Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Monday, October 6, 2008
You know those berries that splooge tarry skid marks all over the sidewalk when they start to decay and/or get stepped on? Prune juice tastes like that skid mark in liquid form, but I'll drink it every hour on the hour if it keeps this from happening again.
As I said in an email to a friend, "if I stand up for more than 15 or 20 minutes, my fingers turn into even bigger sausages and my arm feels like that crazy make-up lady from drew carey is sitting on it. " (is her name Mimi? sorry, I somehow missed the drew carey train) Sometimes I don't even have to get up to make my hand explode. Like right now; I can't tell what position my fingers are in unless I look over at the stubby impostors.
Not much changes when you spend all day on the bed with your arm above your heart (when will it stop being so swollen??). The cats sleep, Ira Glass lulls me to sleep, and I take pictures of the same 3 things (4 if you count meals).
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Sorry, the pics are a little dark, but you get the idea. And yes, that is a shaved husky. The geniuses at Petco did it without asking because they were too lazy to spot-shave his mats.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
CONTENT WARNING: What you are about to read is embarrassing and contains graphic imagery pertaining to the subject of poo. You may not be able to look me in the eye when you're done reading this, but hey, if Oprah can have a show about it, I can write about it.
There's one important thing the battery of nurses failed to mention about general anasthesthia: it can cause constipation. Do you know what else makes you constipated? Codeine. It also makes you itchy, which is why I was reading the side effects pamphlet Thursday night, and when I came across the word constipation, I thought to myself, huh, I guess I haven't done that in awhile.
Friday (henceforth known as the longest day of my life), as I ate my breakfast, I felt the familiar churning of a movement, as I shall call it. I finished my cliff bar and went in to the bathroom. An hour later, I was sweating from the effort and saying things like "I don't know what to do; it just won't come out" as the Sauce periodically checked on me from the other side of the door. I finally came out of the bathroom drenched and trembling. Charrow called the orthopedic number and they took a message. We called my mom and she told me I was having a panic attack and that I just needed to relax (the first of many times I would hear that throughout the day). Pacified by her assessment, I went back to the bathroom while Charrow tried phoning my orthopedist again. They routed her to my doctor's assistant who said we should try getting laxatives.
So I sat in the bathroom until Charrow came back with 2 different kinds of laxatives. The dignity seal was tampered with when she had to open the door to hand me the goods. She instructed me to take the "stool softener" and wait. If that didn't work, I was supposed to drink half a bottle of lemon flavored magnesium citrate. An hour later, I'd finished the entire bottle and still, nothing.
Our next instruction was to get an enema. This is where it starts to get dicey. Remember what I said about the dignity seal? I'll spare you the details, but I will say that it will take us both awhile to get over that one.
Sadly our story doesn't end there. Next up: suppositories! The assistant said that the instructions on the box won't say to, but it's important to hold the suppository in place so that your muscles don't push it back out before it has time to dissolve. So I was instructed to lay on the floor, insert, and relax. I was only slightly consoled by my ability to field this one solo.
Three failed suppositories later (recommended daily dose =1), I really started to freak out. My next action can only be attributed to chemical imbalance, abdominal distress, 5 hours in the bathroom, and shear panic.
I don't know how to describe what I did (well I do, but I just can't bring myself to do it), but I can let you figure it out using the old adage, "If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself."
I will be scarred for a very, very long time.
If for some reason you need surgery the requires not one but two contributors to constipation, I strongly recommend taking a proactive approach to your movements. Get some Metamucil and never give in if they tell you to try an enema.