My Crazy Life and a Watch

I said I would write when I got out. I just wasn't in the mood.


Many of my stories need to start with a backstory... This story will need a backstory. Here goes!


As a senior in high school, like many others, I played football. Back in the day, players were required to get a doctor's physical before being allowed to play. As a community gesture, a few local physicians donated physicals to our team.


I stood in line with other professional football player wannabes waiting to turn my head and cough and have one of the doctors listen to my chest cavity. I was assigned to an orthopedic surgeon for my physical.


The turn my head and cough part of my physical went fine. The cavity listening also went fine, but it took a while to get there. With a stethoscope pressed against my chest, the doc turned to another doctor (a cardiologist) and said, "Hey, bud, come over here and listen to this."


What happened next, should have put my mind at ease, but it just didn't. The cardiologist said, "(Doctor's language, similar to construction language but somehow sounds more educated), they all sound like that."


I went on to play a little football and the cardiologist proved right. I just couldn't leave it alone. for the next forty years every time I ran for extended periods or exerted myself at work I wondered if today was the day the first doctor proved right. So far, it has worked out in my favor but you really never know.


Ok, that's the backstory. Now let's talk about why I didn't write.


For the most part, Father Time has been good to me, sans the back problem that has shown up in the last three months. After seeing four different primary care physicians, and one physical therapist, I've had acupuncture, drank anti-inflammatory punches, stretched, tried yogurt poses, been tied to an expanding table. I was finally referred to a specialist.


At a short consultation with the specialist, he asked me,


Doc: can you lift your toes?

Me: Yes (proudly)

Doc: Let's see the other foot.


Well, that one didn't turn out so good. My brain was telling those toes to get up, but just like my children, my toes didn't care what I was telling them. The specialist said simply, "We need to schedule surgery." At this point, I was ready for anything.


Some of you might know this, but before surgery can take place something called pre-op must take place. At pre-op you sign papers that state the doctors and staff will not kill you but should they do so, it is your fault, not theirs. And most important of all you will pay the doctors, or die trying.


At pre-op I was escorted from office to office, nurse to nurse, and finally to a nurse that put my somewhat reluctant mind at ease. She told me her father had just had the same surgery I was scheduled to have.


Me: How did he turn out

Nurse: He had to do it twice

Me: That doesn't sound good.

Nurse: Oh he didn't follow our instructions and fell out of the back of a truck. He learned his lesson after the second surgery.


A short time after pre-op the doctor's office phoned to tell me I need to call my cardiologist because the surgery is canceled/postponed.


I don't have a cardiologist. I'm guessing the one from high school is long gone. All that aside, I found a cardiologist that would see me on short notice.


I wish this was the end of the story, but this is just where the story takes a hard turn.


I was enjoying a social gathering with some of my best friends in the world. Yeah, you guys. These guys hardly ever think of blocking me on social media. Later in the evening, I checked the time on my "smart" watch. Along with the time, I noticed my heart rate. Now, don't start guessing and trying to jump ahead.


After a couple of hours of staring at my watch, I woke Elaine and asked her to take me to the hospital. STOP GUESSING! Hospital personnel asked me all kinds of crazy questions.


Personnel: Are you having chest pain?

Me: No.

Personnel: Are you having difficulty breathing?

Me: No.

Personnel: Why are you here?

Me: My watch.


After hours of tests, I was told I could go home. And then I heard the words no one wants to hear. "We think you have a blood clot in your leg. We need you to be admitted." Not Elaine, she was allowed to go home. OK, actually she was told to go home (she cried. Elaine will never block me.) because of beervirus restrictions. (She was allowed to come back after 8:00 AM. Beervirus does not spread between 5:30 AM to 8:00 AM.)


Anyway, I am home now (I have been since Sunday afternoon.) with oral meds to dissolve blood clots. It looks like the docs want to postpone the surgery a month. Stay tuned, if you desire. Personally. I'm a little weary of the story.


OK, another turn. Elaine helps me to the truck every morning, carrying my coffee cup, jacket, phones, etc. Then she carefully places my crutches in the back of the truck. This morning she arranged my crutches so I could retrieve them easily at work. When I arrived at work, I had one crutch. The other had blown out of the truck. Three hours later, Ivy found my crutch laying on the highway, twisted and bent. Oh well, Wally World sells crutches.


Along with blood clots I don't want, I now have a cardiologist. I like him, he has a sense of humor. He said my heart is in great shape but we need to do something about clots, provoked or unprovoked.


I don't feel like talking about yarn. Just buy some!


Our (mine) crazy lives!


Monner