The lunatic has cancer
Back from Fargo, and the lesion was cancer.
Doctor says he was able to get it all, so now I have a hole in my head literally, although it is stitched shut so I am not oozing grey matter onto my right ear which makes listening much much easier. All I have to say is thank god for catgut, or whatever synthetic they currently use to suture the as it were back into the as it should be realm.
As luck would have it, following my medical adventure, sugarbooger and I went to Perkins to eat and once done, my trusty steed would not turn on. Thankfully, I called my Verizon auto protection (similar to AAA) on my brand new handy dandy cell phone. The company that jumped my steed showed up in three to four minutes literally as my luck was still holding and they were located less than 74 feet 6 and 3/8ths inches from Perkins (they were right next door). The wrecker driver took one look at my battery cable, took out his handy dandy super sized screwdriver and a brush, cleaned the positive post, gave it exactly 5 healthy raps with the handle of said screwdriver and asked me to turn her over. Purred like a kitten ... ahhhh, nothing more pleasant than an ending such as this I said to myself, and sugarbooger and I drove blissfully towards the setting sun.
Sugarbooger, however, had her widdle heart set on doing some big city shoppin' at Geblunkers, or was it Gedankxzs, or Gebauers ... ah hell, it was a Pier 1 clone Gesomething ... old man memory aint all that grand at 1:30am. I being the understanding Cosmopolitan reading, Young and Useless watching, feminist leaning, pro-choicer I am, I pulled into said clones parking lot and followed her into the store. Once our hour and precisely three minutes and 37 seconds of shopping were done which by the way produced absolutely no purchases what-so-ever, my truck would not start.
Hummmmm thought I to myself, I am really fucked now, as sugarbooger looked at me in that special way telling me she had just about had enough of my brand of stupid. Attempting to be da man, I popped the hood confidently and tried in vain to convince her that I knew precisely how to rectify this latest difficulty. I took my keys (the only tools I have in my truck by the way) and using my house key, began prying and scraping the offending positive cable to try and coax it to please, please, PLEASE cut me some god damned slack and start my damned truck. Of course, this was wasted effort as I had no way to jump start my engine. Well, well, well, what a predicament ... nothing left to do but to call my Verizon auto protection a second time (did I mention they are similar to AAA?)! This time however, it took them quite a bit longer to come to my aid as sugarbooger and I had traveled a piece from their place of business right next door to Perkins. Once the wrecker got there with a new "technician", who listened intently to my story, and then grabbed a wrecking bar, and began pounding my starter with it like a crazed carnie driving tent stakes. This action on his part caused my blood pressure to go up sufficiently that the hole in my head sprung a huge leak and I began shooting spurts of blood right through the gauze taped over said hole. Sugarbooger being the quick thinker that she is grabbed a wad of napkins purloined over the years out of my glove box and began applying pressure over the sprung leak. Even though I was now beginning to realize my luck was well, NOT SO GOOD, the truck did start.
Sugarbooger suggested we return post haste to Dr. Tsen to have my head examined. Due to the amount of blood involved, I agreed, and on the 4 and 7/10ths mile trip across town to the cancer center, we deduced that perhaps it would not be too wise to turn the truck off. Sugarbooger agreed to stay with the truck whilst I went into the doctors office to get restitched and rewrapped. I must have looked a sight to the nurses, as they wasted no time getting me in an examination room and getting the doctor. My best conservative estimate is that it was in the neighborhood of 3 minutes 13 and a half seconds from the time I arrived at the nurses station to when the doctor was pulling the tape off my head to view the hole much with the same vigor as a 17 year old removing his girlfriends panties for the same reason. Luckily, the sutures had held and with the correct pressure applied to the correct spot, the doctor stopped the bleed and applied a wad of gauze. To be safe, the doctor decided to apply extra wraps this time, so I left his office looking a lot like a mummy, except my eyes were intact and not yet rotted out. He did however have the wrap completely covering both ears making wearing glasses very, very difficult.
It goes without saying that sugarbooger wanted to get on the road back to Mandan immediately. I concurred but we still had a small problem ... we needed gas. Being the macho man now, I insisted that I could still though somewhat wounded, fill up the truck. Got some strange looks from the people (fellow patrons) at the gas station, and a very strange look from the cashier who asked me what had happened. I told him I had had brain surgery and that they had found nothing, paid the bill, and walked out.
Made it back to Mandan with no further problems.
