I pick Margie up at the hospital and then drive her through insane traffic and panicked moose safely to our home

I slept with my iPhone right by my ear and so was awakened a bit before 11:00 AM by Margie's call to tell me that she would soon be released and so I could come in and get her.

11:00 AM - sounds very lazy. But I had not been able to go to sleep until 5:00 and I ran out of Vicodin two days okay and while it is possible that I could call the doctor and get the prescription refilled I have decided that I don't want to take it anymore and will just tough it out. I did not sleep that good. I bet my shingles woke me up AT LEAST 30 times. Maybe I should rethink that decision. We'll see. So, even at 11:00, it was very difficult to get up, but I did not want to leave my wife in the hospital, so I got up.

When I reached her, I was a little dismayed to learn that she has a plastic tube going into the place were her gall bladder used to be. Fluids drain out of that place into a little bag that she keeps safety pinned to the inside of her shirt. She must bear this burden until November 30, when I bring her back to see the doctor again.

Still, you can see that she was happy to be getting out of the hospital and headed toward home.

Anyone who read yesterday's post has probably already figured out that the building seen through the window is the hospital - the Alaska Native Medical Center.

Soon, we were on the Glenn Highway, headed toward the Parks Highway and home. As you can see, the traffic was absolutely insane. For some reason, when I look at this picture, I hear that old TV jingle that used to accompany Chevy commericials on TV: 

"See the USA in your Chevrolet..."

Back then, our family car was a Ford.

And today, I was driving a Ford.

Ford Escape.

"See the USA, in your Ford Escape..."

There were school buses roaming about, packed with studious kids who would have preferred to remain at school, but now had to go home.

About this time, a text came to our phones simultaneously. Margie was free to look at hers. It was from Lisa. It was an iPhone shot of her and Melanie, in Carrizo, Arizona, White Mountain Apache Tribe, standing with their Grandma Rose, Margie's mom.

Finally, we were in Wasilla, headed up Lucille Street. Just before we reached Metro Cafe, this moose crossed the road in front of us. When you see moose crossing the roads right in front of traffic and often dying in the process, they seem like pretty stupid animals. But I think in the woods they are pretty smart. Not as smart as bears and wolves, but pretty smart just the same.

If they weren't, they wouldn't still be here. The bears and wolves would have got them all and then the poor ravens would have had to make do without their moose carrion. It's just that living in the woods for how many tens of thousands or hundreds of thousands or milliions of years, moose had no need to learn about roads so they didn't. They didn't even bother to develop the capacity to learn about roads.

Now they are undergoing a crash course and maybe sooner or later the survivors will ultimately evolve to the point where they figure it out.

They might even start driving cars themselves; they might run over us, sometimes.

I asked Marige if she wanted me to pull into the Metro drive through but she just wanted to go home.

The moment we got home, Margie asked if I would take a picture of her with her iPhone so she could send it in return to Lisa and Lisa could show it to Rose and all present so they would know that their mother and daughter had made it home safely.

So I did.

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The first surgery went well, but...

Margie's first surgery went well, but she did not get to come home. For all of yesterday and into this morning, we thought she would likely be released early today, the second surgery could be scheduled for later and we could still make our planned trip to Arizona.

But it was not to be.

Five gall stones were removed from her, but they left a blood infection behind and it must be treated or it could become very serious. So she is still in the hospital, she will have her second surgery tomorrow and, for now, our trip is off.

Lynxton is still going, though. Tomorrow, he will head out with his parents and his big bros. They will fly to Phoenix, overnight there, then drive up to the White Mountain Apache reservation. The introduction of Lynxton to his Apache and Navajo family will begin.

Melanie, Charlie and Lisa are also scheduled to go.

It will be a different kind of Thanksgiving here.

Margie in surgery right now; chilly this morning - we still might make it to Arizona

Margie is undergoing surgery right now. As soon as I finish this post, I will head for the hospital so that I can say "hi" to her when she comes to. As it was explained to me, the reason for the two surgeries is that it is possible pieces of gall stone could have broken off the big one in her gall bladder then got stuck in various ducts that lead away from it. If the gall bladder were simply removed, those stones could stay behind and cause trouble.

This surgery involves no cutting into the body. A scope and stone removing tool is sent down through the mouth to search the bladder and the ducts.

This surgery is not supposed to be that hard on a person. Margie may be able to come tonight. Furthermore, depending on what is discovered and how it goes, the second surgery, the one to remove the bladder altogether, might be able to be postponed or dropped altogether and we might still be able to go to Arizona.

There is only chair in Margie's hospital room and Melanie will not sit in it if I am there. She insists that I do, so I do. She looks more comfortable lying next to her mom than I feel in the chair, anyway. 

Unless you are looking at this in the click and blow-up size, it may be hard to read, but the unlit sign on the back window of this car says, "see me about lighted car signs."

When I took the picture, the temperature on this part of Muldoon in East Anchorage, which gets much colder than at the airport which sits right by the inlet, where the official Anchorage temperatures are read, was -14.

When I got home, it was -15 (-26 C) in our driveway.

This morning, it was -26 (-32 C).

One might think that this portends a good, old-style, cold winter ahead, but experience tells me that we cannot count on it.

Sometimes it starts out this way and then one of those troughs sets up in the Pacific and then pulls one South Pacific storm after the other up from Hawaii and ruins everything.

I hope that doesn't happen this winter. We will see.

I like my winters cold.

Now I am off to the hospital, to see Margie and maybe bring her home.

A rumbling train causes Margie to sit right up in her hospital bed

Jobe and Kalib came to the hospital last night to visit their grandma. They did not quite know what to think of her hospital room and were a little hesitant to enter.

