becauseihavenowife.com
| following Andy Polley as he travels around the world... |
Let me preface this by saying I'm alive. I wasn't so sure earlier in the day.
So, in the past few months, the hospital and I have become...well, "buddy-
buddy." For one reason or another, I have had several visits to the
doctor. Some have been less than exciting, while others have been, well,
intense. Like today.
As I write, I have yet another wrist band on my arm. No, no, not the yellow
"Live Strong" or the blue "Go Cubs." I'm more into the ones that tell me my
name (in case I'm too out of it to remember), my sex, my age, my
physician, my date of birth, and, of course, the reason for my visit. The
last two have read "EMERGENCY."
Let's take this day one chunk at a time...
7:53 A.M.---Alarm goes off. I have an appointment with an orthopedic
physician today, but I'm not sure at what time. Office opens at 8:00, so I
figured I'd wake up a bit early to call 'em when they opened. Turns out my
appointment is at 9:30. Sweet action.
9:06 A.M.--Head for the doctor's office. It's really a routine follow-up. I had
an MRI done on my ankle last week, so I was going in to hear the results.
Hopped on the motorcycle and headed into town.
9:25 A.M.---Early. That never happens. Check in and have a seat.
9:33 A.M.--Admitted into those wonderful small doctors' offices that we
have to come to love...or hate. I'm not in the mood to play with any latex
gloves or mess with any thermometers today. I'm just eager/anxious to
hear the results of my MRI.
10:04 A.M.--Doctor finally comes in. Quite a long wait. I was just sitting
there the entire time. Couldn't even tell you what I was thinking about. I
took off my shoe, brace, and sock to see how my ankle was feeling today.
More range of motion than before. But turn it too much, and it's painful
again. Boy, am I frustrated.
10:15 A.M.--Doctor says MRI looks good. Deep bone bruise, possible
bone chip loose in foot, strained tendons and ligaments. But no tears.
That's good news, he says. But for the pain and swelling, he recommends
a shot of steroids.
10:19 A.M.--Steroid shot time. Of course, being an interested man, I
watch. He sticks the long needle into my ankle and squeezes some
steroids into me. Then moves the needle around and squirts some more.
The needle never leaves my ankle. He just turns it and points it in different
places. Sometimes deep, sometimes shallow. But always a different spot,
always squirting more steroids into me.
10:20 A.M.--"That was kind of exciting to watch," I say.
Bear with me now. This next section is probably not going to make sense.
I don't know if it can. Because it didn't make sense when it happened.
Nothing actually made sense for the longest time. But I want you to know
what I felt. I'll do my best. I'm going to try to put tangible words into an
intangible experience. Here goes...
????? A.M.--He's moving his mouth. What in the world. Very much on
fire. Recognize this room. He is straddling me. Right over the top of me.
My face is on fire. My knees. Oh, my knees are burning! He is still over
top of me. I'm dreaming again. Not another dream. This is real. Hey, I
recognize that guy. He's in my dream. Labcoat. Doctor. I had an
appointment with him. "Oh boy, look at me, man. C'mon, man, stay with
me. Don't close your eyes. Look at me!" Noises. Saying something.
Your eyes are closed. Open your eyes for him. Close them, you are
tired. Open them. "Oh, man!" He is frantic. "I need help in here!"
Doctor. That's my doctor! I am sweating so bad. Drips down side of my
head. I am on the ground. Room. I know this room. Doctor's office.
Same one I was in. I had an appointment. He is still over me and talking!
"Follow my fingers. Right, left, up, down." I hope he was happy. My eyes
didn't move. Not a dream. This is real. I am dreaming. I had an
appointment in here today. That's my doctor. I am laying over by the
door. I am on the ground. I see where I used to sit. I remember a shot. I
remember my appointment. This is my doctor. "Can you tell me how you
feel? Can you talk?" I think he is talking to me again. I groan. Talking no
good. Must talk for him. "Eeehh." "Are you ok? Do you hurt anywhere?"
