Today’s butt-kicking brought to you by the name I shall not speak

There’s nothing like a bad Pulmonary Function Test (PFT) to ruin your day. Or your life. And, as I have internet friends going through hell right now with their results and breathing, I’ll leave my crying for another post.

I fell out of my chair when I saw this t-shirt on zazzle.com. I would change "obstructive" and "restrictive" to more adult terms.

But there’s nothing like the feeling when you blow hard and your lungs sound like a they’re a poorly carbureted 67 Camaro. The moment you see the results on the computer screen, your hope, with its eggshell-thick covering, gets crushed.

A surprise punch to the gut. Vertigo-a-gogo. Or what it must feel like when you’re inside an elevator and it breaks away and falls to the bottom floor.

My wife and I went to a New Year’s Eve party. Well, there were only six adults and three kids, but it was fun and I’m defining it as a party. Usually we stay home. So this was pretty darn exciting. Until I saw one of women sniffing with a runny nose, and not looking so good. I knew we were screwed. I washed the top layer of skin off my hands, but my wife was hosed, as women like to hug when they meet.

[Public Service Message: Don’t go to parties when you’re sick. It’s worse than re-gifting a “Seen on TV” present.]

But Monday we felt great as we cleared out the Christmas decorations and I took down the lights. In fact, we had tons of energy – a crazy high level of energy like you get just before a cold but never recognize. Oh, yeah, that one.

Tuesday came and so did the virus.

I maxed out the vitamin C, zinc, Thai food soup, sinus rinse. I didn’t feel too bad, and don’t as of writing this, other than the pounding headache. But at today’s clinic appointment, I failed my PFT, down over 20%. I was on Cipro over the holiday, so now I’m on it longer and have to repeat the PFT next week. Most likely, my eight-month vacation from jail is about to end.

Oh, there was one more punch today. The clot in my neck is still there. The groundhog saw its shadow: two more months of Lovenox shots in the gut.

Here’s one more blow to make it a triple cocktail: I was selected to represent my department at the CES show next week in Vegas. I’ve always wanted to go. Goodbye, dream.

You know what? It’s all good. I’m sending good vibes to those worse off and fighting hard tonight.

As for me, in the immortal words of the Black Knight when his arm was cut off, “Tis but a scratch.”

The Black Knight brought to you by Monty Python

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12 thoughts on “Today’s butt-kicking brought to you by the name I shall not speak

  1. well, all i can say is Forza comes today and i shall take your mind of your problems by royally kicking your ass this weekend.

  2. Well, as much as I would like to say “tall ho, old chap, things will get better.” What I really think is “Shit. That sucks. You sure drew the short straw in life.” Is that too offensive? I hope not, because I mean it with all care and empathy, but I just don’t want to bullshiit you, you know?

    I took lovenox to the stomach through my pregnancy with my son – 4 months straight. It is not for the faint of heart. My husband suggested at the time I take shots of liquor before every injection, then he remembered I was pregnant with our only child and that suggestion went out the window. It might work for you though. I had vodka, grand marniner, lime and cranberry juice cocktails this evening while sitting on the porch. I wasn’t much good to anyone after three of them, but I’m pretty sure someone could have hit me with a needle to the stomach and I wouldn’t have even flinched. Worth a try.

    Sending some good aussie vibes to you, though your news is not what I would hope to hear, its sure good to “hear” from you. Stay well and hang in there, today is but a moment in time, and dammit, you have a lot of moments left – this one doesn’t count for squat.

    • Karyn,

      I am so lucky to have you be part of my blog. Even on e-paper, your positive energy comes through.

      Sorry you had to do the shots while you were pregnant. They’re a drag. I’ve lost track of how many I’ve done over the years. I’ve had three or four times using them. Well over a thousand shots. I like your husband’s suggestion, though you made the right choice in not listening to him. My stomach is immune to them now. I can press the needle in slowly and not feel it.

      Thanks for the Aussie vibes. Much appreciated. Must be why we’re having 80 degree days. Crazy hot for this time of year.

      Thanks again for the comments and energy.

      UC

  3. Ugh, 2 more months of hot pokers! I feel for you after finishing 1 1/2 months of the suckers. BTW, I was in clinic yesterday too, hmmm. Hope you feel better and can kick that virus without a stay in the hole.

      • Yep, I do believe we both go to the ‘new and improved’ Keck!! Every time I see a man at clinic I wonder if it is you. I actually saw three in clinic last week as I was waiting so I probably saw you. 🙂 And yes, I had a clot on the end of my port tubing in my ventricle. Thank god the Lovenox worked fairly quickly, I just hate em.

  4. I’m so sorry. This is the part that regular folks will never really understand about illness. What you just described reminds me of the day in day out stress of illness. The constant stress is waiting for the other shoe to drop, and the anticipation of bad news. Then when you do get bad news it’s still devastating even though you tried to prepare for it. I’m not saying that we dwell on it, but it’s hard to ignore the monster lurking and waiting. You seem to do a great job of enjoying your healthy days without living in too much fear. Well done.

    • Margie,

      I can’t top the way you described dealing with constant illness. Well said. You understand it – unfortunately. I’m doing my best to enjoy every day. I like the ones where I feel good much better than the others.

      UC

  5. Ugh. A trifecta of suckery. Glad you had a good NYE, but sorry it was at such an expense. C’est la CF vie, aye? Sending you all sorts of good vibes, and hoping you get to cash in your “get a cold like a normal person” card and bounce back in time to make it to Vegas, after all. Hey, happened to me in December (the normal, 72-hour bounce-back, not Vegas – though I wouldn’t have minded). Fingers/toes/eyes crossed, buddy!

    • Jessica,

      One day I’m going to write a post called “Trifecta of Suckery.” I love it. For now, it will be the unofficial title of the post. Thanks for thinking it up and for the good vibes.

      Vegas is out. Had to make the call early so someone else could take my place. Fighting this thing every day. We’ll see what the results are this week.

      Best to you,

      UC

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