The Good, The Bad, And the Chappell

Hey everyone,

Well it's now been 21 days since my operation, and my time off has been met with some good and bad times, Just thought I'd share some of those from the weekend.

The Good:

I took some time to go over to my dads place this weekend to hangout with my younger brother and play some video games with him. We chatted and munched and bonded. everything I could hope for in a visit with a sibling. It was a lot of fun.

The Bad:

What I learned that day was how bad I suck and video games now. Unless the title of the video game ends with "64" I really have a small to no chance of beating anyone at anything. Which my brother kindly reminded me plenty of times :) We ended up played some Mario Kart Wii where I really let myself down... P.S I also learned that the track called "Rainbow Road" should actually really be called the "Rainbow Rape Way" I still hurt. lol

The Good:

I had my first follow up since my operation with my Doctor today. He ended up giving my knee a clean bill of health!

The Bad:

before he gave my knee a clean bill, he actually told me he was worried that h the screw placed in my tibia might have actually blown right through the bone...which would of resulted in another surgery! I had to wait an hour for my x-ray results to come back. At which time the only clean thing I was wishing for other than my a clean bill knee was a clean pair of shorts.

The Good:

Got the scrabble app for my Iphone yesterday.

The Bad:

Misspelled the word rinse in front of an old lady, which ended up in an hour long conversation about the deteriorating state of young people in the wold today... Good talk...

The Good:

My Movember Moustache is coming in real nicely!

The Bad:

My Movember Moustache is coming in... real nicely...

The Good:

I have two awesome friends who gave me an early surprise present for my birthday with an awesome painting!

The Bad:

I just had to show you all that old picture haha *facepalm* Awesome Gift!

All Jokes a side though what I'm trying to get to with my blog this week is that though the weekend was actually actually really good, and sadly pretty bad. It did feel a little more like a normal weekend for me. I got to get out of the house and had a chance to go back to my work and say hi to everyone which I miss. The only thing that really freaked me out is that I've noticed that when it comes to the "good and bad" I realized that the better I feel, the more my heart actually breaks. I've had times where I knew that getting over someone was what I needed to do. But it was something I strived for because I didn't want to hurt anymore. The difference this time being that I don't actually want to get over it (in a way), I know by all rights I really should. But at the end of the day when I start to better I feel , I get upset about because It means its all a step closer to being just a memory. I don't want it to be a just a memory, I specially don't want her to be just a memory. What do you do when the hurt of moving on is worse than the hurt your feeling because your just sad? The reason for this is because I'm not mad at her for breaking my heart... I don't blame her at all for the decision she made. But what makes me mad is that I feel like for right now, I'm on a one way road. A road which I'm desperately looking for an exit for because I don't like where its taking me.. having to shed all these feelings.

Well This is definitely a new one for me, and well that was my truth bomb for the week, sorry if it got a little deep but hey... Shut up lol :) I'll definitely try and end the next one on a high note! But as always Thanks for reading all! Talk to you soon!

Chaps -

P.S Been Listening to Yeah Yeah Yeah alot lately, heres their acoustic version of their song Hysteric.

Take Care.

Lest we Forget

Lets take a minute to remember all those that gave their service and lives for our freedom. Your sacrifice wont ever go forgotten. Thank you!

They went with songs to the battle, they were young.

Straight of limb, true of eyes, steady and aglow.

They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,

They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning,

We will remember them.

Lest we Forget

The Yellow Shirt

Well,

hey all, It's been about 11 days now since the operation, and I've been in bed all day 9 and 1/2 times out of 11 of them. While my knee recovery is going great (actually better than great, Its going ridiculously fast and am really thankful). I've had a really shitty past couple of weeks in other areas. So shitty that honestly I didn't think I was going to be able to write on this blog again... My last blog that I wrote, I wrote out of a feeling and being somewhere I care not to go to again. Call me Jaded but I feel worn out, exhausted, angry, but worst of all hopeless, having to give up on certain feelings is horrible, and it seems like it just keeps happening to me. It's not an easy funk to get out of, and like I said, its affected me in a not very positive way. To the point where I was ready to jump on here and let you all know that I was done, plain and simple. Lying in bed and literally having all day to over think things isn't fun, specially when what your thinking about hurts you. It plays games with you head and makes you feel worse than you probably should. Luckily as I had mentioned my recovery is going great, so great that wednesday I was actually able to get out of the house for the first time. It was like breathing for the first time in a long time, and well it leads me to the topic of my blog today. The Yellow shirt.

