Indie rocker Jay Reatard (Jimmy Lee Lindsey Jr.) passed away this morning at his home in Memphis. Early reports hint of a possible drug overdose. He was 29 years old.
Reatard had achieved some success as the lead member of the band The Reatards. Last year he opened for The Pixies reunion tour. He had also done projects with Beck and Sonic Youth.
Art Clokey, inventor of stop motion clay animation and creator of the shows Gumby and Davey and Goliath, died in his sleep at his home in California. He was 88 years old.
I took this picture with my Motorolla Droid when I had it reset, this is pre-surgery.
They gave me a scrip for percocet before I went, but I didn’t take it cause I wasn’t to eat or drink anything, including medication, according to the lady on the phone.
When I got there they said they couldn’t give me anything till I talked to the doctor and consented to the operation. They said the lady on the phone surely told me to take my medication before hand. The lies had begun.
So in the 3 hours I waited for the doctor, they realized I had a cold, and gave me some treatment, that involved breathing in and out of a tube and inhaling this noxious shit that tasted like gloss black shoe polish smells. As I did it, my heart rate steadily climbed.
I asked the nurse, and she said it was normal. I explained that I was already nervous about the surgery (I am a bitch, fuck me like one) and I wasn’t interested in listening to my heart explode.
She wasn’t hearing it, and I breathed the meth gas till I finally saw Raj the anesthesiologist. He explained how things were going to go down. He was wrong. He said he would give me something for nerves, than the shit that killed MJ, then as they finished the metal work, they would end by ramping me up with pain medicine. Sounded like a plan.
So he asks his questions, one not being 1) Do you have a cold, and loads a syringe with stuff for nerves. I like to ask what is in shit they inject me, but before I had a chance this whore from hell says “He has a cold” So he dropped the syringe and pumped me full of the shoe shine white horse gas as they wheeled me into the er.
I see my doctor. This was the first and last time of this entire day I saw him, and to this point I respected him and his work. He was the guy who originally set the cast, the day after Xmas when it happened. He took a pen someone stuck in my cast, and signed my right middle finger. I guess they frequently operate on the wrong body parts, so it is procedure they do this.
With my pulse racing off the shit supposed to dry out my cold, which was dry because I hadnt had liquid for 8 hours, they said my oxygen was low. They put a mask on me w/ oxygen, but it barely came out. I had to suck hard on it to get any satisfaction. you can quote that. That started making me dizzy, so they decided to put me out.
They said they were putting in the propofil(sp?) and I made the Michael Jackson joke, thinking it would kick in immediately. It didn’t and the people in the room who got it seemed to find it ill timed and / or offensive. 4 or 5 minutes later I finally drifted asleep. Usually you conk out, this was more of a uncomfortable dizzying drowsiness that I will probably think about and slightly feel every time I try to go to sleep for the next few months.
Then I awoke. I was in a room of empty recliners, and my hand felt like someone was pulling out all my fingernails while smashing it with a sledgehammer. I turned to the nearest blue coat and calmly screamed PAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!! at the top of my lungs, but it wasn’t loud because evidently the jet dry they used to knock out my head cold also depleted the oxygen level in my blood. They informed me it was dangerously low and any pain medicine, anesthesia, or anything really, could make my heart beat a little to slow to sustain life.
I told them I was fully up for the risk, but they weren’t hearing it. Instead they wanted me to perform fun breathing exercises, like “Breathe!” I only took shallow breaths, and they were looking for deep breaths. The ping of my heart monitor would ping in a deeper tone the less oxygen that I had in my blood. It sounded like it was getting worse and worse, so they brought in more blue coats to yell at me to breathe. I viewed it as a time to explain to them that I breathe way better after surgery with any kind of pain killer in my system. Still no luck.
After and hour and a half of bullshit, my heart pinged correctly, they broke out a 5 mg percocet pill, and gave it to me with a miniature cup half filled with water. Evidently my doctor left without a)talking to me after the surgery b)authorizing any medication for me. I shook my head in disgust. Oh well I knew I had a full bottle of 7.5’s at home so I washed the pill down my throat halfway.
After choking on the pill for a few minutes, a nice woman put on my pants and shirt, and I was finally released.
My overall question is: Did I run out of oxygen in my blood during the operation. Did that affect the operation. Did they rush it due to this. Did I loose more brain cells.
All in all I can definitely say that that time in the “recovery room” was spent experiencing the worst pain I have ever experienced in my life, for the longest period of time.
I wonder what my scar looks like.
Casey Johnson, the heiress to the Johnson & Johnson empire and daughter of Jet’s owner Robert Wood Johnson, died this week at the age of 30. The cause of death was “natural causes” (i.e. overdose).
She really had not done anything notable in her life except she had been approached to appear in “The Simple Life” alongside Paris Hilton but declined only to be replaced by Nicole Ritchie. She was romantically linked to Tila Tequila, so I wonder if the coroner has considered that her death might have been suicide to get away from Tila’s incessant babbling.
On Christmas Day 2009, folk singer Vic Chesnutt drew his last breath after an overdose of muscle relaxants. He was 45 years old.
Paralyzed from the waist down in a 1983 car accident, Chesnutt followed his passion for music and soon became known for his dark folk songs. He released albums with R.E.M.’s Michael Stipe and Fugazi’s Guy Picciotto. But his never-ending health problems and mounting medical bills followed by a lawsuit from an Athen’s, GA hospital for over $70,000 made it difficult for Chesnutt to win his battle with depression.
He will be missed.
It’s been quite a year for the blog and the show! Thanks to our readers and listeners, in 2009 we’ve had more views and downloads than we could possibly imagine. Thank you all for your support.
We have exciting things coming in 2010, so stay tuned.
We wish you all a safe, happy new year.
Regards,
Ro and Chris
Erik Gates, a regular on the Discovery Channel’s series Mythbusters, died today. He was 47 years old.
Gates was working at a site with his brother Dirk when he fell 30 feet through a skylight and onto the ground. He died as a result of his injuries.
28-year-old James Owen Sullivan aka “The Rev”, drummer from the metal band Avenged Sevenfold, was found dead in his Huntington Beach home. The cause of his death is currently under investigation.
Kidnapped on Monday, today the body of Colombia’s Caqueta state, Governor Luis Francisco Cuellar found dead today. Colombia’s President Alvaro Uribe announced on national television to that Cuellar’s throat had been slit.
Officials believe that Colombian FARC Guerrillas are responsible for Cuellar’s abduction and murder.
Actress Brittany Murphy died this morning from a heart attack at the age of 32.
She was best known for her roles in movies such as Girl, Interrupted, Clueless, and 8 Mile. But it seems like her role that was closest to real-life was her portrayal of a flakey speed-freak in the 2002 movie Spun.
here is the NSFW tralier for Spun:
ZZZlist Radio
ZZZlist 
You must be logged in to post a comment.