I had to share this tale of my recent misadventure.
Two weeks before Christmas and I'm out working late in a neighborhood whose street light had apparently gone out. While crossing the street, I knew there was a curb ahead, but couldn't quite figure out where. Slowing down and paying attention might have been a good idea at this point.
Just then... left foot meets curb, and a moment later... right knee meets cement pavement. Nice. Snap, crackle, pop.
I feel around it, all seems OK. I walk to, and into the front door of the home. I look at it indoors. No apparent swelling (yet), so back to work I go. By the time I got home though, my knee was swollen to something the size of a canteloupe. Great. Damage apparently done after all.
Let's keep in mind that last year, I sweetly crushed my entire left hand fingers in a broken, slatted garage door, resulting in some breaks. I thought, let's top that off this year with a new injury.
The next day, off to the Urgent Care I go. The first doc looks at my knee and simply "ooh's and aah's" for a few moments. He requests an X-ray. The X-ray tech woman, of East Indian descent (not necessarily a major issue of the story, other than a slightly cultural attitude towards me, and somewhat argumentive), takes between 6 to 8 different view shots. This strikes me odd, and makes me question her credentials. A knee X-ray for this type of injury usually is 2 shots. I should know, I've done this before plenty. She then proceeds to shoot X-rays of my other knee as well. I can tell you that this lady did not like to be second-guessed, nor her work commented upon.
I go back to the first doc. He calls in a consulting doc. They concur that I "must have" a fractured knee. BUT, "it may just be ghosting," although neither was too sure.
The consulting doc feels around both knees, pulls them apart, puts them together, stares, and asks me, "Which knee hurts the most?"
I answer, "Um... that would be the one that I injured."
He says, "Well, it appears that they are both broken."
I say, "Really? How interesting, since I only hit one of them. Are you suggesting that my other knee now has an immaculate 'sympathy' break?"
He stares blankly, and then sums up that I'm a smart-ass who knows nothing about medicine or procedures. I sum him up as a dumb-ass who doesn't know what a broken bone looks like, and so assumes that they are all broken. Stalemate we are in.
They put me in a leg immobilizer, along with crutches, to prevent me from bending the knee and "to not cause more damage." How interesting, since the immobilizer itself is now crushing down (with metal rods) on the very spot that is supposedly broken. How is that going to heal?
I wear it for three days as instructed. Upon the third day, my leg is totally black and blue, bruised. I stop wearing the immobilizer. My the next day, my leg swelling is considerably down, and no bruising. My knee pain has diminished greatly. The immobilizer itself apparently had caused more damage.
Follow up to the above story -
10 days later, I see an Orthopedic Specialist, who was scheduled for me by the original doc. I get a new set of X-rays - only 2 shots this time, correctly.
The OS doc looks at the X-ray and asks me, "Who told you your knee was broken?" I told him the referring physician. First, the OS doc has never heard of him. Second, he says, "The guy must be an idiot. There are no signs of any fracture ever having happened." No breaks. No fractures. No bone injuries at all. In fact, it was simply bursitis. Bruising. Made worse by metal rods being forced down on it for three days. The OS doc says, "Duh! You hit your knee. It swells. Simple medicine. That's how it happens. Then it gets better." We both agreed.
So this leaves me with a fear for other people who have to see an Urgent Care doc, and their late-night X-ray flunkies, who really don't know what they're looking at, but have to appear busy and informed. And that original X-ray tech - a few polite manners, and learning how to do her job properly would help.
So... now all is well. Just another adventure tale for me to pass on.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Sunday, November 30, 2008
My New Pet - Nature's Little Killing Machine - A Venus Flytrap
Sunday, Nov. 30th. -
Cheech & Chong were downtown, performing for the first time in about 35 years. I wanted so badly to go, but I was too exhausted from work and lacking sleep. Instead, I went to the Grocery Outlet to see what goodies they had in store at the cheap grocery palace.
It was there that I found the item I had wanted for so long. Years I had thought about owning this, this interesting development of nature. And so I bought myself my latest pet - a Venus Flytrap.
Yes, nature's little killing machine. Long before Audrey II of "Little Shop Of Horrors," there were the Venus Flytraps.
