The husband had to have one of those "at your house" physicals for his life insurance tonight. She took his blood pressure, he gave her some pee. It was lovely. Then came the blood sucking part. His veins like to play hide and seek except they always win. No seeking here. She was digging around with the needle and I was talking to him to get his mind off the search and destroy mission going on in his arms. No dice. He got clammy and pale so he sat on the couch. She tried again a couple times but I couldn't watch this round of torture. Finally she admitted defeat and took a few drops from the finger and off she went. She left us with a giddy schoolgirl. Said schoolgirl turned into a drunk speaking buffoon. I really mean that in the nicest way possible. He had slurred speech, felt like he was in slo-mo, sore arms (duh), heartburn, some nausea (that didn't stop him from eating pizza and strawberry shortcake) and he was parched and was drinking an inordinate amount of water. Cut to wife freaking out......
Do the hospitals in your area have a nurse line? Or a call nurse line? Everywhere that I've ever lived in Wisconsin (and let's not get into how many places that is, I'll get depressed, it's just too many) EVERY single city/town had a nurse call line. You call, tell them what's wrong, they tell you what it could be and tell you whether they think you should come in or not. Well, Minnesota is just too good for that. I called all the major hospitals and none of them, not a single one, had anything like that. I was at my wit's end. Immediately I'm thinking a stroke. They all tell me to call our clinic and the doc on call will call us back. Sure thing sparky, except we don't have a clinic or I would have called them in the first place. Can you sense the yelling in my typing? I'm too lazy to hold the caps button down to yell and I just remembered the caps lock button exists. I took my pain meds and muscle relaxers earlier and they are kicking in. Sorry. Anywhoo*. Finally, I got a male nurse (I love them) named Jesse (even better) and he said that he couldn't tell me to come in but in his opinion, I should. Um, I think that's telling me to come in but since he was so nice and never talked down to me the whole time (like some asswipe** at another place) I'll let the contradiction slide. I was hesitant on taking the husband in for a couple reasons:
I told the husband that nice sounding Jesse told me that it could be an aneurysm, brain bleed or stroke. He said he wasn't going to die on me. I said he was full of shit to be able to guarantee that. He won the argument and here we sit at home still. At least he doesn't sound drunk or giddy anymore. I told him to go to bed but he just has to watch 24 (we taped it so we could watch Everwood. Never thought I would watch that show but yeah, I'm sucked into it. Thanks mom in law for bringing me into yet one more show that never crossed my radar ever. It's all good, I still love her)
Now, onto me cause really, it's all about me, cause it's my blog and dammit, I want to whine about me some more. As I mentioned before, I've been having serious issues with my back. It hurts to stand, lay down, sit, whatever I want to do, it hurts. Not so conducive when your 3 year old wants a bear hug and insists you pick him up off of the floor for it. I have my appointment with a spinal surgeon tomorrow morning and I have to say, I'm worried. A lot.
I had scoliosis* really bad when I was in middle school. By the time 8th grade was over I had a 34 degree curve at the top of my spine and a 74 degree main curve. Let's review basic algebra. A right angle is 90 degrees and looks like an L or a backwards L if you're dyslexic. Mine was 74 degrees. My spine right before surgery looked like a pregnant woman's profile. A very pregnant woman. It wasn't pretty. I was tilted to the left and because of all the tilting, my head now leans to the left unless I catch myself and straighten up. My left shoulder is always lower than the other. I can't even them out. It hurts. They told my parents that if I didn't have the surgery right away (November) I would be in a wheelchair by Christmas. Permanently. SO......
This was all in 1987. 18 1/2 years ago. I've been blessed that I haven't had to go back in for reconstructive surgery or "tweaks" like most of the other kids who had this surgery at the time I had it. My surgeon was/is a genius. He did good on me. Now almost 20 years later, things are bound to go wrong I suppose. I really hope that this surgeon I'm seeing up here isn't a shmuck*. I don't want to end up in a chair. I don't want surgery but if that's the case, so be it. I don't want to sound hokey but just keep good thoughts for me. I'm not dying, just paranoid. I'll have more news tomorrow.
I'm shutting up now. Thanks for listening internet. I heart you!
