It’s my second day out of the hospital. Let’s keep in mind that I had been locked in a room, solitary, for 30 days, to keep me away from infections. I still have a weak - but functioning - immune system.
So what do I do after 30 days of supposed bed rest? I got shopping.
Yesterday was my first day out. My mom took me to Valley Fair Mall, and to get groceries.
Of course there was the argument of my assumably being too weak, versus my thought that I need to get back on my feet as soon as possible. I won.
First on the list was to get new glasses. Thanks to the “no infections” clause, I was not allowed to wear my contact lenses while in lock down. But I had no glasses either. This became a problem sooner than later. Basically, 30 days of blur. Only when at close enough range was I able to detect who were the hot nurses, and who were perhaps a bit less than hot (or, married, if the rings were in focus). TV was an interesting ordeal in itself.
In any case, I needed to get glasses, and Lenscrafters seemed to be the place to get them.
While in the mall, apparently I stared a bit too hard at a poster advertisement of Veronica Mars, admiring actress Kristen Bell. In fact, I was trying to get my eyes focused. This was rewarded with the onslaught of questions, “Do you like her? Is she ‘the one’? Is that it? You like her?” Geez! Get off of it. Locked in a hospital room is just the same as being in prison (I imagine). 30 days later, I’ll about like anyone who’s female and remotely attractive. Weakened state or not, the libido was working just fine.
Groceries galore were to follow, but with limited items of consumption. I apparently still had to be very careful of what went into me. Nothing that could potentially carry any germs, nothing that wasn’t within the proper boundaries of vitamin and mineral offerings, etc. I didn’t care. FOOD! Just give me something good to eat!
All in all, after a 30 day lock up, I think I spent 9 hours in total on my feet, walking the stores and all... and I loved it!
I did have to cover up in the sun, as I was susceptible to bright sunlight (skin exposure was a problem with my current chemo). That aside, it was all fine. I was a bit groggy and shaky on the feet, but you couldn’t sit me down.
Today, was Day 2 of my shopping and outside excursion extravaganza. Trader Joe's, Pizza My Heart, and more. Aahh, this was much needed.
OK, I need to go and take it all in now. Check in with you all later.
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Monday, August 29, 2005
I got paroled from the hospital finally
Howdy folks!
Just a quick note to let everyone know that I was paroled from the hospital.
The docs figured that I stood a better chance of catching everyone else's diseases from within the hospital, and that I would be safer at home. So... off I was to trot home.
Keith and my mom came by to help pick up my apartment's worth of crap that I had accumulated in my room. Since I was Neutropenic (susceptible to any infections, not having an immune system), I was not allowed to leave my room for one month. So, it was a strange sensation to finally leave.
Before I left, they had to unhook me from my Pic Line I.V. That was attractive. Keith sat across the room, cringing at the thought. The doctor who was there to release me unhooked the line from the I.V. machine. He asked if I was ready to have the line taken out of my arm. The option was slowly and deliberately, but that would just prolong any odd sensations, or yanking it out quickly (but not so fast that it would damage the veins). As I thought about it for a moment, and Keith happened to look over, the doc just gave a good tug and pulled out about 3 feet or so of white line from my arm, which now had dripping bright red blood all over it. I thought, “Wow! Cool.” as something from the Alien films. Keith, on the other hand, was not so thrilled by his vision. I asked if that was it, and made sure no remnants remained inside. It was over and done, a bandage put in place over the hole, and I was ready to go.
It was under cover of the night (10 pm on Sunday, Aug. 28), so it wasn't that bad, but still... knowing that I was back in the big world was weird. It took me a bit to get accustomed to being able to walk around a bigger area, but I'm all settled in now. Looking forward to sleeping in a bed more my size. (Hospitals are not equipped to sleep someone 6’6“.)
I have to really say a HUGE Thank You to everyone who supported me emotionally (although it appears that I apparently emotionally supported many others through my own good spirits)... and wrote emails, and posted comments, and everything. And even some of the phone calls that I got were great. You are all awesome! And know that I would do the same for you. Friends (real friends... even new ones) are not something that I take lightly, and I truly appreciate everyone one individually.