These things are sturdy! They can only survive in the bare minimum of dirt - no fertilizer. Just water seems to do them fine. Lots of it. And humidity. But they are fascinating. These little leaves that lay open, inviting, with what could only be described as seductive eyelashes outlining them. And when the unsuspecting critter happens to enter between the leaves - snap! The bug is caught. Within the next 10 days, digestive juices take out all the liquid and nutrients, leaving a dried carcass behind.
For those of you who know me, it might seem appropriate that I would get such a morbid plant. The hints of vampirism. The evolutionary ideas of meat-eating plants taking over the earth. The ghoulish way in which it dispatches its prey. These are all fascinating visuals (to me, anyway). But honestly, in my adult days, that was not the appeal that got me to bring my new baby home. My reason is much "further from home."
The Venus Flytrap is native only to the humid, boggy areas of the Carolinas in the United States (North Carolina, more specifically). There are stories, not wholly verified, that these particular areas are ancient meteor impact sites. That may be true. But then comes the question if that makes the Venus Flytrap a possible extraterrestrial life-form. Maybe. Again, no confirmation. It is true that to this day, scientists still don't know what makes it able to move it's leaves, and so quickly. The other thought is that meteor impact sites generally leave a lot of minerals around, which the plant could use, along with the nitrogen-rich soil. Interesting either way.
So... back to my Sunday with my new pet...
I bring it to show my mom. You know, for giggles. She gives it a discerning look and appeared to rather not want to talk about it. I placed it on the kitchen table and proceed to explain how it requires bugs to suck the life out of them. At that point, after taking the lid off of the plastic container it came in, I told her that indeed it would be best to find a bug soon - as the plant can crawl out... "and it will find you!" This didn't sit too well with mom, who rather sternly recommended, "Put the lid back on! You put it on and keep it on! You make sure it stays on." HA! Oh, great fun indeed.
I now have told several friends about my new acquisition. One girl commented that she liked it because it rhymed with "penis." I then began thinking, it starts with a V, and the name Venus is in fact the Goddess of Love. V also begins "vagina." Hmmm... It in fact does have a subtle vaginal shape to it, with the sprouting hairs around it. And in fact, it does trap meat, and suck the life out of it. Well... now I'm getting a bit too visual, but you get the idea. Who knows what one was thinking when they named it. As far as Venus - it has nothing to do with either the planet, nor any Love Goddess. But it is a flytrap. Who knows.
In any case, it is now fodder for a new film script I am thinking of. I got the flytrap right after seeing the new National Geographic story about a moth that has evolved from eating plant nectar, to now sucking blood from animals (including people). This is in Siberia, and is a true story. So... nature evolves to "thin the herd" of mankind. Yes! Interesting, and necessary. Who needs 6.5 billion people on this small orb of a planet. It's time for nature to eat people, instead of people eating nature. But I digress into my usual sociopolitical nature. I'll save that for another blog.
I'm off to find some bugs.
Cheech & Chong were downtown, performing for the first time in about 35 years. I wanted so badly to go, but I was too exhausted from work and lacking sleep. Instead, I went to the Grocery Outlet to see what goodies they had in store at the cheap grocery palace.
It was there that I found the item I had wanted for so long. Years I had thought about owning this, this interesting development of nature. And so I bought myself my latest pet - a Venus Flytrap.
Yes, nature's little killing machine. Long before Audrey II of "Little Shop Of Horrors," there were the Venus Flytraps.
These things are sturdy! They can only survive in the bare minimum of dirt - no fertilizer. Just water seems to do them fine. Lots of it. And humidity. But they are fascinating. These little leaves that lay open, inviting, with what could only be described as seductive eyelashes outlining them. And when the unsuspecting critter happens to enter between the leaves - snap! The bug is caught. Within the next 10 days, digestive juices take out all the liquid and nutrients, leaving a dried carcass behind.
For those of you who know me, it might seem appropriate that I would get such a morbid plant. The hints of vampirism. The evolutionary ideas of meat-eating plants taking over the earth. The ghoulish way in which it dispatches its prey. These are all fascinating visuals (to me, anyway). But honestly, in my adult days, that was not the appeal that got me to bring my new baby home. My reason is much "further from home."
