Reunion

My wife and I met at our high school 20 year reunion.  She was still single, but I was married to someone else.  When we bumped into each other, the magic was still there.  I wanted to spend time with her, but she said we couldn't.  It wouldn't be right--since I was married.  She also said the situation was my fault for choosing someone else (a Pom-Pom named Cathy) all those years ago.  I made my choice and was going to have to live with it.  I tried to kiss her, but she pushed away and slapped me.

Then she woke up from her bad dream.

Then she hit me (for real) as I innocently slept.

She’d had a dream and was mad at me.  That's happened several times over the years.  I got lucky the last time it happened--I was already having breakfast when she woke up, so I was out of reach.

Later she told me about her dream.  Then smiled and said, “But I've decided to forgive you!"  I think I mentioned that here on the blog at the time.

Today is our wedding anniversary.  I had flowers delivered to her office yesterday and I'm taking her to her favorite places (shopping and eating) on Saturday.  But the next time she has a bad dream, none of that will matter.  I'll be in trouble.  She'll probably smack me--again.  :)

Have a great weekend folks, go do something fun.  I'm hoping to! 

Periscope (Up? Down???)

I had to do something I always assumed I would not do.  It's a particular medical examination.  My plan was to never do it and then, at a ripe old age, die quietly in my sleep.

 

Or maybe get hit by a meteor.  That would have been okay too.

 

But after my bout of diverticulitis, I had to do it.  I scheduled a colonoscopy.  My doctor made sure I would by telling me I had to stay on a bland, mushy diet (rice, tofu, cottage cheese, yogurt, overly cooked fruit and veggies) until we knew exactly what was going on down there.  Nothing crunchy and no sriracha!!!

 

I had the colonoscopy yesterday.  I was warned the preparation would be the worst part of it.  But I had some fun with it.  The instructions called for me to drink 32 ounces of what tasted like lemon Pledge at 6pm Monday night and again at 9am Tuesday morning.  As I drank the first batch, I joked with my family that I wanted to be the first person to ever drink that stuff and NOT go to the bathroom.  At first I worried that might come true.  I drank it (in stages, as directed), but nothing happened.  Thirty minutes later, still nothing. 

 

To amuse the family, I held my stomach (as if pressure was building), grimaced, and told them, "I.can.con.tain.it!"  We all laughed.  But before long all heck broke loose.  The fun was over.

 

Skipping ahead to the next day (after going through the second batch of Pledge), after changing into a little gown for the examination, I asked the nurse if I could weigh myself.  When would I ever weigh less than I did at that moment???  She showed me to the scale and sure enough, I was considerably lighter (time to update my driver's license).  Anyway, when I got back to the little prep room my wife was smiling.  She said, "You forgot to hold the back of the gown closed when you walked to the scale.  You mooned everyone!"

 

I wasn't embarrassed a bit.  I told her that was important for girls, but boys only need to make sure their fronts are covered.  :)   I was in a silly mood. 

 

Actually, I was joking more than usual because I was a little worried.  Family members decided to remind me about two colonoscopy horror stories (which I won't pass on).  I knew the odds were overwhelmingly good, but I worried some anyway.

Thankfully the results were positive--and I never have to go through it again.  At least that's what I heard the doc say.  My wife thinks he said I'll need to do it again in 10 years or if I get another diverticulitis attack, whichever comes first.  Or the meteor...whatever.  :)


PS - I joke, but the examination was a breeze.  When your doctor tells you it's time for one, don't worry.  It's over before you know it.  After going through it, I can say it's not a big deal.  Before I knew that, I was lucky to receive anti-freak-out encouragement from a good friend.  Thanks Rooth!

Sit-com Life

Our cable company recently added a new channel that carries old TV shows (really old).  On it I stumbled across a sit-com conversation very similar to many that used to take place in our house (I've learned to avoid them). 

The husband and wife were on the verge of having an argument. 

Husband:  Wait, how did this even get started? 
Wife:  You attacked me. 
Husband:  All I did was compliment her cooking.  (The "her" was a neighbor.) 
Wife:  That's what I said, you attacked me. 

