Last Sunday night I was in the Veteran’s Administration ER getting care for seven hours of severe pain. Blood in my urine.
Come ON man.
Turns out they have no clue, other than to note that I had kidney stones (small ones, lots of them, which I already knew). See a urologist.
Um NO. Those two mindless bastards are the same Oscar winners who told me two years ago I had OAB, or Overactive Bladder Syndrome. They looked at my age (64) and my complaint, did no doctoring, and pronounced OAB. I knew I didn’t, but you can’t talk to arrogant, patriarchal toads who primarily peer up penises and don’t particularly like assertive, well-researched older women patients. I came back from Turkey, having been dumped and kicked by a horse, with a series of tests showing that GEE WHIZ I had kidney stones.
So no, I’ll go outside the VA and find myself a female doc. Thanks. But that’s not until March, because the VA is that slow, and besides, I’m in Seattle on my way to Bali for a month.
Look, that’s not all. I cranked my cranium really badly on Christmas Eve, concussion #21, a bad one. I’m still bruised and the cut is still fresh. I had rotator cuff surgery last year and I still can’t quite use my arm because I threw myself into my hard core workout. My biceps tendon flipped me the bird and now I’m in a sling again.
On the recent trip up Mt. Kenya I tore the rectus femoris in my right thigh. Hurts like a bastard.
And, I developed an impingement and osteoarthritis in my left hip.
I cannot wait to get to Bali. I’m going to hike, swim, jog, snorkel one-armed, write, rest, laugh, and live out-fucking-loud.
Today is my 66th birthday and by god, I am not going to let a few minor annoyances slow me down.
What the hell else can go wrong?
Oh. Yeah. After I got a CAT scan on my lower belly, the nurse walked in and informed me that I was badly constipated.
Right. I eat more fiber than a herd of cows, and I’m backed up like the LA Freeway at 5 pm on a Monday.
I haven’t been constipated in at least thirty years.
The way I see it, those folks who think I’m full of shit, well look. This is righteous proof.
It’s a good thing I travel solo. I wouldn’t suggest anyone sit too close to me.