The Venus Flytrap is native only to the humid, boggy areas of the Carolinas in the United States (North Carolina, more specifically). There are stories, not wholly verified, that these particular areas are ancient meteor impact sites. That may be true. But then comes the question if that makes the Venus Flytrap a possible extraterrestrial life-form. Maybe. Again, no confirmation. It is true that to this day, scientists still don't know what makes it able to move it's leaves, and so quickly. The other thought is that meteor impact sites generally leave a lot of minerals around, which the plant could use, along with the nitrogen-rich soil. Interesting either way.
So... back to my Sunday with my new pet...
I bring it to show my mom. You know, for giggles. She gives it a discerning look and appeared to rather not want to talk about it. I placed it on the kitchen table and proceed to explain how it requires bugs to suck the life out of them. At that point, after taking the lid off of the plastic container it came in, I told her that indeed it would be best to find a bug soon - as the plant can crawl out... "and it will find you!" This didn't sit too well with mom, who rather sternly recommended, "Put the lid back on! You put it on and keep it on! You make sure it stays on." HA! Oh, great fun indeed.
I now have told several friends about my new acquisition. One girl commented that she liked it because it rhymed with "penis." I then began thinking, it starts with a V, and the name Venus is in fact the Goddess of Love. V also begins "vagina." Hmmm... It in fact does have a subtle vaginal shape to it, with the sprouting hairs around it. And in fact, it does trap meat, and suck the life out of it. Well... now I'm getting a bit too visual, but you get the idea. Who knows what one was thinking when they named it. As far as Venus - it has nothing to do with either the planet, nor any Love Goddess. But it is a flytrap. Who knows.
In any case, it is now fodder for a new film script I am thinking of. I got the flytrap right after seeing the new National Geographic story about a moth that has evolved from eating plant nectar, to now sucking blood from animals (including people). This is in Siberia, and is a true story. So... nature evolves to "thin the herd" of mankind. Yes! Interesting, and necessary. Who needs 6.5 billion people on this small orb of a planet. It's time for nature to eat people, instead of people eating nature. But I digress into my usual sociopolitical nature. I'll save that for another blog.
I'm off to find some bugs.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
It's Always Fun When I Cut My Throat
It's always something with me. I know that most of you might not have heard about my latest mishaps and adventures of the past week, so I thought I'd share. And yes, the title is true.
WEDS. OCT. 8th - sometime around 11 am.
I'm moving a dresser out of a house, on flat ground, with Gilbert going backwards. I had just come out of the door onto the cement walkway. Someone had thought it a good idea to have thoroughly soaked the new sod. I barely stepped off of the pathway, completely twisting my ankle as I swayed towards the grass. A split-second decision had to be made: 1) Drop everything, and smash the dresser into the cement walkway, or 2) pull and toss the dresser towards the grass in hopes of saving it, but muddying everything. I opted for 2.
Four people watching me, and no one can explain what happened next. A completely freak accident.
I swung the dresser to the right, thus putting all of its weight, combined with mine, completely onto my now twisted (and still twisting) ankle. Collapse time. Somehow, I ended up partially underneath it, but was able to yank it up, and roll out from under it WHILE setting it on its path down into the grass (safely, I might add). I did a strange roll out from under it, and pulled myself upright.
As I was getting up, Gilbert points at me and exclaims, "Now THAT'S a professional!"
As I straightened out, and as I was realizing something wrong, everyone just stared and said, "You need to check yourself out and get to a doctor."
Somehow, as I pulled the dresser, the sharp corner of the dresser caught my skin at the Adam's apple, as it continued upward, poking into my larynx (wind pipe) just under my jaw. As my head snapped back the other way (to follow it), the skin broke loose from the corner. thus cutting my throat. What I didn't realize until later is that it almost punctured my larynx. That would have ended everything rather quickly for me. I am damned lucky (well, luck isn't damning exactly, but you know).
So there I stood, checking my breathing but hearing no gurgling sounds. Good! Swallowing was another story. That hurt like a bitch. I thought about it for a minute and figured, if I can still breathe, I may as well finish the job at hand that I had begun - albeit in pain.
