Home > Health and wellness, Life or something like it > This crap shouldn’t be happening to me, yet

This crap shouldn’t be happening to me, yet

01/05/2013

Entry 01/04/2013 07:14:02 AM – Mentat 675

“We don’t see things as they are, we see things as we are.” – Anais Nin

What a comedy of errors (and a couple of health scares) the last couple of days into the new year has turned out to be. Sure, Near Year’s was sedate enough. But that doesn’t normally count for me for what’s coming in the New Year… If anything, the holiday itself is simply a respite from whatever I had been going through from the year before. It’s what I like referring to as the “breather” before starting off the New Year. Whether that start is going to be good or bad, well… I don’t normally get a temperature of it until about March. Still though, as I’m sitting here beginning this journal entry, I can’t help but think it’s going to be an interesting year…

So, Wednesday… My landlord sends me a text that we’ve got an insurance appraiser coming over to the apartment complexes here in the neighborhood and that I should take the time to straighten out the basement before the appraiser shows up. He said that she’ll also need access to my apartment as I’m the only one that he can get hold of to gain access.

Sure. No problem, I think to myself. I’m already cleaned up and dressed early, got the house in order the day before (and before I headed up to my mother’s for dinner) and even got a couple of the things from the other apartments completed. Shouldn’t be too much of a problem to start cleaning the basement. Besides, I knew that it wasn’t true. Both people on the first floor were home, but I knew that their apartments would be classified “disaster areas” when compared to the Spartan cleanliness of mine.

Was going rather well, in spite of the fact that the three hoses that were in the basement are kinked up to hell and back and turned out to be completely impossible to de-kink and untangle. Now granted there wasn’t much I could do with the left side section of the basement. The people on the first floor have enough furniture for two apartments here and the deadbeat still has things in the basement that need to be removed (oil-based paintings and huge-assed canvasses that are considered a fire hazard), so all I could possibly do is straighten out what wasn’t theirs and hope for the best.

As I was finishing up the section of the basement on the right side when straightening out the extra ceramic tiles (that had been used for the floor in my bathroom) when an extremely sharp shard cut through the work gloves I’d been using and sliced cleanly into my left pinky. I was extremely surprised it had cut through the leather and even more surprised it had gotten me. And did it get me!

I was bleeding like a stuck pig.

Rushed upstairs to my apartment to check the damage and ensure that I had no ceramic fragments in the cut and cleaned it as best I could. Realized that this cut was a hell of a lot deeper than expected and that I was going to need band aids for it. Of course, there were none in the house, all the while, bleeding into the bathroom sink, onto the floor in the bathroom and the kitchen as I tried grabbing a paper towel.

Swearing to myself, trying my best to keep pressure on the cut with one hand and using the other to clean up the blood on the floor, and wash out the bathroom sink. Getting a bit more blood on the floor and cleaning it, I realize that this sort of cut’s going to need my full attention and a lot more regular pressure and the hope that this sort of cut isn’t going to need stitches or butterflies, which means a trip to the ER and something I couldn’t afford.

Three minutes and a lot more blood into the kitchen sink later, I realize this isn’t going to be stopping soon. And that means needing bandages and antiseptic.

And there’s none in the house as I don’t often cut myself at home.

It’s funny… Sitting here now writing about this, I could’ve headed over to the garage as the Garage has a full first aid kit But somewhere in the back of my head, I decided against it out of the fact that it would’ve been more of a struggle getting to the kit than I wanted to do. So I headed over to my mother’s place as I knew she had all the necessities for this sort of cut.

So there I am, locking the door to the apartment up, trudging and slipping on the ice as I head toward the street, I started acting like a complete hypochondriac think “pneumonia” if I were to trudge less than ¼ mile to my mother’s apartment with my coat open in just below freezing temperatures. Let me tell you, while I admit to being moderately ambidextrous, having my left hand incapacitated as it’s trying to keep pressure on a bleeding cut and tying up a jacket is pretty damned impossible. While I was fortunate enough not to get any blood on my jacket (or pants), the gravity did it’s work and it was all about the alleyway because of my struggles.

On the way, I struggle with my coat again, get my mobile and call my mother while trying to keep pressure and not bleed all over the really icy sidewalks and bridge. I tell her I’m on my way up to her place for band-aids, tell her briefly about the accident and if she can pick up a small box of band-aids for me and anything else she can think of.

I got to her place without a fall, but slipped at least a million times trying to walk through hardened slush and icy patches on the sidewalks. When I got to her house, her dog — Sarah — was in the living room and perked up when she saw me dash from the door to the bathroom (but didn’t get up), said something to her about “stay there” and got into the bathroom, washed out the cut one more time, saw it was still bleeding profusely and got some antiseptic ointment and band-aid onto it, but not without bleeding all over her bathroom sink and faucets as well.