So for now, I am going to be seen in outpatient clinics and still have a few treatments to go in the next couple of months or so. They will finally be satisfied by next year. All in all, it looks very good that I will be cured. I'm healing a bit slowly for my liking, but it's apparently within normal range, so I won't complain. More info on my progress as it comes.
And to those of you who have cancer, or some other disease, or know someone who is sick... I really hope that I have given you something to think about and some inspiration. Attitude is everything. My being locked in a room for one month was NOTHING (even with four chemo treatments), compared to people who spend months and years doing chemo while suffering. You've got to look upon your situations in life and think them through, then do whatever you need to, but be productive. If it's going to save your life... don't complain. Blood draws, IVs, dealing with doctors, it's all part of the game... just like what we deal with in the outside world. Make your game plan, decide what you want out of it all, and just do it.
Again, as you have been there for me, I hope that I can be there for you too.
All the best to everyone for now... :)
Just a quick note to let everyone know that I was paroled from the hospital.
The docs figured that I stood a better chance of catching everyone else's diseases from within the hospital, and that I would be safer at home. So... off I was to trot home.
Keith and my mom came by to help pick up my apartment's worth of crap that I had accumulated in my room. Since I was Neutropenic (susceptible to any infections, not having an immune system), I was not allowed to leave my room for one month. So, it was a strange sensation to finally leave.
Before I left, they had to unhook me from my Pic Line I.V. That was attractive. Keith sat across the room, cringing at the thought. The doctor who was there to release me unhooked the line from the I.V. machine. He asked if I was ready to have the line taken out of my arm. The option was slowly and deliberately, but that would just prolong any odd sensations, or yanking it out quickly (but not so fast that it would damage the veins). As I thought about it for a moment, and Keith happened to look over, the doc just gave a good tug and pulled out about 3 feet or so of white line from my arm, which now had dripping bright red blood all over it. I thought, “Wow! Cool.” as something from the Alien films. Keith, on the other hand, was not so thrilled by his vision. I asked if that was it, and made sure no remnants remained inside. It was over and done, a bandage put in place over the hole, and I was ready to go.
It was under cover of the night (10 pm on Sunday, Aug. 28), so it wasn't that bad, but still... knowing that I was back in the big world was weird. It took me a bit to get accustomed to being able to walk around a bigger area, but I'm all settled in now. Looking forward to sleeping in a bed more my size. (Hospitals are not equipped to sleep someone 6’6“.)
I have to really say a HUGE Thank You to everyone who supported me emotionally (although it appears that I apparently emotionally supported many others through my own good spirits)... and wrote emails, and posted comments, and everything. And even some of the phone calls that I got were great. You are all awesome! And know that I would do the same for you. Friends (real friends... even new ones) are not something that I take lightly, and I truly appreciate everyone one individually.
So for now, I am going to be seen in outpatient clinics and still have a few treatments to go in the next couple of months or so. They will finally be satisfied by next year. All in all, it looks very good that I will be cured. I'm healing a bit slowly for my liking, but it's apparently within normal range, so I won't complain. More info on my progress as it comes.
And to those of you who have cancer, or some other disease, or know someone who is sick... I really hope that I have given you something to think about and some inspiration. Attitude is everything. My being locked in a room for one month was NOTHING (even with four chemo treatments), compared to people who spend months and years doing chemo while suffering. You've got to look upon your situations in life and think them through, then do whatever you need to, but be productive. If it's going to save your life... don't complain. Blood draws, IVs, dealing with doctors, it's all part of the game... just like what we deal with in the outside world. Make your game plan, decide what you want out of it all, and just do it.
Again, as you have been there for me, I hope that I can be there for you too.
All the best to everyone for now... :)
Wednesday, August 3, 2005
Having cancer sucks....
I had recently mentioned in my previous blog that I had gone to San Diego Comic Con, and gotten sick there. Well, I'm here to tell you finally what really happened...
