We Can Rebuild Him

Happy Friday. Yes that's me to the left "enjoying" my rehab. If you look closely you will get a glimpse of my lair, including the top edge of the famous "Comfort King" which has become my sanctuary, bed and best friend this week. Don't look too closely hoping for a glimpse of my naughty bits either. The person who took the photo double and triple checked my shorts to assure a "G" rating. If this post gets a little odd, please keep in mind that I am under the influence of heavy medication and "Wife" is making sure I get the maximum dosage in the minimum time allowed.

I went in for my surgery Tuesday afternoon, nervous but hopeful. As I wrote last time, no one, including my excellent surgeon Dr. Ho, knew what to expect. The first thing I should have expected was that the public is made up of some complete dunder heads. This is off topic, but isn't that one of the things I'm known for? The waiting room in the "Ambulatory Surgery" wing was filled with signs telling the rude and self important not to use cell phones and prohibiting food and drink since patients having surgery are denied food and drink and to have these items in the waiting room amounts to cruelly teasing the thirsty. Do I need to describe the scene? You guessed it. The aggressively illiterate were doing whatever they wanted, others be damned. Why is it that some people think the entire world wants to hear their conversations? there were a few women in the waiting room who were talking to their families (who it should be pointed out were sitting right next to them) at a volume rivaled only by a Who concert in 1969.

There are so many details of my saga I'd like to share, but I'm already missing the "Comfort King", so I'll try to give you the highlights. After being taken into pre-op, Dr. Ho and his team came in to assure me that everything would be fine. His chief resident, another fine physician (I can't remember how to spell his name) was charged with the task of shaving my knee. This was no small task, and I"m sure all the years in med school and residency seemed well worth it as he wrestled with the forest of hair on my wounded gam. I had a number of options for anesthesia ranging from being completely knocked out to clenching my jaws on a rolled up wash cloth. I went for the middle ground and received a full leg block. It was wild. The anesthesiologist used a live wire to pump some wattage into my leg's cottage. When he got me twitchin' like a leaf on a tree, he injected something into my leg rendering it useless. In fact, my leg is still not completely unblocked, causing me a bit of concern, but leaving the doctor to assure me, "we've never had one not come out of the block. Don't worry." Easy for him to say. After getting me on operating table, I got a little something to "relax" me. This was when I noticed the monitor.

I could see the team prepping the instruments and asked the anesthesiologist to roll down the barrier so that I could watch the procedure. I'm not kidding. I love watching operations on TLC, so what better operation to take a gander at than my own. Everyone was a little surprised by my request, but the barrier was rolled down a little giving me an unobstructed, hi-def view of the inside of my "messed up" knee. It's hard to describe what I saw. I was in and out through most of it due to my "relaxation", but I watched as rough angles and out croppings were shaved away. It was like a small fish eating algae. Dr. Ho had told "Wife" that the actual surgery would take about 45 minutes. In fact, it took two hours. That should give you some idea of the wonderful surprises he uncovered when he got in there. There were numerous meniscus tears. The biggest surprise was that something he suspected was a "floating body" turned out to be a piece of bone from an old injury that had attached itself to the side on my kneecap and continued growing. They had to do "major resurfacing" (just like IDOT, only on schedule and under budget) to my entire knee as well. When Dr. Ho saw "Wife" after the surgery, he told her how surprised he was at all the damage and the amount of work they had to do. The good news, besides the fact that my knee is fixed, was that they didn't have to do the "micro fracture" that would have cost me six weeks on crutches.

I have not fared too well on the crutches. Trying to come into the house Tuesday afternoon, I followed the instructions I had been give on walking up a step with crutches, but to my chagrin, fell and landed right on my post-op knee. Sounds terrible right? Well the pain wasn't bad, but trying to drag my big ass off the floor with a dead leg was a real treat. Wednesday morning, I was feeling confident after a night of successful wanderings. I got up to go to the bathroom, lost my balance, and fell backwards bending my dead leg and foot under me. I heard a noise you never want to hear from your body and a let out a scream no man should ever utter. I ended up back at the surgeons office getting an X-ray of my swollen foot. Nothing was broken, but I now am sympathetic to the elderly who seem to dwell on their fear of falling.

The machine in the picture is a CRM machine. It moves my knee so I don't have to. I love the fact that technology is around to combat my sloth. According to the doctor, it will begin to shape the new surfaces of my knee. Hey, as long as the machine does it for me, resurface away.

