Category Archives: acute discomfort

From the top

When choices range from mouth to bend-o,

I prefer my torso-scopics, endo,

the coffee-less foodless short-term fast,

beats by miles the colon-cleansing repast,

but, the major concern is the photographic yield,

Renderings disclose my stomach healed,

Thanks be to my doctors and nurses

Right now, I don’t mind their fattened purses.

Advertisements

4 Comments

Filed under acute discomfort, poor poor me

Weird science, or former Surgeon General Bush-whacked

According to this Reuters story on MSNBC,

“The first U.S. surgeon general appointed by President Bush accused the administration on Tuesday of political interference and muzzling him on key issues like embryonic stem cell research.

“Anything that doesn’t fit into the political appointees’ ideological, theological or political agenda is ignored, marginalized or simply buried,” Dr. Richard Carmona, who served as the nation’s top doctor from 2002 until 2006, told a House of Representatives committee.”

Medicine and science should not be filtered through ideology. The scientific method doesn’t involve Rovian puree’ or theological cleansing. This is another in a long line of shameful episodes from this administration…a parade of cronys, phonys, ideologues, and incompetents. When they get a good one, they suppress and marginalize.

In this case, we are not talking about a shunned Clinton leftover. This was supposed to be their man. But, they didn’t want a man. They wanted a patsy.

Your ship is sinking, Bush-ites (the few of you that are left).

2009 can not get here soon enough.

4 Comments

Filed under acute discomfort, Huh?, politics

If you got bad news, you wanna kick them blues; morphine..or morphine is bueno bueno..

Actual conversation at Baptist Hospital between my wife and the charge nurse after i was moved from ICU* to a regular room:

Wife: My husband is in 7625 …could he have a cup of water?

Nurse: He’s not there yet.

Wife: yes, they brought him down a few minutes ago

Nurse: no, he’s not there yet.

I had been there for over 1/2 hour at this point.

Needless to say, they also forgot my lunch, which in retrospect was probably a blessing. I eventually got a snack at 3:30, three and 1/2 hours after I was moved to the room. Within minutes after the remains of the snack were cleared, supper was delivered. Is there some late night infomercial that features a device that positively drains any possible taste remaining from over-cooked broccoli? I’m pretty sure that Baptist Hospital got a really good deal on said device.

*Oh yeah, I guess I’ve been blessed with a stomach lining that enjoys the holi-ness of the occasional ulcer. I was feeling less than chipper last Saturday, loitering around even more than usual on a couch near the new TV. As long as I just laid there, equilibrium was at least a distant cousin. At one point after an extended phone conversation, I got up to go to the bathroom and realized that something was really wrong. You really do see star-like apparitions when you are about to black out! I achieved a familiar prone position on the hardwood floor and asked my wife to call for an ambulance. Sadly, I’ve been in such a state before and realized fairly quickly that blood was not circulating normally through the old framework, and instead had chosen a small aperture to spill willy-nilly into passages not intended for circulation.

I made it to the hospital where the nice folks filled me back up with blood and stuck a camera downward (believe me, the downward spiral is much preferable to the upward method). A small geyser was quickly noted and patched. Ironically for the next 24 hours much blood was taken back for testing, usually moments after I had fallen asleep. A stay in the hospital is not for anyone who really needs rest.

I’m also convinced that the insurance companies have conspired with the chefs behind the hospital ‘cuisine’ in the hopes that said foodstuff would encourage the patient to quickly vacate the premises in hopes for victuals with more than a passing acquaintance with a spice or even taste. At one point a breakfast tray contained a bowl of gruel that even David Copperfield would have refused.

My stomach really wasn’t that happy about very much – cuisine, unwanted apertures and general invasion. The pain became quite intense at times and I was offered morphine as a palliative. Not one to turn down my host’s offerings, I nodded intensely and before you could say Pacman Jones, the warmth of the blessed Code3 pharmaceutical was channeling through the bloodstream so recently off-course. I don’t know how most people react to morphine, but I saw things. I saw real food. I saw the Knucklehead with a side of ribs. I saw more nurses than actually exist in Baptist Hospital. I saw Drew Barrymore and I did wonder what she was doing there. And cruelly, I saw my daughter with her best friend sitting at the foot of my bed. They seemed as real as the heart monitor wires attached to various parts of my body. I actually conversed with them, even knowing that it was pretty amazing that Erin had actually made it all the way from Peru.