He is talking again. I need to respond. Oh, I am on fire! "Knees, oh,
knees. My knees...are....on fiiire." My face is on fire. My knees and face
are on fire. I just came back from death. He is dabbing me. What is he
doing. He keeps touching my forehead. "It's deep. We need to get him
out of here. Call Urgent Care, we're taking him over." I think something
bad has happened. I wonder what it is. I know this office. This is real.
"You fell. Follow my fingers. Left, right, up down." I try to follow. I hate
this. They think something is wrong. "You fell." Fell. I am on the ground.
Know this office. That's my doctor. Real. Not sweat. Blood. Big gash.
"Tell them one laceration above eyebrow. One in middle of forehead down
to skull." They are talking about me. My forehead is bleeding. I am
injured. I am the one. I am on the ground. My face is on fire.
"Lacerations. Rug burn. Your knees are probably burnt, too." He must
have been here. "A stretcher is coming." "We need three people to help
him up. Triangle lift, c'mon." Doctor grabs arm. Nurse stands close. I
stand up. "He's doing it on his own." "Grab him." "Ok, on the stretcher
there." It's just like the movies. Bright lights, ceiling tiles. Here we go.
So began my ordeal. I was wheeled down to the Urgent Care on a
stretcher. "Sign right here, who is your emergency contact, sign here,
too..." I wonder what I am signing. Bright lights, ceiling tiles, nice facility.
We stop. "He has an owie!" There is something beautiful about a girl's six-
year-old voice. I smile a bit. She can't see me. I am waiting in the waiting
room. Blood on face, gauzes all over head, looking up. Nice nurse.
"Your mom is here." She looks like she is going to cry. Don't cry yourself.
Man, I would like to. Even before she got here, it was tempting. No real
need to. My body just felt like crying. I didn't. Talk to her. Make her feel
welcome. I think she is going to cry! Her face is so red.
I need a picture of myself. I must look terrible. I ask for a mirror. "Are you
sure?" the nurse asks. If only she knew me. Mom finds one in her purse.
I looked terrible. Huge gashes in my forehead. Blood all over. Skin
completely separated. What could I have hit?!
"Do you have a phone? I want to call Dad." Maybe I could ease the
situation a bit. "AIEC, how may I direct your call?" "Rick, please." "One
moment." "RICHARD, what are you doing?!" "I'm working, what are you
doing?" "I am laying on a stretcher with blood coming out of my face." I
wanted to cry again. There is something about talking to family that does
it, I think. Hold your voice strong. Be strong! "I went into the doctor for my
ankle, he gave me a shot..." This is rough...this joke turned out to be
hard! "Here, Mom can tell you the rest..." I handed off the phone. My dad
was completely silent while I talked. I think I freaked him out. I should
really not treat them like I do sometimes! Still was enjoyable.
Mom explains. "Gotta go," she says. I am wheeled into the room.
Another doctor's office. Small. From one stretcher to another. More
signatures. More questions to answer. Nurse lifts up gauze. I did a nice
job, she says. I think I say thanks.
Better get plastic surgery. Call the ambulance. Sweet, I think. First time.
They strap me up so tight. Neckbrace. I pictured me falling out of the
back of the ambulance. I would just tumble down the road on the piece of
plastic, not moving. They strapped me every way imaginable. And taped
me. ON MY FOREHEAD. Are you stupid? Maybe you don't realize I have
blood and gashes coming out of it? I am taped to the board.
Ambulance time. Nothing exciting. No sirens. Just a free ride to the
hospital. The hospital experience? Cute nurses, EKG, long x-rays, CRT
SCAN, hungry, long waits, roommate groaning over pain, family there the
entire time.
My sis takes several pictures. I trained her well.
Plastic surgeon. All in all 20 stitches. I almost passed out again. The
numbing agent was killing me. I can't describe even getting that close and
not going over. Exact same thing I felt earlier in the day. Beaded sweat. I
need water. "No," she says. Sweat dripping all over my face.
I end up coming back to normal. More long waits.
I find a mirror. My face is a mess. Looks like I went through a car wreck
and back. No such story. I fell. Old people fall. Oh, well, I'm not going to
lie about it.
Moral of the story? None at all. Just a day in my life. I went to the doctor
and came back worse off than when I entered. Go figure.