So there's your update, whether you wanted it or not. I won't be doing my show tomorrow night, but will be back next week. I'll also be doing all the Friday night/Saturday morning shows through July. After that, who knows, but your support is always appreciated. I'm off to settle into the CRM for another two hours and hopefully watch the White Sox dole out a little payback on the Cubs. Have a great weekend. Later...Brian

A Man In Knee'd

The MLB scouting report report on me has always been short and to the point. "Big stick, no wheels." My wheels have been suspect for years, but recently, one of them has come off the rim and today is the day I set that right.I have to keep this short, which, if you're a regular reader, of course means this will be the longest post in the history of the Internet. That's usually the case, but I am in full pre-op mode and scrambling to get my affairs in order before going under the knife. How dramatic!

I've had problems with my left knee for years. It all started on the gridiron when I was in seventh grade. After bursting through the offensive line and readying myself to lay out a grade school quarterback, I was hit from the side and sent screaming to the turf. "Suck it up and have some pride" my caring coach advised and so I did, but my speed in the 40 was never the same. Over the years I have encountered a series of doctors and family members who basically echoed my coach's words and chalked up the grinding, popping and pain in my knee to everything from weight to chronic hypochondria. As recently as December, I was told to just flex it more and everything would be fine. Maybe if I hadn't sought medical treatment in the third world, things would have been different, but you know how HMOs are. In April, I finally sought the opinion of a doctor trained in modern medicine, and after checking X-rays, an MRI, and hearing me scream like Jamie lee Curtis fleeing a knife wielding maniac, I heard the words I had longed to hear. "That's a pretty messed up knee." Oh joy! The fact that I had been pulling myself up and down the stairs for months and would crumble unexpectedly had now been confirmed as something other than a figment of my over active imagination.

Later today I will undergo arthroscopic surgery. I've heard from different people that it is an easy procedure, but as my doctor told me yesterday, "There are scopes, and there are scopes." He leaves things pretty open for a guy who spent years in school. I was asked to sign a permission slip detailing all the procedures the surgical team (Yeah, I'm not messing around any more. I got myself an entire team. I've waited this long, I'm going all out.) might have perform on my "messed up knee". Let me assure you, it's quite a list, but only one item worries me. I won't give it any power by typing it, but if it is performed, it would mean six weeks on crutches. That sounds fun huh? The doctor couldn't give me any specific answers yesterday because "we have to wait until we get in there." There's that fine medical training again. This is an outpatient procedure, so I'll be home tonight and I've been assured that I won't feel any pain due to an "excellent block" I'll receive and some high doses of Vicodin that I picked up yesterday. My friend John has asked me to post in an altered state so you can see the difference. Sadly, I don't think there would be any, so I'll spend tonight in the big chair whining and trying to curry sympathy from my family.

I had my last drop of liquid half an hour ago and am off to scrub myself with an anti-bacterial soap to ward off any micro organisms that may see my ample carriage as a succulent buffet. Normally I don't drink too much during the day, but being told I can't have anything is making me dryer than British wit. I hope I don't begin to hallucinate and see mirages of cool water and cherry limeade. "Wife" will be driving to the hospital which I'm sure she's looking forward to. I'm a surly patient. Not with medical professionals since they control my destiny, but with the people I figure have to put up with me. Since I'm so self-aware, (HA!) I'll try to keep my surliness to a minimum.

Time to go. I'll let you know how things work out, but I fully expect to be too busy running marathons, salsa dancing and winning a PGA Major on my new and improved knee to spend time sitting at my desk. I'm off to have this mess cleaned up. Later...Brian

Power To The People

(I have no idea who the woman in the picture is, but her rage, passion, expulsion of gas made me laugh.)

I usually try to avoid getting involved with committees, groups, or associations. I work better alone, which is either a testament to my lone wolf spirit or my anti-social nature. Either way, my manufactured apathy has served me well. That's not to say I don't care about the issues that affect my neighborhood and world, it means I like to shout my criticisms from a distance and let other people follow my instructions. This week I was dragged from my distant perch and dropped knee deep into the hoopla.

I've written many times about my crazy neighborhood. It's probably not unlike a lot of other places where residents try to outdo each other in an attempt to become the ultimate winner of the American Dream sweepstakes. In many of these neighborhoods, there is a "Homeowner's Association" that makes sure none of the residents go overboard in their quest for dominance. We have such an association, but it has been largely inactive except to organize a block party for as long as I've lived here. That all changed recently.

