|Author at home currently. "I got that!" *No animals were poked in the ass|
in the making of the person described below.
It is true: Overly active men are the worse patients in orthopedic healing at home. I'm unfortunate to be one. But being so has changed me to a degree. This transformation is perhaps in itself a dangerous symptom of this type of injury that the medical community is overlooking. Perhaps to their peril? For what is to become of a bored man with this dreaded condition that may cause unstable and previously unknown of behaviors?
A mans' sprained ankle long term healing: It is the only injury most often diagnosed as a pain in the ass. Or medically speaking: TTA or Testerosis Assyitis Ankle.
I studied the ancient art of denial before this injury. My leg has been elevated so much NASA now wants to know the effects of gravity on it. Why isn't their a market value for that weird fluid under my skin? I mean . . it must have electrolytic property or perhaps industrial lubricant or high-protein drinking water? It must be everywhere - oh that's why.
Time Travel Wish & Paradox OneShared publicly - 1:22 PM
Back from another useless specialist appointment. One important matter we both agreed upon: "Why did he refer you to a vascular surgeon?" She's giving me a new neurologist. YNH Medical School will call. Grrreat. A wall again. For the third time since September. Strange nervous system pains are spreading again. Thought advancement was under control. Frequency and amount of feeling up.
#timetravelwish #JamesGMason #JamesGrayMason
There needs to be robot orthopedic doctors now. Men need to anonymously report their injuries to a machine and get the help they think they can manage on their own to someone who is definitely not another guy. The robot should be feminine in appearance - moms are supposed to take care, that is what we men want. She should agree with everything the man-patient says. At the end of the appointment she can give him a written report he can later swallow whole that says the truth on it.
Of course, priority robot safeguards in her software will never allow her to say "Why-did-you-NOT-seek-this-in-for-ma-tion-on-the-in-ter-net-six-weeks-a-go?-boop." All voice sound should be sexy robot like. Whoever is really Siri - she would be okay. Definitely no needles or medical bondage protocols are necessary. There must be a big red pause button on her front.
I carry a trekking a pole now and it has a steel spike on its end which is very practical in addition to keeping me from falling on my ass. I can pick up garbage, oxygenate the lawn, poke my dog in the ass to make him stop daydreaming, scratch my own ass whenever I like or however far I want to go with that, or pretend to be a blind smart guy who teaches at the local university to get laid, or tenderize tough meat products on the kitchen floor, break up the ice on the front steps, get doggy doo-doo on its end and chase a girl around, and of course annoyingly tapp news anchors in the face on my television screen while yelling at them what they should have said. My dog now thinks all humans can grow a thin mechanical third leg just to poke dogs in the ass with. He'll be an old dog when he starts figuring things out straight (yes, I know, like me).
Strictly psychologically speaking; Even with clear knowledge of the value of resting myself to heal the ankle, my ego so wants to me to do independent things I caught my penis trying to pick up a pencil yesterday. I swear I had nothing to do with it. I have a nanny-cam set up to catch the thing, him or it the very next time. I think it is mad because I stopped listening years ago.
I keep imagining myself as that stupid character in that show with that asinine god complex immersed doctor who has a cane. With this cane in hand I'm now fantasizing I had a submissive male weakling for a personal assistant so I can poke him around the place and make him get chores done and still hang around to validate my opinions and tolerate a lot of sarcasm and find that all of my jokes are very amusing from minute to minute.
When outside in nature hobbling along with my cane in one hand, I often stop to catch my breath and let the ankle rest. In these serene moments I observe nature around me and I listen to the many sounds so many of us take for granted while in motion. There's this couple a block a way screwing like rabbits and screaming like it’s a crime of passion. I've written the town council and I'm getting ready to letter bomb the legislature about this!
Additionally, any emotional statement in public like "You kids get the ***k off my lawn!" Is almost a beautiful thing when a cane is pointed in emphasis.
