So It Begins...
Divorce changes things. Even language.What do you call your former in-laws?
Let me re-phrase that.
What do you call the loving grandparents of your children? What do you call those people who entered your life, opened their arms, support you, and love you?
I call them my outlaws.
It's a nice pun. It works on several levels. It makes me chuckle—not laugh...that's too harsh. Chuckle.
So, I'm visiting with my outlaws, and I brought a bike (shocker!). I went riding with a local—an incredibly fit 50-something whose palpable enthusiasm for riding delights.
Riding with him is always a pleasure.
We ride.
Now is a good time to remind you, Constant Reader, that I take forever to warm up. The first 45 minutes of any ride is a pain cave. It sucks. Everything feels...wrong. From the bones on up.
We rode. An hour passed. I was deep in my pain cave. Still, nothing felt right.
Let me re-phrase that...NOTHING felt right. It was less Indiana Jones (when Marian kissed his elbow) and more Toxic Avenger.
I felt BAD.
With all the politeness and humility as I could muster, I begged off the remaining portion of the ride. Sure, I had a mechanical as well, but the bottom line was: I felt like crap; it was getting worse.
My enthusiastic friend was gracious and continued his sprightly journey through the perfect Long Island summer morning.
If you ride, you've had it happen. You've gotten on the bike and it never gets good, or average, or even tolerable. Something ain't right, and you know there's nothing you can do about it.
It happens. We get over it.
Beach, Beach, Yummy Peach
The next few days were filled with sun, sand, and silliness. We dug pits, built walls, jumped waves, got tumbled, and we were well-salted.
We picked our final peaches from the orchard, gobbled down an empty-the-fridge dinner (the best kind!). I packed. We slept. All was well.
We drove home—a long-ish drive. A rain-blasted, patience-testing, leg-cramping drive.
You've done them. You know.
We awoke on Friday. Bright sun, pleasant air, storm on the horizon. Crystal blue skies; I had no idea what was coming.
Ok, NOW it begins...
Something was wrong. I had phantom pain. Gentlemen, imagine that someone unpleasant has taken hold of your left testicle. now imagine the pain as they slowly crush it. (Ladies, you're on your own here...)
Got that?
Now, imagine having that sensation...when you don't have a left testical.
Phantom pain? There? Really?
The day's agenda was to be...
- Pack the girls
- Lunch
- Middle school orientation
- Elementary school open house
- Bring girls to their mom
Pack. Walk. Shepherd girls. Greet people. Be friendly. Walk more. Meet teachers. Meet other parents. Be Super.
And manage pain.
Pain is a Pain
There's pain, and there's pain. I stub my toe. It hurts. It goes away.
I smash thumb with hammer. It hurts a lot, and it lingers. But it's not constant.
Internal pain is different. It's insidious and nasty. It saps your energy and drains your spirit. You feel...diminished. Small. Weak.
You smash thumb with hammer. It hurts a lot...and it lingers.
But it doesn't reduce you. Internal pain does.
But phantom internal pain? Who invented this nightmare? It hurts like hell, BUT IT DOESN'T EXIST!
Are you imagining it? No, the sweat is real. The limp is real.
It's real.
How the hell do you deal with it?
And the teachers...
And the kids...
And the social graces...
And your Ex...
It's simple really. Strap yourself in, tighten down, and push through. It may not be pretty, and you may not be the person you would choose to be, but you do what you need to do to be the best person you can be in that place at that moment.
And you hold it, gripping too tightly, and hold on, and hold on and you do what you need to do to be the best person you can be.
And when you can...you let go.
Rebound...Not the Good Kind
Bring kids to their mother. Exchange pleasantries and updates, go home.
Stop for some food, get a movie, relax in front of television.
Feel the pain grow. Get a chill. Wrap yourself in a blanket and shiver—even as the shivering spikes pain.
And drink water—a lot of water, because water is always good for this sort of thing cleans you out flushes the system makes you sweat all sorts of good things because really this is in your head and you're super stiff from the drive and you ate something the sushi from the quick smile Harris Teeter nice man the stress of dropping off the kids and Gods miss them horribly and it's only been a few hours and fuck it's cold but I'm sweating so I should drink more water what am I watching anyway I gotta pee something with that guy I like cool story oh gotta pee shit I'm sore when did everything start to hurt why does it hurt effing stairs and ahhhhhhhhhhh that feels good ow! no! it doesn't! what the hell fuck where's the thermometer if i close my eyes it'll go away starry lights beep beep beep ding 102.5. Fever. Real fever. I'm going to bed.
And I sleep for 13 hours. Sort of.
In bed visiting Dream, traversing the land of Nod. Except when I suffered to pee—brown, of course. Darker than normal. By several Pantone numbers. And stinky, oh and it hurts, too. Not the pee...the abdomin. Something's wrong.
Back into Dream, again, until I suffered to pee—brown of course...ah, Nod...
Saturday
Sucked.
