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Modern medicine has literally saved my arse more than once, no doubt - but...

moparedtn

I got your Staff Member riiiight heeeere...
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Ed story time - well, miscellaneous ramblings might be more like it, but here goes:
First off, let me be really clear here - as I've gone through all manner of medical experiences (current scorecard:
6 times for cancer, 3 other times flatlined and being revived, missing some organs and lots of cool scars....) it's really
never occurred to me to feel sorry for myself.
Let me explain..

For someone like me, it's more like two distinct things within me have emerged, time and again, as my life was threatened
by physical issues:
a) fascination with all the machinations and processes that are involved, both within the medical profession and within
my own mangy carcass
b) some sort of gutteral, dogged refusal to quit, give up the ghost, stay down
I say these things not to brag - hell, I know I ain't nobody - but instead to state that I didn't have a clue any of that was
even in me before all hell broke loose.
I guess nobody does until they're put in such situations really.
Point is, you'd think that maybe a smart person would at least consider their own mortality after so many times...
Well, there's smart... and then there's me, I guess. :)

Ok, all that groundwork laid down, I'll get to the gist of this story:
I've been put under anesthesia some...ok, a LOT... of times now as a result of all the medical trainwrecking.
Each time, it's been a distinctly different experience, oddly enough - you'd think they had that process down to a science,
but not in my experience anyways.

Before the first REALLY big cancer surgery (first time I croaked on the slab; marathon 8 hour surgery session for a grapefruit
sized tumor on my kidney), previously I'd been put under for this test or that colonoscopy - you know, the usual aging human
testing sort of crap. No dramas, nothing unpleasant from any of those early times...
But for that life-saving surgery, performed via robotic means by the surgeon who invented the process (apparently it was the
only shot I had at surviving, so I got the best in the biz!) they literally had to re-do the anesthesia twice during the surgery.
Some folks take more of the stuff than others - and something inside me fought being under mightily, come to find out.
Once I woke up after the surgery that night, all my mind could think of was get up - which I then did, despite nurses coming
in a hurry to settle me back down because of the dozens of stitches and kidney removal and all that...
Once the surgeon came in and told me how it had gone (and showed me pics, no less), I then proceeded to defy orders and
got up, doubled over, and walked....and walked...and drove the poor nurses nuts for the next few days.

Point here is - the anesthesia had to be used repeatedly to allow the doc to do his miracle work and once I was up afterwards,
I was UP for literally days....and I used to be a heavy sleeper before.

A few years later, cancer comes a callin' again (this time thyroid, which is now gone). Again, after days of prayer and such
beforehand, I turned to my wife on the way to the hospital and told her it was going to be fine - I just knew it was, thanks
to a prayer answered - and once there, they did the usual anesthesia.
Of course, just like the last big operation, I apparently woke up in the middle of it again and they had to knock me out again
during the procedure.... mule-headed, I reckon.
When I woke up from that one though, it hurt like hell. As in all over my body....and it took everything I had to not ask
for something for the pain (I have always steadfastly refused any sort of prescription painkillers - I'm scared to death of them).
Once again, once I could stand it, I was up and putting my clothes on for a walk a couple hours later...
Which did the usual freaking out of the nursing staff and such, of course. They even called my wife, hoping she'd talk me
into getting back into bed.
Instead, she told them there wasn't much they could do - that I tend to do this whole walking bit right after surgeries - and
just to keep an eye on me. :)
I wound up not sleeping for two days straight after that one...but the worst of my recoveries from surgery was yet to come.

The most recent surgery, this time for what I call "gut cancer" was just a couple years ago.
Routine stuff at this point - except the anesthesiologist got a little too happy with the juice this time.
As they had my medical records, they saw my spotty history of resisting the night-night juice and decided to really let me have
it this time - which the overly-friendly anesthesiologist happily did - but wouldn't you know, I tried to wake up during that
surgery, too.
Well, of course I did. Can't nothing be easy, right?
The recovery room scene afterwards was equal parts embarassing and to be honest, downright dangerous....
My first foggy memory of it was that of being held down by multiple (I found out later it was 7) nurses and orderlies because
apparently I was having a bad reaction to the whole thing.
I can vaguely recall bellowing at them to GET THE HELL OFF ME and the poor little blonde nurse that had ahold of my left arm
(I'm left-handed) wound up taking a bit of a flight as I tossed her across the next gurney over.
I was having a real hard time coming out of it, to say the least...caveman Ed came out first, regrettably.

