So, on Wednesday, after a few days of my fully functional foot starting down the road towards not exactly, I went to the doctor. Okay, no worries, crutches and kneewalker, couple days off, with painkillers, 6 weeks of hobbling about like a mad cow.
"Yeah doc*, it's probably this thingy again. Yeah, uh-huh. No, other foot. No, other foot. No, I don't need viagra. Yeah, no. Xrays, sure, cover our bases, ultrasound, wevs, I'd hate to be pregnant, although you'll be able to retire on the book rights, whereas I'll just end up with a carpet squirrel. Yeah, cover our asses."
(*Actually, my doctor is super cool, insists I call her by name, I don't because I respect her, listen to her, trust her, and she has lit my ass up when I have not done as well as she has ordered. And she is married to a geek, so she understands, well, like my wife, mostly understands, the constant stream of weirditude escaping my lips. Neat lady.)
"Hello, ultrasound person, how's it going, oh, I'm fine, certain amount of pain, well, quite a bit, really, drop the pants?, umm, ok, it's summer so I'm, ummm, commando, no, I have no worries or remaining dignity, just making you aware, cool?, s'cool, how's that thing wor-AAAHHHHK!... ...Yeah, that sort of smarted a whole damn bunch... ...No shit... ...damn... ...Thanks ma'am."
Three blood clots, one foot, no waiting. Two of them are DVTs (deep vein thrombosis) in each main vein (anterior and distal) passing through the ankle, a few inches long. The third is an SVT (superficial vein thrombosis) in the same area, that does not cause much of an issue on its own being basically a glorified varicose vein, but given its location was causing pain. On a blood thinner (coumadin) and blood slipperier (lovenox, spendy little shot too). Being these are my 3rd and 4th DVTs and 2cd SVTs in my life, for no apparent reasons, gotta go to a rheumatologist, probably be on coumadin for life, another goddamn pill.
By Wednesday evening and through Thursday, until some of the blood thinners began to take effect, there was significantly entertaining swelling, discoloration, and pain. I'd say size and shape of a foot-shaped melon and color of a plum, a melum, if you will. (I am patenting that fruit.)
Over the course of the weekend the foot has been returning to its normal appearance and feeling, still a little swollen. I can walk now, (somewhat reluctantly). Spent much of the weekend baked on vicodin (yes, I know for most people it is merely like taking 6-8 ibuprofen, but it levels me, and entertains the fuck out of my wife. I don't enjoy it too much, and now with much of the pain gone Imma stop.
I'm aware I am not exactly (name a popular actor, because I don't know any), but my wife likes me, and that's all I ultimately care about. Doesn't change the fact that I want very much to be healthier, look better, and have plans in place to do so.
Plans which I have every intention of fulfilling.
IF I COULD FUCKING STAY UPRIGHT.
Dammit, I am getting so pissed off and so tired of being stuck immobile. It is not as if I am typically inactive, plan or no plan, I have shit to do, and I can't even get to the regular stuff, much less I want to start Tae Kwan Do and swimming, and evening walks, just keep working, but I can't even yet use my new lawnmower, and fuck. Hell, I have just broken every rule of grammar in 6+ languages - you know how many calories that burns? - one, maybe two if I have to backspace and rewrite a lot. I am not a bad guy, dammit. P'raps a bit undisciplined personally, but I try to be nice? C'mon, I need a break. Pbbffllttt!