So, in the past few months, the hospital and I have become...well, "buddy-
buddy." For one reason or another, I have had several visits to the
doctor. Some have been less than exciting, while others have been, well,
intense. Like today.
As I write, I have yet another wrist band on my arm. No, no, not the yellow
"Live Strong" or the blue "Go Cubs." I'm more into the ones that tell me my
name (in case I'm too out of it to remember), my sex, my age, my
physician, my date of birth, and, of course, the reason for my visit. The
last two have read "EMERGENCY."
Let's take this day one chunk at a time...
7:53 A.M.---Alarm goes off. I have an appointment with an orthopedic
physician today, but I'm not sure at what time. Office opens at 8:00, so I
figured I'd wake up a bit early to call 'em when they opened. Turns out my
appointment is at 9:30. Sweet action.
9:06 A.M.--Head for the doctor's office. It's really a routine follow-up. I had
an MRI done on my ankle last week, so I was going in to hear the results.
Hopped on the motorcycle and headed into town.
9:25 A.M.---Early. That never happens. Check in and have a seat.
9:33 A.M.--Admitted into those wonderful small doctors' offices that we
have to come to love...or hate. I'm not in the mood to play with any latex
gloves or mess with any thermometers today. I'm just eager/anxious to
hear the results of my MRI.
10:04 A.M.--Doctor finally comes in. Quite a long wait. I was just sitting
there the entire time. Couldn't even tell you what I was thinking about. I
took off my shoe, brace, and sock to see how my ankle was feeling today.
More range of motion than before. But turn it too much, and it's painful
again. Boy, am I frustrated.
10:15 A.M.--Doctor says MRI looks good. Deep bone bruise, possible
bone chip loose in foot, strained tendons and ligaments. But no tears.
That's good news, he says. But for the pain and swelling, he recommends
a shot of steroids.
10:19 A.M.--Steroid shot time. Of course, being an interested man, I
watch. He sticks the long needle into my ankle and squeezes some
steroids into me. Then moves the needle around and squirts some more.
The needle never leaves my ankle. He just turns it and points it in different
places. Sometimes deep, sometimes shallow. But always a different spot,
always squirting more steroids into me.
10:20 A.M.--"That was kind of exciting to watch," I say.
Bear with me now. This next section is probably not going to make sense.
I don't know if it can. Because it didn't make sense when it happened.
Nothing actually made sense for the longest time. But I want you to know
what I felt. I'll do my best. I'm going to try to put tangible words into an
intangible experience. Here goes...
????? A.M.--He's moving his mouth. What in the world. Very much on
fire. Recognize this room. He is straddling me. Right over the top of me.
My face is on fire. My knees. Oh, my knees are burning! He is still over
top of me. I'm dreaming again. Not another dream. This is real. Hey, I
recognize that guy. He's in my dream. Labcoat. Doctor. I had an
appointment with him. "Oh boy, look at me, man. C'mon, man, stay with
me. Don't close your eyes. Look at me!" Noises. Saying something.
Your eyes are closed. Open your eyes for him. Close them, you are
tired. Open them. "Oh, man!" He is frantic. "I need help in here!"
Doctor. That's my doctor! I am sweating so bad. Drips down side of my
head. I am on the ground. Room. I know this room. Doctor's office.
Same one I was in. I had an appointment. He is still over me and talking!
"Follow my fingers. Right, left, up, down." I hope he was happy. My eyes
didn't move. Not a dream. This is real. I am dreaming. I had an
appointment in here today. That's my doctor. I am laying over by the
door. I am on the ground. I see where I used to sit. I remember a shot. I
remember my appointment. This is my doctor. "Can you tell me how you
feel? Can you talk?" I think he is talking to me again. I groan. Talking no
good. Must talk for him. "Eeehh." "Are you ok? Do you hurt anywhere?"
He is talking again. I need to respond. Oh, I am on fire! "Knees, oh,
knees. My knees...are....on fiiire." My face is on fire. My knees and face
are on fire. I just came back from death. He is dabbing me. What is he
doing. He keeps touching my forehead. "It's deep. We need to get him
out of here. Call Urgent Care, we're taking him over." I think something
bad has happened. I wonder what it is. I know this office. This is real.
