This post is the set up for another upcoming post. I gotta think about something while waiting for sleep to overtake me!
Monday, April 19, 2004, at 5:19 in the morning, I’m crossing a cold, rain-swept parking lot at work, ready to start the first shift of my rotation when an Ottawa spotting truck comes whipping into the lot.
He isn’t supposed to be there. There is a building at the other end of the lot that sometimes needs to have trailers spotted, but not this morning. He’s there, in violation of company rules, to drop off his lunch box and gear, and to start his car so it will be warm when he leaves work in 25 minutes.
The spotter driver also has the habit of sitting with the seat almost on the floor, like the Mexican Low-Riders. And a computer blocks his right side windshield. So the driver can’t very well see anything near him, including pedestrians.
As I said, he comes whipping into the lot at about 15 - 20 mph and immediately makes a right hand turn, driving directly at me. I had time for three thoughts:
1. If he doesn’t see me, he’s going to hit me.
2. If he hits me, I’m going down.
3. If I go down, he’s gonna run over me.
Take another look at the photo of the Ottawa. I hit the truck right at the “O” in the word Ottawa on the bumper. My head, thankfully encased in a helmet, hit the sloping edge of the engine cover. I was knocked unconscious, thrown through the air 20 feet or so, at an angle that left me on the left side of the truck, coming to rest in a puddle of very cold rainwater. It was there that I regained consciousness.
The driver stopped next to me, got out of the truck, walked around me once saying, “You came out of nowhere! I didn’t even see you.” He got back in the truck, as I struggled to stand, and drove off, leaving me there to pick up my helmet that had been between his rear wheels!
I had to make all the calls to let my management know that I wouldn’t probably be finishing out the workday, ‘cause I was going to go to the ER, and proceeded to drive myself to the hospital.
And I never did get paid Workmen’s Comp for the week I was off.
I described that accident for two reasons. First, most folks visiting this blog haven’t heard about my encounter. And, that incident was the start of several decision-making processes.
For example, two weeks later, I came down with my first UTI (Urinary Tract Infection).
Now, I want to go on record right now as having apologized to my ex-, and any other woman who has ever had UTIs, for not being as sensitive to the realities of this condition as I should have. I firmly believe that all men should have to undergo at least one UTI just so they know what is going on when someone else has one.
For me, there was no pain. I did feel “bad” all over, but hey, I had just been run over; it comes with the territory. But, in addition to that, I was tired, shaky, and just plain washed out. I could work, but at half speed, if that. I just dragged myself around.
So off to the doctor I go to describe what is going on. As I said, I didn’t have any pain, at least not the way I define it.
The doctors always ask, “On a scale of 0 – 10, with 10 being the worst, how do you feel?”
For me, “10” is a “shot-in-the-stomach” gall bladder attack, where I would rather kneel along side the gurney, holding myself upright by my arms rather than lay down because laying down put the gall bladder up against the diaphragm which made it hurt even more.
And if “0” is perfectly normal, then “0 to 1” simply indicates sensation. No pain, just “not-normal” feeling. “1 to 2” then represents the beginnings of discomfort. Anything over 2 starts to describe “pain.” Tennis elbow might get to be a subjective “4” but it could never reach a “10” unless my arm was cut off at the elbow. But then, the pain becomes evident and there is no need for silly scales.
So, here I am with a UTI, trying to convince the doctor that something is wrong with me. I had to lie! I had unusual “sensation” upon urination but it never reached the level of “discomfort,” much less “pain.” But I knew what the symptoms that the doctor would be looking for, for the conditions I was describing. So I lied; I said that I had “pain upon urination.”
That got results. Sure enough, one midstream urine sample later, cloudy BTW, and I was prescribed the necessary antibiotics to treat and cure the infection.
So, I try to accurately describe what is going on with me, but that’s not what the doctors seem to respond to. They have their own language that they respond to. If you don’t meet the textbook symptoms you have a tendency to get ignored. I’m finding that out, again.
So, I’m finding I have to translate what I feel into “doctorspeak,” exaggerating symptoms just to facilitate communication.
That’s what my future post will be attempting to do, inform you what’s going on while describing it well enough so that the medical profession can understand as well.
