mouth breather
nose whistler
foot tapper
nail biter
dandruff scratcher
eats constantly
"slurp, aaaah"
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Monday, October 20, 2008
regarding extreme pain
two years ago, i somehow herniated a disc in my back. i think it was probably because i rode stphen's bike to work during the transit strike (i had just moved back to the city and started a new job so i felt like i was under some pressure) from brooklyn to the upper east side, and i really wasn't in shape but pushed through anyway. so at some point i remember feeling a sharp pain in my lower back but kept gonig anyway.
i thought i had pulled a muscle.
but over the next 6 months, the pain just kept getting worse and started reaching further and further down my left leg. it didn't respond to stretching, in fact it didn't matter what i did at all. it hurt when i would walk, causing me to change the way i walked and favor my right side. the worst when i was sitting on the subway. about 3 months into this, my health insurance kicked in and i went to the doctor. i was limping. this was on the upper east side, and all of the other patients in the waiting room were very very old. the doctor said, "young man, don't worry!" he told me to take asprin and make an appointment with a physical therapist. i took a long lunch and limped the 10 blocks from the office to the closest physical therapist. he tried to move my leg around but it hurt too much. he said that there wasn't much he could do to stretch the nerve, but that i should do some exercises to strengthen my abs. he said i should come back every day. the appointments cost $25 apiece with insurance. the pain got worse.
sortly thereafter i was at home after work (couldn't exactly go out and do stuff!) and it hurt so much i didn't know what was going on. i couldn't lie down, i couldn't sit down, i couldn't stand up, i couldn't think straight. i called the doctor. it was 11pm. the doctor said to call 911. they sent an ambulance. i had to buzz them in. they helped me down the stairs, i couldn't really move and almost fell. i didn't know what hospital to go to and wound up going to a crappy one. there was an incredibly drunk lady with an IV screaming about how she was going to fucking pee right here motherfuckers unless someone unhooked her and let her go pee. nobody came. i don't know if she peed or not.
i waited 3 hours shifting around sprawled on a plastic chair. finally a harassed doctor saw me. he gave me a percoset but refused to write me an RX for any opiates. the best part was that i got a hospital-issue cane. it was after 1 by the time i left and had to call a cab to get home. by the time i got home the percoset had worn off.
i went back to the doctor and he gave me an RX for extra strength vicadin. it made me mind the pain less. i kept going to work, what else could i do? i started eating 2 extra strength vicadin and 2 valium every day. the doctors, at least, weren't shy about handing out the pain meds because acute siatica is considered one of the most painful afflictions possible--its on the same level as fully body burns or road rash.
at some point, i composed the following poem:
You may find yourself with a view of the carpet. Just think!
That this has released you from all else
What mattered and seemed so much never was now,
and you may have: This view of carpet
or you may have nothing.
but the choice, isn't even yours!
and when you come back,
it will still be waiting.
see, the thing about siatica is that its a physical impingement at the bast of the largest nerve (besides the spine) in the body, which registers in the brain as a very high level of pain indeed. i remember wishing that i would just pass out. i remember that the pain would decrease and i'd realize that i was hunched over staring at the ground and that i hadn't been able to think while it was at its worst, that i didn't know how much time had gone by. at one point i was scrounging through my stash of painkillers unable to remember how many i had taken, unable to think well enough to weigh the risks of taking more. i decided to take more even if i died. I couldn't really mind, because the thoughts that would make one resentful, like "i'm a young man, this shouldn't be happening to me" etc didn't seem to have any meaning at all.
not like after the surgery, anyway, when i was recovering from that without the stabbing pain. that was lame.
and now i have it in the other leg.
i thought i had pulled a muscle.
but over the next 6 months, the pain just kept getting worse and started reaching further and further down my left leg. it didn't respond to stretching, in fact it didn't matter what i did at all. it hurt when i would walk, causing me to change the way i walked and favor my right side. the worst when i was sitting on the subway. about 3 months into this, my health insurance kicked in and i went to the doctor. i was limping. this was on the upper east side, and all of the other patients in the waiting room were very very old. the doctor said, "young man, don't worry!" he told me to take asprin and make an appointment with a physical therapist. i took a long lunch and limped the 10 blocks from the office to the closest physical therapist. he tried to move my leg around but it hurt too much. he said that there wasn't much he could do to stretch the nerve, but that i should do some exercises to strengthen my abs. he said i should come back every day. the appointments cost $25 apiece with insurance. the pain got worse.
