Well once again I can't sleep so don't read this with a really critical eye. It may not make sense. It may have a row of zzzzzzzzzz's across it that I miss when I edit. It may be in a heretofore unknown language. If it is coherent, that is better than most of my ramblings.
When the kidney stone blasted from my body, and I will assume for now that it really did and it is not some giant hoax perpetrated on Jeanne Kraus, it must have taken away my ability to sleep. All I do is drink and pee. Then I stare into the toilet, which is black, and try to see if I have peed a kidney shrapnel. They did not give me a little strainer so I am left wondering if the gravel and grit is indeed leaving me or traveling to a more funky area of my body.
I read an article at the waiting room though that I wanted to share with you. Equality has now hit the auto safety industry and they are now using female crash dummies. This is probably what is keeping me awake. How can they use female dummies? First of all, men have been pretty appropriate, because no matter what you build they are pretty much the same. They can measure the extent of their injuries by checking their brain and looking for evidence of damage to the TV-watching area, the testosterone level, and the fact that if the dummy had been looking where it was going it would not be sitting there decapitated. Also, the dummy's inability to ask for directions probably would have cut back on the number of accidents. Researchers, realizing this inequity, have now turned to women.
Women, being insightful and able to multi-task will find that their dummies' results will be skewed. Will there be make-up and hair brushes provided for the dummies who are not quite ready when they get in the car? Will there be low maintenance dummies like me who won't have to have that issue? Will the cup sizes be different on the dummies' bras to add absorbency impact?
And what about dummies who have resorted to plastic surgery? Do we need to know how that affects their liposuction, or their nose job?
Will the crash dummies revert to their wild state and look immediately for any male crash dummy for help? How will this work? I can't imagine. I thinking that these experts have a lot more work to do before unleashing these women dummies on the world!
One more thing...will they all be blonde?
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
The Laser in the Stone
Well, it is pretty mysterious. The procedure was done at 8:30 this A.M. I of course have no notice of being blasted. The things I do remember are:
One surgeon who came through, clustered into a bevy of boomer humor type nurses, told stories of his bad headache and not feeling entirely well. I was glad he was not my doctor but he was very cute, kind of had that Mark Harmon look going on there. Chick magnet.
Another thing I noticed was that this Surgical Center is not going to be in the news any time soon for operating on the wrong side. They kept asking me which kidney it was and then I started to worry about myself. I told them to look on the chart if they were concerned but they wanted my professional opinion, an opinion, heavily drugged at the time.
I tried my best Boomer Humor on my nurse but she was totally professional, not one of the ones hanging all over Dr. Cutie. Damn.
Well we got home 3 hours later and I feel fine. I laid down just in case but could not go to sleep. I still can't go to sleep as a matter of fact. Hopefully they actually removed the kidney and didn't just sit around and joke about Dr. Cutie, who was supposed to be in another surgery by the way.
I liked the Surgery Center Care, I just wanted to be a little bit more involved with the "in" crowd, just just a horizontal body on a stretcher. Will try harder next time.
One surgeon who came through, clustered into a bevy of boomer humor type nurses, told stories of his bad headache and not feeling entirely well. I was glad he was not my doctor but he was very cute, kind of had that Mark Harmon look going on there. Chick magnet.
Another thing I noticed was that this Surgical Center is not going to be in the news any time soon for operating on the wrong side. They kept asking me which kidney it was and then I started to worry about myself. I told them to look on the chart if they were concerned but they wanted my professional opinion, an opinion, heavily drugged at the time.
I tried my best Boomer Humor on my nurse but she was totally professional, not one of the ones hanging all over Dr. Cutie. Damn.
Well we got home 3 hours later and I feel fine. I laid down just in case but could not go to sleep. I still can't go to sleep as a matter of fact. Hopefully they actually removed the kidney and didn't just sit around and joke about Dr. Cutie, who was supposed to be in another surgery by the way.