Monday, April 19, 2004, at 5:19 in the morning, I’m crossing a cold, rain-swept parking lot at work, ready to start the first shift of my rotation when an Ottawa spotting truck comes whipping into the lot.
He isn’t supposed to be there. There is a building at the other end of the lot that sometimes needs to have trailers spotted, but not this morning. He’s there, in violation of company rules, to drop off his lunch box and gear, and to start his car so it will be warm when he leaves work in 25 minutes.
The spotter driver also has the habit of sitting with the seat almost on the floor, like the Mexican Low-Riders. And a computer blocks his right side windshield. So the driver can’t very well see anything near him, including pedestrians.
As I said, he comes whipping into the lot at about 15 - 20 mph and immediately makes a right hand turn, driving directly at me. I had time for three thoughts:
1. If he doesn’t see me, he’s going to hit me.
2. If he hits me, I’m going down.
3. If I go down, he’s gonna run over me.
Take another look at the photo of the Ottawa. I hit the truck right at the “O” in the word Ottawa on the bumper. My head, thankfully encased in a helmet, hit the sloping edge of the engine cover. I was knocked unconscious, thrown through the air 20 feet or so, at an angle that left me on the left side of the truck, coming to rest in a puddle of very cold rainwater. It was there that I regained consciousness.
The driver stopped next to me, got out of the truck, walked around me once saying, “You came out of nowhere! I didn’t even see you.” He got back in the truck, as I struggled to stand, and drove off, leaving me there to pick up my helmet that had been between his rear wheels!
I had to make all the calls to let my management know that I wouldn’t probably be finishing out the workday, ‘cause I was going to go to the ER, and proceeded to drive myself to the hospital.
And I never did get paid Workmen’s Comp for the week I was off.
I described that accident for two reasons. First, most folks visiting this blog haven’t heard about my encounter. And, that incident was the start of several decision-making processes.
For example, two weeks later, I came down with my first UTI (Urinary Tract Infection).
Now, I want to go on record right now as having apologized to my ex-, and any other woman who has ever had UTIs, for not being as sensitive to the realities of this condition as I should have. I firmly believe that all men should have to undergo at least one UTI just so they know what is going on when someone else has one.
For me, there was no pain. I did feel “bad” all over, but hey, I had just been run over; it comes with the territory. But, in addition to that, I was tired, shaky, and just plain washed out. I could work, but at half speed, if that. I just dragged myself around.
So off to the doctor I go to describe what is going on. As I said, I didn’t have any pain, at least not the way I define it.
The doctors always ask, “On a scale of 0 – 10, with 10 being the worst, how do you feel?”
For me, “10” is a “shot-in-the-stomach” gall bladder attack, where I would rather kneel along side the gurney, holding myself upright by my arms rather than lay down because laying down put the gall bladder up against the diaphragm which made it hurt even more.
And if “0” is perfectly normal, then “0 to 1” simply indicates sensation. No pain, just “not-normal” feeling. “1 to 2” then represents the beginnings of discomfort. Anything over 2 starts to describe “pain.” Tennis elbow might get to be a subjective “4” but it could never reach a “10” unless my arm was cut off at the elbow. But then, the pain becomes evident and there is no need for silly scales.
So, here I am with a UTI, trying to convince the doctor that something is wrong with me. I had to lie! I had unusual “sensation” upon urination but it never reached the level of “discomfort,” much less “pain.” But I knew what the symptoms that the doctor would be looking for, for the conditions I was describing. So I lied; I said that I had “pain upon urination.”
That got results. Sure enough, one midstream urine sample later, cloudy BTW, and I was prescribed the necessary antibiotics to treat and cure the infection.
So, I try to accurately describe what is going on with me, but that’s not what the doctors seem to respond to. They have their own language that they respond to. If you don’t meet the textbook symptoms you have a tendency to get ignored. I’m finding that out, again.
So, I’m finding I have to translate what I feel into “doctorspeak,” exaggerating symptoms just to facilitate communication.
That’s what my future post will be attempting to do, inform you what’s going on while describing it well enough so that the medical profession can understand as well.
1 comment:
uti can be painful. some product that i found on the net that do work is this uti treatment
Post a Comment