This getting fat and old business is crap. Things just don’t work as well or the same as they used to. I guess my warranty must have run out. Isn’t that when things go all to hell?
Well, my addiction to Pepsi has finally come to an end. It will be my undoing (or un-going as the case may be), as it seems my kidneys – at least the right kidney – has decided it will no longer tolerate this 44 year habit. (The worst thing I ever did was switch from beer to Pepsi at the age of 13.) I knew I was pushing it when I went on a Pepsi binge recently. Hell, I used to be able to drink a 6 pack of that cold, bubbly, sugary, caffeine-laced delight and not feel a thing. But age and (apparent) abuse have ruined that. It seems that my filtration system is not as good as it used to be. I get it. Things wear out. But it really doesn’t sink in until you push your body to the point of unequivocal revolt.
Indeed, my body revolted. I was in agony. No position was comfortable. My wife tolerated my moaning. The dogs – not so much.
After a couple of days of excruciating pain in the whole right side of my abdomen I gave in and went to the doctor. I’m not into pain and hardly stoic when it comes to suffering quietly. The wise MD, educated in Canada, which really does make her wiser than most US-educated MDs, ordered a complete abdominal ultrasound and some X-rays. So I hobbled and groaned and shuffled my way in to the hospital the next day, not knowing what would be found. The pain was so acute and yet so diffuse I couldn’t tell what innard was affected. Was it the huge hernia I’d been growing the past 10 years, finally wrapping itself around my intestines like a boa constrictor? Was it my gall bladder backing up into my ears? Maybe it was my liver. After all, I’ve been on Pravachol for over a decade – certainly those chemicals have played havoc on my hepatic system. Maybe it was my kidneys and the oh-too-familiar urgency/frequency shtick hadn’t kicked in yet. Whatever it was, it just hurt like hell and I wanted the pain gone. I had been given some “pain pills” but Tylenol worked better, which means nothing because the Tylenol didn’t work at all. (So much for better living through chemistry.)
So the exam went swimmingly. I flopped around in my hospital gown on the gurney. Roll this way, roll that way. Wow! That’s some hernia you have there. (I call it my ‘chest buster’ in honor of The Alien. Yes, it’s that big.) After getting poked and prodded for about half an hour or so, I wiped the gel from my torso as best I could and was shuttled off to X-ray. 5 in all. The bill would be almost as painful as the abdomen. Hurry Congress. Give us some kind of health care … I’d like the coverage you guys have, thank you. You can fund it out of that stimulus package. Screw Wall Street and BoA and Citi and Wells F**k-Up.
OK, back to my story. Surprisingly and unexpectedly, after the exams I felt remarkably better. Not wonderful, but not writhing in agony. I shuffled home.
Well, feeling better lasted about 2 hours. And then it hit. Oh, I knew what THIS was. Apparently the ultrasound stirred up just enough rubbish and debris to disturb the possum in my right kidney (see photo), and the full-blown kidney infection was now in high gear. The first clue was urine that looked like 2 week old beef broth. (Apparently possums don’t like beef broth.) Then came waves of pain in places I never knew I had. Those who have had such infections know the places I mean.
So then began the Bactrim antibiotic. Good against UTIs, bad for other innards. I discovered chocolate yogurt. And Go-Gurt. I don’t care about the name. It tastes like a banana split, so how bad can it be for me? Restore the good flora and purge the bad possum.
Did you know that blueberries are better at fighting UTIs than cranberries? Well, they are. So I have forsaken my beloved Pepsi for blueberry juice. Sad, ain’t it? Yes, this getting old business sucks. Next it will be prune juice. When that time finally comes, wheel me out to the fire ant hill, cover me in honey and let me go. I will not sink into prune juice. And don't give me that Ensure crap either.
I’m still trying to figure out where the possum came from. Honestly, I think he’s still in there doing the back stroke because I’m not 100% yet. Things still hurt from time to time. I think it’s those little teeth of his. Maybe I can drown him in blueberry juice. Or we can come to some kind of détente. I don’t know though. Possums are pretty mean little critters. Yup, I think I’ll just drown him. But not with Pepsi. That part of my life is over. Damn possum!
By the way, if you own stock in Pepsico, you might want to sell your shares soon. I think I have singlehandedly kept them afloat for years. Without my addiction, they’ll tank for sure.