sortly thereafter i was at home after work (couldn't exactly go out and do stuff!) and it hurt so much i didn't know what was going on. i couldn't lie down, i couldn't sit down, i couldn't stand up, i couldn't think straight. i called the doctor. it was 11pm. the doctor said to call 911. they sent an ambulance. i had to buzz them in. they helped me down the stairs, i couldn't really move and almost fell. i didn't know what hospital to go to and wound up going to a crappy one. there was an incredibly drunk lady with an IV screaming about how she was going to fucking pee right here motherfuckers unless someone unhooked her and let her go pee. nobody came. i don't know if she peed or not.
i waited 3 hours shifting around sprawled on a plastic chair. finally a harassed doctor saw me. he gave me a percoset but refused to write me an RX for any opiates. the best part was that i got a hospital-issue cane. it was after 1 by the time i left and had to call a cab to get home. by the time i got home the percoset had worn off.
i went back to the doctor and he gave me an RX for extra strength vicadin. it made me mind the pain less. i kept going to work, what else could i do? i started eating 2 extra strength vicadin and 2 valium every day. the doctors, at least, weren't shy about handing out the pain meds because acute siatica is considered one of the most painful afflictions possible--its on the same level as fully body burns or road rash.
at some point, i composed the following poem:
You may find yourself with a view of the carpet. Just think!
That this has released you from all else
What mattered and seemed so much never was now,
and you may have: This view of carpet
or you may have nothing.
but the choice, isn't even yours!
and when you come back,
it will still be waiting.
see, the thing about siatica is that its a physical impingement at the bast of the largest nerve (besides the spine) in the body, which registers in the brain as a very high level of pain indeed. i remember wishing that i would just pass out. i remember that the pain would decrease and i'd realize that i was hunched over staring at the ground and that i hadn't been able to think while it was at its worst, that i didn't know how much time had gone by. at one point i was scrounging through my stash of painkillers unable to remember how many i had taken, unable to think well enough to weigh the risks of taking more. i decided to take more even if i died. I couldn't really mind, because the thoughts that would make one resentful, like "i'm a young man, this shouldn't be happening to me" etc didn't seem to have any meaning at all.
not like after the surgery, anyway, when i was recovering from that without the stabbing pain. that was lame.
and now i have it in the other leg.
Untitled
For two years in a row when I was younger, I volunteered at a summer camp for children with skin diseases. my parents wanted me to do it, and it fulfilled the community service requirement at my highschool. I qualified as one myself, and the camp always tried to present the kids with adults and role models who had the same conditions and problems that they did. The councilors, campers, and doctors with allopecia, of course, were comparably healthy, but it was still a chance for people dealing with the onset of the disease (which can cause random bald spots, etc) to feel normal. i also got to hook up with a bald girl from virginia, and have some cute photos. anyway, there were people and children with all kinds of problems, some of them rather extreme.
One of my friends at camp one year was a young australian named Derrick. Derrick had an extremely debilitating degenerative disease where his skin, where it rubbed on itself, would break down and fuse. therefore, although his face looked fine his neck, feet, knees, elbows, etc, had to be dressed and wrapped every day. He mostly sat in a wheelchair, even though he could stand with effort. I think the movement caused his skin to rupture where it had started to break down. With movement costing him so much, his muscles were in a sorry state. Keep in mind that he's a 17 year old boy. he did seem to have a bit of a nerdy bent and was very intelligent, but perhaps that was just the accent and if he had his preference he would have been playing rugby. alyway when i helped him up or helped him pick something up, i could feel the tremors in his muscles, which he nevertheless relished to use. likewise, when he hugged you you could feel his arms shaking. There was a younger kid with the same disease, but although he likewise needed his joints to be dressed and wrapped, he wasn't nearly so bad off and was much more active. by the time he reached derrick's age, he would probably be in the same condition.
