Medical Problems, and Doctor Troubles

Yesterday I had an appointment to see my Doctor. It was my yearly checkup. It is always tense, and uncomfortable. But, over the last few years we have come to an understanding, I am trying to be a better patient, and he has become more patient. Tendinitis, and a the painful effects of an ancient elbow fracture have actually made us closer. He sees that I am willing to do my exercises if it will help me walk without a limp or return the feeling to my fingers. And I began to understand that he was really trying to help me live better, and longer.

Yesterday was different, though. Things were more subdued, even by the standards of our new relationship. He was polite, in an odd way, in a way that made me more than a little nervous about things. I began revising the estimates of my probable continuation downward, sharply. He must know something, I reasoned. But, what, I hadn’t had my blood test yet. Did he see something on my chart, had my expiration date changed since my last visit? What did he see staring at that computer screen?

“Well, your blood pressure is good today.” He said, smiling.

Here is where he drops the bomb, I thought. He will start with my weight, my diet, my appearance,
the grey in my hair, the shape of my glasses clashing with the contours of my face. Something, anything.

“You have quite a buildup in your ears.” He said. “I will send the nurse into flush them clean.”

He smiled, warmly, pleasantly, it filled me with dread. I am doomed, and he wants me to be able to hear the last rights clearly.

I was shaking with terror as the nurse forced warm water into my ears, she was humming “Nearer My God to Thee.”

“Would you like to see?” She asked taking the water, and the gunk from ear to flush it down the sink.

“No, not at all.”  I shuddered at the thought.

“Some people do.” She started humming again.

The doctor came back and sat down on his little doctor stool and looked me in the eyes.  “I have something to tell you.”

Oh, God, No. I am too young to die. My mind screamed. I snapped the pencil I was holding.

“My wife got a job in California. And we are moving at the end of July.”

I had finally had a good appointment, one where I didn’t hear all the things that should worry me, we had finally decided I was doing ok, and now he is leaving me. And I will have to break in a new doctor. But, at least I’m going to live.

Now Hiring, Pharmaceutical Geniuses.

We, here at the Ohio Division of Life Explained (ODLE), have decided to branch out a little. No worries, we are still going to provide the governments of the world with the finest detonatable and incendiary technology possible. But, the potential profit in pharmaceutical development and sales is almost impossible to resist.

Seriously, it is like a siren's song calling us to the rocky, dangerous shores of the island Wealth. Where there are enormous piles of money waiting for anybody who can navigate the treacherous waters of government interference and obstruction. Who knows better the safe streams and canals of congressional bribery* than the intrepid sailors of the Life Explained Legal Department.**

We are still trying to decide on the type of medicine we are going to start developing first, maybe something that will help people who are allergic to sodium and have heartburn. Start small, you know. Maybe something that helps people who are sensitive to bright lights, and still want to be famous. The possibilities are endless, and the earnings gigantic. We like the sound of that.

Please join us in our quest to make life better and get filthy rich, send your resume to;

Life Explained Pharmaceutical Division
Are there holes in your life that you're trying to fill
Because if you have a problem, boy, we have a pill***

* Just kidding, I am sure the good people in the government are all trying their hardest to keep us safe. If they make a little cash who can blame them, hey we all have to eat, right?

** Sorry, I am still excited by my new Kayak (name pending) and am trying to work in nautical references whenever possible, matey.

*** Thank you, Micheal Stanley Band. You could really rock and roll.

Jeff's Body Fights Back, (part II of the Life Explained Internal Medicine Explained)

OH NO, another multi part blog post, with no foreseeable resolution. Unfortunately, yes. This is part 2 and here is Part 1.

"Good morning, Jeff. How are you feeling today?" I asked, though it was obvious, Jeff looked awful.

"I'm feeling kind of bleak. I hardly slept, and the dreams were so terrible being awake seemed better. Plus, I am starving, and thirsty, and my shoulder aches. And last night, around 3:30 I swear I heard trucks, and equipment coming from the area right below my elbow." He looked sad, shorter and remorseful.

Jeff turned to Dr. Dawg and said, "I'm so sorry, but after that I had to have a drink, some small batch bourbon. You said not to drink and I feel terrible, but that was really unnerving."

"That's quite alright, Jeff." Dr. Dawg said, "It had to be traumatic. A little small batch bourbon is good for the soul. Not so great for the kidneys, but probably not too hard on radius, or ulna, I hope. Say, you didn't happen to bring the bottle with you did you?" Everybody perked up.

"No, I didn't." Jeff said and everybody drooped back down.

"Jeff, we are going to take care of this. We will get you eating, drinking, smiling and laughing, and enjoying and sharing bourbon again. It should not take too long, or cause you any pain. Please lay down on the table, as soon your 8:00 shift begins." Dr. Dawg said, kindly, thinking about the overtime prohibition from the board of directors, and the rain of terrible, scathing emails, and endless meetings that wait in ambush for the unfortunate fool that violated the rule.

We had worked long into the night assembling a platoon of tiny rescue bots. Retrieval and protection was the primary programming. It was tedious, arduous, taxing, minutia. Peering through microscopes. Assembling tiny parts. Working, worrying and hoping. Man, it had been a trial, and it would have been nice if Jeff would have bought in that bourbon. Is that asking too much?

When the 8:00 chime sounded Jeff was placed on the table. An IV drip was plugged into his arm. He smiled. Weakly, He sighed, softly. And a tiny army of rescue nanobots was inserted into his arm, right above the wrist.

Thomas stared intently at a monitor. Quiet, and thoughtful. There were too many to control. We had small squad leaders that were directed with keyboard commands. But the joystick was sitting on the table, by the coffee maker, behind the donuts. It is national Donut Day after all.

"What do you think?" Doctor Dawg asked me, softly.

"I think a bourbon on the rocks would be great."

"Not about that, though that would be great. What do you think our odds of success are? This is a new frontier, nobody has ever injected an army of rescuers in a person before."

Thomas said, "Shoot, Dangit."*

We turned toward the screen, and there was a wall built across the vein, It had several holes to allow blood flow, but it looked like poured concrete. Reinforced with rebar mesh. With machine gun turrets across the top. Little lights were flashing and the sound of martial music wafted over the speakers.

On the monitor a message flashed "you don't want any of this."

"Dang, this is going to be a long day." I said to Dr, Dawg. Taking out the tank platoon, and putting it in the syringe. "Somebody should run to the lab and get the tiny helicopter gunship squad. Just in case."

"And grab some bourbon." Dr. Dawg said, sighing.


*It might have been something a little earthier, but this is a family blog.

Blood Work, the Bane of Modern Existence.

This is the pager used by the lab where I get my blood drawn. You register at the information desk, where they take your information, insurance, drivers license, and verify all of the things on file are correct, phone, address, date of birth, and they send you to the lab window.

When you get to the lab window, you put your name, doctor’s name and date of birth on a little yellow (goldenrod, for those of you in the stationary business) sheet of paper. After that they give you a pager.

Obviously, they are very thorough and cautious. It makes me wonder why they never seem to have the proper authorization to do my blood work. Why do I have to work so hard to disappoint my doctor?

via https://dayone.me/uLhzK