As I slowly started to gain more of my human cognitive functions, I made a deal with them that they could hold me by my legs
if they'd just let me sit the hell up - that deal was readily accepted by all and I spent the next few minutes apologizing profusely
to everyone.
My wife was summoned and she had my sinus meds that allowed me to breathe and I eventually calmed down.
One of the nurses told me later with a grin that this had been the first time it had taken all 7 of them in recovery to hold someone
down - but not to feel so bad about it, because it "happens more often than you'd think."
Still...the anesthesia scene wound up being far worse than the surgery itself in that case.
Even more strangely....I've not slept more than 2-3 hours in a stint since then, to this day.

Researching things later on, I've read that others who've had occasion to be put under anesthesia multiple times have had similar
experiences - and further, that some in the medical field believe there's a finite number of times we should be put under in total.
There's a perceived cumulative effect apparently.
If that's the case, I'm the damn poster child for that theory....
My wife used to wonder if I didn't sleep much after all the surgeries because I was afraid - but she's since come to the conclusion
that it's more the effects of all the knockout drugs over time + the mule-headed guy she married.
Guilty as charged...
But I'd kill for a good nights' sleep, too.
 
Had a knee surgery a few years back knocked me out cold, was out well past when evryone thought i should be up, doctor and attending nurses left was discharged without instructions...

I am with you on prescription painkillers a lot of abuse of that stuff in my family history.

Sorry to hear about the trouble sleeping hopefully you get back to normal soon!
 
Trazadone works like a miracle for me. And I’ve been under 14 times for surgeries. No addictive properties, no side effects for me. I’m just able to sleep 7 hrs or so a night. My sleep Dr prescribed it for me when I told him I often took Ambien - haven’t looked back since. It’s not a sleep med it just happens to have been discovered that it helps a great with insomnia.
 
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I have been put out more times than I care to count. Pretty much routine response upon regaining consciousness is a massive urge to get the hell out of there. My worst was after major cranial surgery, was upon waking was trying to rip my breathing tube out. Numerous staff were holding me down to prevent me from doing it. After I wore myself out, they removed the tube…probably figuring that if I could fight that hard, maybe I didn’t need it anymore. I was on massive amounts of morphine , so not sure if that might have been a player too.
 
I was on massive amounts of morphine , so not sure if that might have been a player too.
i reckon so.jpg
 
hopefully you get back to normal soon!
Thanks, but not likely - as my "superstar" surgeon who saved my *** in 2013 said to me:
"Ed, welcome to the new you. This is as good as it gets."
Always liked him - razor sharp, very dry sense of humor and blunt as hell.
When I asked him "how long?" once, he got quite angry at my hubris in daring to even ask
the question - then, after a pause, decided to give it to me straight because he knew I was
pretty damn blunt, too:
"Ten years tops, Ed - if you're lucky."

Well...That was 11 years ago now. :)
 
No doubt you're lucky.
 
Trazadone works like a miracle for me. And I’ve been under 14 times for surgeries. No addictive properties, no side effects for me. I’m just able to sleep 7 hrs or so a night. My sleep Dr prescribed it for me when I told him I often took Ambien - haven’t looked back since. It’s not a sleep med it just happens to have been discovered that it helps a great with insomnia.
I'm appreciative of the suggestion and I'm glad it works for you. :thumbsup:
That said, I've never taken anything for sleeping - not even over the counter - and never had a "sleep doctor".
I do not mess with with anything along those lines of drugs; if croaking a bunch has taught me anything,
it's that I want to be as awake as possible - for as long as possible.
 
