do this.” I guess I’ll keep the phone while figuring out how to harvest anything I want to keep — fuck you, Android — while trying not to feel like too much of a creeper in the meantime as her friends use it as a way to stay in contact with me and, in a way, her, I suppose. I was waking 17 miles a day and now doing 3.5 feels like walking in tar. The only two reasons I even do that are because I don’t want my activity streaks to end in a way that brings me back to this time and the infinitesimal chance I might have to deal with her ire in the afterlife for being such a lil bitch after I promised her I could handle it. One of our things about celebrating Valentine’s was just to do something at home and leave the going out on that day to others. “We have 364 other days like this; let them have this one.” So now, I’m here without that, but with a disconnected phone and a goddamned urn full of ashes. Did I say “fuck you, universe”? Well, fuck you universe. Maybe this is the anger stage, who knows.

On the password sharing crackdowns… I feel like I’m probably missing something and I haven’t looked much into the details of what Hulu and Disney plan. Let’s say it’s something like Netflix which, as I understand it, means the device has to be on/used on the “home” network every 30 days or so. My understanding is that Hulu and Disney+ work with Airplay, but Netflix doesn’t. So, given a physical streaming device — Apple TV, Roku, anything that supports all three — if said device makes the trip to my house once a month, and all three apps are fired up just for good measure, these three services should be good to go for another month or so… yes? No?

I had the “first love” thing just out of high school and we saw each other on and off for 15 years or so and then again for a while after I got divorced. At some point I think it was more about reliving being young than living today, though I was married for 20+ years. It wasn’t the greatest fit ever, but I had stood up in front of everyone and said “I do” regarding “until death do us part” so I was resigned to doing what I had said I would do. I got two amazing daughters out of the deal, so it was far from a total loss. By the time the ex wanted out, my only concern was how it was going to screw up holidays. There were some regrets, but nothing soul crushing. This woman was different. I mean, about an hour in to our first in-person meeting, I knew this was what I’d never had before in my life. It was a slog to get her onboard because of her health situation — she wanted to protect herself from abandonment and me from this whole process — but I eventually wore her down. But this is absolutely soul crushing. Not gonna lie, I’ve considered looking into helium and balloon tanks and whether that approach would be feasible. But I have a mother and two dogs to outlive. Plus, as I said above, I wore her down. And I wore her down by convincing her that I was a grown-ass man who can make his own decisions and live with the consequences. One of the consequences of being with her is that her life expectancy was shorter and that we might not have as much time as we expected, let alone wanted. I told her that I could handle that and she trusted me. I’m sure as hell not going to let her down and betray that trust. I will do what I said I would do.

Nah, man, having a place where I can type this stuff out and I know people are at least reading it definitely helps. Responding is doing something. I didn’t mention it specifically, though saying “Del Rio” kind of hinted at it, but she’s from a Hispanic family with the stereotypical dozens of cousins. They all said that I, and her five year old niece, were all she ever talked about. They talked about how sarcastic she was and how she hated being hugged and how she often kept her distance from things but when she talked about me it was like she was a different person than the one they knew. They said she was “giddy” and that she’d just never done “giddy,” before. Thanks for helping me get through this crap.

We had her memorial service today. Well, yesterday. I know I’m not some unicorn who’s the only one to lose a partner, but holy fuck this is bad. I don’t have anyone else I’m willing to drag into this whine at three in the morning, so y’all are it. My dogs have already heard more than they bargained for and my crying in the dark in a half empty bed for however many hours is freaking them out. At least typing this has made that stop for a little while. It’s an easy “scroll on by” for you, so I don’t feel too bad about it. **OK, lucky for y’all, typing out about 5,000 words has sated my desire to express them without having to expose y’all to them, so I’ve deleted most of what would have been this post. Pretty much my approach to business emails back in the day.** Long story fairly short, I’d been waiting 50 fucking years for this woman without really knowing it. According to her friends and family, she’d been waiting about 45 years for me. We got a little less than seven years together, but it was the best seven years of our lives. Right now, that just makes this gaping hole in my being hurt even more. Maybe in the future that will be what allows me to cope with that hole. Also, I have a much more vivid understanding of some of the reasons why people came up with the idea of an afterlife. I want to see her again so badly. The belief that I could do so would be an amazingly calming lifeline right now. Wish in one hand… Carry on.

I use the hell out of mine for motivation. I have a 1619 day move steak through subzero ice, 110° sun, or whatever else Texas has to offer. I’m to the point where I don’t need the motivation 90% of time, but that 10% when I wake up knowing it’s cold and hearing it rain, or whatever, has me to the point where some minutes of suboptimal conditions or desire is less of a mental whip than living with not getting out there and doing what I should.

That, and some Patron or Tito’s, would be the formula. Thanks for the thought.

Well, the shit keeps flowing. My SO of almost seven years, to whom I’d have been married if not for the somewhat arcane web of organ-transplant financing/insurance, died at 52 of cardiac arrest last night. The bedroom is a disaster area that looks like it was invaded by EMTs. Which it was. The hallway is strewn with bottles of all manner of anti-rejection drugs, along with makeup, a chair, and whatever else had to be tossed aside to make room. The kitchen is full of her collection of mugs and myriad things that remind me of her. I have no haven from this assault anywhere in my own home. I have zero inclination to touch any of it right now My mind can’t get rid of the image of the person I love most in the world, after my daughters, flopped on the floor with eyes wide open and not breathing, while I’m futilely trying CPR as a drone on the phone reads from a script telling me what a good job I’m doing and to keep going. Because that’s not yet enough of a nightmare, I also can’t stop hearing the ululating wail of her mother upon entering the trauma room and seeing her daughter. “Mija, mijaaaaa, por qué dios, por queeeee. ¿Por qué no yooooo?“ I’m caught between having an introvert’s completely drained social battery and dreading being alone. I can’t not be with her family but I don’t know how to deal with one more “she loved you so much” without going to pieces. And now more of her family is flying in and I get to be the adult in front the the five year old niece who worshipped the ground she walked and who still cries every time we leave. Carloads of people are on their way from Love Field and I need to be there when they get to her mother’s house. This definitely ails me between the ears. I’m starting to question whether this mortal coil is all it’s cracked up to be. Two daughters, a mother, and two doggos will keep me here, but I’m not super excited about the prospect at the moment. No, I don’t need a wellness check, but fuuuuuuuuuuck.

Michigan defense against everyone, even the rest of their own team.

Yeah. They didn’t take the result very well.

I remember driving from the Dayton airport to Columbus and listening to this clown literally laugh at the idea that Texas had a chance in the Shoe at night. Luckily for him, he doesn’t get paid to be right, just to get attention. Saying stupid things is a really good way to do that. I’m looking at you, too, Bohls.

Admittedly, this didn’t require a time machine.

That freshman QB has wheels. Three.

That fair. I’ve always said that OU cheats but at least had trophies to show for it. A&M has Trans-Ams at other schools.

This is literally how OU built a program.

“Alabama isn’t the same team they were in December.”

You’re behind, now.

It was over when Iowa threw a pick in the end zone.

Now all he’d need is a Steve Largent.

And it wouldn’t be these two teams or others like them, after the round of on-campus games.