At the end of everything, a group assessment was made about what I should do. Everyone agreed I should be off to the doctors. However, I had no time for appointments, as I had to be in L.A. in the morning. I'd do the Urgent Care thing. At this point, a couple of comments were made -
Gilbert: "Dude, you're not going to be able to swallow for a few days."
Me: "Yes, BUT, that means I'll eat less and lose weight."
Gilbert: "That is going to leave a major mark."
Me: "Yes, BUT, chicks dig scars. It means I have a story to tell. I'll tell them it was a gang fight or a mugging."
(It's all about perceptions.)
So, by 9 pm that evening, I was seen by a doctor. I explained it all to him, along with my personal assessment. I said I was really only there to find out it it was going to be Motrin or surgery. I got lucky. It was Motrin.
The end result was that I have a contusion on my larynx, which seemed OK, but may be more serious, along with the cut across the throat (although not that big). It should have only lasted about 3 days. I'm going on a week now, so I'm going to get seen again, as there was also a possibility of a small fracture or tear in the front of the larynx. Otherwise, I was good to go.
THURS. OCT. 9th -
I'm off to L.A. by plane. Between waking up, and mid-flight, I discovered that the pain in the upper larynx had dissipated. But, the pain across the Adam's apple area was definitely increased. AND, apparently I had gotten minor whiplash from the incident. That's a first for me. I've never experienced that before, and not too thrilled with it. The ankle, throbbing like a ... well, yeah. Only it hurts. Anyway, off to L.A. I go, only to have to drive back later that day. I had to meet with a graphic designer client who works for ABC, and is moving out of a large, beautiful mansion in Pasadena. Somehow though, this meeting also includes meeting his handymen - a guy, with missing teeth and dirty t-shirt, sporting a total blaxploitation 'Fro with a Goodie comb stuck in it (straight out of a bad 70s film), and his partner, some cranked out stoner guy who hangs out at Home Depot for work. Nice diametric of people I meet within one hour.
FRI. OCT. 10th -
A relatively peaceful day, on the road, having a leisurely drive back. What a change.
SAT. OCT. 11th -
Me and a friend are up in Marin (Mill Valley, more correctly), sitting around waiting for someone. Around us are giant Eucalyptus trees. Within a relatively short while, we notice a large Turkey Vulture appear and sit above us. Soon after, another appears. About 10 minutes later, the first one swoops down to rest a bit closer. Roy and I begin discussing how vultures tend to only circle and approach prey that is either already, or soon to be dead (like in the film Westerns on the desert). So we ask each other if we want to flip a coin to see who it's going to be - me or him. We both decide it's not such a good idea. Above us, the vultures loom just a bit closer again, making us just a bit more wary. So we chase them off. But the thought behind it all still stuck for a while.
Anyway, it's now Tues, Oct. 14th, and I am still around, happy and (relatively) healthy.
As I think back, I've survived some major car accidents in the past (no injuries to me somehow), been hit in the head more than a could of times with hard objects (including an actual mugging), had a couple of surgeries, cancer (let's not forget that), other illnesses, and now the throat thing that really could have had a quick and bad ending. And yet, I have made it through.
When I was asked the other day, "Just how many of your lives have you used up already?", my answer is only that I am way beyond any cat. I've probably used up the first nine just in my childhood. Someone, somewhere, wants me here for a bigger and better reason than just to exist. Something to think about for anyone as we go through life and have experiences, or learn from the experiences of others.
Signing out,
Phil :)
WEDS. OCT. 8th - sometime around 11 am.
I'm moving a dresser out of a house, on flat ground, with Gilbert going backwards. I had just come out of the door onto the cement walkway. Someone had thought it a good idea to have thoroughly soaked the new sod. I barely stepped off of the pathway, completely twisting my ankle as I swayed towards the grass. A split-second decision had to be made: 1) Drop everything, and smash the dresser into the cement walkway, or 2) pull and toss the dresser towards the grass in hopes of saving it, but muddying everything. I opted for 2.
Four people watching me, and no one can explain what happened next. A completely freak accident.
I swung the dresser to the right, thus putting all of its weight, combined with mine, completely onto my now twisted (and still twisting) ankle. Collapse time. Somehow, I ended up partially underneath it, but was able to yank it up, and roll out from under it WHILE setting it on its path down into the grass (safely, I might add). I did a strange roll out from under it, and pulled myself upright.