I'd say about 5 years ago, I bought this Yellow shirt from a shop downtown. It was a little to baggy, and little to big but It was the comfiest shirt I could remember ever having. About 2 and half years ago, a bunch of my friends from work and I went to the annual Strathmore Stampede to do the running of the bulls, It was kind of a way to celebrate one of the last times we would ever have to hang out together as the summer was ending and a bunch of us were going our own way. And if you don't believe that I actually ran with the bulls, well here you go

This was me barely dodging out of the way of a huge bull. This was right after my buddy Scotty had gotten levelled by the same bull and his friend, They were named Dumb and Dumber, and they had just singled us out on the other side of the corral. As they were running towards us we knew one of us was going to get pummelled, luckily I was just a little faster then Scotty. Fortunately for him the judges decided he got hit so badly that they awarded him with the 1000 dollar prize of the evening. Just like they did every night, the only difference was when Scotty got up to address the crowd as the winner, unlike the man who had won the night before and who felt it was okay to tell everyone including the children that he was going to spend the money on booze, drugs and sex ( haha ) Scotty was very respectful. And very much concussed haha.

Anyways I digress, the weekend we spent in Strathmore ended up being a success, we won 1000 dollars, survived a freak thunderstorm. But most of all, it just was an awesome time spent with

each other. But a few days later after I had gotten back home that realized my favourite yellow shirt was missing. I looked high and low for that shirt, my moms house, my house, grandmas house, everyones car, but no luck. To this day every once in a while I hop on eBay or any other online clothing store that might have it. I still go to the same store where I originally got it and hope every time that I go in that it might be hanging there on the wall. Well as I said earlier few days ago, I was finally able to get out of the house for the first time since my operation. It was an awesome day, I met up with a buddy for lunch, and afterwards headed for the comic book store to pick up some comics. I then decided to pop by my work real quickly to say hi to a few friends, and then feeling a little home sick I decided to go to my home and see if anyone of my room mates were in. Now when I got there I was completely alone, so naturally I went straight to my room and jumped on my bed which I miss so so so much. It was then when I noticed a suit case on my couch, and remembered that I had told my friend Paul who was visiting from Victoria that he could stay in my room. I got back up and found myself in front of my desk where I found a note which said " Dear andrew, a mutual friend of ours "Scott" is moving and giving away a bunch of clothing, I saw this shirt and took it thinking of you. Scott then said " oh yea I think thats Chappell's"." I lifted the piece of paper and to my surprise laying there, nicely folded in all of its glory was my yellow shirt...

Two and half years later an there it was, I couldn't believe it!! Now I'm not one to usually become attached to something material specially clothing but after I found the shirt I started looking through some old pictures where I was actually wearing the shirt and began realizing that some of these pictures held some really good times in them. This shirt was around when I was meeting and making the friends I have today,

the same friends who are helping me get through the stuff I'm dealing with now. I remember this first time I ever had my heart broken, and running off to Victoria for the weekend with my two best friends. It was probably one of the funnest weekends I had ever had. I just remember feeling that things might just be okay. But I also remember the drunken mess we got our selves into that weekend haha.

Some things I don't Remember...

Some things I'd rather not haha

I know I'm really stretching here, I mean Im just finishing up writing a blog about a shirt... And yea at the end of the day it is just a shirt, I got along fine without it and will get along fine with it I guess lol. But the real message Im trying to pull out of my ass here is the same message that's on the shirt.

"I can't wait for the future"

Cheesy? Yes. Corny? Hell yes! But true none the less. This is the same shirt that Im wearing in the picture I chose as my banner for my blog, the same blog that I was ready to give up on because of how I'm feeling. If I lost this shirt again tomorrow, I'd honestly be okay, I'm just glad that something nice happened, something to remind me that it's not all bad, even though thats how it may seem. Do I still feel exhausted? Angry? worn out? Yea I really do lol, that might not change for a while, but hopeless? Not so much anymore :) Thanks for reading all. Talk to you soon!

P.S.

I really wasn't lying when I said not much had happened since my last update, I think its all clear to you that I am an emotional wreck right now as I just wrote a blog about a shirt haha. So what I've decided to do to help is to grow my movember moustache, which I do believe is coming in quite nicely. This is the first year I've actually tried growing a moustache. Now its not the thickest but I think were it lacks in fullness, it more than makes up for it in sheer perviness.

(11 days)

Chaps.

Not my day.

Where to begin,

I don't know how long I've been staring at this blank screen for now... Probably a few hours at least. While thoughts and Ideas of how to express myself come and and go through my head, the minute I look at the screen everything just disappears...

Breath...

When I 11 years old, I stole 100 dollars from my grandma and took it to school. All I want to do was just show it off to my friends, still it was wrong of me. When I brought It back home I was caught trying to sneak it back to where I found it. My grandma told me to I had to sit and wait till grandpa got home so I could tell him what I did. I was furious! What was I going to do with 100 dollars really? You could of given me a toonie back then and I would of been set for the year. I begged and pleaded my case that I was never going to spend it, but it didn't matter, and without thinking, like a little brat, I yelled at my grandma telling her she was overreacting and had that she wasn't my mother. As soon as those words flew out of my mouth you bet my hands were there to cover it. I looked at her, she looked back at me, I stood there wide eyed anticipating the backlash of what I had just said, only to see her turn around and just leave me standing there. I knew I had done wrong, so I went to her and told her I was so sorry about what I had said, she obviously forgave me but I was 11, just a child and had no idea of the true impact of my words.

