So I recently got my annual sinus infection, which is kind of like that annoying relative who shows up once a year, gives you a headache, and doesn't seem all that eager to leave, and I'm not talking about you, Uncle Sid.

(I totally am. Don't tell.)

My sinus infections are kind of like Godzilla tromping around in my Tokyo head, causing chaos, completely impervious to over the counter tanks and rockets. Only a Mothra-sized dose of antibiotics can drive it out, and ... well, you Japanese monster movie fans, you get it.

Mothra is a giant moth. I really shouldn't need to explain this.

But this time I decided to try something a little different. Since sinus infections can be cause by either bacteria or a virus, I figured there was a good chance antibiotics wouldn't work. Since the antibiotics themselves make me feel crappy, why not just treat myself? It's not quite the same as treating myself to chocolate, but what is?

I used hot compresses, which was nice because it's winter, and something called a neti pot, which is never nice, ever, in any season, under any circumstances. The proper name is sinus irrigation, which sounds so much nicer than it is.

I took extra vitamin C, tried to sleep more and sometimes succeeded, increased my fluid intake, and increased my waking-up-for-fluid-outflow, which seemed to defeat the sleeping thing. There was also the need to humidify the house, which is hard to do during winter. This was accomplished by sending the dog out to do his thing whenever it snowed, which this year has been often, then letting him shake all over the living room. It resulted in a nicely humid house that smelled like wet dog, but luckily I'd lost my sense of smell, so only my wife had to suffer. And she was already suffering, anyway.

I had sinus surgery years ago, after which the dog nursed me back to health. The health part was temporary.

The result? Instead of suffering for two weeks and then calling the doctor, I suffered for two months and then called the doctor. I'm nothing if not stubburn, except for when I'm nothing if not stupid.

After an examination my doctor said, "It's like your head is Tokyo, and Godzilla is tromping around in it". She gets me.

So now I'm taking the antibiotics, and they make me feel awful, and pretty much nothing changed from the last fourteen times. As we speak my main goal is to keep a proverbial stiff upper lip and not make everyone else suffer with me.

It turns out allergies are a common contributor to sinus infections, so it seems to be all in my genes. Thanks, Dad. My advice is this: If you get sick, just go to the doctor.

If nothing else, maybe you won't have to use a neti pot as much.

My neti pot is not an actual pot, but that doesn't make it any more fun.

Hey, can I whine, for just a second?

Usually when I write about some problem I'm going through, I try to do it with humor. I figure, why bring people down? Better to leave them with a laugh, or a smile, even if they're smiling at your misfortune--better to make life a wee bit better.

Especially now, when, honestly, it got so bad last week. We had a young police officer and his wife killed in a car crash, several bad fires in the region, and general misery for just about everyone, thanks to weather conditions so bad polar bears have been checking local real estate prices.

And that last is partially why I decided to whine. (The cold, not the polar bears.) I want to do a little public service announcement, which I'm naming after a guy I saw the other day wearing shorts. It was snowing, and three degrees. I call my PSA "If you freeze because of doing something stupid, it's stupid".

The title's a work in progress.

 

When I was about sixteen or so, I went out with a group of kids to play in the snow. Even back then I hated cold; but I had a lousy home life, so maybe I just wanted to get out of the house for awhile. As I recall I had a nice coat, but otherwise it was jeans and maybe some light gloves that quickly got saturated from all that snow-playing. 

The thawing out process was excruciating.

So here's my first PSA: Frostbite often sneaks up on you, especially if you're sledding or, say, throwing snowballs at other sledders. And here's my second: The damage can be permanent. (Thinking back on it now, I also had a nice case of hypothermia going on.)

Afterward, once the temperature dropped below forty-five or so I had to wear gloves, or keep my hands in my pockets. Once it got down into the teens it was hard for me to use my hands even with gloves on, and I had the same problem with my toes. My cheeks and ears would burn, and any kind of breeze would give me an earache. Whether that was connected to my sinuses' sensitivity to weather changes, I couldn't say. Basically this body was meant for the desert, as a desert rat writer friend of mine often points out.

What the heck. I got used to it. Or at least, I got used to bundling up.

But wait--it gets better. 

The dog doesn't care. He's got a fur coat.

 

As last week's cold snap arrived, my hands and feet stiffened, hurt, and even burned a little. My ears and cheeks got sore. Inside the house ... with the heat on. That pain and increasing sinus pressure sent me into a headache that lasted three days and devolved into one of my few migraines. The good news is that I was on days off (I hate using sick days), and didn't have to go anywhere; the bad news is that I missed some fire calls, and in minus teens temperatures they could have used the help.

