Drink Rum

So, I mentioned a bit ago that I got a sinus infection while in Las Vegas several weeks ago and when I flew back, my ears got jammed up and almost exploded when I landed.

I went to the ER then and the gave me antibiotics and sent me on my way. I was told to follow up with my primary careless physician in a week if it got worse.

Well it got worse. It's been getting worse steadily over the past few days.

This morning I had an appointment with an Ear/Nose/Throat doctor. I told him my story and he did a much more um... pokey exam on me. There is not a hole in my head that has not been explored today.

Long story short... because I'm tired and suddenly don't have interest in this at the moment.

My ear drums suffered angry trama when they very rapidly decompressed during the flight. My left ear drum is distended and stretched. It will go back. But it is extremely sensitive to anything right now. Right is also out of place but not as severe. I also appear to have scars all over my ear drums. (Not a rock, ER dr. Dimbulb) The good news is that the fluid that was in there a few weeks ago is gone. Yay. Also means no infection. Also yay. I thought.

Until he says something like, "I wish it just was an ear infection... that would be much easier to treat." Great. Leave it to me to make things complicated.

After poking and contorting... it was determined that I have somehow caused myself jaw trama on the left side. He summized that the ear pain was severe enough that my left jaw muscles were tensed for days on end trying to brace the ear from the inside and stop the ouch. He also thought I could have dislocated my jaw and relocated in my sleep.

So... the diagnosis is that I have beaten up ear drums (no treatment, just hang on), my eustachian tubes are still plugged (which caused all the ear drum crap in the first place), and I've got a very long worded term for what amounts to "oh crap my ear hurts let me tense up my jaw at the joint until it pops out" disorder (i know it ended with that).

So... he gave me a crazy steroid regime to take. I take some adrenal gland things that make my body produce cortisone to deal with the jaw. I have another wonderful steroid that I have to administer up my nose and into the sinuses. It's as fun as it sounds. That's designed to get the eustachian tubes open.

The theory is that if the tubes open, everything gets better. If they don't open, the air in my middle ear will continue to get thinner, continue to create a stronger vacuum against my ear drum until it ruptures. Or fluid shows up again and I get an anti-biotic resistant infection (thanks again for all those unneeded anti-biotics guys...)

Short term, he was candid that I shouldn't expect to see anything change. If by six/seven days from now nothing's changed... we start with something else.

Interestingly enough, the doctor actually endorsed my idea that I had at the airport of blowing out my own ear drums to stop the pain. Apparently it would have hurt like mad for a bit but then gotten all better in a few days.

Next time... I'm blowing out the ears. Actually... I still may if this keeps up.

Sheesh.

Posted by Monty at 7:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

OK, so I know I'm really behind on the posts. I apologize. Lack of sleep, ear pain, and work silliness has had my attention as of late. So I promised Las Vegas stories... Here's a quick one.

One the way to the airport leaving Las Vegas, we had a charming cab driver that shared the same ideology that I do... that, of course, being that the majority of the people in the world are stupid. I take that further and also have determined that they are in my way the vast majority of the time and are in direct opposition to my goals. (Such as live in a place with less people.) Anyway...

It was raining.

This was the 4th time in the history of Las Vegas that water had fallen from the sky that had not, in fact, been recently shot up there by the fountains at the Bellagio. (Where does Dracula stay when he goes to Las Vegas? He stays at the BLAAAHgio! That works better when I can voice it.) So... cab guy is telling us a story about some of his less than bright people he's had in his cab. He tells us of a time when he was driving some people around and it started to rain. One of the passengers questioned, "Why is it raining?" That's a stupid question. The cab guy was miffed about it. He was like, "What kind of a dumb question is that, what am I supposed to say to that?"

I replied, "Just say, "Because god hates you.""

He liked that and said he would use that line on people from then on. That also became the running answer to any asked question for the next few hours.