Well, my addiction to Pepsi has finally come to an end. It will be my undoing (or un-going as the case may be), as it seems my kidneys – at least the right kidney – has decided it will no longer tolerate this 44 year habit. (The worst thing I ever did was switch from beer to Pepsi at the age of 13.) I knew I was pushing it when I went on a Pepsi binge recently. Hell, I used to be able to drink a 6 pack of that cold, bubbly, sugary, caffeine-laced delight and not feel a thing. But age and (apparent) abuse have ruined that. It seems that my filtration system is not as good as it used to be. I get it. Things wear out. But it really doesn’t sink in until you push your body to the point of unequivocal revolt.
Indeed, my body revolted. I was in agony. No position was comfortable. My wife tolerated my moaning. The dogs – not so much.
After a couple of days of excruciating pain in the whole right side of my abdomen I gave in and went to the doctor. I’m not into pain and hardly stoic when it comes to suffering quietly. The wise MD, educated in Canada, which really does make her wiser than most US-educated MDs, ordered a complete abdominal ultrasound and some X-rays. So I hobbled and groaned and shuffled my way in to the hospital the next day, not knowing what would be found. The pain was so acute and yet so diffuse I couldn’t tell what innard was affected. Was it the huge hernia I’d been growing the past 10 years, finally wrapping itself around my intestines like a boa constrictor? Was it my gall bladder backing up into my ears? Maybe it was my liver. After all, I’ve been on Pravachol for over a decade – certainly those chemicals have played havoc on my hepatic system. Maybe it was my kidneys and the oh-too-familiar urgency/frequency shtick hadn’t kicked in yet. Whatever it was, it just hurt like hell and I wanted the pain gone. I had been given some “pain pills” but Tylenol worked better, which means nothing because the Tylenol didn’t work at all. (So much for better living through chemistry.)
So the exam went swimmingly. I flopped around in my hospital gown on the gurney. Roll this way, roll that way. Wow! That’s some hernia you have there. (I call it my ‘chest buster’ in honor of The Alien. Yes, it’s that big.) After getting poked and prodded for about half an hour or so, I wiped the gel from my torso as best I could and was shuttled off to X-ray. 5 in all. The bill would be almost as painful as the abdomen. Hurry Congress. Give us some kind of health care … I’d like the coverage you guys have, thank you. You can fund it out of that stimulus package. Screw Wall Street and BoA and Citi and Wells F**k-Up.
OK, back to my story. Surprisingly and unexpectedly, after the exams I felt remarkably better. Not wonderful, but not writhing in agony. I shuffled home.
Well, feeling better lasted about 2 hours. And then it hit. Oh, I knew what THIS was. Apparently the ultrasound stirred up just enough rubbish and debris to disturb the possum in my right kidney (see photo), and the full-blown kidney infection was now in high gear. The first clue was urine that looked like 2 week old beef broth. (Apparently possums don’t like beef broth.) Then came waves of pain in places I never knew I had. Those who have had such infections know the places I mean.
So then began the Bactrim antibiotic. Good against UTIs, bad for other innards. I discovered chocolate yogurt. And Go-Gurt. I don’t care about the name. It tastes like a banana split, so how bad can it be for me? Restore the good flora and purge the bad possum.
Did you know that blueberries are better at fighting UTIs than cranberries? Well, they are. So I have forsaken my beloved Pepsi for blueberry juice. Sad, ain’t it? Yes, this getting old business sucks. Next it will be prune juice. When that time finally comes, wheel me out to the fire ant hill, cover me in honey and let me go. I will not sink into prune juice. And don't give me that Ensure crap either.
I’m still trying to figure out where the possum came from. Honestly, I think he’s still in there doing the back stroke because I’m not 100% yet. Things still hurt from time to time. I think it’s those little teeth of his. Maybe I can drown him in blueberry juice. Or we can come to some kind of détente. I don’t know though. Possums are pretty mean little critters. Yup, I think I’ll just drown him. But not with Pepsi. That part of my life is over. Damn possum!
By the way, if you own stock in Pepsico, you might want to sell your shares soon. I think I have singlehandedly kept them afloat for years. Without my addiction, they’ll tank for sure.