I liked the Surgery Center Care, I just wanted to be a little bit more involved with the "in" crowd, just just a horizontal body on a stretcher. Will try harder next time.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Panties Galore
One of the topics I discussed in my book was Underwear and what it says about you. Evidently a lot more people than I find this to be an intriguing subject because there are a lot of commentaries about it. The first item of note I ran across was an article about wedgie-free panties. These panties by Hanes are said to keep your mind free of the distraction of fabric folds in your crack. Better for businesswomen, women on first dates, and women at the altar, about to be married. Who wants a wedgie there? In fact, who wants a groom with a wedgie there?
Perhaps you scoff at a claim for a wedgie-free panty. Well, Hanes has a money back guarantee. (Not sure if they want you to send the panties back.)
Several articles claim that the color of panty you choose tells you what mood you're in. I'm not sure I agree with those claims, but I do agree that wearing no panties sends a definite message.
One of the guests commenting on this article states that he prefers a classic white cotton panty for his girlfriend. It portrays the schoolgirl look and he wisely comments that in a few years her "ass will be flat and saggy" anyway, so why wear thongs that let it all hang out? It always helps to have an insightful guy around to help you plan your wardrobe!
Perhaps you scoff at a claim for a wedgie-free panty. Well, Hanes has a money back guarantee. (Not sure if they want you to send the panties back.)
Several articles claim that the color of panty you choose tells you what mood you're in. I'm not sure I agree with those claims, but I do agree that wearing no panties sends a definite message.
One of the guests commenting on this article states that he prefers a classic white cotton panty for his girlfriend. It portrays the schoolgirl look and he wisely comments that in a few years her "ass will be flat and saggy" anyway, so why wear thongs that let it all hang out? It always helps to have an insightful guy around to help you plan your wardrobe!
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Urology 101
Well I finally had my first "procedure" with a urologist. A "procedure" is a civilized term for when a doctor inserts a foreign object into one of your orifices that you normally do not have on display for the general viewing public. My nurse was Angela and she had a ton of personality, considering she worked in an office involved with urine. She left the room, for my "privacy" so I could remove my shorts and underwear and sit on the chair with a stirrup on either side. Oh, I knew what those stirrups were for! Despite the time she gave me for privacy, she had a full view of my private parts anyway.
Her prepping job was to put iodine on my nether regions and coat my urethra with a numbing gel. That was her first problem.
"I can't find your urethra," she giggled. "I've never had this problem."
That figured. With the week I had had healthwise, I was not surprised.
I commented, "Don't worry. It's no different than the rest of my week."
Angela looked at me with wide eyes. "You mean someone else couldn't find your urethra either?"
She was cracking me up. "No, that's not it," I explained.
But she continued to talk. "Why was someone else looking for your urethra?" she asked.
I finally got it straightened out but she continued to frown at my private parts." I have to call the doctor in, " she announced. "I can't find your urethra anywhere."
Great. Another problem.
A few minutes later, they both breezed in.
Angela explained again, "I can't find her urethra."
They clustered around my "private" area, both looking intently. The doctor smiled. "Here it is," she announced. "It's kind of hidden and small."
Great news. There is something on me that is small. Wow!
She pointed out my urethra to Angela, who gushed over it as though it were a newborn. "Oh, a baby urethra! It's so little and tiny, just a teeny little hole. It's so cute!"
The doctor pointed out to her that it was not just tiny, but my bladder had dropped and the urethra was tilted. So, another age-related problem. But Angela did not care. She still felt that it was the most precious urethra she had ever seen.
After they both eyeballed my private area intensely for a few minutes, the doctor did the procedure and left the room.
Angela offered to leave to "Give me my privacy" but I declined and got myself dressed. I did not see any reason to have privacy for putting on my clothes when they had seen everything under them anyway. It's a good thing I have no modesty left.
Her prepping job was to put iodine on my nether regions and coat my urethra with a numbing gel. That was her first problem.
"I can't find your urethra," she giggled. "I've never had this problem."
That figured. With the week I had had healthwise, I was not surprised.
I commented, "Don't worry. It's no different than the rest of my week."
Angela looked at me with wide eyes. "You mean someone else couldn't find your urethra either?"
