A Little More to the Story

Enough people have asked me about the details of my surgery, and laughed as I relate the experience, that I've decided to share a little more here.  Don't worry, it doesn't get graphic.

Saturday morning my doctor required me to arrive at the hospital by 9 AM to check-in and prep for an 11 AM surgery.  I arrived on time, checked in at his office, and took all the referral documentation to the surgery center.  Third in line, two people on duty, so I wait and listen to an Australian couple who arrived after me, fourth in line, complain loudly about how ridiculously inefficient the hospital is and wondering aloud if they would arrive on time for their 10 AM surgery.  I kept thinking:  "Why didn't you arrive 2 hours early like I did?"

At 10 AM they called my name and brought me back to the surgery waiting room.  Five curtained beds, I'm the only one alone...and the only one who's curtain remained open while I waited.  I disrobe and put on the infamous hospital gown that is really not much more than an extra long pillow case with an opening specifically designed to give you a draft.  I lock my valuables in a safe in my locker and wait.  Around 10:30, a nurse brings me a pill and tells me it is to help me relax.

Five minutes before the 11 AM appointment, two nurses retrieve me from the waiting room and wheel me into the surgery theater.  The room is an ice box.  They transfer me from my waiting room bed to the surgery bed and within minutes my teeth are chattering and my body is convulsing with chills.  I'm sure they thought I was shaking from nerves.  Then I told them to touch my nose.  It was frozen.  They stack four blankets on top of me and tuck a hose blowing hot air in the middle.

Before I can warm up, the doctor arrives and exposes me from waist to knees.  Great.  I'm in a room that's ice cold, my body is still shivering and spasmodically thrashing on the table like a fish thrown in the sand, and I'm naked from waist to knees.  Ever seen the episode of Seinfeld where Jerry's girlfriend walks in on George after he was swimming in the cold ocean?

Yeah, the "Shrinkage" episode.

But I'm over that.  My doctor has seen it all.  I'm wondering if the NINE OTHER PEOPLE in the room are as experienced.  I swear they were giving me looks of pity, but I didn't dare challenge them.  I mean, I've got twenty pounds of blankets on my chest, my feet are dangling off an operating table that is too short for me, and a doctor is standing over my exposed parts with a needle he's about to stick in a very unpleasant location.  I figured it was not the best time to provoke them.

The doctor injects the anesthesia and starts poking me with a needle to see if it worked.  When I ask if that is supposed to feel like a knife stabbing me, he gives me another dosage.  By the time I'm feeling numb, I've finally warmed up and the pill has begun to take effect and I start to drift off.  I think falling asleep concerned them because they kept waking me up to see if I was okay.

"Just tired", I tell them, and they leave me alone.

Then it just gets weird.  Maybe this is protocol.  Maybe this is a doctor who has seen too many of his colleagues get sued when a couple has an unplanned pregnancy after the surgery.  Maybe my doctor was just weird.  In any event, when he finished cutting out the first section, he woke me up and showed it to me!  "See!  I cut this out of you!  See what it looks like!"

Thanks.  I was dreaming about fishing.  Can I go back to that now?  Though after seeing a two centimeter section of my vas deferens I may have dreams of something other than fish.  Maybe the worm.

Thirty minutes later I'm woken again so he can show me the other side is removed and tell me they are going to stitch me up now.  Wake me when it's over.  They do, and I transfer back to my waiting room bed and they roll me back to rest and recover.

I sleep for about an hour and they bring me some food.  I'm famished.  I slept too late for breakfast so I only had a banana from the fruit bowl in the room.  My lunch is an Asian-portion sized ham sandwich.  In America we call it "finger food".  About an hour later, six hours after arriving at the hospital, I'm given the all clear to leave and return in the morning to make sure I'm not swollen to the size of tennis balls (his term, not mine).

I sleep the rest of the day and into the late morning, waking only long enough to have a hearty, protein filled dinner....with American sized portions of creamed spinach, rib eye steak and broccoli.

The next morning, I go for my checkup.  Everything looks fine and the doctor leaves me in the room with the nurse.  She has me drop my pants, lay back on the table, and proceeds to explain the proper cleaning care after my surgery.  I had two thoughts:  First, this is NOTHING like that "naughty nurses" movie I saw with my friends in High School.  Second, Thank God it isn't!  I had visions of stitches flying around the room as if shot from a cannon and myself falling on the floor in pain and embarrassment.  Like a character from a Ben Stiller movie.

