Eating wet dynamite while the universe shoots me in the groin

Gunshot #1: I’ll be saying goodbye to a tooth soon. It’s fractured and needs to come out. Gunshot #2: I have big clot in my neck from my four-month old port. Thank you, universe, for the double tap to my groin. It hurts so good.

A month ago I started having pain in one of my back teeth. I grind a lot and have been too busy to get a fancy nightguard to prevent it. I ate through the last one. Along with the pain, I noticed a lump on the gum that would fill up with blood and pop and repeat the process.

The first dentist called it a fistula, which made me think of Dr. Nanos’s research cows that still cause me nightmares. The third dentist, a periodontist, told me I fractured the tooth and it needed to come out. Oh, and better yet, I have very dense bone and the tooth is quite attached to its current location. No rusty pliers and go-go juice will pull this one out. Bring in the power grinder and drill.

Yet, that wasn’t the best surprise of the week. Tuesday during my treatments I felt pain in the right side of my neck and trap. I had been to the chiropractor the day before and thought the neck adjustment must have injured something. But in the back of my mind I thought that it felt like clot pain.

Wednesday, the pain was still there on and off. When it started throbbing on Thursday, I went to the mirror and looked at my neck and there was a large golf ball bulge behind my collar bone. When I pressed on it, a pulse of fluid shot up my neck.

What hellish medical practical joke is this, Universe?

This is the Urgent Care television. Why do they even have it on the wall? I felt like ripping it down.

The doctor at urgent care took one look at the bulge and told me to go to the emergency room because they had a scanner for clots.

Off to the ER, my favorite place in the entire world. What a joy. And the visit didn’t disappoint.

I was lucky enough to draw the doctor who watched too much of the TV show E.R. and longed for the drama of patients with fence posts through their heads and fifty gunshot wounds to the torso – not patients with bulging necks.

“Urgent Care sent you here?” she asked, letting me know my case wasn’t worthy of a visit and that she’d never seen a clot in the vein that was swollen. Clearly, I was a douche bag to her at that point and an interruption to her day of more interesting patients who needed their heads sewn back on.

She called for the scanner, reluctantly. The scanner scanned me and found nothing, which brought about relief on my part. No clot. Doctor Thrill Seeker hated me even more and couldn’t explain (didn’t care) why I had pain and a pulsating lump in my neck. Go away, uninteresting patient. Come back when a gang banger has put a cap in your ass and your blood is spraying like a Yosemite geyser. Then I’ll be interested in helping you.

Ah, the joys of the random ER doc. Wonderful and delightful. But luckily, I have a good CF doc who agreed to take a look at it the next day at the hospital, even though there was no clinic.

After he looked at it, he ordered another scan. The result: a clot at the point the port enters my vein. The ER didn’t scan low enough by a fraction of an inch. I couldn’t believe it. Instant depression in a cup. This meant more Lovenox shots, of which I’ve done over a 1,000 for past clots. And being prone to coughing up blood, the shots are the equivalent to me eating wet dynamite. It’s not if my lungs are going explode like a dragon spitting fire, it’s when and where

So, that’s where I’m at right now. 5 Lovenex shots down. Who knows how many to go. The banging sound you hear right now is my head hitting the wall.

Or, is it the sound of irony since I got my port to avoid the clots the PICCs gave me?

Stay clot-free.

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14 thoughts on “Eating wet dynamite while the universe shoots me in the groin

  1. Seriously… what a shit storm. Hoping things start looking up BEFORE the dynamite explodes!

    P.S. Thanks for including the words “douche bag” in this post. They are highly underused in my opinon. 😉

    • Jenny,

      Thank you. Hope I make a dent in the clot before I blow. Doesn’t feel like it yet.

      Hmm, I wonder that’s the first time I’ve ever used “douche bag” on my site? I wonder if I’ll get search engines buzzing with its use. I can place my headshot next to the term.

      Nice of you to visit and comment.

      UC

  2. OH NO!!! The word “clot” is definitely a four-letter word in our house. Every since Jan 08 when Chris’ port (in his arm) got a clot and then they discovered his entire SVC is clotted off = puffy face, puffy neck, purplish-blue tint to his face every coughing fit, can’t lay flat… ever, 3 months of wet dynamite coumadin, and Lovenox shots every hospital stay. Sucks balls. And added a whole new dimension of shitiness to the already shitty CF. I’m so, so sorry UC. Truly. Please know I’m cursing the clot with you and just hoping that there are NO new surprises or side effects in store. Hang in there.
    You are loved, your clot is not.

    • Liz,

      OH, YES!! F’ing clots. I had to look up the type Chris had. Oh, man. That’s terrible. How did he get through it?

      I’m calling the doctor to find out more about mine. I was so irritated on Friday when I found out, all I wanted to do was find a pharmacy that had the shots in stock. Then I didn’t feel like calling the doctor the last few days. But tonight I’ve been looking at neck vein images and wondering how the ER missed it? I need to ask the CF nurse where it is exactly. I’m a bit confused. My neck bulges and it sometimes feels like my face fills up with blood. I wonder if the port needs to come out?

      Thanks for the good wishes. I’ll take them.

      UC

  3. Well after singing the praises of having a port I can’t help but feel a bit of a Pratt now you have a clot after such a short time.
    We have had a similar experience with clots, Lauren’s last port clotted and resulted in her having to have it out and replaced with a new one. Although no one admitted it we suspect that it had more to do with the surgeon who put it in. It started with a bilateral pneumothorax 2 days after it being placed followed by plenty of problems with it blocking and finally clotting.
    I hope that the shots do their job without causing any other problems, positive vibes being sent from Englandshire.

    • Sir Sean of Englandshire,

      I cannot believe that the fair maiden Lauren experienced that from the port and crappy doctor. Glad there were no long term side effects. Tell me you hit the doctor with your car late one night while he was crossing the street and then drove off with your license plates covered in paper bags.

      I think my line is working fine. We’ll see when the nurse comes. The clot is in the vein. Exactly where? I’m not quite sure right now. I need to find out.

      Cheers,

      UC

  4. YIKES! I’m just now logging onto your site. I was out-of-town all last week sans PC. How awful. I really, really hate this for you! Bring your clot to Texas and it will instantly melt in our heat and drought.

    • MAL,

      If I thought going to Texas would fix it, I’d do it. Instead I need the heat of the Lovenox shots. It’s taking it’s time. At least the large bump on my neck has gone away, for the most part.

      Hope you had fun out of town and got crazy drunk and passed out in an alley somewhere with a smile on your face. Have you fixed those nasty hammertoes yet?

      UC

  5. Yeesh, I might pass out if I saw a pulsating, golf-ball-sized lump in my neck. What’s the deal with the ER doctor? Maybe she didn’t realize she was a real life doctor and not an actress playing a doctor. Grr… It makes me mad that she just let you go saying you were fine when there was something quite visibly wrong with you. It’s a good thing your CF doctor is top notch and gave you the once over. Now you can use those “love a fox” shots to regulate on your port. In seriousness, I’m glad you’re ok. Clots are dangerous buisness.

    • Dr. Nanos,

      I know you love ERs as much as I do, especially the billing department. I keep thinking I should send a “teaching moment” letter to the ER and doctor, but I don’t feel like wasting my time. I’m sure I will be there again and I’ll give her shit when I see her.

      Thanks for checking in. I appreciate it.

      UC

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