Doctor says he was able to get it all, so now I have a hole in my head literally, although it is stitched shut so I am not oozing grey matter onto my right ear which makes listening much much easier. All I have to say is thank god for catgut, or whatever synthetic they currently use to suture the as it were back into the as it should be realm.
As luck would have it, following my medical adventure, sugarbooger and I went to Perkins to eat and once done, my trusty steed would not turn on. Thankfully, I called my Verizon auto protection (similar to AAA) on my brand new handy dandy cell phone. The company that jumped my steed showed up in three to four minutes literally as my luck was still holding and they were located less than 74 feet 6 and 3/8ths inches from Perkins (they were right next door). The wrecker driver took one look at my battery cable, took out his handy dandy super sized screwdriver and a brush, cleaned the positive post, gave it exactly 5 healthy raps with the handle of said screwdriver and asked me to turn her over. Purred like a kitten ... ahhhh, nothing more pleasant than an ending such as this I said to myself, and sugarbooger and I drove blissfully towards the setting sun.
Sugarbooger, however, had her widdle heart set on doing some big city shoppin' at Geblunkers, or was it Gedankxzs, or Gebauers ... ah hell, it was a Pier 1 clone Gesomething ... old man memory aint all that grand at 1:30am. I being the understanding Cosmopolitan reading, Young and Useless watching, feminist leaning, pro-choicer I am, I pulled into said clones parking lot and followed her into the store. Once our hour and precisely three minutes and 37 seconds of shopping were done which by the way produced absolutely no purchases what-so-ever, my truck would not start.
Hummmmm thought I to myself, I am really fucked now, as sugarbooger looked at me in that special way telling me she had just about had enough of my brand of stupid. Attempting to be da man, I popped the hood confidently and tried in vain to convince her that I knew precisely how to rectify this latest difficulty. I took my keys (the only tools I have in my truck by the way) and using my house key, began prying and scraping the offending positive cable to try and coax it to please, please, PLEASE cut me some god damned slack and start my damned truck. Of course, this was wasted effort as I had no way to jump start my engine. Well, well, well, what a predicament ... nothing left to do but to call my Verizon auto protection a second time (did I mention they are similar to AAA?)! This time however, it took them quite a bit longer to come to my aid as sugarbooger and I had traveled a piece from their place of business right next door to Perkins. Once the wrecker got there with a new "technician", who listened intently to my story, and then grabbed a wrecking bar, and began pounding my starter with it like a crazed carnie driving tent stakes. This action on his part caused my blood pressure to go up sufficiently that the hole in my head sprung a huge leak and I began shooting spurts of blood right through the gauze taped over said hole. Sugarbooger being the quick thinker that she is grabbed a wad of napkins purloined over the years out of my glove box and began applying pressure over the sprung leak. Even though I was now beginning to realize my luck was well, NOT SO GOOD, the truck did start.
Sugarbooger suggested we return post haste to Dr. Tsen to have my head examined. Due to the amount of blood involved, I agreed, and on the 4 and 7/10ths mile trip across town to the cancer center, we deduced that perhaps it would not be too wise to turn the truck off. Sugarbooger agreed to stay with the truck whilst I went into the doctors office to get restitched and rewrapped. I must have looked a sight to the nurses, as they wasted no time getting me in an examination room and getting the doctor. My best conservative estimate is that it was in the neighborhood of 3 minutes 13 and a half seconds from the time I arrived at the nurses station to when the doctor was pulling the tape off my head to view the hole much with the same vigor as a 17 year old removing his girlfriends panties for the same reason. Luckily, the sutures had held and with the correct pressure applied to the correct spot, the doctor stopped the bleed and applied a wad of gauze. To be safe, the doctor decided to apply extra wraps this time, so I left his office looking a lot like a mummy, except my eyes were intact and not yet rotted out. He did however have the wrap completely covering both ears making wearing glasses very, very difficult.
It goes without saying that sugarbooger wanted to get on the road back to Mandan immediately. I concurred but we still had a small problem ... we needed gas. Being the macho man now, I insisted that I could still though somewhat wounded, fill up the truck. Got some strange looks from the people (fellow patrons) at the gas station, and a very strange look from the cashier who asked me what had happened. I told him I had had brain surgery and that they had found nothing, paid the bill, and walked out.
Made it back to Mandan with no further problems.
posted by webegeeks | 5:52 PM
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