looking back, i was rather a hellion at the camp, wherein the older and active kids were allowed to run a little wild and hook up with each other, have shaving cream fights (on a side note, an excellent thing to do is to take a regular shaving cream container, stick a pin in the nozzle, and then melt the nozzle around the pin with a lighter. When you pull the pin out and push the button, the shaving cream with shoot out about 4 feet, it works and looks like silly string, but makes a huge mess and you have to wash your clothes to get the oily cream out.) anyway i had some followers among the older campers and we would do "raids" where we would sneak into the woods and then throw sticks and things at the tents of the younger kids (just little sticks, so that it hits the roof and slides off the tent and makes a sounds like, "wump! zzzzzit) and scare the bejesus out of them, or just throw water baloons. then you could run up and shaving cream their camp, alway humiliating. so anyway derrick really wanted to go on a raid, and we asked the doctors about it and they were like, no. but he really wanted to go and the whole point was that we were badasses, so we wheeled his wheelchair to the edge of the woods and then helped him out. he had trouble walking through the underbrush because you have to step high. he became exhausted, but wanted to keep going. finally, we got within range of the enemy camp, and he chucked a few water baloons. he wanted to really "get" them and actually hit someone with one, but i explained that these were younger kids and we were really just trying to sow fear. finally we convinced him to treck back through the woods and his chair (only about 20-50ft), and despite his excitement he went to bed soon after. i can only imagine what damage was done to his skin, but he did seem to have a really good time.
the worst thing about his condition, though, was his hands. the constant motion caused the fingers to fuse together, to fuse to the palm. the doctors could cut them apart, but it would only happen again. you know that clear stuff that leaks out of cuts when they've stopped bleeding but art still trying to heal? and it forms a protective coating over the cut? his hands were coated in that. or rather, his fists. you could see the bones under the translucent skin/scab, but the only bit that he could move was the tips of his thumbs and the second knuckle of his pointer fingers. He used this to grasp the knot of the water baloons, or to shake your hand. sometimes he would wiggle the bones in his hands at you to be ironic. sometimes when i look down at my hands i see his.
One of my friends at camp one year was a young australian named Derrick. Derrick had an extremely debilitating degenerative disease where his skin, where it rubbed on itself, would break down and fuse. therefore, although his face looked fine his neck, feet, knees, elbows, etc, had to be dressed and wrapped every day. He mostly sat in a wheelchair, even though he could stand with effort. I think the movement caused his skin to rupture where it had started to break down. With movement costing him so much, his muscles were in a sorry state. Keep in mind that he's a 17 year old boy. he did seem to have a bit of a nerdy bent and was very intelligent, but perhaps that was just the accent and if he had his preference he would have been playing rugby. alyway when i helped him up or helped him pick something up, i could feel the tremors in his muscles, which he nevertheless relished to use. likewise, when he hugged you you could feel his arms shaking. There was a younger kid with the same disease, but although he likewise needed his joints to be dressed and wrapped, he wasn't nearly so bad off and was much more active. by the time he reached derrick's age, he would probably be in the same condition.
looking back, i was rather a hellion at the camp, wherein the older and active kids were allowed to run a little wild and hook up with each other, have shaving cream fights (on a side note, an excellent thing to do is to take a regular shaving cream container, stick a pin in the nozzle, and then melt the nozzle around the pin with a lighter. When you pull the pin out and push the button, the shaving cream with shoot out about 4 feet, it works and looks like silly string, but makes a huge mess and you have to wash your clothes to get the oily cream out.) anyway i had some followers among the older campers and we would do "raids" where we would sneak into the woods and then throw sticks and things at the tents of the younger kids (just little sticks, so that it hits the roof and slides off the tent and makes a sounds like, "wump! zzzzzit) and scare the bejesus out of them, or just throw water baloons. then you could run up and shaving cream their camp, alway humiliating. so anyway derrick really wanted to go on a raid, and we asked the doctors about it and they were like, no. but he really wanted to go and the whole point was that we were badasses, so we wheeled his wheelchair to the edge of the woods and then helped him out. he had trouble walking through the underbrush because you have to step high. he became exhausted, but wanted to keep going. finally, we got within range of the enemy camp, and he chucked a few water baloons. he wanted to really "get" them and actually hit someone with one, but i explained that these were younger kids and we were really just trying to sow fear. finally we convinced him to treck back through the woods and his chair (only about 20-50ft), and despite his excitement he went to bed soon after. i can only imagine what damage was done to his skin, but he did seem to have a really good time.
the worst thing about his condition, though, was his hands. the constant motion caused the fingers to fuse together, to fuse to the palm. the doctors could cut them apart, but it would only happen again. you know that clear stuff that leaks out of cuts when they've stopped bleeding but art still trying to heal? and it forms a protective coating over the cut? his hands were coated in that. or rather, his fists. you could see the bones under the translucent skin/scab, but the only bit that he could move was the tips of his thumbs and the second knuckle of his pointer fingers. He used this to grasp the knot of the water baloons, or to shake your hand. sometimes he would wiggle the bones in his hands at you to be ironic. sometimes when i look down at my hands i see his.
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