I started with a sore throat when I got to San Diego. What I didn't know was that this was the beginning signs of something more drastic than simply strep throat or pharyngitis (which I had been diagnosed as having).
On Fri., July 29, I had gone to my doctor's for another visit, and a random blood test. I had been hoping to fly to Los Angeles the next day and then come back that night. Friday afternoon, I got a very distressed phone call from my doctor begging me to not get on the airplane in the morning or, I would "not come home, ever". How true that could have been. I was checked into the hospital immediately that Fri. evening and felt myself physically sinking lower. It turned out that I had almost NO white blood cells, NO platelets (that help your blood clot), and was getting anemic And my blood count was dropping by the hour. Literally, I was dying as I stood.
For three days, no one could figure out what was wrong with me. They kept me pumped with antibiotics and transfusions. On Saturday morning, I seriously did not think I would make it through the following Monday. They were worried about my getting a fever, infection, or starting to bleed out. Well, as it happened, I did get a slight fever, and my nose started bleeding for over two days. As I write this, it has slowed down. I was a bit scared, to put it honestly. But worse, I had a few very close friends who were even more traumatized by what they heard. No one could believe that someone like myself, Mr. Get-Up-And-Go, who lived active and overworked, could ever get so sick, and so suddenly.
They took a bone marrow biopsy (no fun stroll in the park, I tell you), and finally found out what happened to me by this Monday, Aug. 1. It turned out that I had Leukemia. But they were not sure what type yet. I was given a 75% chance of recovery - meaning that it could recur, or cause other cancers later. On Tues. Aug. 2, they had it figured out. I have a subset of AML Leukemia called Acute Promyelocytic Leukemia.
Now, here's where the clincher, and the fun part begins. Of course, I would now have a new chapter to my life's adventures. It turns out that I have a form of Leukemia that (as my doctor told me) "If you had to have any form of Leukemia, this would be the one you want to have." It is a very rare type, and happens to be the easiest to treat. AND... has a 90% cure rate (meaning, no coming back). Also, it is not inherited, so I can still have kids later with no fear of transmission... provided I make it through.
They are trying to control my bleeding currently, and I am already being treated. Another strange portion of the story... instead of bombarding me with two or more major forms of chemotherapy, it is treated with ONE chemo drug cocktail (a rather milder form) for eight days, and... a derivative of Vitamin A. Still a cocktail, but not nearly as bad. I may or may not still lose my hair, but whatever.
So here I sit in the hospital for the next four weeks hoping that it all works and my recovery is healthy. I have a pretty good mindset that it will all work out. I've got way too much to do out there to call it quits yet.
I just wanted to let everyone know what's been going on with me. And to those of you who got my rather cryptic emails about going to the hospital, I am not dead yet, but only had some scares along the way in the past few days. Now I am chipper, upbeat, and ready to have my ass kicked a bit so that I can kick ass back and get this beat, and get back out there with everyone.
Wish me luck and I appreciate all the well-wishing's, prayers, and thoughts.
See you soon!
PS... I will be checking my emails as well so that I don't just sit around bored.
(For more on what happens, check my other blog - Leuk I Am Your Cancer
I started with a sore throat when I got to San Diego. What I didn't know was that this was the beginning signs of something more drastic than simply strep throat or pharyngitis (which I had been diagnosed as having).
On Fri., July 29, I had gone to my doctor's for another visit, and a random blood test. I had been hoping to fly to Los Angeles the next day and then come back that night. Friday afternoon, I got a very distressed phone call from my doctor begging me to not get on the airplane in the morning or, I would "not come home, ever". How true that could have been. I was checked into the hospital immediately that Fri. evening and felt myself physically sinking lower. It turned out that I had almost NO white blood cells, NO platelets (that help your blood clot), and was getting anemic And my blood count was dropping by the hour. Literally, I was dying as I stood.