After careful research into the history of this condition it is clear that the prescribed treatment has remained basically unchanged. First it was weed, then it was mead, then just wine, then mead again, then for a long time whiskey, then weed and beer, then just weed then computer games, online social networking distraction and weed without the beer, then it became the normative to complain and throw stuff instead of walking with weed and anti anxiety pharmaceuticals. I have access to none of these basic and reliable sedation methods. Oh, and there is something called Range of Motion exercises (what ever the hell that is).
However, first treatment remains basic Boy Scouts first aid stuff throughout in addition to those "medications." Additionally, denial must not be present and the man-patient must be completely washed of an overly confident and magical concept that his special body heals itself, prior to first aid.
From favoring one leg too much, I know what ballerina's toe pain feels like. I'm getting a thick callus on the heel of my good foot and for some reason, I have recently become very concerned about chaffing and the softness and loss of moisture of the skin of the bad foot. I am emasculating!
I had a nightmare; I woke up in bed and I sat up and looked down at my legs. The injured foot leg was significantly smaller than the other, like a small novelty baseball bat. I was certain I was awake. I quickly blamed myself for my idiocy and took personal responsibility with my inner consciousness, then immediately proceeded to dream about va . . flying. I got this last thing too.
Author: About 30 hours AFTER the injury:
3/7/2015: Two winter soldiers: one of them a human winter soldier, the other a dog winter soldier. Fighting on through the snow! F**k winter already! :-)
About 40 hours AFTER the injury:
"Hmmm . . something doesn't feel right."
Addendum: 2/17/15: Finally saw an orthopedic surgeon. As it turns out, they have phone numbers now. He was a middle aged white male doctor - I quickly recalled Dr. Joseph Gannon from Marcus Welby M.D. and fast associated that character and I pretended he was him - except his face was an older version of Marilyn Monroe [James: investigate]. However, I saw no standard indications that he had God Complex. He was not using a cane to walk - I was happy to see. Everyone in the office (who I could see) could also use all of their synovial joints okay, so he appears to be successful. :-)
Addendum: 6/21/15. Worse. That doctor was so steeped in God complex his certainty has cost me months and prolonged the hopeful. My immobility is beginning to anger me. The loss of freedom to move about, to go out into nature where I love to be, is an ability far more valuable to me than any orthopedic physician can ever understand, because . . "Doctor: the patient is always right."
Physical therapy was recommended to me as the first treatment. I put if off for about two weeks, then began attending regularly for about 6 sessions. Unable to receive household chores assistance and a regular dog walker, has made physical therapy nearly impossible to achieve healing. No sedation of myself was ever even considered by this man. No investigation, or even one single question, as to my ability to heal myself and participate fully in my healing was ever asked. Apparently the male doctor expected me to return in an act of faith in medical science, to him, for repeated visits. I don't play that game with assholes - I don't give them opportunity to continue that expensive and inefficient pattern of practice.
Strongly considering the BEST options for eliminating my sprained ankle condition and returning my freedom as soon as possible: I will have to conduct the amputation myself. in close proximity to an emergency room. I will have to smash the old foot immediately so that no surgeon will be able to reattach the foot. I do not expect that any practicing physician will see the reasoning behind this decision and allow me to conduct this amputation in a clean and controlled medical environment. I have the tools. I have experienced the intense and prolonged pain of amputation in my past. I am ready to suffer this extreme pain for a period of many months for a final and efficient answer to returning myself to full mobility as soon as possible. I will video the procedure for the benefit of others facing a similar dilemma.
** I have an appointment with a NEW Orthopedic surgeon next week. If her plans for my treatment are standard and typical this procedure will be carried out. My time is far more valuable than that time period involved in treating this ankle sprain. Our time is more valuable than this foot problem. James out!
May, 2015: Surprised to get a hot doctor. Looks like a hot me!
Right leg getting smaller! July, 2015
"What ELSE is getting smaller?
"We can rebuild him. We have the Technology."
Apparently informing my mother of my new resolution to chop off my right foot was beneficial because it caused her to run out and find for me this used orthopedic boot that may solve the problem.