She was cracking me up. "No, that's not it," I explained.
But she continued to talk. "Why was someone else looking for your urethra?" she asked.
I finally got it straightened out but she continued to frown at my private parts." I have to call the doctor in, " she announced. "I can't find your urethra anywhere."
Great. Another problem.
A few minutes later, they both breezed in.
Angela explained again, "I can't find her urethra."
They clustered around my "private" area, both looking intently. The doctor smiled. "Here it is," she announced. "It's kind of hidden and small."
Great news. There is something on me that is small. Wow!
She pointed out my urethra to Angela, who gushed over it as though it were a newborn. "Oh, a baby urethra! It's so little and tiny, just a teeny little hole. It's so cute!"
The doctor pointed out to her that it was not just tiny, but my bladder had dropped and the urethra was tilted. So, another age-related problem. But Angela did not care. She still felt that it was the most precious urethra she had ever seen.
After they both eyeballed my private area intensely for a few minutes, the doctor did the procedure and left the room.
Angela offered to leave to "Give me my privacy" but I declined and got myself dressed. I did not see any reason to have privacy for putting on my clothes when they had seen everything under them anyway. It's a good thing I have no modesty left.
Post Wedding Fun- The Medical Maze
As the bride and groom adjusted to married life, I still had a kidney boulder lodged in my body. I could not live on wedding memories alone. I've always hoped I could go through life without ever consulting a urologist but now I was entering Urology World.
The pain of a kidney stone is akin to an elephant trying to suck a bowling ball up into his trunk. I was ready to blast that sucker out.
The urologist scheduled me for a laser blasting appointment next week. She asked me for the CD from the ER, documenting where the stone was. Alas, they had not given me one. She was surprised. She told me to get an x-ray from the outpatient center and bring that to her along with the CD from the ER.
She gave me a paper to take to the Outpatient Center, which had no appointment needed. Sounded easy. Good thing, because I was not feeling up to par.
At the outpatient desk, a bulldog was running things. Not a canine bulldog but a human woman bulldog. She told me I needed a prescription from my PCP. I offered her the urologist's orders. She won. It was the PCP or nothing.
I had to go home and rest. I called my PCP and made an appointment for the next day. So the next morning we walked into my PCP. He was surprised that an x-ray was needed. But he obligingly wrote a prescription with STAT on it, so that would get me through quickly. A nice touch.
Back to the bulldog. I triumphantly waved my prescription. She looked it over through her thick lenses and said, "There is no diagnosis on here."
I had a whole purse of papers with the diagnosis from that very hospital so I fished them out and flung them at her. No good. Once again we were out in the street. My kidney stone was probably having a good laugh.
I called the PCP. The nurse promised to fax the prescription back over with the diagnosis on it. I rested for a bit and we came back to the now familiar Outpatient Waiting Room. It had taken so long that Bulldog was leaving as we came. She was not at all interested in the fact that I had finally achieved the right to an x-ray.
Another lady called me up to the desk. "We need authorization from your insurance."
I was losing it. "Look I have been here 4 times and each time they keep adding something on. Is there something about me you don't like?"
She called my urologist, not wanting to deal with an unstable person, and they put Angie on the phone. For some reason I could not get authorization for this procedure today at the hospital but I could go to a different place and walk in without an appointment.
Did that sound familiar? So we opted to go there, I called and got directions. We were told to be there before 3. It was 2:10.
We got lost 3 times. Each time I called I got a little more of the directions so that we were getting closer but not there. Finally I handed George the phone and he got the directions in his direct fashion. We arrived at 2:30. I had my x-ray.
Oh, one more thing. As George waited for me in the waiting room my cell phone rang. George answered it. It was the office where we were, asking if we were on our way. They were waiting for us. George had to tell them we were there already and I was already having my x-ray.
The pain of a kidney stone is akin to an elephant trying to suck a bowling ball up into his trunk. I was ready to blast that sucker out.
