Slightly Off the Mark: medical

Showing posts with label medical. Show all posts

The Hand, the Books, and the Typing

The surgery went well, or so I assume. The bandage doesn't come off until next Wednesday, so in theory there should could be some kind of horror movie eye inserted into the palm of my hand that I won't know about until then. My wrist is itching like crazy, so maybe that's eyelashes blinking.

Is it the all Seeing hand?

The meds they had me on can cause thinking like that. I tried to go off the painkiller early, because I'm not a big fan of the heavy duty drugs. That's when I found out just how much this would be hurting if I didn't have the heavy duty drugs, so I'll try weaning myself off in a few more days. Until then my biggest activity has been sleeping, although we did get a chance to catch up on watching Strange New Worlds.

I got free non skid socks out of the deal. Well, I haven't seen the bill for them yet.

Yesterday I managed to read an entire writer's Digest magazine, although I skipped the poetry page. It took all my brain power, especially after a dose of Benadryl because of the itching under my bandage. Stop blinking, third eye! But that's been about all I can complain about.

(Actually, Emily read the fine print for the pain med and realize that I am suffering from every single one of the side effects listed, from upset stomach to, yes, back pain--including itching.)

Oven warmed blankets!

We ordered 45 copies of Haunted Noble County Indiana, and as of yesterday sold 40 of them. That's pretty darn good, considering I haven't left the house other than to go to the hospital. That includes those sold by Butterfly Alley Gifts, a shop just up the street from us. It doesn't include Amazon and other online sales; our website is live, but not set up to take orders just yet.

I waved a copy of the book around while they were wheeling me into the OR, but nobody seemed interested.

So as soon as I came out of the mental fog I ordered 50 more copies, and they should be here in a few days. Here's something weird: I also ordered 10 copies each of Storm Squalls and The Notorious Ian Grant. For some reason, they're sending them to me piecemeal: three copies here, five copies there, and twice I got just one copy in a package. It seems like it would have saved a lot of shipping trouble to just send them all at once.

Anyway, I'm finding talk to text, or whatever it's called, to be very frustrating. Way too much time spent going back to correct it -- maybe I just need to work on enunciation. Typing one handed is even worse, so for now I'm going to take my special happy pill and call it a day. Thanks to all the well wishers!

You can preorder, order, and generally make contact here:

· Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO

· Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

· Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4898846.Mark_R_Hunter

· Blog: https://markrhunter.blogspot.com/

· Website: http://www.markrhunter.com/

· Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ozma914/

· Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MarkRHunter914

· Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/markrhunter/

· Twitter: https://twitter.com/MarkRHunter

· Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@MarkRHunter

· Substack: https://substack.com/@markrhunter

· Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/ozma914

· Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/ozma914

· Audible: https://www.audible.com/search?searchAuthor=Mark+R.+Hunter&ref_pageloadid=4C1TS2KZGoOjloaJ&pf

Remember: Pain and meds might make you blah blah blah maybe.

Give Me a Hand ... For Surgery

Chances are good that I'm about to disappear.

I'm having surgery on my hand, thanks to a non-dangerous affliction called Dupuytren's contracture. This was named after a scientist named Guillotine Dupuytren, and I hope he's happy. I'd give him the middle finger, but it won't bend that way.

Over time, a patient's fingers can bend toward his palm until he--that would be me--can't use them anymore. In my case it's the two middle fingers on the left hand, where tissue under the skin hardens and draws them in.

I know what you're thinking: "Mark, how did you get Kleenex under your skin?"

No, no, it's not facial tissue, I think. It's one of those medical terms, like when they call a person who draws blood a phlebotomist, instead of the obvious title of "blood sucker". A phlebotomist sounds like someone who collects spit. Thank goodness for knowing terminology, because the medical establishment classifies Dupuytren's contracture as a "tumor".

Think of it more like paper towels when they get squeezed together while wet, then dry into a hard mass you can't break with a hammer. My sewer once got blocked that way. Unrelated to my hand.

In the United Kingdom, where many of my ancestors come from, about 20% of men over 65 have, as the drug commercials would put it, D.C. I'm not that old yet, but you gotta start somewhere. My Grandmother had it, and her maiden name was Welch, which is Welsh. But you knew that.

It's often painless, although it's started to hurt me--and hurt way more after the ortho doctor poked and prodded at it for half an hour. There's also the time he tried to ease the pain by sticking a five foot long needle through my hand, but never mind.


Proof: the needle mark

The man ran an iron bar through my palm--to make the pain go away! It did eventually, but I broke my other hand while punching the wall.

It wasn't the pain that worried me: It was the fact that I keyboard for my fulltime job and for my part time job, and now that I'm no longer an active firefighter, I keyboard for the Fire Department. You older people, that means typing. Typing with one hand clenched into a fist would cause issues.

So the doctor's going to put me under, then use a fork and steak knife to dig the tumor/tissue out. Then I won't be able to use my left hand for about two weeks.

You see where I'm going with this.