I thank them for not having cold hands, leave the office, and catch my flight back to Jakarta.  That evening, we attended a "P" party; everyone had to dress as something that started with a "P".  Our original plan was to go as Polygamists, but my situation required me to wear comfortable clothing and I instead went as a Physical Education teacher so I could wear loose pants.

All said and done, it wasn't that big a deal.  I try not to say that too loudly because the wives of my friends are already using me as an example with their husbands.  Seems I've started a trend.

I always wanted to be a trendsetter.

What's a Father to Do?

I'm not a feminist.  Far from it.  I'm more likely to file a petition to cancel Title IX or picket the offices of the NOW than I am to lend my voice to support them.  However, I'm also the son, brother, cousin, nephew, grandson, colleague, and friend of remarkable women who make tremendous contributions to their craft, their families, and their communities.  I can't imagine what a world would be like if they did not have their opportunities to shine.

And that's one of the things that makes life here a challenge.  Women are second class citizens, and my daughter sees it. Now, I won't lie and say that, as a man, being in a patriarchal society doesn't have its advantages.  It does.  But I also have concerns.  To wit:

1)  After our first year, when we were discussing school with our daughter, we said she would attend elementary school, then middle school, then high school, then college and then she'd find a job.  She replied:  "Women don't work!"  We laughed and said "from the mouths of babes", but also took note.  Both in Arizona and in Jakarta, all of her friends had stay-at-home moms.  Nothing wrong with that, obviously, because we've chosen to do that.  But it was an interesting perspective.

2)  Last week, my daughter started taking the bus to school.  I told her to enjoy it while she could because when we return to Arizona, she'll be walking to school.  She replied:  "I don't have to go to school in Arizona."  I said:  "It's the law.  If I don't send you to school, they come and throw me in jail.  And if I am not going to work because I'm in jail, who will earn money so we can eat?"  Her reply?  "When I'm old enough, my husband will work and he can pay!"  I'd like to blame the Disney Princesses, but it's not them.  It's what she sees.

So, what's a father to do?  In a world where all my daughter sees are women who are stay-at-home moms, nannies, maids, or teachers, how can I convince her she has other options for which she must prepare?

Family Is Complete

Before our latest addition joined us in July, my wife and I had already decided he would be our last child.  The only question remaining was how to guarantee he would be our last.  After studying the long- and short-term effects of the various contraception options (pill, IUD, tubular ligation, prophylactics, vasectomy, etc), we determined the vasectomy was the best option.  No issues with hormone changes, reversible, no ongoing expenses, etc.

I was supposed to complete the procedure in July during my paternity leave.  The doctor advised us to wait until after our son was born to confirm no complications and that our minds would not change.  Our son is healthy, we haven't changed our mind, so I'm in Singapore and, after this morning's procedure, I can say our family is now complete.

I didn't record the surgery and I'll spare everyone a "verbal video" and just say:  "OUCH!"  Honestly, it wasn't that bad (other than the initial shot delivering the local anesthesia - which, after the first didn't work I made him do again) and I'm not even on pain medication.  Although, for some reason I'm no longer able to think clearly, as if the procedure disconnected my brain or something......

The more interesting part of my trip is what happened at the hotel.  We so enjoy the Shangri-La Hotel that we joined their Golden Circle Club after our last trip to Singapore.  When I arrived, even though I had booked a Deluxe room in one of their towers, they had upgraded me to a suite!  I think it may be because we've booked a suite each of the last two months - once in Jakarta, once in Singapore.  So, instead of recuperating in a simple room, I'm in a room with two bathrooms, two TV's, a dining room, a living room, a sitting room, and a balcony that overlooks the pool.  Overkill, to say the least, and something I would better enjoy if I was on a romantic getaway with the wife, not surgery.

I have one final post-operative examination tomorrow before I get back on a plane to return to Jakarta.  We have a birthday party to attend tomorrow night and I hope I'm up for it!

It Isn't Worth The Hassle

Spoiled.  Privileged.  Lucky.  Plush.  Opulent.  Our friends and family in the U.S. have used each of these words to describe our domestic staff situation, and understandably so.  It is uncommon in the Western world to have a maid and a nanny with the frequency with which we have them here.  Having lived both ways, I prefer not having them.
After our most recent nanny challenges, we've decided to, at least for now, pare down our staff to one maid and one nanny.  Having more help just isn't worth the hassle.  After our last nanny quit, we initially hired the wife of my driver, on a two week trial (for her and for us), but she lasted less than a week.  The childcare for her children fell through so she could no longer work for us.  A week later she tries to return and dictate her schedule and her salary - I told her we'd pass.