Yes, the bleeding did stop when I got the band-aid onto it. I had wrapped it with just enough pressure without cutting off circulation to the tip of my pinky. I gave Sarah a pet who didn’t get up once, locked up and headed back to the house to finish what I had started.

Final Score: 3 sinks and sets of faucets (2 of mine, 1 of my mother’s), 1 toilet seat (mine and only saw it this morning and given it’s placement was because I had a nature call somewhere in this chaos), 4 floors (my kitchen and bathroom, my mother’s kitchen and bathroom), an alleyway and ½ a pair of work gloves.

Heh, I’m still very surprised none of my clothes or coat were bloodied in the process. Nor my phone (as I use it left handed more often times than naught). Everything else though? Ha! I’m such a dramatic, hot mess.

So I got through the building and apartment inspection without a hitch, talked a bit with my landlord as to some of the things that had been going on since, went through what I needed to do for work (did that yesterday), and once that was all done, headed back to my mother’s as I was sure she would be home from work by that time.

Sure enough I caught her outside with Sarah as she was getting back from walking the dog, and after the usual greeting she says, “you knew I was at work and wouldn’t be able to answer the phone.”

“Of course, which is why I knew I would be leaving a message on your voicemail.”

“What happened?”

So I told her again, got upstairs, took off the band-aid to show her the cut and no sooner than I did began bleeding again.

With her help, I got a bit more ointment and a clean bandage on it and it stopped bleeding again.

She didn’t pick up a box, but instead went into the medicine chest and pulled out one of 3 different boxes, giving me enough to last the next two years (as I said, I don’t cut myself often, so a dozen or two are going to last me forever).

Then, as she went about cleaning up the rooms, I stood in the hallway and told her about the conversations that I’ve had with the landlord and what I’m wanting to do with him through the next month. As she was coming back from the bedroom and heading to the kitchen, I turn to get ahead of her (so I could sit at the kitchen table)…

… And proceeded to slam full-on with the doorframe of the kitchen. I knew I hit it too, my head bounced off the doorframe and felt the dull ache in the middle of my forehead.

Between asking me I’m all right and laughing so much that she practically wets herself, I roll my eyes and say, “Yeah I’m fine. I blame this on all the blood I’ve lost.”

Seriously though, even after making a dramatic joke about it, I know I’ve always been this graceful. Friend and family know this after 47 years since the first time I wobbled up and walked erect like a homo sapiens and not an infant.

She still continued laughing for some time after that, and then when her husband came home told and laughed then as well.

Good thing I have a self-depreciating sense of humor and continued to make light of it. And another good thing that didn’t come out of that happily little accident is that I didn’t end up with either a shiner or a welt on my forehead.

Yesterday there was no indication that the cut on my pinky bled, and this morning, I didn’t put on a new bandage after the shower as there’s been no indication of any bleeding since. So off with the bandage and on with showing off a new scar for the next couple of weeks before it disappears.

Then last night, I don’t know what the hell happened. I went through a day of painting and got home fine and without any problems. Made myself a modest supper (as I always do) of left over turkey salad sandwiches and soup, and for some reason I got extremely cold and no amount of heat (from the heater or the shower that I took) could keep me warm. Ended up shutting down everything but the heat and going to bed early… Fell right to sleep too.

Sometime in the night, I woke up, realized that the heat was still on (I always sleep with it off, after all I have enough blankets and body heat that I don’t need it at night) and got up to shut it off before falling back to sleep.

Fell out of bed.

Got up, stumbled and slammed into the doorframe in the bedroom.

Thinking that the downstairs neighbor is probably thinking something’s going wrong upstairs try to get myself re-oriented and shambling to the stove to shut off the heat, slammed my hip into that as well.

Cursed and shambled to the bathroom for a nature call and slammed my head into the shelf above the toilet.

It was like I had an inner ear infection (I know what those are like, I’ve had enough of them in my life). Except that I didn’t exhibit any of the symptoms that I normally have when I’m getting an inner ear infection.

So, keeping one hand against the walls and shambling back to bed, I passed out only to wake up this morning, perfectly all right.

I don’t want to know what the hell happened last night, but I hope that it was just that I was too tired and disoriented when I woke up that this sort of thing happened. If it happens again, I’m going to have to have that checked for certain.

Heh, I still want to blame the blood loss from 2 days ago on this (even though I know that I can’t and knowing I’m being a drama queen about it).

Anyway, I’ll probably write when I get home. I have to go into work early this morning; looks like my landlord wants to make up for the time lost that he didn’t work yesterday. Until then.

