Showing 1 post from April 2009
Can you handle a long entry, friend? Long time since I posted and lots of goodies to write about, starting with the most important thing: Right about now, I don't remember exact dates, is the time a year ago that DiDi lost her sight and we had to have her put to sleep. I may write more about that later in the month, if only because the philosophical bender it sent me on is something that still bugs me to this day. Yes, she was just an instinctual animal; yes, she was suffering; yes, it was the right thing to do, yet it still feels strange to know that my signature is on a death warrant. That's pretty much what they have you sign at the veterinary clinic when you have a pet put to sleep, you know it? A death warrant. The actual title for it is something like "euthanasia authorization," but if you read it the actual verbiage says you are giving your permission for them to kill your pet. "I hereby give permission to kill my walking buddy of the past ten years" is what it may as well have said. If you let yourself think about it, it plays with your head something fierce. Much like gout.
Yep, at 45 years and almost four months, I was officially diagnosed an old man today. Lots of uric acid building up around the old big toe joint made it all but impossible for me to walk. Somehow I could drive to the doctor okay to learn what I already suspected. A couple of Aleves has made it more bearable, and I'm supposed to keep popping them to the tune of four a day to keep myself functional. What's really bothering me is how relatively little it hurts. Hell yes it hurts, but not to the point I scream when it's touched, like when my brother had his first flareup. My stepson and I were in Oklahoma to see him at the time. Purely by accident, my stepson gave his foot a soft kick while we were playing cards, and I swear my brother was going to jump across the table and kill him had I not threw up my hands. Mine's not so bad. I can function. I can speak to you without screaming. Tomorrow I'll go back to work.
But what's fascinating is how the pain twists with your head. The smallest misunderstanding, the smallest slight, gets amplified. Where normally I'd let it go as nothing, I start to think "Didn't you hear what I said? Why the hell aren't you LISTENING?!" and it takes a good five to ten minutes to calm it down.
So there's your update. I'll write more coherently later when I'm not pain, I'm sure. :-)
Yep, at 45 years and almost four months, I was officially diagnosed an old man today. Lots of uric acid building up around the old big toe joint made it all but impossible for me to walk. Somehow I could drive to the doctor okay to learn what I already suspected. A couple of Aleves has made it more bearable, and I'm supposed to keep popping them to the tune of four a day to keep myself functional. What's really bothering me is how relatively little it hurts. Hell yes it hurts, but not to the point I scream when it's touched, like when my brother had his first flareup. My stepson and I were in Oklahoma to see him at the time. Purely by accident, my stepson gave his foot a soft kick while we were playing cards, and I swear my brother was going to jump across the table and kill him had I not threw up my hands. Mine's not so bad. I can function. I can speak to you without screaming. Tomorrow I'll go back to work.
But what's fascinating is how the pain twists with your head. The smallest misunderstanding, the smallest slight, gets amplified. Where normally I'd let it go as nothing, I start to think "Didn't you hear what I said? Why the hell aren't you LISTENING?!" and it takes a good five to ten minutes to calm it down.
So there's your update. I'll write more coherently later when I'm not pain, I'm sure. :-)