For three days, no one could figure out what was wrong with me. They kept me pumped with antibiotics and transfusions. On Saturday morning, I seriously did not think I would make it through the following Monday. They were worried about my getting a fever, infection, or starting to bleed out. Well, as it happened, I did get a slight fever, and my nose started bleeding for over two days. As I write this, it has slowed down. I was a bit scared, to put it honestly. But worse, I had a few very close friends who were even more traumatized by what they heard. No one could believe that someone like myself, Mr. Get-Up-And-Go, who lived active and overworked, could ever get so sick, and so suddenly.
They took a bone marrow biopsy (no fun stroll in the park, I tell you), and finally found out what happened to me by this Monday, Aug. 1. It turned out that I had Leukemia. But they were not sure what type yet. I was given a 75% chance of recovery - meaning that it could recur, or cause other cancers later. On Tues. Aug. 2, they had it figured out. I have a subset of AML Leukemia called Acute Promyelocytic Leukemia.
Now, here's where the clincher, and the fun part begins. Of course, I would now have a new chapter to my life's adventures. It turns out that I have a form of Leukemia that (as my doctor told me) "If you had to have any form of Leukemia, this would be the one you want to have." It is a very rare type, and happens to be the easiest to treat. AND... has a 90% cure rate (meaning, no coming back). Also, it is not inherited, so I can still have kids later with no fear of transmission... provided I make it through.
They are trying to control my bleeding currently, and I am already being treated. Another strange portion of the story... instead of bombarding me with two or more major forms of chemotherapy, it is treated with ONE chemo drug cocktail (a rather milder form) for eight days, and... a derivative of Vitamin A. Still a cocktail, but not nearly as bad. I may or may not still lose my hair, but whatever.
So here I sit in the hospital for the next four weeks hoping that it all works and my recovery is healthy. I have a pretty good mindset that it will all work out. I've got way too much to do out there to call it quits yet.
I just wanted to let everyone know what's been going on with me. And to those of you who got my rather cryptic emails about going to the hospital, I am not dead yet, but only had some scares along the way in the past few days. Now I am chipper, upbeat, and ready to have my ass kicked a bit so that I can kick ass back and get this beat, and get back out there with everyone.
Wish me luck and I appreciate all the well-wishing's, prayers, and thoughts.
See you soon!
PS... I will be checking my emails as well so that I don't just sit around bored.
(For more on what happens, check my other blog - Leuk I Am Your Cancer
Thursday, July 21, 2005
San Diego Comic Con adventures - 2005
Some of you might have wondered if I'd disappeared.
Indeed, to some (most) I may have, but for a short while only.
I had gone to the San Diego Comic Con International for about a week. And what did I get upon my return? Ill. Nice.
What was once a comic book geek-fest, is now the world's largest comic / film / literary / fine arts / pop-culture convention. I've been attending it for 15 years now, and just gets bigger and better. What makes this trip more worthwhile is the group of people I go with.
This year was a good batch of friends for sure. Some are even on MySpace. Of course, when you get any number of people crammed into a hotel room - to keep costs lower - you find out quickly about everyone's quirks, habits, and opinions. But, that's what keeps it all interesting.
What was I doing there? Different things, mostly networking. I went down with a couple of friends, and several models to help promote a T-shirt company named Dirty Little Tees. The girls dressed up in the hottie-wear and walked around the (almost 1/8 mile long) convention center filled with what seemed to be around 150,000 people, getting everyone to come to the booth and spend money.
Why girls? Simple. Never underestimate the financial power of a horny 14-year-old boy with allowance money in his pocket... especially when a pretty girl smiles at him.
The booth aside, we all networked with several companies, artists, and film-makers for future possible jobs. I apparently had earned a friendly reputation with the catch-phrase "Hey folks, it's that guy with all the girls! Give him a big hand and follow him around." Well, I could think of worse things said in passing.
The convention itself was fun, albeit a bit mellower than usual.
So... the Good News / Bad News portion of my trip...
Positives -
* Stayed at Embassy Suites - 2 room suites with all the amenities (kitchenette, fridge, microwave, 3 beds, and more). Free breakfasts cooked to order, and all the booze you can drink (FREE!) during a 2-hour happy hour.
