Troy's Rants and Ravings

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…in 7 to 10 days.

October 25th, 2008

Well, I guess you poor bastards are stuck with me a little longer.

In my last installment I was terribly worried that I was going to die and that The Princess would ~~screw up my blog~~ not know how to close out my blog with a proper obituary. I had done my research and, according to my calculations, I was a goner. Dead before 50 from a severe case of Deep Vein Thrombosis ( or DVT to us, the medically knowledgeable )…

I never was any good at algebra, spelling (obviously) and/or those damned logic puzzles…

…BUT!! I should have gone to med school as my gift for diagnosis is still my second greatest attribute. ( I have no idea what my 1st greatest attribute is, but it must be pretty special to get The Princess to ask me to marry her!! I have asked her about it and all she does is plead temporary insanity and ask me not to remind her of her own failings…)

Being an idiot is rather exhausting when you are as good at it as I am. It seems it is also hard on your body as evidenced by the idiot-related injuries I seem to be getting in the sunset of my carreer. I feel myself getting, among other ailments, Twix Wrist Syndrome, due to the smaller size of the single packs, a twist of the wrist is required to give the smaller bar the correct spin to enable the normally ballistically inefficient candy to continue to it’s intended target with maximum impact and chocolatey goodness. (Picture those weapon cameras from the Military Channel as a missle comes in the side and blows away a tank, then picture a mechanic walking along and the slow motion shot of a Twix candy bar twisting ever closer right up until impact… It really is like Willy Wonka fighting the Gulf War… [ BTW, it's the Gene Wilder Willy Wonka, the Johnny Depp one just sucks!])

So it all started about three weeks ago when I had a rather severe pain in my leg and a huge swelling just above my left knee. Dr. Princess diagnosed a bug bite and prescribed a topical treatment of hydro-cortizone cream. 3 weeks later it started moving toward Big Jim and the Twins. Pain was increasing and so was my anxiety level. So off to Google I went and everything I read was leading to a conclusion of the fatal variety if left unchecked. So I tell The Princess I am going to Urgent care to have my life forces drained out and see how long I have to get my affairs in order before the big send off. After berating me for not taking care of myself, she insisted that I go to the Emergency Room instead because Urgent Care would end up sending me there anyway – along with their bill. So off we went because she figured as soon as the needles came out mayhem would result…and she wanted to be there to watch me be folded, spindled and mutilated.

We ended up at the Banner Del E. Webb Medical Center Emergency Room where a wonderfull lady named Ilene ( yes, the one with one leg shorter than the other ) took my information and medical history. She then shuffled me off to a exam room and made the mistake of leaving me alone with all those cool “Doctor Devices” that they look in your eyes and ears with. The Princess of course made me feel like a damned kid because without ever raising her eyes from the latest Nora Roberts epic she went “MM-MM!!” or “UH-UH-UHHHH” everytime I reached for one of the wall mounted devices. I of course responded in a terribly adult way with “I was just looking…” and of course she replied in her best “Mom from Hell” tone “You stupid, dumb Bastard!!! You look with your eyes not your hands!!!”

Suitably chastized, I folded my hands in my lap and pouted.

Then the next phase of my torment came in. Nurse ~~Diesel~~ Jen walks in and all 5′ 3″ 110lbs of her looks at me and asks in a commanding tone what is bothering me. I tell her I have a blood clot in my left leg and just prescribe the cyanide capsule and we will get out of her way. At this point she has adopted me as her own little whipping boy. She asks where I got my degree. She asks where I got my diagnosis. She asks how many times I was dropped on my head as a baby. She asks how many times I was dropped on my head as an adult. She asks The Princess where she got her earrings as they are really cute…

After ten minutes of discussing the virtues of the Mervyns at this mall vs. that mall, I clear my throat and now I have 2 sets of eyes glaring at me. Nurse Jen then takes my blood pressure (normally around 110/68) and I peek at it and it is 189/95 !!!! Did I mention hospitals scare the living bejesus out of me?

She does all her talking to The Princess. Her off the cuff diagnosis is Cranial Cellulitus. “What’s that?” I ask innocently. Still ignoring me, she explains to The Princess that she married a “Fat Head” and I was probably right in asking for the cyanide capsule and did she want to go to Mervyns later?