I nearly choked when I heard that.  I hit the record button so I could share it with my wife.  She laughed when she saw it, but also sided with the TV wife 100% ("He shouldn't have been talking about another woman's cooking!").  I KNEW she would (as I mentioned, we've had similar conversations), that's why it was so funny to me. 

I almost don't want to ask, but do you agree with her??? 

Patience

I had fun on my commute home last night.  It started with an annoyance, but turned around quickly.

The escalator leading down into the subway station was packed, a combination of tourists and office workers.  Standard practice is to stand on the right side of the escalator to allow people to walk past you on the left—remember that if you ever take the subway in DC.  If you forget, well...please read on.

Anyway, as I said, the escalator was packed, on the right and left.  With encouragement from a woman one step down, the young man next to me started yelling at people to “move to the right”.  That wasn’t going to happen, there were too many people and many of them were tourists.  The second time he yelled I told him to stop, that the older gentleman (20 steps ahead—with at least 20 people behind him) wasn’t going to move.  He complained about people being rude, not doing what they’re supposed to. 

Right about that time the older gentleman stepped off the escalator at the bottom and we could see more than just the back of his head.  We could see he was carrying a wheelchair for his extremely frail wife. 

I turned to my new friend and said, “Wow, you must feel like a huge jerk right now!” and laughed (and laughed).

He didn’t see the humor and stomped off into the subway in a huff.  Hopefully he learned a lesson.  I’m all for speaking up and encouraging people to “do what they’re supposed to” (it was my dad’s best trait), but that doesn’t include yelling at someone because you have to wait 30 seconds.  

Patience and courtesy should never go out of style. 

“I’m in love, I’m in love...

...and I don’t care who knows it!” (A quote from “Elf”) 

I’ll get to the love part in a moment.  My second title choice for this post was “Forced Cleanse”.  I’ve been under the weather recently and mostly absent from the interwebs.  It started with a false alarm.

As I sat at my desk one evening I realized I felt a little off.  Intermittently, I had to take an extra breath.  My heart was beating oddly.  That happens in my family, once in a great while we get a little flutter.  It usually lasts a few seconds and then everything is fine.  It’s not serious.  I know because one niece panics every time it happens and rushes to the hospital.  She’s had every test there is and she’s fine.  But mine didn’t go away this time.  After an hour I decided to go home.  I took my pulse to check my heart rate.  The rate was okay, but the rhythm was off.  It was randomly skipping beats altogether and occasionally adding in an extra one.  It was unsettling to feel that in my pulse—to expect to feel a beat, but feel nothing.  Six hours later I decided I should go to the hospital, just in case.  Two hours (and several tests) later, my heart was back to a normal beat.  It was a false alarm, probably brought on by washing down two Excedrin with a lime coke.  I’ve never been sensitive to caffeine before, but that seems to have changed.  I was relieved to be driving home, even if it was 3am. 

Three days later I had a fever of 101 and a slight discomfort in my left side.  I could feel I was coming down with a virus, so I started the usual routine (tea, soup, Nyquil).  The fever stayed high, so I went to see my doctor.  The virus had turned into bronchitis and my first ever CT-scan showed I had an infection caused by diverticulitis.  I started taking two antibiotics and had to go on a water, broth, applesauce diet.  The pills gave me diarrhea (that + the diet = forced cleanse).  My fever stayed high another 5 days, but finally broke on the 6^th.  The next day I broke out in hives from head to ankle (it skipped my face, hands and feet).  I was allergic to one of the antibiotics and had to stop taking them a week early.  The hives stopped itching after four days, but their shadow remains on my arms and ankles.

I’m still on a mushy diet (cottage cheese, yogurt, overly cooked fruit and veggies), but I’ve started having just a little rice and tofu for lunch. 

