I'm Not as Young as I Used to Be
I've been fortunate enough this year to finally have a job where I can have health insurance and regular doctor's visits again. It had been a while... 4 years, in fact. A lot can change in those 4 years; I think at the top of that list is the things that bug you but you were willing to let them slide now become worth mentioning, so you can do something about them.
I realized this at my initial doctor's visit when the nurse came in to go over my health history with me. She, of course, needs to know everything that's ever been wrong with me so if anything else comes up, we can see where I've been and what may have caused it. I like to think I've led a relatively healthy existence, topped by the fact that I managed to go over 33 years of my life without having to go to the hospital for anything. That's pretty damn impressive considering I've known a lot of people who have gone through broken bones, surgeries, and assorted other maladies. However, once I started listing off various "little things" I've had over the years (both serious and not-so-serious), I realized that they add up. By the time I was done, I felt a lot older than I did when I walked in.
Having not been to a doctor for a while, they wanted me to go get blood work to make sure things were on the up-and-up, so one Saturday morning, I found myself at a local diagnostic place getting blood taken out of me. Let me say right here that I HATE having blood taken out of me. There isn't much of me to begin with... so it doesn't take much to make me... well, woozy. I remember one time in particular when I had to get blood work and got so loopy that I couldn't stop laughing at anything and everything ("cheesy radio commercial... that's SO FUNNY!!! HAHAHAHAHA!!!") I've also realized over the years that I have to look away while this happening because the very sight makes me, to use the proper medical term, oogy.
Well, obviously I'm not the first person who ever got light-headed when going in for blood work, so they put me in what can best be described as an "adult high chair." As in a chair with a step for your feet, and a tray that comes down over you so you don't pitch forward and pass out onto the floor. Not a bad idea. So the nurse bleeds me, and when she's done, I look over and count 5 vials of what was previously flowing through my body. My first thought: "Gee, that's a LOT of vials." My second thought: "Whhhhhhooooooooooooooooaaaaaaaaa..." The nurse leaves the room and I decide that I better start concentrating on staying lucid, but easier said than done. As I'm thinking about stuff, my mind wanders as it will... then I realized that my mind wasn't the only thing wandering. Apparently, my body had decided that being stuck in an adult high chair was not going to prevent me from passing out; by the time I had realized what was going on, I had wriggled halfway out of the thing. This led to what would have been a hilarious sight to see if anyone had witnessed it... me clumsily trying to prop myself back up in the damn chair. But the human body is an amazing thing, and within 20 minutes, I was back to normal and drove home.
Happily, I can tell you there was nothing wrong there, but I did have one issue that at my still relatively young age, I felt I needed to check out, some recurring aches and pains from working out that should not be happening. Well, the doctor informed that in order to get an MRI cleared, I first had to get an X-ray... which meant my first-ever trip to a hospital. Checking in was easy enough; they told me where to go and everything. Then, they had the brilliant move of giving me not one, but TWO hospital gowns. Tie one in the front, and then you don't have the awkwardness of trying to keep your backside from being exposed to the world. Why did nobody think of this sooner? Probably the hassle and expense of having to launder twice as many hospital gowns, I'll be. Anyway, I go into the room with the X-ray machines, and a rookie lab technician is instructing me on which way to contort myself so they can get the proper angle on the X-rays, but she's giving me a lot of medical jargon, and her supervisor has to keep telling her to translate into English so I'll understand. I'm sure that's pretty normal among people in or just out of med school... that's what they know because it's all they've studied over the last few years of their lives. I understand the feeling; I told the assistant that I could always spend a few minutes talking about dense communication theory to get back at her.
That day was nearly two months ago... and I know nothing is seriously wrong with me in those X-rays because I would have been told. Instead, I went through the process of getting the results to my doctor, and the next move is up to me as to whether to get the MRI. Of course, in the time since these X-rays were taken, I switched to a different pre-workout stretching regimen, and have had minimal problems. So naturally, I now am in no hurry to find out what was wrong with me (or may still be, but it's lying dormant, as it were). If it ain't broke (or painful), don't fix it. Yeah, I know, that's the wrong way to approach things, but let me enjoy feeling young for as long as I possibly can. I know it's not going to last forever...
