Bad Dream

My recent struggle with death left me having some odd dreams. What? ...I felt like I was dying. One of the dreams I had involved my demise. My gut wrenched, intestinal twisting and bacterial infested corpse lay serenely next to some old tree. As time passes I decay and wither away into the ground. The following Spring I am risen renewed in the form of mushrooms. A copious mound of brown mushrooms. All of you visit but don't stay. You reach out to touch me to say hello, but you pull away. The creatures of the land walk by me or around as if to avoid me. I am poisonous and you all recognize my healthful status. And the dream ends.

Well I have to tell you. That is actually how I felt. Not even my dog wanted to be around me. Frankly, I stunk. I showered - long hot showers are wonderful when you can muster up the energy to enjoy one when your sick. I stunk so bad I forced myself to shower whether I felt like it or not. I'm loathe to describe the stench. I smelled of defecation, but I was clean. I smelled of nicotine, but I have not been smoking. The smell was sour, rancid and oddly fragrant. I figure the fragrant part was from being diabetic and my sugar levels being high. But who the heck knows. Sweet smelling shit, is still shit; and that is how how felt.

Monday I felt well enough to go to work. I did. OMG, I still stunk. I went home for lunch and threw on some cologne to try to feel better about myself.

Today, I had more energy and I didn't stink. I'm getting better. Maybe my shit don't stink after all. *oh yeah, I'm feeling better*

Earth Day 2009

Mr. Sun can't fix it all by himself, you know.

Juuuust Perfect

Or NOT !!!

Friend Wayne helped me keep my penis in my pants today.

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Read it again just for affect, because that's funny shit.

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I am positive that all was well with me right about 1:30pm. It's anybody's guess beyond that point up until when I was certain that I had a problem. Before leaving work at 5:00pm (which I never do) I realized that I had to make use of the restroom. At which point I realized that the ease of getting to my zipper was a bit too easy. Holy hello my friend, my zipper had untoothed itself. I have no idea how long it had been that way.

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All I knew was that I needed to take care of business, get to Wayne's house and head to the hospital to be with Melissa. So first things first, then I washed my hands. A bit self-conscious I proceeded out of the building to non-chalantly have an impromptu meeting with Sheena Queen of the Jungle, with whom I had a zipper chuckle. Then off to Wayne. Walking up to his townhouse I had to pass several others. And of course the Asian family was just getting out of their car and the new couple a few doors down. *is it obvious, I'm not sure* But I walk confidently like there is nothing wrong. Phew! Wayne's house and off the pants go for me to check the zipper. Yep, totally unfixable. I know I mentioned I had to get to the hospital where other (many) people would be. So Wayne and I did the safety pin fix. Fine... it worked but you know I kept checking to make sure it was still working. And I also needed to constantly make sure the "pins" stayed pinned, lest I stab the boys. But then, I was heading to the most convenient of places were an accident like that happen. All went well. Then Wayne made me endure dinner out at the Regency Mall food court for some Chinese cuisine. Wonderful.

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Update on Melissa: Hospitals Suck! (sorry Karen, but they do or least can, and they did, have and are sucking). If you had your guts ripped open and your innards taken out, would you want plenty of pain medications to accommodate... well... THE PAIN!!! I would think so. Well, after Mel was taken to her room, the pain was unbearable and she and her mother (a nurse) determined that no pain med was getting to her due to a faulty pump. Do you think that immediate attention would be taken or at least oral meds given to tide the situation over? NO... it took her mother bitching and Melissa screaming to get a new pump which showed up an hour later. It's a friggin Hospital, how long could it possible take to get a working pump? Well apparently that entire hour and even then the extra time it took for the meds to take effect. Which didn't really help much, because I'm sure Mel's anxiety was kicking in and not letting the meds work right. She was up all night, awake and in pain. I did say that she had been sliced open to have her innards REMOVED, didn't I. Well by morning Mel... wonderful sweet Melissa, had turned into a raving lunatic. And what's more. The replacement pump that was to give her meds, stopped working and she wasn't getting any meds and the wonderful nurses didn't believe her or her mother. More unnecessary medical drama. So several hours later, they figure it out and get it fixed. Oh and they made her walk this morning. All PAIN and no MEDS. Ya know, I think I would have had to slap someone. Karen maybe you can lend us your New Nurse for that exercise. I can't say that I would be up and walking after being ripped open to tear out a boatload of cancer, but that's me. But she made it and she's been given something to make her "nicer." Seems to me the nurses need a bit of that themselves.