I then had the bright idea that I would take a portion of the salary we were paying our second nanny, and share with the maid and nanny we were keeping, and ask them to make minor modifications to their hours.  I was trying to accomplish two objectives:  early morning help readying the kids for school, and an end to paying overtime.  By adjusting hours and increasing salary accordingly, I believed I was being fair.

Our staff took it as an opportunity to renegotiate.  Every other Saturday off.  An additional premium for coming in at 6 AM instead of 7 AM.  I understand the right to negotiate with your employer - I've done it myself.  But when I'm already paying my staff more than other expats, and we expect less of them than other families because we don't like having them in the first place, I was very turned off by the whole process and really just want to fire everyone and start over.

In the end, we settled for just leaving things as they are.  They get no more pay, we'll continue managing mornings on our own and remembering to have cash to pay for overtime.

For those of you thinking:  "Why not just get rid of the help?"  Two reasons:

1)  We hired a maid because we were told we had to or people would rob us.  If we don't hire local help, locals think we're being greedy and not sharing our good fortune.
2)  We hired a nanny because we discovered very quickly a "playdate" was nannies getting together with the kids, not mommies.  My wife felt awkward (and rightfully so) being the only mom at a playdate full of nannies.

So, now we have undesired drama thrust into our lives.

How would you handle it?

The Real Pests are the Mosquitoes

According to Wikipedia, we are in Jakarta's dry season.  That would explain the lack of rain; it hasn't rained since we returned in mid-August.

What is surprising to me is that the arrival of the dry season coincides with the arrival of a mosquito infestation bordering on plague-proportions.  The first thing we noticed upon our return from Arizona was the incredible increase in the volume of mosquitoes in our home.  Mosquito lights, citronella candles, spray, mosquito nets - nothing is working to fend off their pertinacious buzzing and blood thirst.  We sleep in a fine mesh cone, and inspect it nightly, yet I still manage to awaken with four to six new bites every night.  It's horrible.

Once a month, we have pest control - Terminix.  They usually come during the week when I'm at work and our daughter is at school.  We're required to vacate the house for four hours during and after the spraying, so a weekday visit works best for us.  When we returned from Phoenix, we scheduled a Saturday spraying.  It was a rather interesting morning.

The approach itself is rather interesting.  I'm accustomed to exterminators spraying a liquid along the baseboards in every room and along cabinets.  Here, it's a fog.  They fog the entire house and the entire yard - which is why we need to leave.  As they spray, enormous clouds of mosquitoes take to the air to avoid the noxious fumes.  These swarms attract swarms of birds, who come to feast on the fleeing insects.  They dive bomb seemingly out of nowhere and are fearless of the humans roaming around beneath them.  The lure of easy food is too strong.  It's an amazing sight to see.  If I think of it, I'll have to take some video of the event next time.

The spray lasts just under a week, and then we're infested with mosquitoes again, so I may have to increase the frequency of the exterminator's visits.  The big concern with mosquitoes, other than the annoying, itchy bumps, is Dengue Fever.  Jakarta does not have malarial mosquitoes, but Dengue Fever is quite prevalent.  It's rarely fatal, but it's not something you want to go through, either.  It's pretty painful, from what I've heard, and you wish you were dead, but you do survive.

I don't remember having this large an issue before, but this is our first September in this house and we are surrounded by streams and a few open fields.  Hopefully I'll find a solution soon....or it will rain again.

The Reviews are In

Updates on Candy Count....

Marketing this game has been interesting, and I'm learning a lot from my partners in this venture.  What I'm hoping will be the most beneficial to us is the review sites.  Two agreed to review the game, KidsiPhoneAppReview is the first one to publish....and they love it!  Time will tell how this translates into sales.

Another marketing venue we've used (well, mostly me) has been to reach out to teachers.  Thanks to my rather extensive family network in the teaching profession, and the high percentage of teachers in my weekly Futsol game, I've made some progress here, too.  At Futsol last night, one of the teachers informed me she is using Candy Count in her classroom to help some of the kids who are struggling with counting.  Awesome!  That's what the game is for.

I have a few more games in the works.  We're targeting a November start for the next one which means it will probably be available just in time for Christmas.  Fingers crossed! 

Third Title Added

The hits just keep coming!  Well, at least the releases keep coming, time will tell if they are hits....

Two Titles Available on Amazon

I have two short stories available for sale on Amazon, both in the horror genre.

If you do not own a Kindle, and instead own an Apple device, you can download a free version of the Kindle reader in iTunes.

Don't have one of those?  Then use your laptop/desktop with the Kindle for Windows.

Then you can spend a dollar to buy my stories:

Candy Count on YouTube

I believe this is a precursor to a review coming up later this month.