I realized this at my initial doctor's visit when the nurse came in to go over my health history with me. She, of course, needs to know everything that's ever been wrong with me so if anything else comes up, we can see where I've been and what may have caused it. I like to think I've led a relatively healthy existence, topped by the fact that I managed to go over 33 years of my life without having to go to the hospital for anything. That's pretty damn impressive considering I've known a lot of people who have gone through broken bones, surgeries, and assorted other maladies. However, once I started listing off various "little things" I've had over the years (both serious and not-so-serious), I realized that they add up. By the time I was done, I felt a lot older than I did when I walked in.
Having not been to a doctor for a while, they wanted me to go get blood work to make sure things were on the up-and-up, so one Saturday morning, I found myself at a local diagnostic place getting blood taken out of me. Let me say right here that I HATE having blood taken out of me. There isn't much of me to begin with... so it doesn't take much to make me... well, woozy. I remember one time in particular when I had to get blood work and got so loopy that I couldn't stop laughing at anything and everything ("cheesy radio commercial... that's SO FUNNY!!! HAHAHAHAHA!!!") I've also realized over the years that I have to look away while this happening because the very sight makes me, to use the proper medical term, oogy.
Well, obviously I'm not the first person who ever got light-headed when going in for blood work, so they put me in what can best be described as an "adult high chair." As in a chair with a step for your feet, and a tray that comes down over you so you don't pitch forward and pass out onto the floor. Not a bad idea. So the nurse bleeds me, and when she's done, I look over and count 5 vials of what was previously flowing through my body. My first thought: "Gee, that's a LOT of vials." My second thought: "Whhhhhhooooooooooooooooaaaaaaaaa..." The nurse leaves the room and I decide that I better start concentrating on staying lucid, but easier said than done. As I'm thinking about stuff, my mind wanders as it will... then I realized that my mind wasn't the only thing wandering. Apparently, my body had decided that being stuck in an adult high chair was not going to prevent me from passing out; by the time I had realized what was going on, I had wriggled halfway out of the thing. This led to what would have been a hilarious sight to see if anyone had witnessed it... me clumsily trying to prop myself back up in the damn chair. But the human body is an amazing thing, and within 20 minutes, I was back to normal and drove home.
Happily, I can tell you there was nothing wrong there, but I did have one issue that at my still relatively young age, I felt I needed to check out, some recurring aches and pains from working out that should not be happening. Well, the doctor informed that in order to get an MRI cleared, I first had to get an X-ray... which meant my first-ever trip to a hospital. Checking in was easy enough; they told me where to go and everything. Then, they had the brilliant move of giving me not one, but TWO hospital gowns. Tie one in the front, and then you don't have the awkwardness of trying to keep your backside from being exposed to the world. Why did nobody think of this sooner? Probably the hassle and expense of having to launder twice as many hospital gowns, I'll be. Anyway, I go into the room with the X-ray machines, and a rookie lab technician is instructing me on which way to contort myself so they can get the proper angle on the X-rays, but she's giving me a lot of medical jargon, and her supervisor has to keep telling her to translate into English so I'll understand. I'm sure that's pretty normal among people in or just out of med school... that's what they know because it's all they've studied over the last few years of their lives. I understand the feeling; I told the assistant that I could always spend a few minutes talking about dense communication theory to get back at her.
That day was nearly two months ago... and I know nothing is seriously wrong with me in those X-rays because I would have been told. Instead, I went through the process of getting the results to my doctor, and the next move is up to me as to whether to get the MRI. Of course, in the time since these X-rays were taken, I switched to a different pre-workout stretching regimen, and have had minimal problems. So naturally, I now am in no hurry to find out what was wrong with me (or may still be, but it's lying dormant, as it were). If it ain't broke (or painful), don't fix it. Yeah, I know, that's the wrong way to approach things, but let me enjoy feeling young for as long as I possibly can. I know it's not going to last forever...