* Staying in a suite with a couple of friends, and a variety of models. Yeah, don't that suck. HA HA!! OK, granted, most had serious boyfriends... but a guy can embellish on the settings, can't he?
* Meeting more celebs and fantastically creative, artistic, and ambitious people in one area than one could imagine.
* Getting paid to be there. (Always nice, even if it wasn't much.)
Negatives -
* Apparently I got sick with a sore throat from the second day I got there. I also don't usually sleep much, and even less during this trip... so the equivalence was almost 4 days with no sleep, on a potential illness brewing.
* Hearing flapping noises from the front tire on the way home (with a 500 mile drive coming up) - luckily only one mile away from home. Finding out that my front tire was about to blow. Took that bad boy off immediately.
* Adventure-Man Phil, puts on the donut spare tire and drives back almost 500 miles. But wait... this is the second time that I have driven that distance on the same donut tire (this happened 2 years ago also). AND I was doing about 70 - 80 mph (yeah, yeah, I'm a bit nuts).
* Upon getting home, and feeling like absolute crap, finding out that I have pharyngitis and possible strep throat (and somehow no one else got sick). So, I've been back for a few days, feeling like crap, wishing I would feel better so that I can go through my bags of new stuff, and contact information.
Alrighty... there was the extended version of my last couple of weeks. Stay tuned for more tales later.
Indeed, to some (most) I may have, but for a short while only.
I had gone to the San Diego Comic Con International for about a week. And what did I get upon my return? Ill. Nice.
What was once a comic book geek-fest, is now the world's largest comic / film / literary / fine arts / pop-culture convention. I've been attending it for 15 years now, and just gets bigger and better. What makes this trip more worthwhile is the group of people I go with.
This year was a good batch of friends for sure. Some are even on MySpace. Of course, when you get any number of people crammed into a hotel room - to keep costs lower - you find out quickly about everyone's quirks, habits, and opinions. But, that's what keeps it all interesting.
What was I doing there? Different things, mostly networking. I went down with a couple of friends, and several models to help promote a T-shirt company named Dirty Little Tees. The girls dressed up in the hottie-wear and walked around the (almost 1/8 mile long) convention center filled with what seemed to be around 150,000 people, getting everyone to come to the booth and spend money.
Why girls? Simple. Never underestimate the financial power of a horny 14-year-old boy with allowance money in his pocket... especially when a pretty girl smiles at him.
The booth aside, we all networked with several companies, artists, and film-makers for future possible jobs. I apparently had earned a friendly reputation with the catch-phrase "Hey folks, it's that guy with all the girls! Give him a big hand and follow him around." Well, I could think of worse things said in passing.
The convention itself was fun, albeit a bit mellower than usual.
So... the Good News / Bad News portion of my trip...
Positives -
* Stayed at Embassy Suites - 2 room suites with all the amenities (kitchenette, fridge, microwave, 3 beds, and more). Free breakfasts cooked to order, and all the booze you can drink (FREE!) during a 2-hour happy hour.
* Staying in a suite with a couple of friends, and a variety of models. Yeah, don't that suck. HA HA!! OK, granted, most had serious boyfriends... but a guy can embellish on the settings, can't he?
* Meeting more celebs and fantastically creative, artistic, and ambitious people in one area than one could imagine.
* Getting paid to be there. (Always nice, even if it wasn't much.)
Negatives -
* Apparently I got sick with a sore throat from the second day I got there. I also don't usually sleep much, and even less during this trip... so the equivalence was almost 4 days with no sleep, on a potential illness brewing.
* Hearing flapping noises from the front tire on the way home (with a 500 mile drive coming up) - luckily only one mile away from home. Finding out that my front tire was about to blow. Took that bad boy off immediately.
* Adventure-Man Phil, puts on the donut spare tire and drives back almost 500 miles. But wait... this is the second time that I have driven that distance on the same donut tire (this happened 2 years ago also). AND I was doing about 70 - 80 mph (yeah, yeah, I'm a bit nuts).
* Upon getting home, and feeling like absolute crap, finding out that I have pharyngitis and possible strep throat (and somehow no one else got sick). So, I've been back for a few days, feeling like crap, wishing I would feel better so that I can go through my bags of new stuff, and contact information.