[Last Edited: 01/04/2013 03:08:11 PM]

Heading into work, the more I thought about last night’s calamity of bang ups and (lack of) bruises, the more I began to think there was something seriously wrong. It was either an allergic reaction to something or I had something seriously going on with my blood pressure. Talking to my family, they ruled out the usual possibilities (Inner Ear Infection and Influenza). My aunt doesn’t think it’s blood pressure, but then again she’s been on medication to control that for years (more than two decades, if memory serves) and might not have had the same symptoms. So I decided to work only a half-day (with the permission from my landlord) and over the next three I’m going to monitor what I’m eating, what I come in contact with, etc.. And see if it’s an allergic reaction.

I also ruled out that it was a sugar/metabolism problem as well. I mean my sugar did plummet yesterday early afternoon (noontime-ish) — so much so that not only was I disoriented (and in my own world), but I only realized that my sugar had dropped to a dangerous level when I found myself on autopilot heading home for lunch. But after a good meal and for the remainder of the afternoon, I was perfectly all right. No dizziness, no disorientation, everything went on as it should through the rest of the day.

When I had called them to ask whether they had a portable blood pressure reader (and both said no), that I head up to the local pharmacy (Walgreen’s) and have it checked. Only problem with this is that I’m perfectly fine right now and having it checked isn’t going to do much other than confirm that my blood is a bit higher than normal (has been since I was a teen), not to mention that if it happens again at night (like it did last night), Walgreen’s closes at 9 PM and this happened at midnight last night.

So I’m going to rule out that it might be an allergic reaction.

Great… Just great there.

Since the car accident 28 years ago, I haven’t developed any new allergies and the last one that was discovered was formaldehyde. Fun times there discovering that one as I’m working in a distribution warehouse filled with boxes or clothes and what not. Though the symptoms to that didn’t start developing until I was there for almost 6 months, and even then it was heart palpitations, shortness of breath and extreme brain-splitting headaches.

Now the thing is that my landlord has used cardboard as a sort of floor protection while we’ve been working at the garage the let couple of months, and while that might be the culprit, the problem is that it’s a tenth of the amount of cardboard I’ve been exposed to at the distribution warehouse. The other thing is that it’s only been in the garage (either stacked up or laid out on the floor) no more than 2 months, which means that it’s too soon for me to demonstrate any symptoms.

In any case, I’m going to need to watch what I do the next three days and see if it’s something with the house, work at the garage, something I ate, or something that just happened.

Anyway, I think I’m going to take one more break. Off to my mother’s for dinner this evening and then I’ll come home and either write a bit more or post and call it a night… Once again.

[Last Edited: 01/05/2013 09:50:42 AM]

Christ on a drunken rampage, there’s just no end to the “fun” that I’ve been having. Last night, I went over to my mother’s for dinner and a bit of chatting; I thought that I did pretty all right with the food choice (steak & cheese calzone from a local pizzeria). Even stayed up to a moderate time before crashing in bed. Then around 2 in the morning, I’m woken up to incredible discomfort and indigestion. At first I’m thinking it’s a gallbladder attack like the one that I had a couple of years ago, except the longer I stayed up to nurse through the pain the more I realized that I had an incredible amount of gas. I think I became convinced it wasn’t my gallbladder because I took a hot shower sometime halfway through the pain and realized that the shower had calmed me down significantly. (The last time, no amount of warm water on me would make the pain go away). Further, the pain that I had in my mid-back wasn’t even there. That and the fact that I was burping every three minutes wasn’t what happened the times I have had an attack either. So about mid-way through I decided to make myself a couple of dry toast, ate most of the first slice and voila, all the pain and gas that I had been suffering through receded. There were a couple of moments that I thought I was going to vomit, but that passed when I went back to bed to lie down.

Heh, then only problem I was experiencing was that by the time it had diminished to the point where I could go back to bed, my unconscious mind played some awful tricks on me and made me think that I was still in pain. So for the next couple of hours as I laid there in bed, while I knew I was sleeping, it wasn’t the typical deep sleep I’m used to having and any movement that I did made me think that the pain was still there. It took me waking up at 7 am (and then immediately going back to sleep) to convince the unconvinced part of my brain that the pain had entirely passed. I got a couple of more hours of peaceful sleep and now I’m up for the duration.

Seriously, this crap isn’t supposed to be happening until I’m almost 60. I don’t understand why it’s all decided to come visit me in 2013. In any event, I’m hoping this isn’t going to be some sort of awful trend for this year, because let me tell you: I’m not going to have any of it! Not… One… Bit!

Anyway, that’s it for the time being. I’m going out with the relatives to The Lodge for dinner. That and in a little bit I need to see what’s going on with my mother’s computer. Looks like she’s got some sort of failure going on. Hopefully she has access to the Install DVD, if not, then it’s going to be a convoluted mess at a Command Prompt. Until the next time.

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