As I was getting up, Gilbert points at me and exclaims, "Now THAT'S a professional!"
As I straightened out, and as I was realizing something wrong, everyone just stared and said, "You need to check yourself out and get to a doctor."
Somehow, as I pulled the dresser, the sharp corner of the dresser caught my skin at the Adam's apple, as it continued upward, poking into my larynx (wind pipe) just under my jaw. As my head snapped back the other way (to follow it), the skin broke loose from the corner. thus cutting my throat. What I didn't realize until later is that it almost punctured my larynx. That would have ended everything rather quickly for me. I am damned lucky (well, luck isn't damning exactly, but you know).
So there I stood, checking my breathing but hearing no gurgling sounds. Good! Swallowing was another story. That hurt like a bitch. I thought about it for a minute and figured, if I can still breathe, I may as well finish the job at hand that I had begun - albeit in pain.
At the end of everything, a group assessment was made about what I should do. Everyone agreed I should be off to the doctors. However, I had no time for appointments, as I had to be in L.A. in the morning. I'd do the Urgent Care thing. At this point, a couple of comments were made -
Gilbert: "Dude, you're not going to be able to swallow for a few days."
Me: "Yes, BUT, that means I'll eat less and lose weight."
Gilbert: "That is going to leave a major mark."
Me: "Yes, BUT, chicks dig scars. It means I have a story to tell. I'll tell them it was a gang fight or a mugging."
(It's all about perceptions.)
So, by 9 pm that evening, I was seen by a doctor. I explained it all to him, along with my personal assessment. I said I was really only there to find out it it was going to be Motrin or surgery. I got lucky. It was Motrin.
The end result was that I have a contusion on my larynx, which seemed OK, but may be more serious, along with the cut across the throat (although not that big). It should have only lasted about 3 days. I'm going on a week now, so I'm going to get seen again, as there was also a possibility of a small fracture or tear in the front of the larynx. Otherwise, I was good to go.
THURS. OCT. 9th -
I'm off to L.A. by plane. Between waking up, and mid-flight, I discovered that the pain in the upper larynx had dissipated. But, the pain across the Adam's apple area was definitely increased. AND, apparently I had gotten minor whiplash from the incident. That's a first for me. I've never experienced that before, and not too thrilled with it. The ankle, throbbing like a ... well, yeah. Only it hurts. Anyway, off to L.A. I go, only to have to drive back later that day. I had to meet with a graphic designer client who works for ABC, and is moving out of a large, beautiful mansion in Pasadena. Somehow though, this meeting also includes meeting his handymen - a guy, with missing teeth and dirty t-shirt, sporting a total blaxploitation 'Fro with a Goodie comb stuck in it (straight out of a bad 70s film), and his partner, some cranked out stoner guy who hangs out at Home Depot for work. Nice diametric of people I meet within one hour.
FRI. OCT. 10th -
A relatively peaceful day, on the road, having a leisurely drive back. What a change.
SAT. OCT. 11th -
Me and a friend are up in Marin (Mill Valley, more correctly), sitting around waiting for someone. Around us are giant Eucalyptus trees. Within a relatively short while, we notice a large Turkey Vulture appear and sit above us. Soon after, another appears. About 10 minutes later, the first one swoops down to rest a bit closer. Roy and I begin discussing how vultures tend to only circle and approach prey that is either already, or soon to be dead (like in the film Westerns on the desert). So we ask each other if we want to flip a coin to see who it's going to be - me or him. We both decide it's not such a good idea. Above us, the vultures loom just a bit closer again, making us just a bit more wary. So we chase them off. But the thought behind it all still stuck for a while.
Anyway, it's now Tues, Oct. 14th, and I am still around, happy and (relatively) healthy.
As I think back, I've survived some major car accidents in the past (no injuries to me somehow), been hit in the head more than a could of times with hard objects (including an actual mugging), had a couple of surgeries, cancer (let's not forget that), other illnesses, and now the throat thing that really could have had a quick and bad ending. And yet, I have made it through.