The urologist scheduled me for a laser blasting appointment next week. She asked me for the CD from the ER, documenting where the stone was. Alas, they had not given me one. She was surprised. She told me to get an x-ray from the outpatient center and bring that to her along with the CD from the ER.
She gave me a paper to take to the Outpatient Center, which had no appointment needed. Sounded easy. Good thing, because I was not feeling up to par.
At the outpatient desk, a bulldog was running things. Not a canine bulldog but a human woman bulldog. She told me I needed a prescription from my PCP. I offered her the urologist's orders. She won. It was the PCP or nothing.
I had to go home and rest. I called my PCP and made an appointment for the next day. So the next morning we walked into my PCP. He was surprised that an x-ray was needed. But he obligingly wrote a prescription with STAT on it, so that would get me through quickly. A nice touch.
Back to the bulldog. I triumphantly waved my prescription. She looked it over through her thick lenses and said, "There is no diagnosis on here."
I had a whole purse of papers with the diagnosis from that very hospital so I fished them out and flung them at her. No good. Once again we were out in the street. My kidney stone was probably having a good laugh.
I called the PCP. The nurse promised to fax the prescription back over with the diagnosis on it. I rested for a bit and we came back to the now familiar Outpatient Waiting Room. It had taken so long that Bulldog was leaving as we came. She was not at all interested in the fact that I had finally achieved the right to an x-ray.
Another lady called me up to the desk. "We need authorization from your insurance."
I was losing it. "Look I have been here 4 times and each time they keep adding something on. Is there something about me you don't like?"
She called my urologist, not wanting to deal with an unstable person, and they put Angie on the phone. For some reason I could not get authorization for this procedure today at the hospital but I could go to a different place and walk in without an appointment.
Did that sound familiar? So we opted to go there, I called and got directions. We were told to be there before 3. It was 2:10.
We got lost 3 times. Each time I called I got a little more of the directions so that we were getting closer but not there. Finally I handed George the phone and he got the directions in his direct fashion. We arrived at 2:30. I had my x-ray.
Oh, one more thing. As George waited for me in the waiting room my cell phone rang. George answered it. It was the office where we were, asking if we were on our way. They were waiting for us. George had to tell them we were there already and I was already having my x-ray.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Just After the Wetting
The wedding is over. The vows were said, the rose petals were scattered, the sand was poured and the bride was as beautiful as any bride I have ever seen. And the groom, well he could have graced a romance novel cover. Just a few wrinkles occurred.
The rain continued. We opted for Plan B. As Ashlee and Cory arrived at my house to get ready, I tripped over the cat and scraped up both legs, also bruising my ankle severely enough to have to hobble all day. Cory and George went over to Ron and Jeanette's house and Ashlee and I followed later. When we got there we found out that Ron, Cory's Dad, had been taken to the hospital after experiencing severe bleeding from a procedure he had had the week before. So...we were at their house, but they were not there. Cory and Ashlee were in agony. Should they wait? Change their date? It was a lose-lose situation. Finally, a call to Jeanette solved the problem. She told them to get married, everything was ready.
The wedding was beautiful. Their home was a beautiful backdrop for the pictures. Then the wedding party of Cory, Ashlee, George and I headed to the hospital to go to the ER to see her new father in law just out of recovery. Seeing Ashlee striding down the corridor in her gown was a hoot, and she got many a smile and a "Congratulations." My daughter in law has a big heart and she showed it that night.
Phew!
The rain continued. We opted for Plan B. As Ashlee and Cory arrived at my house to get ready, I tripped over the cat and scraped up both legs, also bruising my ankle severely enough to have to hobble all day. Cory and George went over to Ron and Jeanette's house and Ashlee and I followed later. When we got there we found out that Ron, Cory's Dad, had been taken to the hospital after experiencing severe bleeding from a procedure he had had the week before. So...we were at their house, but they were not there. Cory and Ashlee were in agony. Should they wait? Change their date? It was a lose-lose situation. Finally, a call to Jeanette solved the problem. She told them to get married, everything was ready.