So if you're ever in Las Vegas and riding around in a cab... and you ask a dumb question and the driver responds with "because god hates you"... tell him to send me my dollar. That was the deal. I told him that he could use my line, but I wanted a one dollar usage fee. Seriously. I want my dollar.

For those that were there or heard that story before, you may recall that it was my intention to get GOD H8S U on my license plates. Sadly, there's already someone driving around Virginia with said tags. I'm just not quick enough. Drat.

Speaking of people I want carted away, why do adults not know how to use the bathroom properly? Is it really that hard? Am I some sort of bathroom usage nut that is out of line thinking that the human waste actually goes into a toilet (jeez, even a sink) and not on the floor?

While in Las Vegas, I happened into a bathroom in the Excalibur. Someone had... um... done a bundle on the floor. Now... that in and of itself is pretty nasty. I mean... gross. But at least the offending matter was easily avoided. A very bright janitor (restroom utility engineer) came in to clean up the problem. OK... at least the problem was going to be taken care of. Except... the guy was using one of those broom/dust box combo things usually reserved for sweeping up cigarette butts in theme parks. Now... Las Vegas is like a big theme park... the theme being Give Me Your Money... but... the pile... was not a cigarette butt. And the janitor then made a smeary mess attempting to get the gross into the scoopy box thing. The foot print of the nasty had now grown three fold. But... it was still avoidable (although not as obvious to the new restroom arrivals). And had the janitor left it at that... well... I dunno, but he didn't. He decided to go ahead and spot sweep the rest of the restroom while he was there. Using, naturally, the poo covered implements he'd just tamed the brown beast with. Over the next 10 minutes, this guy managed to spread the tainted unhappiness in bits and dollups all over the entire room. I was horrified. I suddenly realized that I was standing in the center of a dooky mine field. I barely survived.

That was Las Vegas. That makes for a funny story. Let's fast forward a day at my office. We have 3 floors with a mensroom on each floor. That's three mensrooms for the math majors. Yesterday, people managed to violate all three. It's I like a work in a fraternity house. Third floor (the floor on which I work)... someone decided to flush those almost cardboard style paper towels. Bzzzzt! Field trip down to the second floor. That's where the cafeteria is. It was around lunch time, so... I blame myself for not thinking this through. Second floor mensroom was clearly a biohazard zone following what must have been for someone, a very very large lunch of burritos and plague. I fled to the the ground floor.

I'm not sure what happened down there. I'm pretty sure that that bathroom could becalled the Toliet that Time Forgot. I'm positive it was the Toilet that the Janitor Forgot because the place hadn't been cleaned... ever.

I went home.

I was just not in the mood for that crap (heh). So I just called it a day and went home.

On my traffic riddled drive home, I found myself pondering the question, "Why is it that I am constantly surrounded by people in my way (traffic) or people who seem to have no ability to use the bathroom like an adult?"

In the distance I heard a cab driver bellow, "Because god hates you..."

Posted by Monty at 4:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Before I do the afore promised Las Vegas story... I just have to say this...

Is it too friggin hard to wait until after Thanksgiving to start with the Christmas crap? I walked into the office today to be greeted by a big old (fake) Christmas tree in the lobby and wreaths all over the place. Man... the holiday does not need to keep creeping into months that are not December. Just stop it people. Otherwise I'm doing Halloween decorations from September 1 until Thanksgiving. (I found the coolest skeleton lawn flamingos....)

So anyway...

I was in Las Vegas a couple of weeks ago.

Whoops. Turns out I don't have time for posting the post I meant to.

I'll only leave you with these words of wisdom... Don't ever let a stripper put her hand in your pocket. She is trying to steal your money. If you catch her trying to steal your money and she doesn't apologize... the black eye you give her will make her think twice about doing it to another customer.

Happy Thanksgiving to all and to all a good night... except money thieving strippers who got what they deserve and that's exactly what I will tell the judge.