"You fell. Follow my fingers. Left, right, up down." I try to follow. I hate
this. They think something is wrong. "You fell." Fell. I am on the ground.
Know this office. That's my doctor. Real. Not sweat. Blood. Big gash.
"Tell them one laceration above eyebrow. One in middle of forehead down
to skull." They are talking about me. My forehead is bleeding. I am
injured. I am the one. I am on the ground. My face is on fire.
"Lacerations. Rug burn. Your knees are probably burnt, too." He must
have been here. "A stretcher is coming." "We need three people to help
him up. Triangle lift, c'mon." Doctor grabs arm. Nurse stands close. I
stand up. "He's doing it on his own." "Grab him." "Ok, on the stretcher
there." It's just like the movies. Bright lights, ceiling tiles. Here we go.
So began my ordeal. I was wheeled down to the Urgent Care on a
stretcher. "Sign right here, who is your emergency contact, sign here,
too..." I wonder what I am signing. Bright lights, ceiling tiles, nice facility.
We stop. "He has an owie!" There is something beautiful about a girl's six-
year-old voice. I smile a bit. She can't see me. I am waiting in the waiting
room. Blood on face, gauzes all over head, looking up. Nice nurse.
"Your mom is here." She looks like she is going to cry. Don't cry yourself.
Man, I would like to. Even before she got here, it was tempting. No real
need to. My body just felt like crying. I didn't. Talk to her. Make her feel
welcome. I think she is going to cry! Her face is so red.
I need a picture of myself. I must look terrible. I ask for a mirror. "Are you
sure?" the nurse asks. If only she knew me. Mom finds one in her purse.
I looked terrible. Huge gashes in my forehead. Blood all over. Skin
completely separated. What could I have hit?!
"Do you have a phone? I want to call Dad." Maybe I could ease the
situation a bit. "AIEC, how may I direct your call?" "Rick, please." "One
moment." "RICHARD, what are you doing?!" "I'm working, what are you
doing?" "I am laying on a stretcher with blood coming out of my face." I
wanted to cry again. There is something about talking to family that does
it, I think. Hold your voice strong. Be strong! "I went into the doctor for my
ankle, he gave me a shot..." This is rough...this joke turned out to be
hard! "Here, Mom can tell you the rest..." I handed off the phone. My dad
was completely silent while I talked. I think I freaked him out. I should
really not treat them like I do sometimes! Still was enjoyable.
Mom explains. "Gotta go," she says. I am wheeled into the room.
Another doctor's office. Small. From one stretcher to another. More
signatures. More questions to answer. Nurse lifts up gauze. I did a nice
job, she says. I think I say thanks.
Better get plastic surgery. Call the ambulance. Sweet, I think. First time.
They strap me up so tight. Neckbrace. I pictured me falling out of the
back of the ambulance. I would just tumble down the road on the piece of
plastic, not moving. They strapped me every way imaginable. And taped
me. ON MY FOREHEAD. Are you stupid? Maybe you don't realize I have
blood and gashes coming out of it? I am taped to the board.
Ambulance time. Nothing exciting. No sirens. Just a free ride to the
hospital. The hospital experience? Cute nurses, EKG, long x-rays, CRT
SCAN, hungry, long waits, roommate groaning over pain, family there the
entire time.
My sis takes several pictures. I trained her well.
Plastic surgeon. All in all 20 stitches. I almost passed out again. The
numbing agent was killing me. I can't describe even getting that close and
not going over. Exact same thing I felt earlier in the day. Beaded sweat. I
need water. "No," she says. Sweat dripping all over my face.
I end up coming back to normal. More long waits.
I find a mirror. My face is a mess. Looks like I went through a car wreck
and back. No such story. I fell. Old people fall. Oh, well, I'm not going to
lie about it.
Moral of the story? None at all. Just a day in my life. I went to the doctor
and came back worse off than when I entered. Go figure.
| The Doctor Tried to Kill Me |
| After Stitches |
| Any Ladies Up for a Date??? |
| Strapped Down by Forehead |
| This Picture Says It All... |
| Before Stitches |
| A Forced Smile |