Yes, I know I wouldn't have lasted long in those temperatures, but who can?

Okay, enough whining, here's my point: Frostbite damage can not only be lifelong, it can get worse with age. Guess whose hands tingle and burn (and sweat, which I recently learned was a thing after frostbite)? Guess who gets that pain sooner and faster? Guess who has signs of arthritis that might be connected?

No, stop guessing, it's me. Pay attention.

So my PSA: Protect yourself. Learn how to prevent all those things that begin with "frost".  Because even if you don't lose body parts (or die), you could be in for long term, and very annoying, problems.

Also, my wife wants you to yell at me if you see me outside without a hat and gloves on. She didn't say anything about pants, but maybe that's a given. 

That's my wife, bundled like insurance.

 

My wife and I, through no fault of our own, had to fill our SUV with boxes this weekend and take them to our house. (The boxes were full--otherwise, what would be the point?) Okay, it was kind of our fault, but that's another story.

 

pictures and stuff, and things )
 Now, I want to start by saying I am NOT having heart problems.

 

Originally I was going to start with, "So I went to the doctor to have my heart checked ..." Which would have been foolish, because people actually care about my health. The dog cares. My wife cares. The fire department would have to set up a funeral detail if I kicked the fire bucket, so they care. My insurance company? They totally care.

 

In fact, lots of people care more than I do. They would have dragged me to the doctor right away if they'd known that a while back, I started getting this fluttering feeling in my chest. It was as if my heart was trying to do a Mexican Hat Dance around my major aortas. It would come around long enough for me to get concerned, then go away, at which point I did what most men do: Ignored it.

 

See, this is why I never bought into this whole gender equality thing: Women are clearly superior to men. They have a problem, they go to the doctor. Men have a problem, they watch football.

 

Anyway, I got some testing, the electrodes were cold, ripped my hair out, yadayada, my heart is fine. The problem is stress. Those of you who follow my blog may have figured that out already--it's been a rough year. My stress levels are high. Also my pain levels are high, due to chronic back pain acting up a lot more than usual, which causes stress. The other day I missed a fire call because I was on the chiropractor's table. Welcome to my fifties.

 

There were several related health things that could, experts say, help reduce my stress:

 

Lose weight. (Which would also help the back pain.) Yeah, going into winter and the holidays ... even thinking about it increased my blood pressure ten points.

 

Exercise. This is an awesome idea at all times. Especially when my wife's seasonal job is shutting down for the winter, leaving me without the long hikes I was taking four or five days a week. Sheesh.

 

Cut down caffeine. No problem, I'll just quit my third shift job, and leave behind the stresses of paying for heat, electricity, food, housing ...

 

Looking back on that list, I realize I've got it pretty good. Lots of people in the world have no access to Mountain Dew. Can you imagine?

 

But at the moment it's all about getting stress out of my life, and I take 911 calls for a living, so it's not going to happen that way. So I've cut my Mountain Dew consumption down to exactly one can a day, about a 75% decrease; I've started using honey instead of sugar as a sweetener; and we're making some wintertime exercise plans. Small steps. Also, I'm skipping all holiday treats this year.

 

Kidding! Let's not get crazy. But okay, cutting down.

 

We live in stressful times, and there's only so much we can do. I suppose I should start some new-age type stuff--breath in the lotus position or something--because, apparently, the stress is going to kill me. But since I'm not a new-age type person, I've decided to spend as much time as possible this winter doing the one thing that relieves my stress the most.

 

No, not that. Get your mind out of the gutter.

 

Writing. Not selling, promoting, or submitting, all of which increase my stress levels. (Although I do have three completed but unpublished manuscripts, so those other things have to happen, too.) Writing and reading are two things that always make me feel better. In November, especially, I hope to do a lot of writing, which will reduce stress and give me something to show for it. And take my mind off the treats.

 

Or my head will explode, which is very stressful.

 

"Belly rubs reduce stress. So get over here!"

 
ozma914: (Dorothy and the Wizard)
( Sep. 28th, 2017 11:39 pm)
I have the same relationship with my dentist that many people do with family members: I love him and appreciate him, but I don't actually want to see him.