Posted by Monty at 4:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

So... in the last installment, I was on my way to see the rehab people.

That was done this morning. To make a two hour (fine, 90 minutes) evaluation short, I was once again pronounced cured.

The rehab folks basically determined that I didn't need to be boarded in the hospital because the worst was over. The symptoms would wane and could now be dealt with over the counter stuff. They still thought it was a good idea to enroll me in the Day Program... which is the same as the 24/7 version except that it's from 9-4:30 every day. They asked me how many days I wanted to go and I shrugged. Until I stop farting fire? I thought that was a legit measure of success, but the nurses were serious. Addiction is a serious matter. Very serious. No joking in rehab. Stern. Straight. I giggled. Whoops.

It only took me 90 minutes to get to the hospital. I was hoping more people would have taken time off for holidays or something... but no... they all showed up on the highways to mock my unhappy digestive system. I swear to Pepto someone on this planet has a voodoo doll of me and is pushing pins in my stomach and a zippo under my butt. Yowza. Not cool, voodoo person. Pray I don't find you... my revenge will be swift and brutal... probably involving a trident.

So, what was I on about? Oh, yeah... so they say I'm eligible for the day plan. So they take me upstairs where they keep all the addicts in storage. Here I was told that I'd probably see the doctor some time during the day, but certainly tomorrow. In the meantime, I was to get ready for some sort of group meeting. I asked the nurse if I could go to my car and get my laptop. You'd have thought I asked her if I could set a midget on fire. (By the way... that'd be funny.... stop drop and roll, frodo!) Apparently, laptops are verboten. Hmmm. The web site made it seem like I was gonna have some down time. Apparently not. I was scheduled for a full day of group meetings, group meals, group hugs, group arts and crafts, group show and tell, group potty breaks, etc. This didn't look good to me.

I went into the program hoping to help cope with the physical issues... especially when they were really really bad... last week. Now, they want me to hang out with strangers and tell them stories or something and make a paper mobile of things I can't smoke. Or something.

If I had to spend all day in a bunch of group meetings with people I didn't know... one of a few things was going to happen.

1 - I was going to get bored and fall asleep
2 - I was going to get bored and grouchy and mentally wrestle with the therapy staff
3 - I was going to get bored and make up exciting stories about myself to amuse everyone (Like that I used to buy my pills from an old gypsy woman who made them from dragon bones and nutmeg. If you took three at once, you had the power to get dizzy and tired quickly.

Option 3 sounded kinda fun. I could make stories of adventure. The Dread Pirate Monty taking to the high seas to hijack Spanish treasure fleets loaded with pills and adult entertainment software. Monty the Crusader... who had his leg blown off in Bagdad but had it reattached by a kind Kurdish boy named Nidociv. It wasn't until I saw where he signed my cast in a mirror that I saw that Nidociv was really Vicodin backwards! Holy crap, that's when Nicholson comes at me with an axe and is like Here's Jack Nicholson! And say no. Because that's what Nancy Reagan would do.

Then I look into a big room where there is a circle of about 20 chairs and see many of the people I'd be camped out with. These were people with real problems. You could just look in there and see it in there faces. A couple were surprisingly young. A couple were surprisingly old. All of them looked very sad. I didn't look like that. Nor did I want to. I decided that the people in there probably needed help and support in that type of environment. I didn't. And I didn't want to detract from their experience/healing by goofing off. I asked the nurse to unadmit me. I went to work.

One of the questions that the nurse asked me was if I felt supported. I said, yep. Actually, I said yes, this corset is doing wonders for me. Sigh.

And I do.

So a big thanks to those that have expressed their support here, via e-mail, in person, or in the middle of the night when I just needed someone to laugh at a bad joke (or just go hmmm).

Really.

I saw what it could have been like otherwise. It didn't look good.

and smelled a bit like an old bus that was used for one too many high school field trips.

I'll start with Las Vegas related postings tomorrow.