It was both a wonderful and mean Father’s Day trick of the drug. I never actually teared up from all the pain and the frustration of my utter helplessness, but I can tell you that I did cry when I realized she wasn’t there. But, I can also tell you that my cell phone rang late Sunday afternoon and miraculously enough I did hear her voice, and it wasn’t an illusion. The heart monitor wires were singing.

Visits from good friends and number one son were also quite the curative.

After two and 1/2 days of blood re-fueling and blood-letting with occasional side-trips on morphine, I was sent home, a weak, but blood-levelled man. I ‘get’ to sit around for a day or so here at home recovering. The blessed taste of real food and the unbelievably good fortune of being married to the most wonderful woman I’ve ever known and three kids I love more than life itself all pushes up against that tendency for me to feel sorry for myself and my stupid stomach lining. I’m luckier than I ever deserved.

42 Comments

Filed under acute discomfort, food, friends and family, poor poor me

Keeping abreast of the hockey news..sometimes its TooToo much

With all the talk about the impending sale of the Preds to Mr. Blackberry, I missed an equally massive story. It seems that American Idol also-ran Kellie Pickler has further enhanced her career by becoming the girlfriend of ‘an Eskimo’ (her words).

Our own (or should that be ‘Hamilton/Kansas City/Winnipeg/Waterloo’s own), Jordin Tootoo, the worlds most famous Inuit, has been dating Pickler since January.

Somehow, this doesn’t assuage the pain…

2 Comments

Filed under acute discomfort, apocalypse now, hockey tawk

Imus in the mourning…

I’ve listened or watched Don Imus for over 30 years. In all that time, he has offended probably not only every ethnic group, but pretty much anyone who deigns to breathe the same air as the I-Man.

He’s survived some serious addictions, and he’s as cranky as a 90 year old searching vainly for his Metamucil. Yeah, he really screwed up this time. What he said about the Rutgers women was despicable. Taken alone, out of context, you’d think he was some racist shock-jock de-facto caste system supporter.

Like I said, I’ve listened to the guy a long time. Nobody wants to hear that he has black friends or has given lots of money and more important, lots of his time urging more attention be given to sickle cell research. The ‘oh, some of my best friends are black’ as an excuse is as dated as that movie where Sidney Poiter comes home for dinner.

What I do believe in is context and forgiveness. Imus screwed the pooch. He’s facing severe consequences including at minimum a two week suspension and possibly the eventual loss of sponsors and his show. He will not whine. He understands what he did and will face the music.

If he does disappear, we’ll miss one of the few talk shows where guests of all political persuasions are treated equally with faux disrespect and ultimately with the highest level of respect: Imus listens. He has done more for book sales than anyone east of Oprah. He gives his time and money to ensure that thousands of kids with cancer have a life experience that many people would assume is impossible.

Is he always fair? Hell no. Is he truly sorry for what he said, or just that he got called out? I don’t claim to see into the heart of a man, but I’m willing to bet on the heart of Imus. He’s terribly flawed, an absolute ass at times and doesn’t pretend to feel good just because he’s on the air and supposed to be entertaining.

So yeah, he said something awful, but I’m hoping there’s room for forgiveness. I identify way too closely with the terribly flawed who can be absolutely ass-like.

4 Comments

Filed under acute discomfort, pop cults

A-pop-o-lips now, or why wait until 7:00 PM

The Dallas ‘artist’ known as Kurtz* (or the artist formerly and still known as Prince-tentious**) is going to present an art show based on the last three hours of Anna Nicole Smith’s life. The event will appropriately be held at “JRs Bar and Grill (3923 Cedar Springs in Dallas if you wanna attend).
ANS lives on, well if only for three hours.

Please, dear God, will JR’s bar and grill next show be velvet renditions of the last three hours of Elvis??

*Mr. Kurtz, she dead….

**”What I’m trying to say is, ‘Look at this. You want fame? Then buy it now because in three hours, it will all be gone,’” he says. “In a way, the show will resemble the last three hours of her life. She didn’t know when she was going to pass away and not until the end of this show, will you know which paintings will live and which will die.”

1 Comment

Filed under acute discomfort, apocalypse now, Huh?, pop cults, tastelessness abounds

I know O.J. did it, you know O.J. did it…

and I’m truly sorry for the victims, but I still can’t stand THIS man.

Leave a comment

Filed under acute discomfort