I've consulted the battery of attorneys I have on retainer here at Brian Noonan Worldwide Inc., and they have advised me to be as vague as possible while describing the following events. Obviously my legal eagles don't really pay too much attention, since being vague is one of my strong suits. It comes from my days with the "Company".

Long story short, the past President of the Association was accused of financial malfeasance. I thought that consisted of him spiriting away an extra pan of Rice Krispy treats from the block party, but that shows you the extent of my financial understanding. According to his accusers, the amount of money in question ranged from ten to fifty six thousand dollars. That's a lot of misappropriated Moon Bounce rentals. The monies came from a couple bank accounts, credit cards and unmarked boxes of loot generated by a fund raising event and covering the last decade. You may think I'm apathetic, but I've only been in the neighborhood a little over two years, and if I can't account for a ten spot, I mount a full investigation. This place was really asleep at the switch. Last year, some former Association board members got wind of the alleged windfall by El Presidente and formed a junta to seize power and oust the alleged embezzler.

I realize this is not the short story I promised, so here's how I got involved. "Wife" and some other residents decided they didn't like the fact that the junta had seized power, kept the rest of the neighborhood in the dark and called a meeting where they hoped to install themselves as the self appointed keepers of the neighborhood. I don't know where "Wife" caught the activism bug, but it infected her like a twenty dollar hooker. She created a flyer with the names of all the candidates and spent last weekend going door to door drumming up interest in the meeting. She was a regular grass roots organizer. I was able to convince her that mounting a huge speaker to the roof of the car and campaigning Blues Brothers style was a little over the top. She was successful in getting a large turnout at the meeting which surprised the junta and resulted in some tension.

The two hour meeting consisted of defensiveness, a little shouting and one guy flexing his middle aged guns while making motions. Impressive thought they were, I thought it a bit much to wear such a tight shirt to the meeting, but in hindsight, if I had sculpted my body to that of an aging extra from 300, I would wear form fitting garb too. I tried to lighten the mood on a couple occasions, but "Wife" was in full "voice of the people" mode and would have none of my frivolity. I did solicit a few laughs by asking "Guns" his name every time he made a motion, which was an open mock of the recording secretary who was either distracted or sleeping every time "Guns" (not his real name) stated his name. I was unable to make any motions due to my general malaise, but finally tried to push one through near the end of the festivities, only to be told by a guy with a Robert's Rules of Order book that I didn't need to move on that particular point. I protested loudly, seconded my own fake motion, added that there would be no discussion on the matter and then abstained from voting on the motion that was only in my mind. Democracy in action.

I could tell you the outcome of the meeting, but I can't say for sure there was one. I know that I think we may have thought about moving to vote to decide on studying the idea of letting the former El Presidente off the hook and dropping the matter, but that would be speculation on my part. What I do know is that I want nothing more to do with some of the people who live in my neighborhood and I can say with confidence that in some of their minds, the feeling is mutual. "Wife" is running for a board position in the upcoming election, but I will remain in the smoky back room during the campaign.

Enough of politics, let's talk entertainment. This is another weekend of "Two scoops of Brian on WGN." I'll be hosting WGN Overnight Friday night and Saturday night, or do you say Saturday and Sunday morning. Either way tune in and enjoy all the radio irreverence you can handle. Big news next week. Have a great weekend. Later...Brian

The Grass Is Always...

Growing. What did you think I was going to say, greener? How hack would that be? Almost as hack as starting a post with another fake double sided conversation. I just finished cutting the grass and am taking this time, what runners call "my cool down" to put fingers to keyboard. Normally, something as mundane as cutting the grass wouldn't spur my literary cravings, but I'll try to tie the mundane into the absurd, add a pinch of relevance and viola.