Posted by Monty at 5:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Hello there people.

It's been a long time since I've posted anything here. And it's not for a lack of strong material either. I have a story about almost knocking down Jennifer Lopez. I have a story about the power of hooting at a craps table. And I have a story about pulling Joseph Stalin's finger.

Instead, I will tell the story of where I have been for almost the past two weeks.

Two weeks ago I was sent to a conference in Las Vegas by my employers. That is always a good time. This time was no exception.

Prior to leaving I noticed that I would end up running out of Vicodin while in Las Vegas... having taken the stuff daily for two years, I didn't really want that to happen. So I called my dealer... er doctor... and requested a refill. As I had done almost monthly for quite some time. I called on a Wednesday morning before my Sunday flight. It's not unusual for my doctor to take a couple of days to get my prescriptions filled. He's a surgeon and is out of the office 2-3 days a week cutting people. So friday, I called to check the status. The receptionist told me that because it was a narcotic, I'd need to come in for an office visit. I said, "Really? Can I come in now, because I'm getting on a plane in two days and will be gone for over a week?" She said no, but he could see me a week and a half after I got back. I asked her to make sure that my doctor understood that that situation would put me without pain meds for two weeks. She said he was aware and that if an issue came up to just go to the ER. I then asked her why no one had bothered to call me with this little tidbit a couple of days ago when I could have actually come into the office. She said that they'd been busy. Oh, that's great. Busy.

I hung up.

Through a bit of luck and the kindness of a friend, I was given a stay of execution (as it were). I was given a shiney happy bottle of 30 percocets. That would last me the week I needed to get back from the Las Vegas trip. Opiates in hand, I flew off to Las Vegas and had a wonderful time. Until I got sick. Sinus infection, fever, sore throat, double ear infections. Upon landing, my ears didn't clear when we came home. They're still jammed up with middle ear unhappiness. I haven't had a chance to get that looked at yet. A higher priority came up.

Upon getting home, there was a voicemail left for me from my doctor's office. They wanted to reschedule my appointment to late december. Basically, put off my ability to get pain relief for 6 weeks. I called them. I told them to tell Dr. Rosenpenis that he was fired. I told him that his inability to provide a simple service was no longer tolerable. I asked that my records be boxed up and that I be allowed to pick them up. They babbled. I said, nay, nay! Ship has sailed. I'm gone.

I fired my doctor.

I also fired my dealer.

Five days ago, I took my last opiate.

Knowing at the time that I'd reached the end of supply. I decided to check into a rehab facility. But I was denied. Within 50 miles of me, there is only one opiate detox facility. There are 15 alcohol detox facilities, and one for opiates. By the time I finished calling every medical facility in the area and getting, "no we don't do detox, but we can give you a support group" I finally found a place that did do detox. When I talked to them, they agreed that it would behoove me to come in and likely do inpatient detoxification. Two years of opiates can do a real mess to you physically and mentally. The nice lady I talked to then informed me that they had no room at the moment. Also, she told me that many insurance don't cover opiate detox. Alcohol yes, but not opiates. Lovely. But since they had no room, it was a moot point.

That was five days ago.

This morning they finally called back and pronounced me cured.

There are no opiates in my system. All gone. It takes about 4 days to get completely detoxed and I was past that point. Withdrawl effects can still be present up to several months (and are still very much present in me). But, with the opiates gone... everyday is going to get easier to tolerate as my brain begins to produce it's own happy juices instead of relying on the pill form.

I have an appointment to go see the rehab folks tomorrow morning. They want to run some tests and see what can be done to make the withdrawl symptoms as tolerable as possible. I'm down with that.

For those who don't know opiate withdrawl isn't like you see on TV or in a movie.

My eyes never got red and puffy. I never sat on the couch shivering or clawing at my skin. Nothing that dramatic. No.