Alrighty... there was the extended version of my last couple of weeks. Stay tuned for more tales later.
Wednesday, May 4, 2005
Art imitates life - My oral surgery... bloody hell!! I'm going to miss an "Angel" episode!
Another chapter in the Aventurous Life of Phil - April 2005:
The trip to the Dentist ending in a game of Slice & Dice -
On Monday, April 25th, I went to my dentist to finish the job of putting a crown in (actually two, apparently).
Simple enough, one might think (unless your squeamish).
But no, as she is poking and prodding around in my food-hole, she realizes that I have issues. No, not as in personal mental issues, but something more insidious (that means serious). I need some serious surgery, and, like, now! Before any infections can set in.
Presto! I am scheduled for Wednesday, April 27th - two days later.
No time like the present, they say.
Wednesday comes around, and I am watching an episode of "Angel" on TNT, the great drama re-run network.
"Angel" for those of you uninitiated, is about a vampire of the same name... who has a soul. Get it? Good.
This episode concerns a woman who wants to become like him. In a fit of outrage, Angel forces her to drink blood by pouring it down her throat. At this point, I have to leave to make my appointment time. (And if you know me, I'm almost never on time... except this time.)
I get to the dentist and it's wham-bam! Right down to it. I'm settled in, injected with foul-tasting anesthetic, and promptly started upon with the scalpel.
In no time, I am suddenly reliving the very scene I just left from "Angel".
I am now forced to drink an onslaught of blood... my own... right down my throat! Perhaps the "Angel" episode was a sick look into what was about to happen to me. Thrilling, to say the least.
But wait... there's more... Sensing my twitchy behavior within my chair, my dentist informs me, very non-chalantly, that, "There is nothing in your mouth that you cannot swallow. So go ahead."
At this point a thought came to mind, followed later by another...
1) What if I do not WANT to swallow the viscous red liquid flowing freely down into my gullet?
2) What about the surgical tools jammed into my yap? Are THEY OK to swallow? Technically, she did mention that anything within the confines of my jaws was "OK to swallow".
There is a further thought to this situation... The idea of someone suggesting that whatever is "in your mouth is OK to swallow", seems to be something that mostly guys are famous for saying to unsuspecting girls. Usually in high school, before common sense sets in.
Was this my doctor's way of getting back at me for being a male? Forcing me to swallow something, that was created by my own body, but that neither taste, nor texture, nor desire made me wish to do so. Interesting theorems. Yes, some of you do worry that I over-think too much. Perhaps I do. I like it. You should too. Someone has to ponder these odd problems out. Stay tuned for further adventures...
The trip to the Dentist ending in a game of Slice & Dice -
On Monday, April 25th, I went to my dentist to finish the job of putting a crown in (actually two, apparently).
Simple enough, one might think (unless your squeamish).
But no, as she is poking and prodding around in my food-hole, she realizes that I have issues. No, not as in personal mental issues, but something more insidious (that means serious). I need some serious surgery, and, like, now! Before any infections can set in.
Presto! I am scheduled for Wednesday, April 27th - two days later.
No time like the present, they say.
Wednesday comes around, and I am watching an episode of "Angel" on TNT, the great drama re-run network.
"Angel" for those of you uninitiated, is about a vampire of the same name... who has a soul. Get it? Good.
This episode concerns a woman who wants to become like him. In a fit of outrage, Angel forces her to drink blood by pouring it down her throat. At this point, I have to leave to make my appointment time. (And if you know me, I'm almost never on time... except this time.)
I get to the dentist and it's wham-bam! Right down to it. I'm settled in, injected with foul-tasting anesthetic, and promptly started upon with the scalpel.
In no time, I am suddenly reliving the very scene I just left from "Angel".
I am now forced to drink an onslaught of blood... my own... right down my throat! Perhaps the "Angel" episode was a sick look into what was about to happen to me. Thrilling, to say the least.
