Yes, its true, some doctors should be deep fried in chicken fat while still breathing....but that's just my opinion you understand.

As you can probably deduce by the title and the opening sentence, the dance of the doctors goes on. Indeed, not only does it continue, but it has now gone from a stately waltz, to something akin to a Russian Folk Dance with the participants whirling about like demented dervishes.

Monday and Tuesday was spent by yours truly in a frantic round of consultations and blood-letting. My primary care doctor has been foisting me off on a whole group of "specialists" in an effort to get to the bottom of what has been causing my problems. Monday it was the Ear, Nose, Throat guy's turn.

That was an education, to say the least. By the time I left his office I was scheduled for two surgeries over the next two months! One on my nose and one on my throat. I am still amazed he didn't cover all the bases and set me up for surgery on my damned ears.

In his humble opinion, the fact that I have sleep apnea is the root cause of all my trouble. It seems that during a sleep test I actually stopped breathing over ninety times in a five hour period. He said that was not done, at least not by anyone who lived very long.....what a ray of sunshine HE is!

He examined my nose and discovered that I had a deformed septum. This is caused..so he says...from multiple breaks of the nose. He then asked me how many times that had happened to me.

I laughed. Twice by the age of 16, twice during my military career, and once in my thirties, I told him. He was suitably impressed. He said that one side was totally blocked and the other side was partially blocked....go figure. So now he is going to go in and repair all the damage in there.

He then examined my throat. Here's where it gets interesting. He tells me that I have enlarged tonsils and that the area on both sides of the tonsils had become grossly enlarged and needed to be cut away along with removal of the tonsils.

I was stunned. You see, years ago, when I was probably in my thirties, I had a "doctor" tell me that I no longer had tonsils, that they had simply rotted away and been absorbed by the body. Now I got this goober telling me not only do I still have them, but they needed to come out!

According to this "Specialist" once all this was done, my airways would be open and the sleep apnea would be gone, thus relieving my system of a burden that should have already killed me.

Then, to add insult to injury, he examined my ears. Now folks I have been a little deaf ever since my tour of duty and I just chalked it up to misadventures dealing with close proximity to high explosives. Well the doctor took his little light thingy that ALL doctors use and stared into my right ear. He then proceeded to tell me that it was completely blocked.

"Don't worry, I'll just clean that out for you right quick." he told me. He then proceeded to squirt some warm liquid crap in my ear and start digging in there like some demented gold miner trying to strike the mother lode.....and he did.

He brought his little digging tool back to the surface and proudly displayed a hunk of dried wax that had been years in the making. It was HUGE! Not only was it as large as a purple hulled pea on steroids, but it actually had MOLD growing on it's surface!

As soon as he pulled it out actual SOUND came rushing into my head...it was amazing! Mel was sitting over in a corner watching all of this and grinning her head off. One look at her and I knew I was sunk. Gone was my built in excuse for ignoring her and she knew it. She KNOWS now that I can hear her....DAMN!

After all of that it was off the hospital to do a pre-admissions thing and to draw blood. Then Tuesday was spent dealing with paper work and getting an extension on my leave of absence from work. They wanted to know my approximate date I would return to work. I wanted the doctor to simply put on the paper: "When Pigs Fly" but she balked at that....DAMN!

I finally got home, settled in and was reading some blogs, when the phone rings....DAMN!

It was the Ear, Nose, Throat guy telling me that I needed clearance from my Neurologist before I could have surgery. The Neurologist then told me he could not give that until I had MORE blood work done and sent to him.

" I just had blood work done about three hundred yards from your office, can't you use that?"

Seems he can't. He needs fresh blood. I am starting to believe I am in an Anne Rice novel. So, today or tomorrow, I have to go do that. I am going to ask them to just install a spicket in my arm to save time.

Now after all of this, you know what really burns my butt? It is the thing with the ear. I mean, really....every doctor I have ever gone to in the past thirty years or so has always, always, done the same thing. They always take that little tool with the light on one end and the magnifying lens on the other and looked into my ear. Not one of them ever mentioned that my ear was blocked.

Good God people, after spending 15 years in school and hundreds of thousands of dollars on education to become a freaking doctor, are you telling me NONE of them could see a blockage in my ear?

It was left to a "specialist" to say "Hey....your ear is blocked."

Even specialist in other fields were unable to see it. What the hell is up with that?

I was a corpsman, a medic in the war and had I been able to look in my own ear I COULD HAVE SEEN IT! Yup, I say some doctors need to be deep fried in chicken fat. And so the Dance of the Doctors continues.


 

Yesterday afternoon; Sept. 10, 2009, I received a phone call from my best friend, CCstring . I think there may be a few of you left around here who remember CC. He was and is one of the most talented, funny, writers that has ever been on this site.

Now getting a phone call from CC is not something that is unusual for me as we normally talk to each other two or three times a month. So when I saw by the caller I.D. who it was, I grabbed up the phone happily, ready to engage in some laughs and good conversation.

That was not to be. As soon as I heard his voice I knew something was wrong, His voice cracked with emotion as he spilled his story to me. The night before, his beautiful, sweet, wife Crissy had died in her sleep. She was 46 years old.

This news hit me like a hammer-blow. Mel and I had been lucky enough to meet Crissy and get to know her and CC and his wonderful children and this struck both of us to our very core.

John...CC's real name....is my best friend. We have known each other since way before WDC, having met on another site almost eight years ago. My heart is breaking for his loss and I curse the miles that lay between us which keeps me from being there and throwing my arms around him for support. I know there are others on this site who feel just as strongly toward John and his family as I do and that is the reason for this post. I promised him that I would come in here and tell you all what has happened....the least I can do for my friend.

There is so much more I would like to say about John and our friendship and to let those of you who did not know him get a glimpse of what a special man he is and what a special love he shared with his wonderful wife, but honestly, I can not find the words right now.

My last words to him, before I hung up the phone was: "I love you brother and I am here for you."

Please....remember CCstring ....John...in your prayers and hold him up as he deals with the loss of his wonderful soul-mate and wife, Crissy. Please remember John's two daughters Hannah age 14 and Kaitlin, age 16 as they struggle with the grief of losing their mother.

John....my brother...I love you.