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When we left, I told friend Wayne that doctors and nurses should be required to be ripped open and treated by the hospitals they intend to work at, in order to pass their boards or whatever it's called to practice. That way they would truly understand pain WITHOUT MEDS. Shitty care like that pisses me off.

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So now I hate two Hospitals: Henrico Doctors for my experience and St. Mary's for Mel's. I feel another boycott coming on.

Medical Bills

I love coming home to bills, don't you? I received my phone bill today and was not surprised to see a negative balance. I had paid it forward a month. I also received my natural gas bill. This was not paid forward, but I was still happy to see it not have winter bill figures. Then there was the ominous Bon Secours Richmond Health System envelope. Oh yes, I've been expecting this one since I had to go to St. Mary's Hospital for tests. You'll recall my recent mega-sickness. I'm still waiting for my doctor's bill.

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Sidebar: My job is to respond to customer grievances. Not only just respond to them, but to respond in a manner that is pleasant, informative and conveys a sense of regret over customer issues. Now that sounds rather placating and insincere. I try my best to veer from sounding phony because I actually do care about my company's reputation and responsive corrective actions.

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Back on track: The envelope from Bon Secours was not a bill. Rather it was a letter. A simple little letter. Oh but it was so much more. They thanked me for selecting them and offered up that they had been in business since 1824. Blah, Blah, Blah. I'd much rather get the bill and move on. But this letter alerted me to the fact that they were in contact with my insurance provider. They nicely avoid referring to my medical experience and debt to them. Then they eloquently establish their confidence that my insurance provider will act in professional and prompt manner. And lest I forget, they also express their confidence in my ability to avoid delays in responding to the eventual bill to come.

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I feel like I just got hosed down with glitter and love from the medical mafia. Gosh I hope my letters don't read like this correspondence.

Carnage

The Resident Evil Within Me

I finally got tired of feeling run down. I've been sick since early April with only a few good days. And my friend Lisa, a nurse, ordered me to call my doctor.

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I called for an appointment and saw him today at 12:15pm. I was there until 2:00pm getting the full doctor work over. *wish that were the case* But, in the end, I'm still a very sick person. Wow, that was two double entendre's there, did you catch them?

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After work, I was sent to a local hospital for further testing. The end result is that the demon inside me is pneumonia. The functional kind, referred to as walking pneumonia. Fun stuff, but I'm also a bit more advanced in the sickness and have been given some serious drugs to kill it. Here's to me getting healthier and not being such a "dude" about going to the doctor.

Speechless

As you can see, I am feeling MUCH better. I still have a bit of the yukkies and woke up with a whisper of a voice. That lasted a better part of the day. Some words would pop out, others were just a lot of air. Some words had a high pitched quality to them. It was sort of fun to see if people could understand me.

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I actually should have stayed home today as well. But after the police patrol was called upon me to make sure I was okay, I figured I tough it up and go in. See - one of the ladies at work is married to a Police Officer. Since two of my team members had not received the word that I was still out sick, they felt it was necessary to make sure that I hadn't died, been murdered, what have you. So she sent her man-officer to check on me. He was nice about it. Dare I say, he came over with a look on his face similar to *I can't believe I'm really doing this, the guy is just sick*. But I will chalk it up to womanly concern in a friendly, gentle, caring and smothering "What the FUCK" way. Oh pardon me, I think I may have shed some light on how I really feel about that situation.

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Ya know, it's actions like that which make me distrustful. Don't get me wrong. I really want to believe that their better intentions were truly at work. And it is quite possible that it was pure compassion. But I grew up with Mrs. Kravitz, and I feel like I know better.

Feeling a bit Better

Yep - feeling better today.

Maybe not rich-boy George Clooney enjoying a bouncy moment better, but still-in-all, much better than yesterday.

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Lucky for work, I should be on the return to...

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That should save a co-worker the trouble of sending her Police Officer husband to my door to check on me.

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OH YES SHE DID !!!