Nurse Jen leaves only to be replaced with “Vi” an employee with way too many capital letters and commas after her name. She is cute. Damned cute. And it is then I understand that her name is short for Viagra. She looks me over and says she wants to prescribe a couple Percocets. I tell her I am not in so much pain that I need something that strong, and that, on general principles, I am opposed to taking pills anyway. She looks down her pert little nose at me and says “They aren’t for you, you stupid bastard, they’re for your wife for having to put up with you!!” She then says she wants to have an ultra-sound of my leg to check for clots and an X-Ray of my head to check for vacancy of the cranium…

So with all the prelininaries out of the way I am guided to the waiting room where a guy is wheeling a cart around calling out “Bring out your dead!!” while banging on a trash can lid that sounds remarkably as good as the oldest step-son’s China Symbol. He gives me the stink eye and tells The Princess “I’ll be back for him later, unless you want to get rid of him now…”

After a short wait I am wheeled upstairs to the sonor room. I can tell it’s the sonar room because of the rythmic pinging. Another stunner of a woman greets us and tries to get me into a gown. I ask if they have any “Taffeta, an off the shoulder number, slightly revealing but not too much…” Eyes like flint, she tells that since I am wearing shorts the gown is not required, but if I make anymore jokes like that a sound thrashing WILL be required. Stunned, I look at her guns and she looks as if she could bench press the Empire State Building!! My sense of humor suitably quelled she performs the ultrasound and I am put back in the wheelchair and pushed toward the open door of the stairwell. Fortunatly the wheel bearings are dragging and I roll to a stop 6 inches from certain death. I turn around and see that The Princess is slipping the tech a 10 dollar bill and saying “I told you before: half now, and the other half when it’s done… Almost doesn’t cut it!!!” Crestfallen the Sonar Technician glares at me and retreives me sending me to the elevator. I am sure she is ex-navy because as she hits the ground floor button she yells “DIVE! DIVE! DIVE!”

So having arrived back in the waiting room I look at the results of the side scan sonar and find that I in fact do have a blood clot in a vein but it is NOT a DVT rather it is in a less critical but still worrisome vein. Vi tells me that I will be needing to take aspirin everyday, apply hot compresses to the painfull area, see my primary doctor in 7-10 days, trim my mustache, vaccumm more often, put the lid down, and clean the stovetop when I make a mess.

So here I am. Sorry if I disappointed all you poor bastards that were hoping for relief from the rantings of a lunatic mind… I have a whole list of things I have to do from now on: eat right, take aspirin everyday, excersize, don’t stand ridgid while waiting for work and don’t throw Twix bars.

I am switching to 3 Musketeers. They are heavier and do more damage…

And now, the REST of the story:

Yes I actually went to the ER. I was diagnosed
with a Leg Vein Thrombosis. While not as dangerous as a full blown deep vein clot, it is indicative of a problem. My father has a history of these and he has consequently had numerous strokes because of it. I am going to have to take aspirin everyday, take long walks everyday, and watch what I eat. Yes, my blood pressure was through the roof as I was quite scared of getting stabbed with needles. Poor Vi really did want to give me a couple Percocets to get me to calm down. She said “At this point your BP is more of a worry than the blood clot!!” She reassured me that there would be no blood test and my BP went down on it’s own. The folks there at Bannor were really outstanding and had an excellent sense of humor. Making jokes is how I relieve my stress and I was terribly stressed. I am still in a great deal of pain and this will go on for a few more weeks until the clot disolves, but with time and me doing what I should have been doing for quite a while I guess I’ll be good for another couple months…

Troy Family

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James

October 25th, 2008 at 08:33 | #1

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You better take care of yourself old man… (I really have no good way of finishing the ultimatum, so I shall leave it vague and thus increase my mystique. Mmmm. Mystique.)

And as for your blood pressure problem, in a mechanical system when pressure gets too dangerously high, we tend to open up the circuit and bleed off the excess pressure. I’m suuuure if you asked real nicely, somebody could hook you up with a pre-hospital blood-letting next time.

Just saying.

James

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The Christmas Orgy and other Laments Off to Urgent Care

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