I once had a boss who had one hand, and he could do just about anything a two-handed person could do, out of necessity. I'm not that kind of person. I've been practicing, and it's no go. I'll have to wear sweatpants and zippered hoodies I can't zip up. Cooking will be even more dangerous than before.

Okay, usually Emily cooks, but as for doing the dishes, we'll have to stock up on paper and plastic. Mowing the lawn will be up to my grandkids. (I actually like mowing, when it's not so humid you have to shoo fish out of the way.) I have to take two weeks off work, which is fine, but everything I do at home involves a keyboard, too.

"No, you type with your left hand--oh, let's just watch Expedition Unknown."

Which brings me to the internet.

Some would say I spend too much time on the internet, and they'd be right. I submit that some of that time is necessary, both to keep up with friends and family and to promote my writing. I also submit that I can't type well one handed. I'll try some speech to text writing, but based on experience with my phone, I'd have to type that much more to correct mistakes.

So I declare late August to be a vacation from the internet, and if you see a long piece of writing from me it was probably prescheduled. Once the pain and pain meds have subsided enough for me to think straight, I want to catch up on my reading.

But what I'll probably do is watch TV.

Just because I'm not around doesn't mean you can't find our books--including the newest, Haunted Noble County, Indiana:

· Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO

· Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

· Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4898846.Mark_R_Hunter

· Blog: https://markrhunter.blogspot.com/

· Website: http://www.markrhunter.com/

· Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ozma914/

· Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MarkRHunter914

· Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/markrhunter/

· Twitter: https://twitter.com/MarkRHunter

· Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@MarkRHunter

· Substack: https://substack.com/@markrhunter

· Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/ozma914

· Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/ozma914

· Audible: https://www.audible.com/search?searchAuthor=Mark+R.+Hunter&ref_pageloadid=4C1TS2KZGoOjloaJ&pf

Remember: You only need one hand to turn the pages.

Colon Check Brought Blood Pressure Surprise

I planned to work on a new blog during my colonoscopy prep day, but the day went, shall we say, badly. Okay, it went very badly, although the procedure the next day was a breeze (they tell me). One small polyp removed, and I only made one bad joke. ("If you find any change in there, it's mine--not a tip.")

Anyway, it seemed the most appropriate thing to do would be to reprint a blog from a little over five years ago--which was about my last colonoscopy. I'm adding one new photo, which I took this morning: The IV for the anesthetic left a mark.

I don't mind the bruise one bit, because that needle allowed me to sleep through the whole procedure.

Routine medical tests often bring nasty surprises ... not always related to the test being done.

I had a colonoscopy last week. You know what that means: No need to go into details. Honestly, I don't feel bad for people getting them as much as I do for people who do them.

Lots of twelve year olds probably say they want to be a doctor when they grow up. I can't imagine any of them adding, "And I want to spend all day sticking tubes up butts to check for polyps!"

For patients, the fun stuff comes a day or two before, when they first go on a clear diet, then on meds that, um, clear that diet. But there's more to it, and therein lies this tale. It's about the only thing that stayed therein.

A week before I had to stop taking supplements, including vitamin D (a lack of which contributed to my wintertime depression). Also aspirin, or any kind of nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drug, which I never knew is what NSAID is short for.

Soon after that I developed a sinus headache, which I didn't worry about because if I have a sinus headache, it must be Tuesday. By the end of the next day someone was driving a railroad spike through the top of my skull, from the inside. It was every bit as bad as a migraine.

But what caused it? Sinuses? Stress? Lack of vitamin D? Withdrawal from caffeine? The thought of highly trained specialists bringing in the same machine used to open up my sewer?

Then, just before the procedure, a strange thing happened.

One of the techs took my blood pressure, paused, then took it again. Then she called the doctor in. He took it, then he put the BP cuff on my other arm and took it again. Then they all looked at each other.

There's no typical blood pressure for everyone, but it's generally acknowledged that the bottom number--the diastolic--should be in the double digits, like around 70. My diastolic was in the triple digits. And not just barely, either. The first number, systolic, was also reaching for the stars.

There's your headache.

This is what the inside of my head felt like.

My blood pressure was so high, in fact, that they almost canceled the procedure. And I did not want to go through the prep again.

When I woke, the new problem hadn't changed. The next day Doctor Donna sat in the waiting room, waiting for me. "We were wondering how soon this would happen," she said (I'd been her patient for many years). She refused to tell me who won the betting pool, but she did confirm the diagnosis. She also gave me a good once over, and found it hurt whenever she tapped on the areas near my nose.

I had high blood pressure and another massive sinus infection.

Doctor Donna told me to reduce my stress levels. A lot. I thought about my job and laughed. Then I laughed again. Then I cried. It seems my idea to retire, and support myself by writing full time, had become a matter of life and death. But what the heck--I'm always looking for ways to guilt readers into buying books. Meanwhile I'm on two new meds, one of which makes me pee almost as much as I was doing the other thing, the day before the colonoscopy.

Oh, and the results of the actual procedure? Clean as a whistle (figuratively), with nary a polyp in sight. But if they hadn't done it, my head may have exploded a week later. It seems I'm entering a new phase of my mid-life.

I'll call it ... the Ailment Years.