I suppose that's not unusual, but my history gives me maybe a bit more of an excuse. As a kid, I was a "problem" patient. You know, the kind who whines, screams, has to be held down--like I am now if you make me watch "reality" TV. My dentist as a kid didn't like me much at all, and I felt the same way about him that most people feel about Benito Mussolini. (Hitler's so overdone.)

About the time I graduated from high school, a new dentist came to town. After examining the previous dental work, he pronounced it to be the worst he'd ever seen in his life. He understood when I explained that drilling me was like trying to shoot a hummingbird, although who would do that?

Some of it had to be fixed, so he injected me with Novacaine, waited, and was surprised to find I still wasn't numb. So he injected me again.

Then again.

All those times as a kid, when the dentist lectured me and had me held down, and everyone thought I was acting like a baby. I mean, after all, I'd gotten a shot of Novacaine.

Only the Novacaine hadn't worked. It had never worked.

Granted, there was some relief in the discovery that I wasn't a big weenie, after all. And I'm still not entirely sure why it didn't work. My research didn't show cases of people being intolerant to the drug. There are several listed reasons why it might not be effective with some people, including anxiety, which--how many dental patients don't have anxiety? But for whatever reason, including possibly the fact that dentists don't use Novacaine any more (my first trip to the new dentist was thirty-five years ago), I'm better. I can now go to the dentist with only crippling anxiety, instead of whatever would be worse than that.

(A quick note here: While writing this I did a lot of research, and I now wonder if my original dentist wasn't using Prilocaine. There have indeed been cases in which that drug didn't get patients numb. Another possibility is that I am indeed a weenie, and Dr. Hayes is just being nice to me.)

That's why this year I tried sedation dentistry. Honestly, I don't have a clue why I didn't before--maybe because I'm not a fan of taking drugs, especially the ones that put you out. But earlier this winter I went in for my regular cleaning, after which Dr. Hayes announced I needed not one, but two procedures: the replacement of a childhood filling on one tooth, and a crown on another.

I became instantly weenified. It's a real word--I should know, I just invented it.

So for the first time after all that grief, I asked the Doc: "Do you do sedation dentistry? And if not, why the *$#@ not?"

He did, indeed.

I had to pick it up as a prescription; it was a controlled substance, apparently. If it isn't, it should be. I left it in the bag until I got to the dentist's office, because I have a stressful job and was afraid I'd be tempted to use it after work, instead. At the office I discovered it was a liquid. Before letting me take it, the dentist asked, "Do you have a ride home?"

"Yeah, my car's right out there."

"After you take this, you'll forget you ever had a car."

I'm paraphrasing, but still.

At first I was afraid it was just a repeat of the old days. Yes, I felt like I'd just downed a half bottle of vodka (which would taste way better than this stuff, believe me). But I'd been promised forgetfulness, and I remembered most of the procedure and the ride home. The good news: Once he got in there, the Doc was able to do a repair, instead of a full replacement.

But I wasn't done yet. A week later came the crown. And believe me, those are a royal pain.

So I got another dose of the stuff and this time, to increase its effectiveness, I went in on an empty stomach. I wanted effectiveness. A crown involves grinding down your old tooth, and although it's not really that much, it feels as if they're leaving only a needle point, and you wonder why they didn't just pull the darned thing out.

I was about to tell the dentist that, too. And that's the last thing I remember.

Apparently I cracked a few jokes, offered to drive home, and walked like I was in a Monty Python skit. So far as I know, there's no video of this, which would have been crazy funny to everyone but me. After that it was a matter of wearing a temporary crown for two weeks, then the (mostly) painless process of getting the permanent one on. Way more effective than half a bottle of vodka, and for twelve hours I got the best sleep of my adult life.

Hopefully I'll never have to take that stuff again ... but I'm so glad I did.

This photo is actually from after my sinus surgery, but I have a feeling my expression is the same. Um, I'm the one on the right.
ozma914: (Dorothy and the Wizard)
( Feb. 13th, 2017 11:50 am)

My grandson Hunter got to visit the ER over the weekend, with a fine and extra-special case of gastroenteritis. Apparently he felt his tonsillectomy from a couple of weeks ago just wasn't enough contact with medical professionals.

If you're thinking, as I did, "aw, just a bad case of stomach flu", look it up and be scared. I know I am.

I dropped off a care package of Pedialite, Gatorade, and crackers, and discovered that I can hold my breath for exactly four minutes and fourteen seconds when properly motivated. That's how long it took to open the back door, throw the bags into my daughter's kitchen, and jump off the porch into the car. 