Ed story time - well, miscellaneous ramblings might be more like it, but here goes:
First off, let me be really clear here - as I've gone through all manner of medical experiences (current scorecard:
6 times for cancer, 3 other times flatlined and being revived, missing some organs and lots of cool scars....) it's really
never occurred to me to feel sorry for myself.
Let me explain..

For someone like me, it's more like two distinct things within me have emerged, time and again, as my life was threatened
by physical issues:
a) fascination with all the machinations and processes that are involved, both within the medical profession and within
my own mangy carcass
b) some sort of gutteral, dogged refusal to quit, give up the ghost, stay down
I say these things not to brag - hell, I know I ain't nobody - but instead to state that I didn't have a clue any of that was
even in me before all hell broke loose.
I guess nobody does until they're put in such situations really.
Point is, you'd think that maybe a smart person would at least consider their own mortality after so many times...
Well, there's smart... and then there's me, I guess. :)

Ok, all that groundwork laid down, I'll get to the gist of this story:
I've been put under anesthesia some...ok, a LOT... of times now as a result of all the medical trainwrecking.
Each time, it's been a distinctly different experience, oddly enough - you'd think they had that process down to a science,
but not in my experience anyways.

Before the first REALLY big cancer surgery (first time I croaked on the slab; marathon 8 hour surgery session for a grapefruit
sized tumor on my kidney), previously I'd been put under for this test or that colonoscopy - you know, the usual aging human
testing sort of crap. No dramas, nothing unpleasant from any of those early times...
But for that life-saving surgery, performed via robotic means by the surgeon who invented the process (apparently it was the
only shot I had at surviving, so I got the best in the biz!) they literally had to re-do the anesthesia twice during the surgery.
Some folks take more of the stuff than others - and something inside me fought being under mightily, come to find out.
Once I woke up after the surgery that night, all my mind could think of was get up - which I then did, despite nurses coming
in a hurry to settle me back down because of the dozens of stitches and kidney removal and all that...
Once the surgeon came in and told me how it had gone (and showed me pics, no less), I then proceeded to defy orders and
got up, doubled over, and walked....and walked...and drove the poor nurses nuts for the next few days.

Point here is - the anesthesia had to be used repeatedly to allow the doc to do his miracle work and once I was up afterwards,
I was UP for literally days....and I used to be a heavy sleeper before.

A few years later, cancer comes a callin' again (this time thyroid, which is now gone). Again, after days of prayer and such
beforehand, I turned to my wife on the way to the hospital and told her it was going to be fine - I just knew it was, thanks
to a prayer answered - and once there, they did the usual anesthesia.
Of course, just like the last big operation, I apparently woke up in the middle of it again and they had to knock me out again
during the procedure.... mule-headed, I reckon.
When I woke up from that one though, it hurt like hell. As in all over my body....and it took everything I had to not ask
for something for the pain (I have always steadfastly refused any sort of prescription painkillers - I'm scared to death of them).
Once again, once I could stand it, I was up and putting my clothes on for a walk a couple hours later...
Which did the usual freaking out of the nursing staff and such, of course. They even called my wife, hoping she'd talk me
into getting back into bed.
Instead, she told them there wasn't much they could do - that I tend to do this whole walking bit right after surgeries - and
just to keep an eye on me. :)
I wound up not sleeping for two days straight after that one...but the worst of my recoveries from surgery was yet to come.

The most recent surgery, this time for what I call "gut cancer" was just a couple years ago.
Routine stuff at this point - except the anesthesiologist got a little too happy with the juice this time.
As they had my medical records, they saw my spotty history of resisting the night-night juice and decided to really let me have
it this time - which the overly-friendly anesthesiologist happily did - but wouldn't you know, I tried to wake up during that
surgery, too.
Well, of course I did. Can't nothing be easy, right?
The recovery room scene afterwards was equal parts embarassing and to be honest, downright dangerous....
My first foggy memory of it was that of being held down by multiple (I found out later it was 7) nurses and orderlies because
apparently I was having a bad reaction to the whole thing.
I can vaguely recall bellowing at them to GET THE HELL OFF ME and the poor little blonde nurse that had ahold of my left arm
(I'm left-handed) wound up taking a bit of a flight as I tossed her across the next gurney over.
I was having a real hard time coming out of it, to say the least...caveman Ed came out first, regrettably.

