« "How the @#$% did I wind up here again?" | Main | "That's GREAT Mazinga to you chump." »

January 08, 2006

"I don't know yet but can we all agree to quit winding my grandmother up?"

I try not to read posts after I make them. I read them enough when I write them that I never go back later unless I'm trying to find something I've already mentioned.

That being said I went back to night and re-read my last entry.

Since writing it I've gotten some very nice emails and phone calls from people who've been concerned about my well being. While externally I've always come across as a very public person I am, in fact, a very private person. My last post makes me uncomfortable to read so that should give you an idea of how close to home it hits.

The last week has been filled with questions but little in the way of answers. I spent all of last weekend in limbo waiting for the doctors offices to have the results so that I could make an appointment. (Friday was too soon, they were all closed on Monday and even calling first thing on Tuesday got me an appointment on Wednesday morning at the earliest.) In my state of mind those 5 days seemed to take forever.

At the same time I was now taking a delightful cocktail of medicine to try and get my throat back on the mend that included steroids, painkillers, etc. This led to my being tired, I slept from 6 pm Friday night to almost 10 am on Saturday morning, or irritable to the point that the smallest things bothered me and that Jack and Fabulous Babe were both sick. (He had a double ear infection and she got the throat based flu that she then gave to me.)

At one point on Saturday I sat down on the edge of our bathtub and just looked at myself in the mirror. Before I knew it I had my clippers out.

It's the same pair of clippers I bought after the surgery 7 years ago. At the time I had a bandage on the side of my head that covered the stitches and a circular bald spot where they prepped the area for surgery. After I got home and was well enough to move around I went to the Wal-Mart that was near by, scared the staff and bought the clippers. I figured out, correctly, that being bald would distract everyone from my bandage.

So Saturday afternoon I'm sitting there and I start by "touching up" my haircut with the clippers. (It was already short but not "stubble" short.) Pretty soon I've screwed this up so badly there really isn't any choice but to take the plastic guard off, push the metal guard all the way back and, quoting Larry the Cable guy, "Git-R-Done" as the case may be. In about 10 minutes I'm bald.

It was interesting as I was working with the clippers. I remembered standing in Baltimore doing the same thing. (This time I was smart enough to hold my head over something to catch the hair. Who says Fabulous Babe hasn't improved me.) In some ways it was the final thing I needed that let me shake off all of the thoughts from the last couple of days. After Saturday afternoon I was actually more at peace with things than I had been before that.

Saturday night, I think, I got a call from Auntie Dearest. After reading the post here she got flustered and called. Despite my having a hard time speaking I told her everything was going to be fine and not to panic. This did no good as she called my grandmother the next day and wound her up to the point that she called in a worried out of her skull fluster.


I walked my grandmother through the whole thing, praising my painkillers at the same time, and told her that everything was going to be fine and to relax.

Wednesday morning I'm the doctors first appointment.

The good news? No growths, tumors, unborn baby brothers or sisters or any other foreign object in my neck. The blood work is equally clear.

The bad news? No clue what is going on and the MRI's aren't conclusive. What that means is the doctor I went to can't tell what is going on and want's my regular physician to refer me to someone else who specializes in reading MRIs.

For the after dinner mint to the whole experience the Doctor and I compare notes and he realizes that either he or the pharmacy screwed up one of the prescriptions directions which might have a lot to do with my demeanor resembling that of an annoyed Kodiak grizzly bear.

So I'm now in limbo, waiting for my next specialist appointment to be set up. My throat, not as bad as it was, is still in pain and my voice has a sexy Nick Nolte quality. (Best described as sounding like I've consumed 3 packs of Camel no filters and a fifth of Jack Daniels every day for the last 20 years.) It hurts to talk so I'm trying no to unless it's necessary. I'm taking painkillers and some other medicine to heal things along and, mostly, am biding my time.

Thanks for the prayers and good thoughts. They helped more than you will ever know. Knowing it wasn't the worst but trying to tell your subconscious are two entirely different things. Sometimes you need people on the outside lending a voice.

Posted by Jim at January 8, 2006 10:56 PM


Post a comment

Remember Me?