An other time, Im ashamed to say told my mother that I hated her. I was in my teens, and the words just flew out of my mouth once again. She use to work nights back then, so I had all day at school then all night at home to think about it until she got home. Funny thing is I don't even remember what we were arguing or if we were even arguing at all. I just remember being furious at her and saying it straight to her face and then watching her slowly stand up and just walk out the door. When I got home that night I literally sat at the chair at the top of the steps looking down at the door all night until she got back. All the while thinking to myself what on earth I could possibly say to her to make it better. Obviously things were fine after I had apologized profusely! She is mother after all. But it doesn't excuse what I said to her, and it never will.

What Im trying to get it at is that through out our lives we will inevitably find ourselves in situations where we feel cheated, upset, heartbroken, lost etc. But what we have to accept is that anger or any emotion we feel as result of those feelings is perfectly acceptable to feel. We should never be upset with ourselves if we are angry ( something that i've always had a hard time to deal with ). But what isn't perfectly acceptable is when we let our emotions get the better of us. If we let that anger dictate our actions or in my case my words.

Im sad to say that yesterday was one of those days, but this time it wasn't a family member that i hurt with my words, it was someone who is very special to me, someone I would never want to hurt ever, but through my words I feel like I did. I was hurt, heartbroken, and angry, and still am, but the issue here is that I let those emotions get the better of me, and while I never used the words hate or your not my "family/friend etc.", I was very short, very rude, and childish, and can't help but feel like I hurt them... I've had the unbearable privilege (due to my being bed ridden because of my injury) to have lay here for the last two days and re-live it over and over. Though I got my main points across to this person, (and am sticking to them), if in the process of expressing myself I did if in fact hurt them, in any way (which im positive I did.) I just hope they read this and know that words can not express how truly sorry I am for how I acted. It wasn't my day, but that is no excuse... It should of never been like that, and like the rest of my stories, will forever be a reminder to me of how we should and shouldn't treat people... I'm so sorry.

Let this go as a lesson for everyone, that words hurt. We have to be responsible for our actions and we have teach ourselves to control our emotions. Angry or not the second we let our emotions get the better of us, is when we have the potential to do or say things that we never in a million years would think we would ever do, or even said we would never do. And even if the damage is done, we need to pick ourselves up and do the right thing and apologize, no matter how hard it can be.

Thank you all for listening, talk to you all soon.

Andrew.

Day 1.2

Well,

The big day came and went yesterday, and I'm happy that I'm alive (barely) and well (feeling like crap) haha.

Yesterday started off with me showing up at the hospital with my grandma around 615 am. By this time I was exhausted as I had once again decided not to pack until the last second, and that clearly sleep was not a necessity before my operation... BIG mistake.

I got there, and was taken to my bed pretty quickly, were I was greeted by my nurse Lauri, who had just been transferred to the hospital, and was still getting to know everyone. She was super nice and did a really good job with my IV (which was nice because I've had some pretty bad experiences in the past).

Anyways as some of you might know my original surgery date was about a month and half ago, but due to some unfortunate events ( I ate a stupid sandwich ) I wasn't able to get it done that day, and so it was rescheduled for today. Now with all that drama I was really hoping that the day would go smoothly, and right of the bat... it didn't. I laid there in my bed while nurse after nurse, doctor after doctor kept coming up to me and asking me if it was true that I had eaten a sandwich. Some actually didn't even ask, they would just show up and tell me that they wouldn't be able to operate on me today due to me eating a sandwich. Confused as to why I kept having to explain myself to everyone, and a little upset because by this time they had made me shave my leg hair (AGAIN), I found out that they still had my original admittance chart from my last visit which clearly stated that I had eaten a sandwich and was unable to go to surgery.

Finally after having everything sorted out, the time had come for the operation, by this time my heart was pounding! While I was being taken to the OR the two new nurses that would be in the OR with me could clearly see i was starting to get nervous. They took me inside laid me down on that creepy operating table... The one that looks like a crucifix

, and hooked me up to monitors. Now I dont know if you've ever had the pleasure of being hooked up to heart monitor but I personally hate it! I find being able able to hear my own heartbeat on the monitor to be really creepy. And seeing as how my heart was racing so fast, the machine was going crazy as well, which in turn would make me even more nervous then I already was haha. But the anesthesiologist put his first batch of cocktails in me, and I could immediately feel its effects. It felt as though all my veins and muscles were contracting and expanding and for a few seconds it actually really hurt, but then the numbness kicked in, and as they put the mask over my mouth, the nurse looked at me and said, "My name is... " and for the life of me I can't remember her name.