As I slowly started to gain more of my human cognitive functions, I made a deal with them that they could hold me by my legs
if they'd just let me sit the hell up - that deal was readily accepted by all and I spent the next few minutes apologizing profusely
to everyone.
My wife was summoned and she had my sinus meds that allowed me to breathe and I eventually calmed down.
One of the nurses told me later with a grin that this had been the first time it had taken all 7 of them in recovery to hold someone
down - but not to feel so bad about it, because it "happens more often than you'd think."
Still...the anesthesia scene wound up being far worse than the surgery itself in that case.
Even more strangely....I've not slept more than 2-3 hours in a stint since then, to this day.

Researching things later on, I've read that others who've had occasion to be put under anesthesia multiple times have had similar
experiences - and further, that some in the medical field believe there's a finite number of times we should be put under in total.
There's a perceived cumulative effect apparently.
If that's the case, I'm the damn poster child for that theory....
My wife used to wonder if I didn't sleep much after all the surgeries because I was afraid - but she's since come to the conclusion
that it's more the effects of all the knockout drugs over time + the mule-headed guy she married.
Guilty as charged...
But I'd kill for a good nights' sleep, too.
Ed I have the same issues, after reading your post it all makes sense. I’ve been under twice for open heart surgery. After both surgeries I was awake for 3 to 4 days straight. My doctor finally put me on ambian after 4 days of no sleep. Even now after taking the meds nightly,I only sleep 3 to 4 hours a night, 4 if it’s real quiet. For some reason the medical people don’t want to talk about it. I was wondering if my mind was fighting to keep from going into that state again. I just don’t know. I’m sorry to hear that you have the same issues with sleep that I do. Thanks for sharing your story. Time for my ambian. Lol
Thanks again Ed.
 
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Ed I have the same issues, after reading your post it all makes sense. I’ve been under twice for open heart surgery. After both surgeries I was awake for 3 to 4 days straight. My doctor finally put me on ambian after 4 days of no sleep. Even now after taking the meds nightly,I only sleep 3 to 4 hours a night, 4 if it’s real quiet. For some reason the medical people don’t want to talk about it. I was wondering if my mind was fighting to keep from going into that state again. I just don’t know. I’m sorry to hear that you have the same issues with sleep that I do. Thanks for sharing your story. Time for my ambian. Lol
Thanks again Ed.
Brother, you're right about that - it's a subject they don't really want to address for the most part.
Don't get me wrong about it though - my concerns are more along the lines of "have I reached the limit
of how many times I can tolerate being put under?"
This is a concern for the simple fact that the odds of my having yet another bout of cancer are pretty darn
good, to be honest...

This is all an interesting journey, at least to me - but I know it's nothing unique or unusual.
I've enough perspective to realize though that both the way I've (on some primal level) fought so damn hard
and that I'm more fascinated with the processes than I am concerned about the results are both things I
don't really have any control over.
 
Ed I have the same issues, after reading your post it all makes sense. I’ve been under twice for open heart surgery. After both surgeries I was awake for 3 to 4 days straight. My doctor finally put me on ambian after 4 days of no sleep. Even now after taking the meds nightly,I only sleep 3 to 4 hours a night, 4 if it’s real quiet. For some reason the medical people don’t want to talk about it. I was wondering if my mind was fighting to keep from going into that state again. I just don’t know. I’m sorry to hear that you have the same issues with sleep that I do. Thanks for sharing your story. Time for my ambian. Lol
Thanks again Ed.
Hey brother - I too took Ambien, not every night but quite often. I have severe sleep apnea which requires a CPAP machine - which I used to despise until eventually I/they found me a compatible and very small nose “mask” with which I’m very comfortable and frankly I love sleeping w/it now. Still took Ambien and told my sleep specialist about the meds and not being able to sleep more than 3/4 hrs max even w/it. He told me they were investigating links between Ambien and Alziemers - That’s all I needed to hear about that. No longer something I wanted to screw with. He recommended Trazdone as a low impact option. I had little faith it would do anything as I had tried it once long ago. Well I tried it again - A miracle. Between taking trazadone and my CPAP I have little trouble sleeping any more. An issue I’ve had for decades. I would encourage you to talk to your Dr and try skipping Ambien and give trazadone a whirl. Don’t give up right away - try for at least a week or two. It is really a safe, boring med used for something else a long time ago they then discovered it had sleep benefits and prescribe for that. Zero anything but 6/7 hrs of calm sleep. I encourage you to bail on the Ambien - stuffs not what you want.
 