The love part?  Benadryl and a prescription antihistamine didn’t provide much relief from the hives (and I couldn’t take steroids because of the diverticulitis).  I was getting up twice a night to take cold showers.  For some reason, my ankles started itching the worst.  It was maddening.  But then I found relief.  Benadryl makes an anti-itch ointment that worked like magic.  I LOVE that little tube.  I love it!!!  Heaven help anyone who tried to come between us.  LOL

I’m not back to feeling like myself yet, but I’m much better.  I still have a slight pain in my side on occasion, but the doctor said that’s not unusual.  Most nights I go to bed really early (for me) because my energy levels are low.  Hopefully in a few weeks I’ll be back on my regular feed and I’ll get my strength back.

Did you miss me?  Did you even notice I was gone???  haha!

Look into my eyes...

An ophthalmologist did just that this morning, looked into my dilated baby blues.  Intently.  With a very bright, white light.  It was unpleasant.  She was checking the slight scarring I have in my left eye.  In very (extremely) low levels of light (less than nightlight levels) the room is even darker through my left eye.  I've never noticed a difference in any other lighting *, including while driving at night.

So it's not a problem.  But after I mentioned it to her, she wanted to see it.  It resulted in new experiences for both of us.

The scars are leftover from a childhood infection caused by a bacteria carried by chickens
(I picked it up helping a cousin collect eggs in his family's hen house when I was 10).  The doctor had heard of it, but never seen it.  Now she has.  The doctor who originally diagnosed it several years ago offended me by saying the scars were the result of an untreated infection.  Untreated!!!  I held a hot teabag over the eye every morning until I recovered.  Doctors!  :)

The new experience for me?  As the doctor moved that blinding white light to various angles to get better views into my eyes, I occasionally saw what looked like a grayish-white surface riddled with tiny connecting lines.  I was seeing the capillaries in my eye.  It was very cool.  I know it's not an uncommon experience during an eye exam, but it was a first for me.

* It's so not a problem, I didn't even notice it until a co-worker mentioned my eyes weren't dilated exactly the same (while standing in a very dimly lit museum gallery after a 14 hour workday).

Have a great weekend, folks.  Happy Easter!

Dr. Ricademus

The alternate title for this post is "Lock your medicine cabinet!"

My mother-in-law was a super-dedicated mom.  She could be overbearing (sorry K!), but she was a good mom.  When her kids were sick, she was all over it, taking care of everything--even when the kids were older.  It seemed odd to me, but she was the stereo-typical "doctor mom" I remember hearing about in commercials (and in Kristie's post, The Local Farmacy). 

Her brain surgery (when my wife and I were 19) left her unable to care for herself.  So as much as she wanted to, she couldn't take care of her "kids" when they got sick.  I put "kids" in quotes because my wife's sisters were 22, 21, and 17 at the time.  Because she had done everything for them when they got sick, they didn't know how to take care of themselves--at all, to the point of not even knowing what to take for a headache.

When I noticed my GF suffering, I started advising her on what to take and when to see a doctor.  Soon she was calling me for advice when any of her sisters got sick.  I only dispensed over the counter products--antihistamines, decongestants, B vitamins, Advil, Tylenol, Vick's Magic Croup Salve (you may know it as VaPoRub).  My co-workers used to give me odd looks when they'd hear me on the phone asking things like "when does it hurt," "what's her temperature," or "is it a productive cough".

I knew what to do because I had been self-medicating since I was 7 or 8.  My mom suffered with a lot of health problems.  If I was sick while she was, I could either wait for my older siblings to stop arguing over who would help me or I could do it myself.  I'd paid attention to what my mom or grandma had given me when I was sick, so I knew what to do.  It was much easier to drag a stool over to the counter, climb up, and get the Bufferin, Sudafed or Vick's Formula 44 myself--or wet a washcloth (cold water plus a little rubbing alcohol) to put on my forehead for a fever (never use rubbing alcohol that way!).  I often did this in the middle of the night, when no one else in the house even knew I was up.

I was a responsible kid, so there was never a problem.  But looking back as a parent, I can't help but think it's important to lock your medicine cabinet!!!