Wednesday, October 15

CDP Top 30 Of All-Time ('06-'08) - #16.

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#16 - "Snap, Crackle, Poop."
(Originally Published August 29, 2007.)

I'm Gunna Puke My Pants!

When I began training for the 'Book'n It Fun Run To Promote Literacy' back in early July, my only hope was that I didn't do anything foolish, like puke on camera or break my legs. And while there's still no confirmed footage out there of yours truly 'yodeling groceries,' I did confirm my suspicions that my right tibia had been fractured.

Come to think of it, I haven't thrown up since September of 2002. That's a long damn time, considering that I have nightly heartburn and I'm guzzling gin as we speak.

If you recall, I developed shin splints in both legs during my training, which caused me to rest for 2-3 weeks prior to the race. As the date loomed, however, I began to overtrain, heightening the inflammation of my joints and also pulling my left hamstring in the process (that's a red flag,).

Even though I was considerably hobbled on the day of the race, I ran anyway, resulting in 34 of the most painful minutes of my life. Makes sense, considering I was running on a broken bone, a pulled muscle and two severely inflamed joints. My ankles were so swollen after the race, they looked like your grandma's ankles.

My mantra throughout the entire training process was "Don't be a pansy," although I replaced the word 'pansy' for something a little less blog-friendly. You get the point. I accomplished my incredibly stupid and not-at-all worthwhile goal and was about to pay for it for the next 6 to 8 weeks.

After two weeks of limping around, downing Ibuprofen by the economy bottle and pouring Jameson whiskey on my Froot Loops every morning, I finally decided to go to the doctor. By this point, there was acute pain in my right leg (far beyond shin splints), leading to numbness and tingling running up the back of my femur. At any moment, I was expecting the entire works to crumble like an oak tree that had been ravaged by termites.

I couldn't walk around or stand up for more than a few minutes, I was acting like a real dick to my family and friends, and I was sleeping on the floor so I could elevate and ice the leg. Also, I was trying to refrain from accidentally booting the Missus in the ovaries in a fit of pain-induced rage while she slept. It was a rough 10 days.

There's something about going to the Doctor that always seems to make your symptoms go away. Every time I find myself in the office, I have to try to explain that I felt bad yesterday, but for some reason I feel 100% better today. Come to think of it, a poor man's health insurance should just consist of scheduling the appointment, watching the symptoms magically disappear, and then canceling the appointment later in the day. I understand that it's an evolutionary tactic to not show weakness in the presence of dominant opposition, but I also knew that I wasn't going to get any pain pills unless I convinced this guy that I needed them right away.

My Doctor in Middleton (The Best City In America, 2007) referred me to a Sports Physician downtown for x-rays, where after three hours of radiating and re-radiating, they finally determined that I had shin splints in the left and a fracture in the right. The x-ray technician kept messing up, so I probably got blasted with about 3000% more Tumor Juice than anyone should ever see in their lifetime.

I also appreciate that they make a point to cover my testicles with a lead blanket, as I can only handle one serious problem at a time. Something tells me that the sight of my gonads melting would have been a little too much for me to take on a Tuesday morning.

After the x-rays, the Sports Physician listened to my story, called me an idiot and told me I shouldn't do a damn thing with my legs until after I had an MRI and was put on a rehab program. They also made me take my pants off and wear a pair of communal shorts that I'm sure hundreds of tiny men have hitched up over the years.

They were green and I was very embarrassed.

I also found out that I currently weigh in at 164 pounds with all of my clothes and shoes on. While I'm in good shape and look dead-sexy in a tight shirt (still a size Small), this is the most I've ever weighed and a good 50 pounds larger than I ever thought I'd be in my life. You have to understand that I tipped the scales at 112 pounds my Senior year, where my Gangly Factor (GF) was off the charts. I always sort of thought I'd be like that forever.

I also never thought I'd be sitting in a Doctor's office, wearing someone else's clothes while a Sports Therapist tells me that my tibia was broken. Oh, and I have a hedgehog in my living room. Jesus Christ.

So, that pretty much brings us up to speed. The MRI is next week, the follow-up appointment is the week after that, and I've been instructed not to further injure myself anytime in between. Once they get a good look at me, I'll probably get a soft cast, some medication and a very busy wife. Until then, I'm limping on eggshells and avoiding concrete.

What I love more than anything is my mother, who still fully denies that there's anything wrong with me. When I called her before the race and told her I was hurt, she called me a baby and said I was fine. When I told her afterwards that I was hurt, she said I was not. When I told her I thought I had fractured my leg, she again called me a baby and said I didn't. Just today, when I told her about the x-rays, MRI and Doctor's word that I had a fracture, she told me that a fracture isn't the same as a break, and that I was exaggerating. Thanks for the compassion; I'll remember this when I choose your nursing home.

Sound off in the comments section and attempt to make sense of all this.

The crotch lead blanket is weird. I fractured my foot last year (in an attempt to not step on my cat and break his spine) and had to get four sets of X-rays for it. Three of those times they used a normal blanket thing, like big enough to cover my entire stomach, which is helpful since I don't think I'd be able to exactly pinpoint where my ovaries are, and that's the part I was concerned about protecting. But this other time, the rad tech couldn't find that one, so she gave me this thing to just put over my crotch. It was like a thong, except without the thong, just the front part. I was like, "What the hell am I supposed to do with this? This is not going to cover any of my fun bits."
Right; I mean, what's the point if it's the size of a postage stamp? Give me the giant lead blanket any day of the week. Ovaries, fun bits and testicles can never be too protected.

I also got a kick out of the fact the the gonad shield was labeled 'Gonad Shield' in big Magic Marker. I guess it was more tactful than 'Do Not Put On Face.'
I also got a kick out of the fact the the gonad shield was labeled 'Gonad Shield' in big Magic Marker.

My mother was a nurse for ~25 years before retiring. You don't want to know the humor that precedes from the medical profession. This is mild, I tell ya.

I got my mix from Reese yesterday and I'm listening to it now -- it's great!
That's true, Mike. I work on books for medical transcriptionists. They're basically just really long lists of words for various medical specialties. But there aren't any definitions, so I'll just come across something crazy and have to imagine what I think it might mean. For the first six months in this job my husband just got one-word emails from me of the latest funny-sounding ailment with absolutely not explanation.
We have warm apple pie at work today. It tastes
BBQ HOSS - It appears as if the Mixes are making the rounds now, and I want to once again thank everyone for another awesome Trade.

I also like the use of the word 'shield.' It just seems so out of place; it reminds me of Arthurian armor, not a pouch that keeps my 'nads from exploding.

BERRY BEAR - Gonadexplodyitis. Wenisgoboom. Brilliant.

HATHERY WIFE - I'll pick up a bottle of spiced pumpkin wine or something tonight. I'm in the mood for Autumn in my tummy.

I haven't talked to Autumn about it yet, though...ZING! (rimshot)
McCain just pulled completely out of Wisconsin today. That's hilarious.
I got my mix from Reese yesterday and I'm listening to it now -- it's great! mix is going out today (apologies to the empty-handed!). But I'm glad you like it, MikeHoss. I *love* yours - the Superman isn't Brave pic is awesome!
I have to once again send out apologies, as I have yet to burn and send my mix. There are have been family issues that have been consuming my spare time. I am truly aiming for Monday. Sorry. mix is going out today (apologies to the empty-handed!). But I'm glad you like it, MikeHoss. I *love* yours - the Superman isn't Brave pic is awesome!

Er, I mean I got it from Jordan. Too many names to remember!

Reese -- I'm glad you like my mix tho!

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