But in all seriousness, take the time to throw some good thoughts/prayers/vibes their way--the family's had a really rough winter, and it's not over yet.
ozma914: Haunted Noble County Indiana (Congress won't read this)
( Jun. 11th, 2015 04:06 am)

There's a petition going around to strip Bruce Jenner of all Olympic medals, what with Bruce actually being Caitlyn and all. (Why change the name? I know a woman named George--why not Bruce?)

Take medals away? Seems to me it should be the opposite. If Bruce felt he was a woman, but set records in sports where usually men get the faster time, then shouldn't he (or she, whatever) actually get an extra special medal? Like ... the platinum? Or the diamond medal? Diamonds are a girl's best friend.

If the medals should be taken away for anything, it should be for dumbing down America through participation in reality TV.

The big question is: Why do we care? As long as it's not being funded by taxpayers, let Bruce Jenner turn himself into a girl, a gorilla, a lemur, whatever. There are way worse problems in the world, such as ISIS, Congress … the other female Kardashians.

 

I’ve been feeling overwhelmed and exhausted lately, and it’s not a bad idea to take a moment and examine why. Or maybe it is. If I knew for sure, I’d be making a lot more money as a therapist.

Earlier this week, while at a doctor’s office in Fort Wayne, I learned my father fell and broke a couple of ribs. (Then we walked outside to hear tornado sirens going off, so—long day.) My family and friends have had a series of illnesses/accidents lately. We were, after all, at a doctor’s office.

Oh, on an unrelated note, my garage door fell on me again. Long story.

That puts it in perspective, because everything else is pretty minor. It’s just been an accumulation, plus I tend to get tired and down when the weather turns cooler and gloomy and when my chronic back pain acts up.

A lot is writing related: I’ve been sending eight different story submissions out to agents and editors, and the constant flow of rejection letters was starting to get to me. I just finished the third polishing of my latest novel, and being done with a big project (even if only temporarily done) can leave a writer with a lost feeling. Also, still not a big fan of selling myself—but I’ve got books, and you need to buy ‘em.

So I think it’s just that perfect storm of little things accumulating, along with some sleep and digestive issues. (Cause, or effect?) Oh, and pain. Did I mention the garage door?
A lot of people have gone through way worse than us, and if that thought doesn’t help … there’s always chocolate. Either way, I don’t plan to vent often, as I seem to have developed a reputation as the funny guy. I think I prefer that to being the complaining guy.

I’m not going to lie: 2014 sucked.  Everybody got sick or hurt at least once, and the world’s a train wreck. On a personal level I lost my first writing job after 23 years of steady work, and the book sales that might have made up for it have stagnated. On a family level I can’t even say “at least we have our health”.

But I can’t dwell on the bad stuff—there lies madness, and don’t we have enough madness? I have a new part time writing job and people are, if not healed, being taken care of as best can be. The world’s still a train wreck, but I think maybe the world’s always been a train wreck to some degree.

My intention for 2015 is to make people laugh, and to write. A lot of things in life I can’t control, but that I can do—and laughter is, if not the best medicine, a pretty good preventative. I should soon be done with my contracted book, then we’ll get the “Slightly Off The Mark” book out, then it’s on to more writing and, hopefully, publication. My simple goal is to make 2015 better than 2014 was. Shouldn’t be too hard.

My challenge to you is the same. Maybe you can’t change the world, fine. Then make your part of the world a little better. Cheer up yourself and others. Do good things. Think good thoughts. Be prepared. That’s the best anyone can do.

Oh, and buy my books; always be closing.  Happy New Year!

I want to apologize to everyone I’ve been in contact with about photos for the “Images Of America: Albion and Noble County” project. With my daughter sick for so long and in the hospital for over a week, and the book signing to prepare for, I haven’t gotten back to people like I planned to. I’ll get back on it—as soon as I’m feeling better.

Emily gave me her virus, although oddly, I don’t seem to be quite as sick as she’s been. Usually I get the man flu and curl into a whiney little ball (not that I’m not whining).  She’s slowly getting a little better, while I seem to be getting a little worse, so we haven’t been able to visit Charis as much as I’d hoped. Now I’m hoping that by the time you read this she’ll be home, although there’s still a lot of work to do on her health.

What Charis is going through is much worse than bronchitis, and the only thing I can say for it is that it’s not contagious: My shift partner seems to also have what Emily and I have. Sometimes it’s not nice to share.

