After this post, I will give up on the subject, but because of the very helpful information, good humor, & best wishes from fellow bloggers & readers, I wanted to give one last Health Update, at least until the next catastrophe, disease, condition or incident. 3 weeks ago, a visit to the ER gave me a diagnosis of DVT (Deep Venous Thrombosis), a serious & dangerous condition of a massive blood clot in my leg. I had been treated with medications including a twice daily injection, administered by the beleaguered Husband. This was to be for 10 days, but lasted 18. I am happy to have given up the 2 visits a day from the little prick.
I still have 3 blood draws a week. I am still able to work on overcoming my fear of syringes & needles. I am on 6 medications. They look so darling all lined up in my special spot in the bathroom. I will be on Coumadin for the rest of my life & I am getting B12 shots (more needles!) twice a week. The physician claims it will take another 12 weeks for the clot to dissolve. I have a directive to the HR department of my company: I am to only be on my feet 2 hours a day & to have my foot elevated while working at my desk, no easy assignment. I also have the delight of wearing a special compression stocking. I am still ordered by my physician (who is from Vietnam & appears to be 14 years old), to spend as much time as possible on my back, with my legs up in the air. Has he been reading my diary?
This is my aesthetically pleasing, yet scary clinic, conveniently located in NoPo, on the MAX line
Because I am at heart, very shallow. I am now quite sad that in just a month, I have gone from being a man that people would declare- “Oh, you could not possibly be that old…you seem so young”, from regular gym-goer, from being in tune to the latest trends, to looking good & feeling confident... to now being perceived as Wilford Brimley’s stand-in.
I returned to work last week. My company provides a parking place in the underground parking of the office tower that I work in. To save on leg strain I was driving each day, but this is my 3rd day of returning to commuting by the MAX train to Downtown Portland. I had forgotten just how fun public transportation can be.
I am just short of needing professional help for OCD. I do have alphabetized CDs, categorized books & a color coded closet (darks to lights, solids to patterns, on wooden hangers facing the same direction). I am a bit compulsive about getting “my seat” on the train. It is at the forward section of the first car & is the only single seat on the MAX, guaranteeing absolution from the stinky, the talking to themselves & twitching set, & the loud cell phone users, & the teenagers. I become aggravated & anxious if I don’t get this seat. I almost always have a good chance of snagging it, being only the 2nd stop from the start of the line.
This morning my favorite seat was available, & despite being infirmed, I pushed through & tripped up other passengers to nab it. Safely settled in, & pulling out my book (I Shudder by Paul Runick) & Ipod from the murse, I felt a sense of relief until I saw her out of the corner of my eye. Despite the train being fairly wide open, she chose to sit right across the aisle from me. She arranged her things, including a saddle bag sized purse, whipped out her cell & announced to her caller that she "was leaving her no good man because she caught him smoking crack with that whore". I adjusted the volume on my Ipod. She then took off her shoes, hiked her skirt up, reached in her bag for the giant bottle of goo purchased at Costco & proceeded to moisturize or feet…for the entire trip.
They have this place called Starbucks in the Square. Ever heard of it?
My stop is Pioneer Courthouse Square. The Square was a gift to Portland on the city's birthday in April 6, 1984. Citizens of Portland were encouraged to donate personal bricks to the project. The City of Portland was aiming to build a social center. As the project grew, the area was flooded with investors looking to develop around the Square, making it the heart of downtown. The Square is nicknamed by the city – Portland’s Living Room, which it truly is, if your living room is populated with black clad anarchists with their ubiquitous pit bulls, passed out transients, Clear reps, scrubbed clean Scientologists with clipboards offering personality tests, crappy guitar players & screaming religious fanatics. It is like a living room actually… we had the same scene in our front room last week, for the Husband’s birthday party.
I am sharing a few photos of my return to my commuting routine.
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