The mental side of physical health
Sometimes you discover that being stupid is good for your physical health, up to a point.
Up to the point of pain level 10, when you are well past whatever your own tolerance for pain is. Mine is fairly high, and this story is about the details of my own acceptance of fog on the brain for the sake of my physical health without too much pain. This takes place at a VA hospital and I’m very grateful that the taxpayers of this country are at least giving veterans a health plan at little or no cost.
Thursday afternoon I had a scheduled CAT scan ordered by the pulmonary team, but when I got there, it turned out the oncologist that the dermatology specialist had referred me to regarding issues with my skin cancers had changed the order to be with contrast and there was a bottle mailed to me a couple days before that I had assumed was for the colonoscopy scheduled for two weeks from now, so I hadn’t opened it and I hadn’t drunk it. The upshot of this was the CAT scan specialist did an IV contrast chest cat scan for the pulmonary guys and arranged to have another appointment to get the series based on the milkshake contrast that the oncologist had ordered. So that was done and the pulmonary specialist that I saw this time (every time it’s different, apparently a tag team from local medical school) said he was concerned with the COPD he saw on the scan which is apparently much highlighted when the contrast chemical is in the body.
All in all, no biggie, I thought. The biggie will be the one next week when I see the oncologist and he’s looked at all the stuff from the milkshake contrast cat scans of the areas the dermatologist was concerned about. All the docs have had high words of praise for him and his skill and handling cancer cases.
That was Thursday. So I didn’t get home until quite late, 5:45 or so, but didn’t feel like eating that much. Friday morning I didn’t even finish my hot cereal! And I realized I was losing appetite and in general felt kind of worse for wear. But not all that bad and when Tasha asked about coming over to do some work, I said fine. Had some chicken noodle soup (Gah! I’d forgotten how salty that stuff is), an Ibuprofen 200 mg pill and a 5mg marijuana edible. That’s the combination that keeps my emphysema coughing and shortness of breath and rattling down. But it only lasts about four hours. I’m still not my old self in terms of moving quickly and with lots of energy; but I’m still capable of planning out how to do things and can teach basic stuff. So I taught Tasha how trim up some shelving material to fit in a built in space and then how to sand it enough for polyurethane to go on easily. And to poly that wisteria root hula hoop I assembled, She headed on home around 2 or 3 or so and I napped some more before doing my evening Tai Chi Chuan routine.
Late Friday night the pain was bad enough that I called Star around midnight, when I figured she’d be off work, to come take me to the VA ER — and, of course, she was at another city hospital where she had just taken her Mom to the emergency room, observing masking and distancing all the time.
So we got to the emergency room around 1 AM and my main complaint was pain level 10 in the area of my right kidney. They did a COVID test, negative, as well as drawing blood, and when I could, pee. Looked at my chart and stuff and the doc finally came in and said they were calling in a urologist; The doc didn’t know for sure, but my other symptoms did not fit with kidney stones so she wanted a specialist to come look. The nurse or the ER doctor said the urologist wanted me to get a cat scan and said I’d be there at least a few more hours, so Star at that point was able to go pick up her mom and take her home — a good hour and half drive one way from where we were. So I figured I’d be there longer than that and told Star she may as well get some sleep, that I’d text her when they decided to let me go.
The urologist ordered another cat scan and after that was done, 3 AM or so, she came in to tell me that she didn’t know why, but that the contrast chemical from the scan done on Thursday was being blocked at the kidney by the tube that goes from the kidney to bladder being narrowed so much, and nothing was coming out of that kidney. She suggested a procedure be done that inserts what they call stent which is an artificial tube put in place of the regular tube. She did a very clear job of explaining what was going on and how they would fix it. So I said I’ll go for it and signed the consent form.
I was taken up to a ward and turned over to them to have the surgery done at noon the next day; well by then, it was later the same day. Somewhere along in there, day time by then, I was given one pain killer that kind of worked, but was minimal with regard to the coughing jags the emphysema causes once in a while. The VA has a policy thing about Ibuprofen because abuse (as in more than 6 200mg pills in a day) over time can cause serious kidney and other organ tissues, and, of course, the VA being a federal facility, THC is still illegal and the docs can’t prescribe it, but don’t generally don’t object to it for medicinal use. I have been asked once if I had a prescription and I do have the state card due to my lung cancer and insomnia issues.
The first pain med they tried while I was waiting for the procedure, something that sounded like Flexeril, hadn’t done as good a job as my regular, but by the time it wore off, I was on my way to the OR.
It being Saturday, this was apparently a crew assembled just for this surgery — One of those modern surgical techniques where instruments are sent up through the urethra to the area where work needs to be done (in this case a stent placement), do it and get out. The doctor was tall, blond, on the young side, female and professional. I was confident from listening to her that she had the chops to pull this off. Plus, her generation is a lot better at video game controls than even the later boomer and genX surgeons.
And she did. I didn’t get to see anything, at some point I went out like a light and the next thing I knew was awake and felt relief, but still pain in the kidney area, just way down around 6 or 7; much less pain than when I had checked in at the emergency room. However, I was still having coughing and breathing problems.
The nurse back in the room on the ward asked if I wanted another pain med and I asked if there was something a bit stronger than the last one and it turns out the doctor had included oxycodone as an alternative, an opioid narcotic. The doc had allowed 2 5mg pills and in about 15 minutes not only was the pain from the kidney stent procedure gone, but my coughing and lung issues were also completely gone. However, I hated what it did to my mind — reading would have been out of the question if I’d brought a book. Kind of like introducing fog into my brain. I could still think, but it was nearly impossible to Think. I can dimly understand how one could get addicted to floating in cobwebs, but I like being able to read long and complicated stories; and to watch TV with a critical eye and surf the internet looking for something other than hard sell infomercials, simple minded “dramas,” and video special effects. I do enjoy digital wizardry that approaches art, but most American entertainment seems to require about the same intellectual capacity as oxycodone seems to produce.
I’m home now and feeling much better back on my own coughing control meds which include enough pain killer to deal with the healing surgical site between my kidney and bladder. And I will not be doing much of anything strenuous; and will need to modify parts of my daily tai chi to avoid stretching or staining that part of my body.
Speaking of Tai chi, I did do some in that room before the surgery and the nurse noticed and asked about it. I showed her Kenny’s parlor trick because most people who actually handle patients or clients can feel what Tai Chi does when you learn enough to “flow your chi” and produce what Master Peter Moi said — Tai Chi is steel inside and marshmallow on the outside. I also talked about how Tai Chi is different from Tai Chi Chuan in that the Tai Chi often offered is more like going to weekly slow motion Zumba sessions than a skill you need to spend years learning. If the leader is any good at all, you will get into a state of mind known as flow, where your total attention is on what you are doing, A very different kind of mindfulness than meditation. But very useful when sitting still is not your thing. And maybe enough to want to learn how to do a full Tai Chi Chuan form by yourself rather than following a session leader.