My stepfather was recently diagnosed with bladder and prostate cancer (some of you might remember that the doctors have been keeping a close eye on me due to high Prostate Specific Antigen [PSA] levels), so this is a bit personal to me, this year.

 

The Noble County Relay For Life has its first sponsors for the 2012 season – but that’s just the beginning.

 This year’s annual American Cancer Society fundraiser will begin at 10 a.m. Saturday, May 19, at its regular site: The West Noble High School track and football field, south of Ligonier along US 33.

 But the 2012 Relay kickoff comes on Thursday, February 9thth, from 6:30-8 p.m. at The Noble County Public Library’s Cole Meeting room, in the lower level of the library. This year’s Relay theme is Happy Birthday; let’s fight back and celebrate many more Birthdays to come. We will be recognizing any cancer survivor that comes, and signing up teams for our event.

 

Cancer never sleeps, so Relays are overnight events, lasting up to 24 hours, in which teams raise funds to fight the disease and they take turns keeping on the track to celebrate those who’ve battled cancer, remember those lost, and fight back. Each year more than 3.5 million people in 5,000 US communities and 20 other countries take part in Relay events to raise funds for research, treatment, and other assistance. )

 

ozma914: Haunted Noble County Indiana (Default)
( Dec. 17th, 2011 05:35 am)
 I've got this low grade headache going on that's keeping me from accomplishing anything. The doc gave me a shot of cortizone a few days ago (and did a full blood draw at the same time -- had needles putting in and taking out), and although my symptoms are mostly better now, my head raged for a day and has still been hurting ever since. I realize I should take some time off, but by gummit -- I've got books to write.

Maybe I should try the whiskey, like my stepdad used to give me for colds; it's worked for other writers.
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Sorry I've been scarce; I've started on three new medications for various problems within the last two weeks, and they've pretty much kicked my butt through a wall. If I don't feel better by Christmas I'm having my body amputated.

 

 

SLIGHTLY OFF THE MARK

 

                I’ve been fighting the mother of all sinus infections this week … which is not a comment about my mother, mind you.

                Why are really big things called “The Mother Of”, anyway? Seems a bit insulting to mothers. You know what? I’ve been fighting the cousin of all sinus infections. Think that cousin from National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, who shows up with his brood, parks his RV on your lawn, and can’t be kicked off the property without a nuclear exchange.               

I haven’t talked about it much because I get sick all winter, every winter, and I can only get at best three columns out of that before I get boring even by my standards. Illnesses around the holidays are a tradition in my household, like fruitcake, and just as welcome. The only real difference this year is that I’ve been battling some extra-intense back pain at the same time; but if I had a dime for every time my back hurt I could pay for a spine transplant. )

 

Feeling a bit better now, which means I can't have what knocked Emily down for the last week. Vinny (Charis' fiance) came over and installed a new vent system for our furnace yesterday (heat, yay!).  I wonder now if all the dust from his drilling and sawing and such didn't turn my little head cold into a full-blown dust allergy attack. Breathing in dust can clobber me like getting hit by a truck.

On an unrelated note, I also got to experience the wonder of back muscle spasms last night, possible a long-term result of pulling a ceiling at the house fire Sunday. I've lived with chronic back pain for over 25 years (also as a result of a fire), but that's skeletal; this was something *very* special.

 Wasn't a good night.
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ozma914: Haunted Noble County Indiana (Default)
( Oct. 28th, 2011 11:58 am)
No classes today for Emily. At the moment she's sleeping, if not comfortably, so I haven't taken her temperature yet -- blessed be Nyquil. She was running around a 99 degree temp last night, I think. I'm sneaking up and down the basement stairs, throwing everything I can get my hands on into the laundry and soaking everything else with Lysol. I feel it's a losing battle. No symptoms for me yet, though.
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ozma914: mustache Firefly (mustache)
( Oct. 27th, 2011 11:50 pm)
Emily Stroud has the flu ... maybe two bugs based on her symptoms: the regular respiratory one and a stomach virus that people call the flu, but really isn't. (See? I learned something!) Because why just get sick if you can get extra sick?  She's pretty miserable, but handling it okay, and I'm giving her all the TLC I can from arm's length on the other side of a plastic sheet. Send a few good wishes/vibes/prayers her way.

I got my flu shot yesterday, but I suspect I'll end up with one or the other illnesses soon enough; that's the way our year has gone. Meanwhile, we'll stay in for awhile and try to cut down on contaminating other people.
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