Ed story time - well, miscellaneous ramblings might be more like it, but here goes:
First off, let me be really clear here - as I've gone through all manner of medical experiences (current scorecard:
6 times for cancer, 3 other times flatlined and being revived, missing some organs and lots of cool scars....) it's really
never occurred to me to feel sorry for myself.
Let me explain..

For someone like me, it's more like two distinct things within me have emerged, time and again, as my life was threatened
by physical issues:
a) fascination with all the machinations and processes that are involved, both within the medical profession and within
my own mangy carcass
b) some sort of gutteral, dogged refusal to quit, give up the ghost, stay down
I say these things not to brag - hell, I know I ain't nobody - but instead to state that I didn't have a clue any of that was
even in me before all hell broke loose.
I guess nobody does until they're put in such situations really.
Point is, you'd think that maybe a smart person would at least consider their own mortality after so many times...
Well, there's smart... and then there's me, I guess. :)

Ok, all that groundwork laid down, I'll get to the gist of this story:
I've been put under anesthesia some...ok, a LOT... of times now as a result of all the medical trainwrecking.
Each time, it's been a distinctly different experience, oddly enough - you'd think they had that process down to a science,
but not in my experience anyways.

Before the first REALLY big cancer surgery (first time I croaked on the slab; marathon 8 hour surgery session for a grapefruit
sized tumor on my kidney), previously I'd been put under for this test or that colonoscopy - you know, the usual aging human
testing sort of crap. No dramas, nothing unpleasant from any of those early times...
But for that life-saving surgery, performed via robotic means by the surgeon who invented the process (apparently it was the
only shot I had at surviving, so I got the best in the biz!) they literally had to re-do the anesthesia twice during the surgery.
Some folks take more of the stuff than others - and something inside me fought being under mightily, come to find out.
Once I woke up after the surgery that night, all my mind could think of was get up - which I then did, despite nurses coming
in a hurry to settle me back down because of the dozens of stitches and kidney removal and all that...
Once the surgeon came in and told me how it had gone (and showed me pics, no less), I then proceeded to defy orders and
got up, doubled over, and walked....and walked...and drove the poor nurses nuts for the next few days.

Point here is - the anesthesia had to be used repeatedly to allow the doc to do his miracle work and once I was up afterwards,
I was UP for literally days....and I used to be a heavy sleeper before.

A few years later, cancer comes a callin' again (this time thyroid, which is now gone). Again, after days of prayer and such
beforehand, I turned to my wife on the way to the hospital and told her it was going to be fine - I just knew it was, thanks
to a prayer answered - and once there, they did the usual anesthesia.
Of course, just like the last big operation, I apparently woke up in the middle of it again and they had to knock me out again
during the procedure.... mule-headed, I reckon.
When I woke up from that one though, it hurt like hell. As in all over my body....and it took everything I had to not ask
for something for the pain (I have always steadfastly refused any sort of prescription painkillers - I'm scared to death of them).
Once again, once I could stand it, I was up and putting my clothes on for a walk a couple hours later...
Which did the usual freaking out of the nursing staff and such, of course. They even called my wife, hoping she'd talk me
into getting back into bed.
Instead, she told them there wasn't much they could do - that I tend to do this whole walking bit right after surgeries - and
just to keep an eye on me. :)
I wound up not sleeping for two days straight after that one...but the worst of my recoveries from surgery was yet to come.