When I was asked the other day, "Just how many of your lives have you used up already?", my answer is only that I am way beyond any cat. I've probably used up the first nine just in my childhood. Someone, somewhere, wants me here for a bigger and better reason than just to exist. Something to think about for anyone as we go through life and have experiences, or learn from the experiences of others.
Signing out,
Phil :)
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
The 10 Commandments Of Punk Guitar
Along with Greg Hetson of Bad Religion and Circle Jerks fame, Bad Religion guitarist Brian Baker compiled a list of 10 commandments of punk guitar. They are as follows:
- Treat your guitar like shit and it will respect you.
- To get that mean fuckin' low end and still retain some highs in your sound, use only Gibson guitars. SG's and Les Pauls are the ultimate punk rock tools.
- Use only downstrokes. Downstrokes are the key to unlocking all punk rhythms.
- Plaster your guitars with stickers to prove that you're an individual. Remember, being uncool is cool, so one Van Halen is worth three Sex Pistols stickers.
- The Marshall JMP 100-Watt master volume head is the Holy Grail of amps. Other people get all hot and bothered about what kind of speakers and cabinets they use, but that's all bullshit. You can plug the JMP into virtually anything and it's going to sound wonderful.
- No open tunings. Grunge is not punk rock.
- Don't be self-indulgent. Limit your guitar solos to eight bars or less. Otherwise, you're playing metal.
- Never, ever play a show with a cigarette hanging out of your mouth. It's incredibly painful when a stage diver pushes off your face and smashes the red-hot cherry into your cheek.
- It may be punk to be fucked up at your day job, but when you take the stage you should be straight. It's hard to play music with intensity and speed when you're drunk.
- Do not stack Marshall cabinets. That's not punk, it's arena rock. The Ramones are the only band exempted from this rule.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
"Hard" To Sleep - My Latest Medical Issue
There are those of you who occasionally ask me how I am doing and if I am healthy. Usually the answer is that I'm doing good. Now I have something a bit disturbing, yet amusing to share.
(Read on, as I know some of you are taking the drug that I am talking about here.)
As most of you know, I have APL Leukemia. Good enough. I beat it in 30 days back in 2005, and have been on maintenance chemo ever since - but ending that finally by this March.
Many of you who know me better also know that I have some odd habits, primarily being a vampire by staying up all hours of the night. My reasons - no one bugs me (usually) at night, and I can focus more on whatever work I'm doing. Fine enough, except it's getting hard for me to go back to any semblance of a "normal" life - the kind where one gets up in the morning and experiences most of the daytime world. (If only I drank blood, this would have a happier ending.)
So, now to my dilemma...
Due to the above habits, it has been almost impossible for me to even be tired at any time before 7 am. I'm tired of being that way and wanted some help to get back to normal. My doctor suggested some sleep aids. As I have acid reflux, she did not recommend any actual sleeping pills, but more along the line of "sleep aids." This includes such drugs as Ambien.
In my case, she gave me Trazodone. Apparently this is the drug of choice to offer when helping someone get drowsy. It is non-addictive and does the trick. What it used to be was strictly an anti-depressant. However, how it actually worked, still no one knows. Should that bother me? Perhaps. It's nasty (at the time) side effect was that it would knock people out with drowsiness. So these days, it's promoted as a sleep aid, with anti-depression qualities. However, again, no one seems to know how the mechanism works in affecting people.
And now on to the kicker...
I looked up potential problems associated with this drug. Bingo! There is a problem, that many men could consider a blessing.
It turns out that Trazodone has been associated with episodes of Priapism. Sure, you probably haven't heard of it. Let me say it more simply - Eternal Hard-On! And it's considered a "medical emergency." Funny, I never heard a woman say "problem" or "emergency" towards any man who kept an erection for more than, say a few minutes, if an hour. But it's true. In fact, on one site it states, "If the condition persists for more than 24 hours, it would be advisable... [for a specialist] to decide on a management approach." and mentions requiring "surgical intervention" that could cause permanent dysfunction. What?!?! On top of that is a possibility of cardiac problems. Well sure, considering how an erection is formed and works, that makes sense. All the blood goes to pump and prime "La Machine," and all that excitement can cause a ticker to pop.