Fear of the horrific in your own family can cause you to take action that you probably should have months in the past.
update: 11:45 pm. this is too painful to wear for more than one hour. the pain when placing pressure on the heel does not subside. No help in mobility. Too painful to keep on. :-( bummer. Oh well. Choppy whoopi time in about one month. If what's her name is typical and caught in a pattern of validation of her successful work.
Update, July 21, 2015 . . ..
Too much for now. Many things happening!@#!
See posts with #Orthopedic on my G+ profile page. Linked on sidebar.
"3 and a half months to get a nerve test! Considering extremities - the need for this one on the right leg!"
Considering a new carbon foot. Get this shit over with!
Update; August 14, 2015: The hot doctor's office scheduled me for an EMG, or Electric thingy majiggy, for my nerves. The hot doctor thinks my pain is from nerve damage in my back. She had scheduled me to a place where "The usually refer patients." Said the hot doctor's receptionist, who is the one to talk to for medical opinion apparently. Figures; they have a special relationship to some other office for nervous system testing - a cozy relationship apparently. But, there are dozens of facilities in New England that do that testing! That date was for October, 16, 2015. 3.5 months to wait for that nerve test. So I found another place and go the hot doctors's office to refer me to there. That appointment for an EMG is on the 17th, of August. Yayyy.
9/29/15 She said she was done with me. :-( No referral and I still have allot of pain and can barely walk or drive for more than a half an hour. See a guy from Ghana today. Unbelievable! This has been some kind of a slowly moving nightmare.
Blood work was seen. No indication of anything inordinate. Normal. But ordinary/normal is validated. Not never seen before levels. Uric acid levels and protein spillage would have been noticed. Thanks Brian. He was dissapointed that he did not recieve my EMG/Nerve conduction test results, although those were considered normal by that neurologist. I have a friend in Seattle who is a radiologist, I'm going to ask him for advice today. I suspect that my injury was to the the lumbar region and that is was so small that it was not observed. Hoping that is the case. Later!
Huffing through the halls on one good leg.
This is very elevating. This'll remind me to promote my mother. 👌🏻
Update: November, 2nd, 2015:
Off to the neurologist this morning. In Hartford. At a huge hospital where I’ll have to walk hundreds of feet on a cement floor. Dammit! Jeez. This guy has to figure-out what’s wrong with me. Damn smart ass radiologist probably missed something. They tend to look for what to expect. Typical male in the medical profession condition these days. The gorilla walked onto the set and the smart ass MRI radiologist, working on hundreds of patients per week, did not see the gorilla. So I suffer with strange and variable nerve pain all because I badly sprained my ankle and did not know it for many days. Because my nerve was being tweaked by some intricate damage that is likely very small, somewhere near by vertebrae. SHIT. Wish me luck Googlers.
UPDATE 12:00 pm -5: It was bad news. "I don't know what I can do for you." He is going to suggest to my primary physician that he refer me to a spine specialist, or a podiatrist, and possibly a chiroquacker. Jeez. FUCK! Helpless. Not good news today. I had wanted a direction. Now floating with no clear diagnoses. He has NO IDEA why I feel pain about 40 hours after ANY assault to the foot and leg.
5/15/2016. 14 months after the injury. Things look terrible for my comfort and mobility for the rest of my life.
Copyright Reserved: James G. Mason, April, 2015.
*Likely, this article will be extrapolated (rewritten) upon within the next few months. Be sure to email follow this weblog for important updates!
#comedy #essays #JamesMasonMD #Orthopedic #SprainedAnkle #DenialNotARiver #WhiteCoatHypertension #amwriter #manpatients #nursingschool #geriatriccare #homecare #caneuses #weblogging #weblog #jamesgmason #ttw #sol3 #dontwantyourlove
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Friday, April 17, 2015
The independence will kill you . .
Posted by James Mason at 4:24 PM
Labels: cane uses, comedy, healing at home, men patients, mens advice, orthopedic injury, sprained ankle
Location: Connecticut shore, U.S.A. New England, USA
In 2016: The duality of my numbers and existence is becoming more clear these days. As the Time Travel Wish experiment has become more and more undeniable with each week's passing through time's ARROWS.Geez 1200 characters G? Wow that's great! Very cool.