The most recent surgery, this time for what I call "gut cancer" was just a couple years ago.
Routine stuff at this point - except the anesthesiologist got a little too happy with the juice this time.
As they had my medical records, they saw my spotty history of resisting the night-night juice and decided to really let me have
it this time - which the overly-friendly anesthesiologist happily did - but wouldn't you know, I tried to wake up during that
surgery, too.
Well, of course I did. Can't nothing be easy, right?
The recovery room scene afterwards was equal parts embarassing and to be honest, downright dangerous....
My first foggy memory of it was that of being held down by multiple (I found out later it was 7) nurses and orderlies because
apparently I was having a bad reaction to the whole thing.
I can vaguely recall bellowing at them to GET THE HELL OFF ME and the poor little blonde nurse that had ahold of my left arm
(I'm left-handed) wound up taking a bit of a flight as I tossed her across the next gurney over.
I was having a real hard time coming out of it, to say the least...caveman Ed came out first, regrettably.

As I slowly started to gain more of my human cognitive functions, I made a deal with them that they could hold me by my legs
if they'd just let me sit the hell up - that deal was readily accepted by all and I spent the next few minutes apologizing profusely
to everyone.
My wife was summoned and she had my sinus meds that allowed me to breathe and I eventually calmed down.
One of the nurses told me later with a grin that this had been the first time it had taken all 7 of them in recovery to hold someone
down - but not to feel so bad about it, because it "happens more often than you'd think."
Still...the anesthesia scene wound up being far worse than the surgery itself in that case.
Even more strangely....I've not slept more than 2-3 hours in a stint since then, to this day.

Researching things later on, I've read that others who've had occasion to be put under anesthesia multiple times have had similar
experiences - and further, that some in the medical field believe there's a finite number of times we should be put under in total.
There's a perceived cumulative effect apparently.
If that's the case, I'm the damn poster child for that theory....
My wife used to wonder if I didn't sleep much after all the surgeries because I was afraid - but she's since come to the conclusion
that it's more the effects of all the knockout drugs over time + the mule-headed guy she married.
Guilty as charged...
But I'd kill for a good nights' sleep, too.
Dang, Ed. Sounds to me
like you're one tough SOB
with a spirt that God wishes
it remain, here with us the
living. His plan for you has
not been met here on earth,
and evidently you've more to
contribute.
I, like you, never get more
than 4 hrs sleep per night.
Been that way since I was 17
after a bad accident
involving a snowmobile
and a tree. Spent 6 weeks
in traction, 6 months in a
full upper body cast.
Paralyzed on the left side
since. Still managed
marriage (46 years), two
kids, 7 grandkids.
A couple things stand out
during my stint in the
hospital. It's curious as
they're quite funny and
embarrassing at the same
time.
There was a mirror attached
to the floor at the head of
the traction machine I was
captured in. Just enough
freedom to move via eye
blinks.
The candy stripers would
stand over that mirror.
On purpose?
The second, wheeled on a
gurney to the third floor
for an x-ray. A well endowed
candy striper hangin' 'em
just inches from my face
while maneuvering the
gurney. In a hospital gown,
it was quite evident the
reaction. People giggling
in the elevator.....
Glad your're still with us Ed.
 
Dang, Ed. Sounds to me
like you're one tough SOB
with a spirt that God wishes
it remain, here with us the
living. His plan for you has
not been met here on earth,
and evidently you've more to
contribute.
I, like you, never get more
than 4 hrs sleep per night.
Been that way since I was 17
after a bad accident
involving a snowmobile
and a tree. Spent 6 weeks
in traction, 6 months in a
full upper body cast.
Paralyzed on the left side
since. Still managed
marriage (46 years), two
kids, 7 grandkids.
A couple things stand out
during my stint in the
hospital. It's curious as
they're quite funny and
embarrassing at the same
time.
There was a mirror attached
to the floor at the head of
the traction machine I was
captured in. Just enough
freedom to move via eye
blinks.
The candy stripers would
stand over that mirror.
On purpose?
The second, wheeled on a
gurney to the third floor
for an x-ray. A well endowed
candy striper hangin' 'em
just inches from my face
while maneuvering the
gurney. In a hospital gown,
it was quite evident the
reaction. People giggling
in the elevator.....
Glad your're still with us Ed.
Good Lord man, that was some serious shiyat to endure!
(Yeah, I know - Captain Obvious)
God love ya...
Sounds like the hospital staff knew how to keep you in a positive frame of mind though, eh? :)