The wedding was beautiful. Their home was a beautiful backdrop for the pictures. Then the wedding party of Cory, Ashlee, George and I headed to the hospital to go to the ER to see her new father in law just out of recovery. Seeing Ashlee striding down the corridor in her gown was a hoot, and she got many a smile and a "Congratulations." My daughter in law has a big heart and she showed it that night.
Phew!
The Meaning of Stress
I think I have removed five years off of my life this past week. Besides the usual work stresses and bills, obligations, we have added a couple of major issues this past week. First of all, if you have been following my blogs, you know that my son got married this week. We had one weeks' notice.
I have no problem with that. We love Ashlee and Cory. We would do anything to help them out in their beginning of a new life. But a wedding ceremony in one week. Now to be honest, they were just going to go to the courthouse and get married. Parents and their respective spouses only would be there. That was their plan. Then Jeanne (me) opened her big mouth and said, "How about a beach wedding?" They discussed that and decided that since Ashlee would love to go barefoot for her wedding, that it was a go.
They picked out the beach and Ashlee and I shopped for her gown. Not having any girls of my own, that was fun, although Ashlee missed her mom there. Then we shopped in earnest. For a quickly put together wedding, Ashlee knew exactly what she wanted.
So we are prepared for the wedding. The gown is bought, the veil, the sand ceremony items, the flowers ordered, a friend who is a photographer will be there, and the other friend who will conduct the ceremony.
Of course, you know that we are in hurricane season here in Florida. The last few days have been overcast and downright rainy. The chances of rain was 90% for the wedding day. Not good odds. But I was determined to remain positive.
Then on Monday, I awoke with nausea and intense abdomen and back pain. George took me to the ER and I had an unusually large kidney stone, more of a kidney boulder. I was put on pain meds and sent to a urologist for a session of laser blasting. That cannot be done for another week. That is okay because the pain has abated with the pain meds.
Unfortunately I may be pretty loopy at the wedding. If there is a heavy breeze on the beach, I'm going to topple over like a felled Xmas tree. In the sand, covered with rose petals.
So now we have Plan A and Plan B. A of course is the beach and B is at Ron (groom's dad) and Jeanette's house. We won't know until that morning. Aaugh!
Plus, because I don't know how I am going to be feeling, so we are planning on probably canceling our trip to Orlando this weekend.
Stay tuned!
I have no problem with that. We love Ashlee and Cory. We would do anything to help them out in their beginning of a new life. But a wedding ceremony in one week. Now to be honest, they were just going to go to the courthouse and get married. Parents and their respective spouses only would be there. That was their plan. Then Jeanne (me) opened her big mouth and said, "How about a beach wedding?" They discussed that and decided that since Ashlee would love to go barefoot for her wedding, that it was a go.
They picked out the beach and Ashlee and I shopped for her gown. Not having any girls of my own, that was fun, although Ashlee missed her mom there. Then we shopped in earnest. For a quickly put together wedding, Ashlee knew exactly what she wanted.
So we are prepared for the wedding. The gown is bought, the veil, the sand ceremony items, the flowers ordered, a friend who is a photographer will be there, and the other friend who will conduct the ceremony.
Of course, you know that we are in hurricane season here in Florida. The last few days have been overcast and downright rainy. The chances of rain was 90% for the wedding day. Not good odds. But I was determined to remain positive.
Then on Monday, I awoke with nausea and intense abdomen and back pain. George took me to the ER and I had an unusually large kidney stone, more of a kidney boulder. I was put on pain meds and sent to a urologist for a session of laser blasting. That cannot be done for another week. That is okay because the pain has abated with the pain meds.
Unfortunately I may be pretty loopy at the wedding. If there is a heavy breeze on the beach, I'm going to topple over like a felled Xmas tree. In the sand, covered with rose petals.
So now we have Plan A and Plan B. A of course is the beach and B is at Ron (groom's dad) and Jeanette's house. We won't know until that morning. Aaugh!
Plus, because I don't know how I am going to be feeling, so we are planning on probably canceling our trip to Orlando this weekend.
Stay tuned!
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