My withdrawl started with perpetual lower digestive issues. Then upper. I spent most of my waking hours in the bathroom. Interestingly enough, because the issue is based on chemicals in the brain, there's nothing you can physically do to stop those symptoms. Pepto, Ammodium, all of those... they work on the physical effects in the system. My brain was all jacked up and didn't care what the actual conditions were. It was a very strange feeling to be completely nauseated and hungry at the same time. And have to eat... feeling like every bite was going to come right back out. It never did though. Just felt like that.

Sleep left me next. The first 72 hours I managed 5 hours of total sleep. Insomnia is expected to last me a fairly long time due to the length of my usage.

Then came the headaches. Not normal ones. My brain actually hurts. It's made worse by the sinus infection. Tylenol has no effect.

Sweating has been non-stop. To the point that frequent clothing changes are required.

My nose began running 4 days ago and hasn't stopped. The sinus love that.

Then came the strangest one. I got ADD. I think. I have no idea what ADD is like, but I'm guessing it was like I was experiencing. My brain/thoughts were moving at the speed of light. I felt like I was overdosing on speed. I couldn't focus on anything. Trying to make dinner took hours because I was constantly doing 25 things at once. It was really, really crazy. Here's an example of a snapshot of that:

Brain thoughts-

I'm hungry
I should make dinner
I need to go to the bathroom first
I should start cooking first then go to the bathroom
I wonder what's on TV to watch with dinner
I better look first
Maybe I should wait
Or I could watch a movie
What do I feel like watching?
What do I want to eat?
Maybe I should order a pizza so I don't have to cook?
I should go to the bathroom first
Are the dishes clean?
They are but where's my favorite black bowl.
Oh it's in the sink
Well I can't have pasta if that bowl's dirty.
What's on TV in the background?
I should watch Judge Judy.
Or Judge Alex.
Let me see how many of each I have Tivoed
Well there are more Alexs than Judys so I'll watch Alex to make them even.
But Judge is funnier.
Ok I'll watch Judge Judy.
Unless there's something on HBO.
Let me look.
I need to go to the bathroom first.
I'll start the water boiling for the pasta and then go to the bathroom.
Where's my black bowl?
Oh it's still in the sink.
I guess I'll wash it
Then boil water
Then go to the bathroom
do I have any pasta in the house?
I have five kinds
do i have sauce?
oh good, I do.
what time is it?
I haven't feed the dogs, no wonder they're mad.
I'll feed them first
so they'll be happy
maybe i'll give them a special treat because they've been patient
what kind of treat should I give them?
i should go to the bathroom first

(it took two hours to make dinner that night)

I actually stood in the center of my living room with my eyes as wide as could be because I was paralyzed with the inability to follow a single thought for more than a second.

So now we're here.

My brain still hurts. My lower digestive unpleasantness is still present. My nose is still running, but much less. The infections in my head are raging. I can't sleep.

But my sense of humor has returned. There was a period of about 30 hours where I couldn't find anything funny. That was horrible.

I'm sure I've got several more days of unfunness left.

I cancelled Thanksgiving because I don't think I have it in me to host 30+ people yet. I'll probably spend the day on the couch eating a sandwich and watching House MD (he's still my hero). It somehow seems fitting to mark the two year anniversary of the accident that started this all (on thanksgiving day 2005) in a more quiet environment than a large fiesta would allow. I won't get the chance to make a fried turkey this year. Or garlic smashed potatoes. Or jalapeno cornbread. But I will just work on feeling better. One day at a time.

I can't believe I said that... now I've got the stupid theme song from that sitcom stuck in my head. Whatever happened to Schneider anyway? Was that guy's name Pat Harrington? If it is, I'll be impressed and depressed that I knew that.

If I don't post again before Thursday, happy Thanksgiving to you and everyone you feel thankful for.

Posted by Monty at 5:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

For folks that don't know... I'm in Las Vegas this week on the company dime.