I felt pressure to get the grass cut today for a couple reasons. First, as you know, my neighborhood is a hotbed of lawn competition. Not tending to one's lawn is tantamount to clubbing a baby seal or putting ketchup on a hot dog. (The food, not an overheated canine, but that's probably frowned on too.) I "do the lawn"( Insert your own snide comment here. I can't give you all of them .) every weekend in my attempt to uphold basic community standards. After checking my busy schedule and studying weather forecasts like a nervous shrimp boat captain, I decided to challenge Mother Nature and finish my mowing before the rain came. I like to get into throw downs with the forces of Nature whenever I can, providing that the outcome isn't life threatening. What's the worst that could have happened if Momma N had given me a little smack down today? Oh no, I'm a tad damp. It's not like I was going all George Clooney on her and trying to out run the perfect storm. The other reason I wanted to get the yard done today was that if I didn't, my other option was cutting the grass on Sunday and that wouldn't do. Sunday is, if you've forgotten, Father's Day.

Now we're getting to the point. I don't know what "Wife" and "Daughter" have planned for Sunday, but I know that now I've given myself the gift of guilt free rest. I also know that it's a gift I won't want to return or have to manufacture feelings for. I'm sure that won't be the case with anything I'm lucky enough to get from my loving family, (wink, wink) but it never hurts to hedge your bets. It's still odd for me to celebrate Father's Day, despite the fact that I've been a father for over eleven years. I guess I still think of my dad as being the "father" in Father's Day and that's OK. I just need to remember that to "Daughter" I'm that guy. Wow, that's the kind of statement that makes me all warm inside. No, wait, it's gas.

Father's Day doesn't seem to get the same buildup as Mother's Day, but dads don't seem to mind. We really just want to enjoy a restful day and maybe have everyone give us, as "Daughter" used to misinterpret, "a piece of quiet." Ahh yes, peace and quiet. My dad always asked for it, but rarely, if ever got it. He was normally the recipient of whatever class project one of us made him, a #1 dad mug, or some car wash certificates. He always seemed thankful, and now that I've got a few dad years under my belt I realize why.

Happy Father's Day to all you dads, or guys who work hard to fill that role. We're often made to look like fools on TV and in the movies, but we serve a purpose and all the turkey basters and loud pronouncements about men being obsolete can't negate that fact. Keep working hard to be a good father and if you're lucky, there may be a coffee mug with your name on it.

I'll be ushering in Father's Day with two editions of WGN Overnight. That's right, another weekend of double Noonan. On the Friday/Saturday show, we'll be checking on all the great weekend activities for you and your dads and then on Saturday night/Sunday morning I'll be visited by the Insatiable Insomniacs and we'll play "Father's Day Trivia" during the "Overnight Arcades." All that and more when you tune into the mighty 720 during the wee hours. Have a great weekend. Later....Brian

Get That Out Of Your Mouth

Today I might sound more like a cranky old man than I usually do. I try to keep an open mind about things (Really? Hey this is my post, I can write whatever I want and by the way, stop arguing with yourself like someone else is there.) and remember that I was once a youngster, prone to bad decisions (that hasn't really changed) and willing to be a slave to popular trends that vanished as quickly as a pastrami sandwich in front of Rosie O'Donnell. Even with my new found accepting attitude, sometimes I'm pushed to the brink and forced to exclaim either out loud or to myself, "What are you, nuts?"

Yesterday, "Daughter" and I were running errands. She's out of school for the Summer which is another story all together. As it was lunchtime, and I'm such a nice dad, I gave her the choice of picking a place for us to enjoy some mid-day sustenance. I knew what she would pick given our location at the time of the request, but I like to let her make the decision. She feels large and in charge, and that's a good feeling to have once in a while. "Daughter" suggested we dine at the bastion of fine Eastern cuisine, Panda Express. Nothing says "welcome to the exotic far East" like red plastic trays and a steam table, but I have a soft spot for Orange Chicken, that sickeningly sweet combo of chicken parts and breading in a gelatinous sauce, so off we went. I actually don't mind Panda Express every once in a while. For a fast fix to quell a craving for Chinese food, it isn't half bad. There's a ringing endorsement huh?

Here's where Mr. Cranky was roused from his fitful slumber. We walked up to the counter and were greeted by a young woman. I couldn't tell you exactly what she said, because the sounds emanating from her face were gurgled and sounded as if she were drowning on some lobster sauce. I thought the difficulty may have come from my end, since I've been known to not pay the utmost attention to uniformed food slingers. That wasn't the case. Every sentence this girl tried to force from her mouth came out so garbled that I thought I was listening to a Trans-Atlantic propaganda broadcast from Tokyo Rose. The ordering process at Panda Express is fairly simple and shouldn't require my asking "What?" or "Pardon me?" thirty seven times. Maybe this unfortunate fake blond is touched in some way and is incapable of clear speech, I thought in a rare moment of compassion. Not so. When she finally turned to face me, in what I hoped was a move that would clear the static from our communication, I spied the problem. This 19-22 year old girl had a piece of metal jammed though her tongue that was the size of Tiger Woods' golf tee. Since she wasn't screaming out in pain, I figured this wasn't the result of a wayward Ginsu knife, but rather the culmination of a really bad thought process.

