2001-05-03 - 10:42 p.m.
Among my friends there�s been a fairly high number of illnesses and/or hospitalizations lately. This has produced quite a lot of angst within the group about how old we�re getting, how our bodies aren�t working right anymore, how Death isn�t just a character in a Monty Python sketch anymore. The subtext of almost all these discussions seems to be, "Just what the hell is happening to us, anyway?"
Is there any place and time in human history besides 21st-century North America where someone could ask that question and not get laughed at?
Granted, Miguelito hates existential handwringing on principle, and his sense of his own immortality was ground out of him at a much earlier age than most people ... but jeez louise already. We sicken and we die. As we get older we do so more often. Before the advent of modern medicine huge numbers of people kicked off before age 40--often because of things that are easily treatable today. They caught the flu or pneumonia, they picked up bacterial infections that raged out of control, their hearts or livers or kidneys failed--without antibiotics or organ transplants or even pain medication. Even a few of the otherwise healthy people eventually blew their knees out, couldn�t run anymore, and got eaten by bears.
Life is short, folks. Carpe diem, while there�s still a diem to carpe.
This is one of the many reasons why I have no patience with crunchy-granola lefties who romanticize preindustrial civilization. You know the type--"Oh, life was so wonderful back when we all lived in harmony with Nature and didn�t rape Mother Earth with our technology." That type. Once a means of time travel is developed, anyone who says that to me gets sent back to the 14th century with a bad case of amoebic dysentery. I already have the culture waiting in the fridge.
***
Anyway, I�m back. Did you miss me?
With all due respect to my main man Badsnake, my vacation from Diaryland wasn�t very pleasant. Even the prostate exam was a lot less thrilling than I�d expected.
It all started a couple of weeks ago when I got a head cold--not just any head cold, but a "for the love of God please ram some M80s up my nose and blast apart my sinuses before my liquefied brains start oozing out my eyeballs please please PLEASE!!!" type of head cold. That cleared up, and then last week I came down with a nasty little intestinal virus that ... well, let�s just say I might as well have just moved my computer into the bathroom all that week. If you know what I mean. And I think you do.
That cleared up, but then I woke up Monday morning feeling as if the ghost of Bruce Lee had visited me in the night and kicked me in the kidney. So I went to urgent care. Many tests ensued, then the following conversation.
Doctor: "Two things. First, you�re severely dehydrated. Second, it looks like you might have a kidney stone. We think you should be taken to the hospital immediately."
Me: "That�s three things."
Ba-dum-dum.
So, off I went. More tests: blood tests, urine tests, EKGs, chest X-rays, a CAT scan (ever have to drink two liters of barium and then have to hold it in for two hours until the scan is done?), even an ultrasound of my heart (which looks really cute sitting there in the chest cavity beating away--if you ever have a chance to look at your own heart without getting cut open, do it). And there I stayed, getting rehydrated and getting increasingly annoyed with myself and the hospital staff at the same time.
But now I�m back. And I�m pissed.
***
Oh, yeah, I do have a kidney stone. Apparently passing one of these things is officially the Most Painful Thing in the Universe--at least according to all the people who either have had one or know someone who�s had one, and who feel duty-bound to tell me all about it. ("Oh my God! My brother�s boss�s dentist had a kidney stone and he said it felt like his guts were being ripped out of his belly with a red-hot and rusty butter knife!") Thanks for sharing. Really.
If it doesn�t hurt any worse than a femur that�s been broken in two places, I�m going to be very disappointed. If it does, feel free to shoot me.
***
Hospitals suck. Everything about them sucks. The smell is awful. The food is awful (though not nearly as bad as airline food, truth be told). And for a place where you�re supposed to rest and get better, it�s impossible to sleep. I actually managed to get two uninterrupted hours of sleep at once point, but unfortunately my roommate was a kidney patient and was scheduled for dialysis that day--at 5 a.m. Boom! On go the lights, and in comes a small army of people pushing a dialysis machine roughly the size of a baby elephant--which for some reason wouldn�t fit through the tiny space between the wall and the foot of my bed no matter how many times they tried to ram it through. I wanted to kneecap them all.
Even the TV reception is crappy--no cable, although the WB station came in decently enough so I was able to watch Buffy at least. Beyond that there was nothing to see but Mexican soap operas and "Seventh Heaven."
I actually found myself watching Beverly Hills 90210 dubbed in Spanish. It was perversely fascinating--if the characters weren�t all white it�d be indistinguishable from any of the million telenovelas on the air in SoCal. Also, the ep was one of the few I�d actually seen--the one where David (the skinny geek who wants to be a rap deejay) has to talk smack to some gangstas who�ve invaded the club and are trying to stir up trouble. At one point David, being pretty fly for a white guy, steps between two bruthas who are about to fight and says, "Yo, chill out! This ain�t what hip-hop�s all about!"
Since then I�ve been waiting for just the right moment to use that line in a conversation. I�m waiting till I�m with a group of people who will get the reference and won�t just stare at me like I�m a big freak. It�s going to be a long wait, I think.
***
On the upside, when I got home I found two great Google hits waiting for me: "carrie fisher cocaine" (a direct hit on my bingo card) and "cabbage for nazis."
I didn�t even know the Nazis needed cabbage. Isn�t the fact that the Germans eat a lot of cabbage one of the quirks in their national character that helped produce the Nazis in the first place?
***
|
 |