I awoke, phantom pain is real pain, yet oddly relieved. I'm not making it all up. See? There...palpate just...there...Thump. Ow! Yep, it's real.
There's a saying that pain is good because it lets you know your're still alive.
Pain is good, because it lets me know I'm not crazy. And after meandering through Dream and Nod, I need reassurance.
Putter around, Unpack. Tired, nap for two hours.
Wake. Hung over. Bad hangover. Lights are loud, sounds are bright, tongue tastes like a small dog's arse.
Make decision: "I shall leave this house." Library, errands, pool...groaning.
Home, two hour nap. Wake. Thermometer. Temperature, 101.5.
I forgot that I had a fever.
Better, I had completely forgotten that I had taken my temperature the night before.
Spaced it.
That's how weird was Saturday.
I'm going to bed.
And I sleep for 13 hours. Sort of.
Dream weaves paths, and I follow. Hernia. Appendix (which side? both sides, it's a dream...). Kidney. Alien embryo. Cancer. Tapeworm. Tubeworm. Worm. Wormhole. Diverticulitis. Parasite. Sushi. Sea Urchin. Spines. Legos. Coins. Treasure. That-guy-with-the-Stomach-flap. Pirates (why always pirates?). Cancer. Cancer. Chemo. Cancer. Surgery. Cancer. Orchiectomy. Hernia. He fixed a hernia. I didn't know until long after. Hernia. He fixed a hernia. There. Right there! Scar tissue. Seams. Weakness. Six minute Abs. Intervals. Hernia.
Thank you, Oneiros.
Sunday
Mayo Clinic website...clickityclickclickclick..."Inguinal hernia". There, that's it. That must be it. Symptoms...
- A bulge in the area on either side of your pubic bone
(I'm swollen down there, does that count?) - A burning, gurgling or aching sensation at the bulge
(Gurgle...check! Ache...check!) - Pain or discomfort in your groin, especially when bending over, coughing or lifting
(yeah, not gonna try. It hurts.) - A heavy or dragging sensation in your groin
(Check!) - Weakness or pressure in your groin
(Check!) - Occasionally, pain and swelling around the testicles when the protruding intestine descends into the scrotum
(Ewww...um...maybe?)
Fever...what about fever? Ah, there it is...
- Nausea, vomiting or both
(Nope, nope...) - Fever
(Yea!) - Rapid heart rate
(Stress will do that) - Sudden pain that quickly intensifies
(Yep) - A hernia bulge that turns red, purple or dark
(Eer...no...)
Right. Well done, Dr. Whitney. Now...tired.
Nap for two hours.
Waken. Hung over. Not as bad as yesterday, but the house swims around me. Holding onto things is a good thing.
Make decision: "I shall leave this house." Pool...groaning.
Home, two hour nap. Wake. Thermometer.
Fuck you, thermometer. "Beep."
Eat.
Pee...brown.
Poo?
Er...
When did I...?
"Shit"
Constant Reader, suffice it to say that I am regular as clockwork. But, in this moment the gears were buggered.
Dr. Whitney examines. There...palpate just...there...Thump. Ow! Yep, still there. How about here...Thump. Er... There? Thump. Um...
What hurt hurts.
What now hurts is....most everything else.
This is serious. Mayo Clinic. "Inguinal Hernias - Complications"
Pressure on surrounding tissues. Most inguinal hernias enlarge over time if they're not repaired surgically. Large hernias can put pressure on surrounding tissues. In men, large hernias may extend into the scrotum, causing pain and swelling.
Incarcerated hernia. If the omentum or a loop of intestine becomes trapped in the weak point in the abdominal wall, it can obstruct the bowel, leading to severe pain, nausea, vomiting, and the inability to have a bowel movement or pass gas.
Ah...perfect! Hernia. Need to poop. Sure sign of hernia.
Fek, I'm tired. Chilled. Blankie.
Thermometer...
"Beep."
Sorry about that before...I was mean...
"Beep."
Beep beep beep ding 101.5. Fever.
Fek.
I'm going to bed.
And I sleep for 13 hours. Hernia. Yep. Hernia...Hernia...
Dream weaves paths, and I follow. Hernia. He fixed a hernia. I didn't know until long after. Hernia. He fixed a hernia. There. Right there! Scar tissue. Seams. Weakness.Yoga. Strech. Lengthen. Release. Breathe.
Sleep.
Monday
Poop. Blessed poop!Uncomfortable, painful, epic, POOP!
Post-orgasmic breathing.
Composure.
Ow.
"Shit."
Thermometer. "Beep". 100.1.
Dial.
Early appointment with my doctor. My GP. Nice lady. Amazing bedside manner. Coolheaded. Smart. Competent.
Competence looks like THIS.
I talk. She listens. She nods. She talks. This is what I hear:
It's not what you think it is. You need to get tested. Now. ER. Now.
She said it nicer than that. She's a nice lady.
This is what I think:
Uh-oh.
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