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May 22, 2020

It's not a toomah! or is it?

Have you heard that Trump has decided to take Oxymacmillion Dectracide?  OK, not the proper spelling, but I am guessing you have heard of his decision to self-prescribe this RX.

My own personal stash of
 Hydroxycholoroqine (real spelling!)
Um, I have some of that RX in a bottle in my house.  I am NOT currently taking it.  I also cannot pronounce it, or spell it.  

I want to thank Trump for taking this med because whenever I go back to the doc and they ask me "But have you tried Oxymacmillion Dectracide?" I will be able to intelligently say, "Oh, is that the shit that Trump started taking to avoid covid?  Yeah, I already tried that and it didn't help me."  

Backing up the bus a bit, a hippie-looking rheumatologist (cut and paste job because that is a bitch to spell) I saw a few years ago wondered if I might have Lupus.  Hair loss, exhaustion, swollen joints (pst . . . this can also be from the wonderful world of celiac,.  Blood work:  hang on, another autoimmune disease might be lurking, since I have celiac I am susceptible).  He had me try Trump's new drug of choice:  Oxymacmillion Dectracide.  It did nothing.  


Poor little swollen pinkie.
I told you back in the fall about my pinkies having big puffy knuckles.  They felt broken.  I saw a new doc:  Dr. Run-late.  She said I had cysts.  Lupus?  

She prescribed Oxymacmillion Dectracide. (me nodding, not realizing I had taken it before from Hippie doc till the pharmacist pointed it out).  I took it for a few weeks because it was a higher dose and maybe it would help.  Then I said, forget it.  Unlike Trump, I don't want to take stuff I don't need.

Dr. Run-late suggested having the cysts removed.  There were x-rays and MRIs and MRIs with contrast.  I probably glow in the dark now.  

Rings were cut off of my fingers.  Sadly.  

There was a doc visit when I brought along a baby I was sitting for and Coach left work to meet me there and they announced, "Oh, Dr. Run-late is running too far behind to see you.  You can come back in a few hours."  What?  Who does that?  

Eventually Dr. Run-late suggested surgery to remove cysts or just draining them with a very large needle.  We opted for the needle, but Coach explained 'me' to the doc.  "She can't do big needles."

Doc Run-late said, no prob.  She would partially sedate me.  This was all about two weeks before Christmas.  Pop some pills, have a friend drive you, etc.

Becky, my other babysitting friend, was good enough to drive me - neither of us had tots to watch.  I urged her to run errands and come back.  "Dr. Run-late does not follow a schedule."  

Becky got her nails done, came back, and found me super sleepy and beyond pissed off.  I was a combo of Sleepy and Grumpy dwarfs, but taller.  I explained to Becky . . . "I braced myself for the gi-normous needle.  They jabbed it in there good and hard.  Nothing."  

FYI if Becky and I chose not to social distance and she was sitting in my study with me, she would be saying 'That's what she said' and then cackling, but alas - I am alone.  Not that I have ever written a post while hanging out with Becky, but isn't it heartwarming to know your friends think of you even when you are't within 6 feet?

Dr. Run-late:  "Oh, this is not a cyst.  This must be a tumor."  (totally might be off on the terminology here because I was all doped up and this was in December).  Basically she thought it was liquid and it isn't.  Needle = useless.

Now, just trying to forget 'bout it.  Coach and I both looked at each other though at home:  

"But she took all those pictures, contrast, rings cut off?  W.T.F?"

Did I mention the timing of all of this?  Right before Christmas when it is also birthday season over here.  I slept all afternoon - on my day off instead of getting shit done!  People, I love a good nap, but ARE YOU KIDDING?

So, don't worry about me while my pinkies sometimes creak with pain while I type away at these posts.  Meanwhile, I secretly enjoy one more nonsensical aspect of our president, who is taking something that has proven NOT to prevent covid 19.  

May he inexplicably develop tumors on his pinkies the size of golf balls (not at all what the meds do, but who takes something for kicks?)

I have another finger story for you, but it involves the middle, the boss, the swear finger.  Totally different story line.  I think you'll enjoy it.  Shall we say next week, or are you too busy trying to identify a closet you have yet to organize during our at-home time?  

Have a good weekend, and hope you survive the anticipation of another finger dilemma over here, which I think I will follow closely with the story of Curly's haircut . . . from last year.  Get excited.    


10 comments:

Busy Bee Suz said...

I remember the finger issue. It pained me knowing you had to have rings cut off!
Has it gotten any better? Or are you still in dire pain?

Goodness; I remember that movie. I can't imagine having a kid like that....a mini hypochondriac!

I will be sitting by in anticipation of the next finger story. Sounds like it features my favorite finger.

Beth Cotell said...

So did they ever figure out what was wrong with your fingers? (Please note that I accidentally first typed finger out. Ha!)

Bibliomama said...

Shit, we're supposed to be organizing closets? I have weird issues with my hands too - some kind of immune response I think, I tend to manifest all kinds of whack-ass symptoms when Matt's been traveling for a long time and comes home or when I overdo it at work - but they tend to linger just long enough for me to think about making a doctor's appointment and then disappear. My body is a frikking wonderland. I had a few truly dreadful doctor experiences in my youth, but since we've moved to Ottawa I've had two wonderful female doctors and the specialists I've seen have also been lovely, which is always (sadly) surprising and gratifying.

Kari Wagner Hoban said...

I haven't organized one closet this entire year. Was I supposed to??
Sorry about your fingers. Getting old is lots of fun.

Ernie said...

Suz- yes, the rings. I still feel naked without them. The pinkies are status quo. Big and puffy and sometimes painful. I bought 10 lb dumbells because the round plate things I was using had holes in them where I stuck my fingers and my pinkies were unhappy. The next finger story might get bumped - Mary Ann incident yesterday might trump finger story. Nowthereis a sentence I never dreamt I would write!

Ernie said...

Beth- love the subliminal typo. Well I did not return to the doc. That day when I was doped up she said it was not liquid to drain as suspected. More like tumor. So long as they do not get bigger I will just ignore. Celiac disease can mess with joints and I am living proof. Could be worse.

Ernie said...

Ali- my mom's upper lip used to swell up 6 times it's normal size when she had some inner worry or nervous episode. I think a hand flare up might be better. She looked like Daffy Duck. Seriously though that does suck. Glad you discovered good docs. I have Coach to direct me to docs and I looked at him like 'really this is the best you can recommend?' Those big places chase away all the little quaint doc offices that might be more tuned in. I love that your body is a wonderland. ;)

Ernie said...

Kari (and Ali)- closet redo is not mandatory pandemic behavior. I just assume other people are more productive right now than me. My grandpa used to say 'It's hell to get old.' He lived to be live 94 or 95 so I assume he knew what he was talking about.

Nicole MacPherson said...

Ouch, your poor finger! Eeek. I use "it's not a toomah" all the time when someone gets a headache :)

Ernie said...

Nicole- yeah such a goofy ailment. At least I don't use them that often, but yet I am surprised at how often they pitch in to do something and make me cringe. The tumah line is funny.