But wait... there's more... Sensing my twitchy behavior within my chair, my dentist informs me, very non-chalantly, that, "There is nothing in your mouth that you cannot swallow. So go ahead."
At this point a thought came to mind, followed later by another...
1) What if I do not WANT to swallow the viscous red liquid flowing freely down into my gullet?
2) What about the surgical tools jammed into my yap? Are THEY OK to swallow? Technically, she did mention that anything within the confines of my jaws was "OK to swallow".
There is a further thought to this situation... The idea of someone suggesting that whatever is "in your mouth is OK to swallow", seems to be something that mostly guys are famous for saying to unsuspecting girls. Usually in high school, before common sense sets in.
Was this my doctor's way of getting back at me for being a male? Forcing me to swallow something, that was created by my own body, but that neither taste, nor texture, nor desire made me wish to do so. Interesting theorems. Yes, some of you do worry that I over-think too much. Perhaps I do. I like it. You should too. Someone has to ponder these odd problems out. Stay tuned for further adventures...
Thursday, January 27, 2005
Swollen, hot, and red (my day wasn't as bad as the other guy's)
So after all my adventures traveling in inclement weather recently... what did I get to remember it all by (no, I mean after all the cool freebies and stuff that I collected)...
I ended up with a majorly swollen leg.
My right leg swelled up twice its size, was bright red, hot to the touch, and felt like it was going to burst out of its skin.
Did I mention the immense pain?
The hospital thought I might have a blood clot and took it very seriously. As it turned out, I had cellulitis (not the fat butt thing), which is an infection of soft tissue. It can be caught in any manner of ways, and is the most common infection.
I sat waiting in the hospital for 8 HOURS - from 2 am until finally being seen and released at 10 am.
The official diagnosis was Cellulitis of the Leg. Done.
As I'm about to leave, I overhear the nurses talk about the next guy who is coming into my room.
"He's been waiting over 12 hours.", one nurse said.
She continued, "Poor guy has Cellulitis of the Penis."
ARGGHHH!!!!
I thought to what my ordeal for the past whole week had been before being seen... and then waiting 8 hours when I couldn't take it anymore. This guy had been sitting there in agony - in a much more tender area - for 12 hours!
Suddenly, my problems just didn't seem so important anymore.
I thought I would just go home and know that I am being treated.
As an added note: I'm driving home and think out loud... That man's penis... swollen to twice its normal size... hot to the touch... feeling like it's going to burst out of its skin. Hmmmm... Don't men pay good money for pills to give the same effect? I'm sure I've seen it advertised on TV.
But the bright red part? I wouldn't want a dog's organ either. Nor the pain involved.
"Oh well." I thought.
I ended up with a majorly swollen leg.
My right leg swelled up twice its size, was bright red, hot to the touch, and felt like it was going to burst out of its skin.
Did I mention the immense pain?
The hospital thought I might have a blood clot and took it very seriously. As it turned out, I had cellulitis (not the fat butt thing), which is an infection of soft tissue. It can be caught in any manner of ways, and is the most common infection.
I sat waiting in the hospital for 8 HOURS - from 2 am until finally being seen and released at 10 am.
The official diagnosis was Cellulitis of the Leg. Done.
As I'm about to leave, I overhear the nurses talk about the next guy who is coming into my room.
"He's been waiting over 12 hours.", one nurse said.
She continued, "Poor guy has Cellulitis of the Penis."
ARGGHHH!!!!
I thought to what my ordeal for the past whole week had been before being seen... and then waiting 8 hours when I couldn't take it anymore. This guy had been sitting there in agony - in a much more tender area - for 12 hours!
Suddenly, my problems just didn't seem so important anymore.
I thought I would just go home and know that I am being treated.
As an added note: I'm driving home and think out loud... That man's penis... swollen to twice its normal size... hot to the touch... feeling like it's going to burst out of its skin. Hmmmm... Don't men pay good money for pills to give the same effect? I'm sure I've seen it advertised on TV.
But the bright red part? I wouldn't want a dog's organ either. Nor the pain involved.
"Oh well." I thought.
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