I've seen pierced tongues before, and not only in gentleman's clubs or illicit DVD's. Many seemingly rational people are willing to jam hunks of metal through their tongues to alter their speech patterns. That's not the reason they do it of course. These human pin cushions will tell you that they're expressing their individuality, making a statement or, the most popular reason reason I've heard, (and I make it a point to ask as many of these orally decorated individuals as I can for their justifications) is that it enhances certain sexual acts. Wow, how bad is your sexual partner that you need them to plunge a barbell through their tongue in order to get you going? I may not be the most adventurous guy in town, but suffice it to say, I have made a few trips around the block and I have never thought to myself, "Hey now, that thing she's doing feels great, but you know what would make it even better, a hunk of metal grating me like fine cheese." Add to that the fact that while basking in the afterglow, you have to talk to someone who purposely made themselves sound like an audio book read by Lou Ferrigno and Marlee Matlin. Yeah baby, I'm ready for round two. Even if your tongue piercing wasn't a nod to sexual adventures, the image will still be there. You can't sell a tongue piercing as anything else. Well, I guess you could sell it as stupid, but that's just me.

I pointed out to "Daughter" the ridiculousness of the piercing and she agreed that the girl sounded challenged and looked like her second career would most assuredly involve a carnival midway. Hopefully I was able to get my point across during this bonding/mocking moment and she will remain piercing free except for the more socially acceptable ears, which send only one signal, namely, I want someone to buy me diamond earrings. We'll see how that works out.

Guess what? I'll be hosting two installments of WGN Overnight for the next few weeks. If your weekend plans include very little sleep, tune in tonight and tomorrow night ( 2-5 am Sat. morning and 1-5 am Sun. morning) for the big shows. Twice the fun for the same low price. Have a great weekend. Later...Brian

Look Over There, It's History

I have been lucky enough to have been alive for a few moments that could be considered historical. I remember the first moon landing, the end of the Viet Nam war and the introduction of the Big Mac. All important events, and depending on the day, each gets the top spot on my personal list. Sure, there are more. You want a list? Look, time is short so you'll have to believe me. I've seen history and so have you. Sometimes it slips by us unnoticed and then there are days like today (technically last night) that you can't over look.

The Democratic primaries were set up to have a historical outcome. The two leading candidates were a black man and a woman. Whichever candidate became the nominee would be the first of their respective groups to achieve such a goal. Last night, Barack Obama became the first African American to become a major party nominee for President of the United States. Think about that for a second. There, your second is up.

What a turning point in this country. It wasn't too long ago that black people couldn't vote, eat at a restaurant or ride in the front of the bus. There are men and women alive now who fought for Civil Rights in the face of brutality, dogs and fire hoses that are now seeing their efforts bare fruit. I am happy for them. I'm also happy for myself and the rest of this country.

I can't pretend to know the suffering of others. I won't even try to talk about the history of racism in this country, but I will say this, I believe that the nomination of Barack Obama is a huge step toward finally putting aside the past. Will there still be racism? You bet. Just last night I heard an old woman from Kentucky on the radio. She told the host she was "afraid for America, because Obama will nominate Lewis Farrakhan or someone like that to be Vice President." Sadly, she's not the only person who feels that way. There will always be people to whom skin color is all the reason they need to write someone off. Obama's nomination may also help to quiet some of the racist rants from the other side as well. How will people like Reverend Wright and Father Pflager, among others, preach that "the white man is keeping us down" if a black man is President? It doesn't carry the same weight if your man is in charge. Maybe both sides will have to drop the old school posturing and admit that while things are still far from perfect, we're on the right track.

Let's enjoy today. Progress has been made and something historical has happened. I know that there are all kinds of people, black, white, whatever that never thought they would see this day in their lifetime. Take a few moments to reflect on that. The General Election Campaign has begun and who knows what the results will be, but for today at least, America has taken a huge step toward the future. I'm going for a Big Mac. Later...Brian