* I had to add these to my dictionary on here. No shmuck listing? Sheesh.
** I do believe this is a copywrited word from DGM, please don't sue. I got nothin'.
Do the hospitals in your area have a nurse line? Or a call nurse line? Everywhere that I've ever lived in Wisconsin (and let's not get into how many places that is, I'll get depressed, it's just too many) EVERY single city/town had a nurse call line. You call, tell them what's wrong, they tell you what it could be and tell you whether they think you should come in or not. Well, Minnesota is just too good for that. I called all the major hospitals and none of them, not a single one, had anything like that. I was at my wit's end. Immediately I'm thinking a stroke. They all tell me to call our clinic and the doc on call will call us back. Sure thing sparky, except we don't have a clinic or I would have called them in the first place. Can you sense the yelling in my typing? I'm too lazy to hold the caps button down to yell and I just remembered the caps lock button exists. I took my pain meds and muscle relaxers earlier and they are kicking in. Sorry. Anywhoo*. Finally, I got a male nurse (I love them) named Jesse (even better) and he said that he couldn't tell me to come in but in his opinion, I should. Um, I think that's telling me to come in but since he was so nice and never talked down to me the whole time (like some asswipe** at another place) I'll let the contradiction slide. I was hesitant on taking the husband in for a couple reasons:
The husband insists he's ok, he's not going to die. Typical man
$150 is not something that I have floating around the house to just give to the emergency room as a co-pay. Nor is $75 for urgent care (I'm not heartless, I was insisting we go in, he was not and I can't make him go)
I told the husband that nice sounding Jesse told me that it could be an aneurysm, brain bleed or stroke. He said he wasn't going to die on me. I said he was full of shit to be able to guarantee that. He won the argument and here we sit at home still. At least he doesn't sound drunk or giddy anymore. I told him to go to bed but he just has to watch 24 (we taped it so we could watch Everwood. Never thought I would watch that show but yeah, I'm sucked into it. Thanks mom in law for bringing me into yet one more show that never crossed my radar ever. It's all good, I still love her)
Now, onto me cause really, it's all about me, cause it's my blog and dammit, I want to whine about me some more. As I mentioned before, I've been having serious issues with my back. It hurts to stand, lay down, sit, whatever I want to do, it hurts. Not so conducive when your 3 year old wants a bear hug and insists you pick him up off of the floor for it. I have my appointment with a spinal surgeon tomorrow morning and I have to say, I'm worried. A lot.
I had scoliosis* really bad when I was in middle school. By the time 8th grade was over I had a 34 degree curve at the top of my spine and a 74 degree main curve. Let's review basic algebra. A right angle is 90 degrees and looks like an L or a backwards L if you're dyslexic. Mine was 74 degrees. My spine right before surgery looked like a pregnant woman's profile. A very pregnant woman. It wasn't pretty. I was tilted to the left and because of all the tilting, my head now leans to the left unless I catch myself and straighten up. My left shoulder is always lower than the other. I can't even them out. It hurts. They told my parents that if I didn't have the surgery right away (November) I would be in a wheelchair by Christmas. Permanently. SO......
This was all in 1987. 18 1/2 years ago. I've been blessed that I haven't had to go back in for reconstructive surgery or "tweaks" like most of the other kids who had this surgery at the time I had it. My surgeon was/is a genius. He did good on me. Now almost 20 years later, things are bound to go wrong I suppose. I really hope that this surgeon I'm seeing up here isn't a shmuck*. I don't want to end up in a chair. I don't want surgery but if that's the case, so be it. I don't want to sound hokey but just keep good thoughts for me. I'm not dying, just paranoid. I'll have more news tomorrow.
I'm shutting up now. Thanks for listening internet. I heart you!
* I had to add these to my dictionary on here. No shmuck listing? Sheesh.
** I do believe this is a copywrited word from DGM, please don't sue. I got nothin'.
Comments
Nothing like leaving more than one comment in a row...
I hope this doctor fixes you up right good ( and preferably without having to go under the knife again), but I think your positive attitude about it all will make things easier now matter what route you end up taking.
Spoil yourself rotten - you deserve it, Trish -- oh, and I'm glad you put the Lord back in your Blog Title... I was SO worried about stray lightning bolts...!