One more thing to add... Priapism is also associated with such illnesses as... yes, Leukemia (which I have). That's two potential strikes against me - giving me the whacked-out hard-on from hell. Sure, I could be a woman's dream date - but only for one (very long) night (and day, and next night), before the fun ends.
I promise you that - regardless of age - I am nowhere near requiring Viagra, but it was funny to think that the same results could happen. However, unless I'm planning a sleepover with a harem, and it's my last day on Earth, I think I'll forgo this particular pill and stick with my tried and true Kava Kava and Chamomile teas for sleep-inducing. They work, just not as fast, nor dangerously.
Oh, and lastly, an ironic amusement for me is... Why do most ANTI-depressants cause suicidal tendencies? Aren't they supposed to prevent those? Hmmm... kill the patient, I guess. Blame society and parents later.
If anyone wants more info about the drug that'll give you a boner all throughout the night (while you sleep through it), or the syndrome itself, check out these links -
Trazodone -
http://www.mentalhealth.com/drug/p30-d03.html
Priapism -
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Priapism
(Read on, as I know some of you are taking the drug that I am talking about here.)
As most of you know, I have APL Leukemia. Good enough. I beat it in 30 days back in 2005, and have been on maintenance chemo ever since - but ending that finally by this March.
Many of you who know me better also know that I have some odd habits, primarily being a vampire by staying up all hours of the night. My reasons - no one bugs me (usually) at night, and I can focus more on whatever work I'm doing. Fine enough, except it's getting hard for me to go back to any semblance of a "normal" life - the kind where one gets up in the morning and experiences most of the daytime world. (If only I drank blood, this would have a happier ending.)
So, now to my dilemma...
Due to the above habits, it has been almost impossible for me to even be tired at any time before 7 am. I'm tired of being that way and wanted some help to get back to normal. My doctor suggested some sleep aids. As I have acid reflux, she did not recommend any actual sleeping pills, but more along the line of "sleep aids." This includes such drugs as Ambien.
In my case, she gave me Trazodone. Apparently this is the drug of choice to offer when helping someone get drowsy. It is non-addictive and does the trick. What it used to be was strictly an anti-depressant. However, how it actually worked, still no one knows. Should that bother me? Perhaps. It's nasty (at the time) side effect was that it would knock people out with drowsiness. So these days, it's promoted as a sleep aid, with anti-depression qualities. However, again, no one seems to know how the mechanism works in affecting people.
And now on to the kicker...
I looked up potential problems associated with this drug. Bingo! There is a problem, that many men could consider a blessing.
It turns out that Trazodone has been associated with episodes of Priapism. Sure, you probably haven't heard of it. Let me say it more simply - Eternal Hard-On! And it's considered a "medical emergency." Funny, I never heard a woman say "problem" or "emergency" towards any man who kept an erection for more than, say a few minutes, if an hour. But it's true. In fact, on one site it states, "If the condition persists for more than 24 hours, it would be advisable... [for a specialist] to decide on a management approach." and mentions requiring "surgical intervention" that could cause permanent dysfunction. What?!?! On top of that is a possibility of cardiac problems. Well sure, considering how an erection is formed and works, that makes sense. All the blood goes to pump and prime "La Machine," and all that excitement can cause a ticker to pop.
One more thing to add... Priapism is also associated with such illnesses as... yes, Leukemia (which I have). That's two potential strikes against me - giving me the whacked-out hard-on from hell. Sure, I could be a woman's dream date - but only for one (very long) night (and day, and next night), before the fun ends.
I promise you that - regardless of age - I am nowhere near requiring Viagra, but it was funny to think that the same results could happen. However, unless I'm planning a sleepover with a harem, and it's my last day on Earth, I think I'll forgo this particular pill and stick with my tried and true Kava Kava and Chamomile teas for sleep-inducing. They work, just not as fast, nor dangerously.
Oh, and lastly, an ironic amusement for me is... Why do most ANTI-depressants cause suicidal tendencies? Aren't they supposed to prevent those? Hmmm... kill the patient, I guess. Blame society and parents later.
If anyone wants more info about the drug that'll give you a boner all throughout the night (while you sleep through it), or the syndrome itself, check out these links -
Trazodone -
http://www.mentalhealth.com/drug/p30-d03.html
Priapism -
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Priapism
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