Yeah, I don't know if He still has a plan or if He just gave up on me after a while...
Either way, we'll run with whatever is left here until it won't run any more.
The medical industry that has repeatedly saved me has also run me down too - and I'm about done
with it all...but yeah, the urologist told my wife more than once that I was the toughest patient he'd
ever had - and made a point of saying he'd never lost a patient and wasn't about to start with my stubborn
arse. :)
 
Good Lord man, that was some serious shiyat to endure!
(Yeah, I know - Captain Obvious)
God love ya...
Sounds like the hospital staff knew how to keep you in a positive frame of mind though, eh? :)

Yeah, I don't know if He still has a plan or if He just gave up on me after a while...
Either way, we'll run with whatever is left here until it won't run any more.
The medical industry that has repeatedly saved me has also run me down too - and I'm about done
with it all...but yeah, the urologist told my wife more than once that I was the toughest patient he'd
ever had - and made a point of saying he'd never lost a patient and wasn't about to start with my stubborn
arse. :)
Never quit, never give up,
never give in.
Never lie, cheat, or steal.
Words from my 'ol man.
He was a vet from the
Korean War.
He was an alcoholic who
died at the ripe old age of
57 having smoked 2 packs
a day of his beloved L&M's
for many years.
Those words saw me thru
everything concerning
trying times. Hope this
doesn't sound too much on
the mushy side, just offering
words of encouragement.
Hang in there!
 
Me too. Sciatica. Dr Rustahmzadeh walks on water. If not for his Magic, I’d still be crawling on the floor and unable to wipe my ***. Then there is the Stent…
 
Me too. Sciatica. Dr Rustahmzadeh walks on water. If not for his Magic, I’d still be crawling on the floor and unable to wipe my ***. Then there is the Stent…
Sciatica.
The reason for my
retirement. Over-
compensation in the spine
from being paralyzed on
one side. Can't sit in front
of that computer screen
for hours on end anymore.
But I haven't stopped
entirely from working on
the hot rods. Just gotta
be mighty careful. I've
even modified my creeper
to include padding and
lumbar support. Cup holders
and stereo speakers are
next.
I can truthfully sympathize.
 
Me too. Sciatica. Dr Rustahmzadeh walks on water. If not for his Magic, I’d still be crawling on the floor and unable to wipe my ***. Then there is the Stent…

Sciatica.
The reason for my
retirement. Over-
compensation in the spine
from being paralyzed on
one side. Can't sit in front
of that computer screen
for hours on end anymore.
But I haven't stopped
entirely from working on
the hot rods. Just gotta
be mighty careful. I've
even modified my creeper
to include padding and
lumbar support. Cup holders
and stereo speakers are
next.
I can truthfully sympathize.
Here too. Damaged disc in lower back as a result of pulling on a fire hydrant the wrong way; it sounded like a tree branch
snapping when it went and I went down in a heap...
Was given the choice of an iffy corrective surgery or trying Gabapentin to put out the unbearable fire all down my right hip
and leg. I chose the drug and *knock wood* have been mostly successful with it, at a less than prescribed dosage, for
several years now.
Hope that never changes - sciatica is some evil ****.
 
"sciatica is some evil ****"
Boy, howdy! Nothing has
knocked me out of
commission like the dreaded
attack. I don't take any drugs
for it's relief of pain. It takes
3 days of being immobile
before I can get up off the
couch after a bout.
It's amazing how debilitating
it can be.
 
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