But enter they did. Kalib greatly loves his grandma and immediately began to tell her about a great adventure in his life. It had something to do with trains - and in particular, a train named Thomas.

Holy cow! What is that in Kalib's hands? Could it be a train? Could it be... Thomas the train?

Practically the whole family was there - except for Caleb, who had to stay home and go to his regular night shift and Lisa, who had spent some time hanging out here earlier in the day.

All present were very curious to see what Kalib would do with the train that he held in his hands.

Why, Kalib put the train on the table in front of his grandma, found a tunnel, and drove that train right through it and to the edge of a cliff!

Astute readers will notice that Jobe also holds a train engine - that's Percy - Percy the train. As we were all talking about Percy the train, the door opened and in walked my friend... Percy! Percy Aiken from Barrow, who had come down to be with his brother Earl, who is intensive care.

I know many people are wishing the best and praying for Margie and me, but Earl needs prayers and good thoughts much more than we do.

I went down to the ICU unit to see Earl and there I also saw some friends from Point Hope. Caroline Cannon who was there to support her son, Leroy Oenga, who also has a great need for good wishes and prayers.

This morning, I slept very late. I've been doing that a lot lately. When I got up, I knew that I should fix myself oatmeal, but, solitary individual though I am, I wanted to go someplace where I could sit in solitude among people, eat, sip a bit of coffee and be waited on.

So I headed off to breakfast.

Here is a lone diner, at Abby's. We were both alone, him and I.

The truth is, I forgot my camera when I to breakfast this morning, so these last two pictures are actually from Wednesday morning, before Margie came home from Anchorage, before her gall bladder struck her down. These pictures are standins for today, although today I went to Mat-Su Family.

They are now planning to subject Margie to two surgeries - the first one to remove her gall stones, and the second one to remove her gall bladder. I do not understand this. I do not know why they don't just take the gall bladder out with the stones in it and get it done at one time.

There must be a good reason, but I do not yet know what it is.

They are hoping to do the first surgery tomorrow and then the next the day or two after.

They would do the first today, but they still need to bring down her level of infection.

We are scheduled to depart for Arizona Monday morning on Alaska Airlines.

We are not going to make it. In Arizona, Lynxton will be introduced to his bigger Apache and Navajo family and we were greatly looking forward to being there for it.

I was going to do some heavy blogging.

Now it will go unblogged. It will be documented, though. Lavina will be posting on Facebook.

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Two November 13 birthdays, part 2: Greetings, Larry Aqlunaq Ahmaogak!

Please allow me to introduce Larry Charles Aqlunaq Ahmaogak of Wainwright. I almost didn't make it over to see him on this, his birthday of origin, because I had first gone to the party which you will see on November 13 birthday #1. Thanks to these shingles, I got to feeling so weak, rotten, and drained over there that when the party ended, all I wanted to do was go home.

But a friend is a friend and family is family and this includes the family that adopts when you are in your 40's. So I decided to drop by, say "hi" to Jason and Iqaluk, give them my best wishes for the upcoming birth of their baby and then go home.

I called Jason, to see where I might find them. "We are here at ANMC with our son Larry," Jason answered in a tired but proud voice, "born this morning at 7:59 AM; seven pounds, 14.4 oz.; 20 inches."

So off I went to the Alaska Native Medical Center.

Jason Ahmaogak is the kind of guy who can go out on the flat tundra in whiteout conditions in the darkness of winter at 50 below, be just fine and never get lost. He can venture into the maze of broken, pressure ridge riddled ice and know where he is at all times. Even without GPS, he can boat out into the Chukchi in the fog and come home okay.

But Jason got lost in the hospital. He left Iqaluk and Larry - whether Larry was born yet or not I am not sure - to run an errand and then he could not find his way back. He wandered down this hall and that hall and all the halls just looked like halls.

Finally though, he made it back. That is good, because he has to teach this boy how to survive in the Arctic.

Larry Aqlunaq - this name comes to him from his grandfather, Jason's dad, who passed away very recently. This means a great deal in the Iñupiat way of life.

Notice the symbol on Jason's sweatshirt. I have a sweatshirt just like this. That symbol stands for Iceberg 14, the whaling crew that Jason's aapa, his grandfather, Benjamin Ahamaogak Sr, started up many decades ago. When Ben was still alive, I followed him and his crew to do a little photo essay and that was when they adopted me.

So today, I gave myself a new assignment: to follow Larry Aqlunaq off and on from now through the first whale hunt in which he takes on a role of high responsibility in the boat.

I recognize that I have given myself a huge challenge and to be quite honest, I realize that the odds are high that I will not be able to complete it. I will be a genuinely old man when that event happens. I might well be dead. I might be incapacitated.

But I just might make to that point, in decent health.

So that is my goal: to make it that point in decent health and follow Larry Aqlunaq into the boat, onto the sea, and to the bowhead whale that will come his way.

Because he is family - that's why.

Iqaluk is a fine Eskimo dancer in the Iñupiaq style. Larry Aqlunaq's older sisters are fine dancers. Small though they still be, they bring down the house whenever they perform. I suspect Larry will also be a fine dancer. I must photograph him dancing as well.

Larry Charles Aqlunaq Ahmaogak.

Note: I decided to run November 13 birthday part 2 before Part 1, because my son Rex is very familiar to the people who know him and to regular readers, too.

Not very many people have seen Larry yet, so I am going to post this first. I may post Rex's birthday tonight or I may wait until tomorrow. To be quite honest, I don't feel up to it right now - but I might in a little while.

Two November 13 birthdays, part 1. 

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