I'm staying in THE Hotel... a Mandalay Bay property. It's just as snooty as it sounds. It's very very fancy. Here are the features of the suite I have:

3 plasma TVs
2 rooms
2 bathrooms
large marble bath tub
large marble shower
an office
a wet bar (stocked)
some crappy artwork
a doorbell
fancy dancy soaps and shampoos and even q-tips

Here, they don't have a little sign you hang on you knob saying "don't disturb" (it's time we embraced the contraction)... instead you press a button near your door that lights up a "go away" message outside your door. It also disables your doorbell. There's an option to summon the maid service that way too.

Bad ass really.

I'm at a conference in Las Vegas. I had some time on my hands today so I left THE Hotel and went to THE Casino to play THE craps. THE craps kicked my but up and down the street. I don't know what happened. It was the single worst beating I've ever taken in gambling. $200 down the toilet.

I then decided to make a nice bet on THE football game tonight. To make a long story short, I won back all my cash.

THE highlight of the day was getting a fancy shave at a place called THE art of shaving. It was a 45 minute face massage/shave... old school straight razor. It was cool. It was like 50% spa treatment 50% 1950's barbarshop.

That was pretty damn cool.

Oh yeah... I won a big viking helmet. THE people at THE Hotel didn't like that I wore THE hat in their lobby. They thought I needed to be harassed and booted. I told them that I was THE guest and they should bite THE big one. That's a shorter version of my real encounter with THE security team, but the (THE) point was THE same.

Tomorrow... I'm going to be Microsoftened for 8 hours... then I'm camping out in THE spa for THE night and getting rubbed into happy land.

Posted by Monty at 2:25 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Is it wrong to hate someone because of their bumper sticker?

I spend a lot of my time driving to and from places. I see a lot of bumper stickers. Of times I see some that piss me off. I'm not against people having opposing views. Really, I'm not. I'm against people who feel they can adequately sum up their views in a 5 word sticker and put it on their car.

I'm also going with the assumption that if you put your half thought out view on your car for the world to see, you feel very strongly about it. And by making it public, you make those views open to scrutiny. The only scrutiny I can provide via the highway system is to run people like that off the road.

The big offenders I see are the Bush lovers. (Not lesbians, the others) The big W sticker on a car usually means the driver, in my mind, is a proud stupid supporter of a big dumb animal. If I see a sticker like that... no merging will be had. You can put on your signal all you want... you're not coming over. Want me to let you out if you're stuck on a side street or parked and trying to move... nope. You can sit there for a month.

Last night I refused to let a Dallas Cowboy fan over on a busy street. It seems silly to do that, but Dallas fans, as a rule are mental midgets. I was at Costco and the register lady and a bag/box boy were arguing about football. This is how it went after I got involved:

Me: What football team do you like?
Her: Dallas.
Me: Why?
Her: I don't know.
Me: Are you from Texas?
Her: No.
Me: Have you ever been to Texas?
Her: No.
Me: Do you even know anyone from Texas?
Her: I don't think so.
Me: Can you name two players on the team?
Her: No.
Me: Why do you like them?
Her: They're America's team.
Me: No they aren't.

I remember a few years ago, Dallas started calling themselves America's team. That's a lie. They're probably Retarded America' team. Also... baseball is the national pastime. If there's an America's Team... it's probably a baseball team. Football is really a johnny come lately. Keep in mind, I love football and think baseball is kinda silly.

So bumper sticker people... you guys are risking wrath when you drive around with your little slogans. I already start my day with the mindset that 99.9% of the people on this planet are in my way. If one of those people also happens to have a moronic slogan on their car (like "Abortion stops a beating heart"... yeah... so will a pencil if you stab someone with it.) gets between my and my destination... I'm likely to do whatever I can to run them off the road.

I believe we can change this society... killing off one little brain at a time.

I'm going to Las Vegas in a couple of days and will be gone for a week or so. I'll try to write while I'm there, but no promises.

Posted by Monty at 3:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)