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15 September 2007 : missing the point.
On Thursday morning, I got the phone call again. Emergency room, blood too thin, spontaneous internal hemorrhage, blah blah blah. One source says its my sucky diet causing me to be so sensitive to the meds. One source says its a genetic predisposition (genetically sensitive? I totally buy that). Either way, I was in danger (again) of bleeding to death from a papercut, so I hauled my ass in for blood tests and vitamin k shots.
But wait - there IS something new to report here. This particular doctor, unlike the other (four...no, five) I've seen in the past three weeks, was concerned when I mentioned that I'd had an obnoxiously constant headache for oh...two weeks, maybe more. The fact of this, combined with my utter lack of clotting ability, instigated my first CAT scan experience. To those of you who are Buffy fans, the answer is no: they do not call it that because the machine is shaped like a cat.
I've decided I think CAT scans are a scam. I laid on an uncomfortable piece of plastic with my head in a vice, held real still for five minutes in the donut hole of a circular piece of tan plastic that made some whirring noises. I never saw the results of the test, no cool neon photos of my brain showed up for evidence, and yet I'm going to end up paying thousands of dollars for that wasted five minutes of my life. I believe nothing of actual consequence happened in that dimly lit room, and the ER staff merely wanted a little extra compensation on the side for having to reassure me that my brain was not bleeding.
Jerks.
But the worst part is that I expected to get a little something more out of the deal. Yeah, yeah, no brain bleeding, who cares? So my headaches are just a side effect of all the powerful drugs coursing through my system - I already knew that. I'm probably a little dehydrated - these things happen when you don't drink a full 8 ounces of water each time you take a pill. And the headaches are pretty bad, yeah, but they haven't prevented me from being a functioning member of society (well as much as any girl can from the cave of first year grad work, anyway).
I just wanted...more. When the pretty doctor walked back in and said, "So, your results are normal - you've got a brain and it isn't bleeding," I just stared at her. I think this confused her, and I was supposed to be excited - jump carefully around the room avoiding sharp objects and such.
But seriously, that's it? I don't want to hear that it's normal. Where's my "Your brain is not bleeding, but we did discover activity in an area of the brain that's never been used by a human before! Why, you're some kind of supergenius! Here, try to detach my foot and float it around the room, and then reattach it, using just the power of your brain." They could have called it the Lindsay's Area (or you know, something clever).
I spent the rest of my day grateful to not be in the hospital, but bitterly disappointed by my physical normality. Though in retrospect it occurs to me that if I could have detached her foot and reattached it using only the power of my mind, I might have suffered a fate a little worse than a hospital stay. There probably would have been really big syringes and white coats and then I would be forced to join Secret Ops or something even more sinister.
Since camo, mind control and track marks have all gone the way of the baggy, one strap overall, and I've already got some wicked bad track marks, I think I'll try to be a little more gracious in the future about my lack of supergenius.
posted by lindsay at 17:16 ::
On Thursday morning, I got the phone call again. Emergency room, blood too thin, spontaneous internal hemorrhage, blah blah blah. One source says its my sucky diet causing me to be so sensitive to the meds. One source says its a genetic predisposition (genetically sensitive? I totally buy that). Either way, I was in danger (again) of bleeding to death from a papercut, so I hauled my ass in for blood tests and vitamin k shots.
But wait - there IS something new to report here. This particular doctor, unlike the other (four...no, five) I've seen in the past three weeks, was concerned when I mentioned that I'd had an obnoxiously constant headache for oh...two weeks, maybe more. The fact of this, combined with my utter lack of clotting ability, instigated my first CAT scan experience. To those of you who are Buffy fans, the answer is no: they do not call it that because the machine is shaped like a cat.
I've decided I think CAT scans are a scam. I laid on an uncomfortable piece of plastic with my head in a vice, held real still for five minutes in the donut hole of a circular piece of tan plastic that made some whirring noises. I never saw the results of the test, no cool neon photos of my brain showed up for evidence, and yet I'm going to end up paying thousands of dollars for that wasted five minutes of my life. I believe nothing of actual consequence happened in that dimly lit room, and the ER staff merely wanted a little extra compensation on the side for having to reassure me that my brain was not bleeding.
Jerks.
But the worst part is that I expected to get a little something more out of the deal. Yeah, yeah, no brain bleeding, who cares? So my headaches are just a side effect of all the powerful drugs coursing through my system - I already knew that. I'm probably a little dehydrated - these things happen when you don't drink a full 8 ounces of water each time you take a pill. And the headaches are pretty bad, yeah, but they haven't prevented me from being a functioning member of society (well as much as any girl can from the cave of first year grad work, anyway).
I just wanted...more. When the pretty doctor walked back in and said, "So, your results are normal - you've got a brain and it isn't bleeding," I just stared at her. I think this confused her, and I was supposed to be excited - jump carefully around the room avoiding sharp objects and such.
But seriously, that's it? I don't want to hear that it's normal. Where's my "Your brain is not bleeding, but we did discover activity in an area of the brain that's never been used by a human before! Why, you're some kind of supergenius! Here, try to detach my foot and float it around the room, and then reattach it, using just the power of your brain." They could have called it the Lindsay's Area (or you know, something clever).
I spent the rest of my day grateful to not be in the hospital, but bitterly disappointed by my physical normality. Though in retrospect it occurs to me that if I could have detached her foot and reattached it using only the power of my mind, I might have suffered a fate a little worse than a hospital stay. There probably would have been really big syringes and white coats and then I would be forced to join Secret Ops or something even more sinister.
Since camo, mind control and track marks have all gone the way of the baggy, one strap overall, and I've already got some wicked bad track marks, I think I'll try to be a little more gracious in the future about my lack of supergenius.
Labels: it's a sickness, life in the bluegrass
posted by lindsay at 17:16 ::
3 Comments:
i know im a bloody dunce, but i dont detect a lack of supergenius.
By 
, at
10:14 PM
First and foremost, Miss Lindsay, you bloody well better take care of yourself. (Yeah, I know that could be better said, but, y'know, for emphasis.)
Secondly, I use my Lindsay's Area all the time. It's awesome. I thought you knew.
By 
Frank Charlemagne, at
10:45 PM
tell it to the docs. they halved my dosage after the last incident, and my levels still shot up to 10.9 (i'm supposed to stay between 2 and 3) in just a couple of days. i'm only following doctor's orders.