I woke up two hours later, (around 1130am) and was feeling horrible, just horrible. I was nauseous, dizzy, had a head ache and felt so very soar. It took a while before they could wheel me back to my ward where my new nurse laura was taking care of me. I quickly fell right back asleep for a few hours and when I came to and leaned over and grabbed my phone from my drawer. My nurse quickly spotted that I was awake and came up to and had asked me the weirdest question. She asked me if I had a girlfriend? Well actually first she asked me how I was feeling, and then asked me if I had a girlfriend. Now she was definitely cute, but also definitely a little old for me. She could tell right away that i had miss understood the question all and was quick to correct herself. She told me that as they were wheeling me back into my room I was asking for a girl. Not going to mention her name (we'll just call her MysteryGirl)... I Guess. The only other thing I could think of later was back to when the nurse put the gas mask on me and told me her name, and while didn't consciously hear it, maybe subconsciously I did?Either way it was really weird, I guess I asked for this Myterygirl several times before i just passed right out. Embarrassed over the hole thing I told her that I didn't have a girlfriend, and played aloof the hole situation as I really didn't feel like explaining myself. She quietly smiled at me and told me that this kind of thing happens all the time, and that once a woman was singing "shake that booty on her way out". She also said that it was to bad and called me the "handsomest man in ward 22"! haha we had a laugh and she took a picture of me with my iphone that i was clutching with my hands.

Most handsomest man in Ward 22. - Nurse.

After all this a few of my friends had texted me and so I started replying back, my grandmother had returned and asked if it was okay for me to go home. They told her that it was still to early and that they just wanted to make sure I was okay. Which at the time other than some nausea and soreness I was. My grandma left me once again and I returned back to sleep, and what happened next was probably one of the scariest things to have ever happened to me. I woke up from my sleep to find myself gasping for air, I could barely move and no matter how deep a breath I took, it felt as though I wasn't getting any air at all. I looked for my buzzer in a panic but before I could find it, the nursed had come to me with an oxygen tank and a mask with a small tube attached to it and put it in my mouth. I had never felt so relieved and yet so scared in my entire life. I laid there for about 30 to 40 mins with this mask on me thinking to myself "am i breathing on my own? or is this thing doing it for me?" Eventually a doctor came and removed the mask and told me that everything was okay, that these things happen some times, and that it was normal, but I was going to have to stay for a few more hours. By this time it was around 4pm and feeling completely alone, I texted my mother to come get me, knowing full well I wouldn't be able to leave.

When my mother and grandmother finally did show up, they found me in a totally normal and stable condition, and to this moment don't really know what happened... well kinda. I was thinking to myself I just wanted to go home, and there was no need to worry them about something that apparently was very "normal". Around 6pm the told me that I could go, and just before i started getting dressed my third nurse of the day, ( I can't remember her name ) asked me if I had gone the washroom? I told her no, and that I didn't feel like I had to. But apparently it is hospital policy not be able to leave until you can show that you can vacate your bladder as the morphine can affect this. Frustrated with everything, and just wanting to go home I went to washroom and tried to pee, but my efforts were futile as nothing came out, I laid back down, finished my water and my ginger ale, in hopes that in a few minutes I could muster a few drops and get the hell out of there. I got up once again and tried to do the business but yet again was denied. Positive that there was just nothing in there, i told the nurse that I just didn't have to go. She told me to sit tight and grabbed the sonar scanner and scanned my bladder, she informed me that not only did i have full belly, that if couldn't urinate in the next 2o mins she was going to be forced to have to put in a catheter... A CATHETER! There was no way in HELL I was going to let her put one of those things up my urethra.

As shown here.

In a panic I grabbed my empty glass of water took it with me to the washroom and filled it with extremely hot water. I sat down on the toilet and put my entire hand in the glass and began to pray to the porcelain gods to let me pee! Unfortunately the only thing secreting was a single tear down my left cheek when absolutely no pee came out. Defeated once again, I made my way out of the washroom only to see my nurse at the end of my bed with this long thick tube being unravelled. It was at this moment where either my prayers where answered, or... I was so scared I literally almost pee'd my gowned. I crutched myself back in the washroom, slammed the door an had what i can honestly say was the single greatest pee in my entire life, and probably yours =).

Soaking in victory ( pun INTENDED) I got myself dressed and after a very, very unpleasant ride home I got into bed, poped some percocet, had some chicken noodle soup and went to sleep. Today being day 1.2 I've really done nothing but sleep eat and attempt to write this blog. Its a little tough since im still really drowsy, but tommorow i'm hoping to make my dent on this large stack of books I have.

But until tomorrow, thanks for listening!

Andrew.