About Lugnut -- Patrick Malone

Lug-man- Glad to hear you are well enough to come home, although maybe you should be thankful they did't do it in the drive-up lane ;~). Really, good to hear from you. Heal fast. Your friends are thinking about you often.

The very best to hear from you personally, Pat. Hang in there, we're thinking about 'ya!

Welcome back, Patrick! I'm sure it's a comfort, for both you and Barb, for you to be back home. I'm surprised -- happily surprised -- that you've been discharged: just yesterday you had so many tubes stuck in you that you looked like you got nailed in an explosion in a manicotti factory.

Pat, I hope you don't mind my sharing this with our Audiogon friends, but guys, the truth is that no one knew for sure what would be the outcome of the surgeon's "look-see" and surgery. No one knew if Pat's entire stomach would be removed. There was a possibility that Pat would never be able to eat normally again, but that he would have to be fed through a feeding tube inserted into his intestines. So too, it was possible the surgeon would see such a mess that she would just close Pat back up and tell him to say his prayers. That's how serious this was.

Indeed, the surgeon did not want Pat to travel far from emergency medical care facilities because the surgeon was concerned that Pat could bleed out at any time ... and obviously, that could have happened during the surgery. Plainly stated, Pat's surviving the surgery was not a sure thing. Again, that's how serious this was.

Had it been me, I would have been a freakin' mess. They would have had to tranquilize me to near the point of unconsciousness. The mere thought that I might never again eat normally would have completely freaked my cookies. I would have totally lost it.

But not Pat. Friends, let me tell you that not once did Pat express pity for himself, or even fear for himself. Not once did fear express itself in an angry outburst. The man did not even once complain. Pat, his wife Barb and I discussed his last wishes ... and the man made humorous comments. I was there when the hospital chaplain "just happened" to show up to talk with Pat. I was with Pat and Barb until they took him back for the pre-op preps. And again, not once did Pat express self-pity, despair or fear.

I tell you all of this so that when I say that Pat is the bravest man I've ever known, you'll know these are not just words but truth. This thread is replete with stories of Pat's generosity, his helpfulness, his willingness to go out of his way to help others, and of his integrity. To these we can now safely add his bravery. In short, Pat is a man ... the kind of man I can only hope I would be under even far less trying circumstances. Thank you, Pat, for showing me how a man should face life's most challenging moments.

Thank you, too, for your kind words for Steve and me. But just wait until you see what your wide circle of Audiogon buddies have been cooking up for you! (More on this later).

An hour before Pat had to report to the hospital, we stopped at Pat's favorite haunt -- the Nampa new and used vinyl store. I spied a Mo-Fi Rickie Lee Jones that was graded mint, and I quietly took it out of the bin and up to the cashier. A few minutes later we were at the hospital, and I pulled Ms. Jones out of the bag. I told Pat that he better come back to us, or I was going to keep the album. Pat, I'm so glad Ms. Jones is yours.

Warmest regards,
Paul

Alright, I guess it's time to admit something that many of you may have already surmized. I am, in fact, part dog. Dogs don't ask too many questions. When you are with them they know that you CAN throw a ball or stick and that they LOVE to go fetch it. So, a dog might ask, why aren't you throwing a ball or stick yet?

Go to any dog's home and you'll find a box of dog toys that they will gladly share with you. Dogs never ask when is super. I doubt if they even ask if there will be super. But I'm pretty sure they do ask what's for super.

Dogs would never wish another dog to have fleas. Hell, they might not even wish that they didn't have fleas. But, I'm pretty sure that they might wish that fleas didn't itch so much. I know that dogs never ask "why me?"

Dogs are very good at accepting. Consider that they accept and appreciate that last bite of your cold hot dog as much as the fresh off the grill T-bone that fell on the ground during the 4th of July barbecue.

Me brave? I don't think so Paul. Like a dog I accept whatever life brings me, especially at times like this. What I have trouble accepting is all this generosity. It's a shame too as that makes me only part dog.

Well, crap. Another role model bites the dust.

:-)