Dumb Injuries

Yup, 5mg. That's what I'm worried about too. But the past week or so I've only taken them when I felt that I needed to, not on some regular schedule like I did the first week or two. I'll give my doctor a call in the AM.

 

My cousin and I were racing jet skis on Labor Day when I hit a wave too hard. One wave, two waves, wreck. Jet ski went right and I went left. I hit the hull on the left side as I was ejected.

Two days later, I had a massive, disgusting, football-sized and football-shaped bruise on my left ass cheek. Didn't go away for two months and still hurts. Went to the doctor, who referred me to a chiropractor. I've been five times and it's no better. Doesn't hurt during normal activities. Just when I'm on my back exercising or when I rub it.

 

When you're taking them as needed are you still taking 2? Or 1?
Just curious if 1 is doing the job of dealing with the pain or not.

 

It depends. Usually two, because then the pain is better all day (8-9 hours), while one will make the pain better for a couple hours (3-4). I didn't take any last night, and I'll just take one this AM to see how it goes.

 

Gotcha. When you call your Dr definitely let him know what you need to manage your pain. It might be that your current meds are still your best bet.
I know when I had some serious pain but didn't like how out of it Percoset and Vicodin made me feel, I was given Tramadol (, which seemed to help and wasn't as strong. I don't know if your pain could be managed by it - and, obviously, I'm not a Dr so always make sure you follow your Dr's advice, but it might be something to ask about.

 

I had Vicodin after surgery to straighten my maze-like septum, but they didn't do anything for me, good or bad -- just nothing. The anti-nausea pills I had a prescription for, however, were the real deal. Like swimming.

 

As for dumb injuries, I've hit myself in the shin with a 22-oz framing hammer. Pissed off and a full swing trying to take apart the bottom plate of a wall I was building. Nearly 30 years later, I still have the scar below my knee.

While using a nail gun to attach a stud, the nail hit a knot, curved upward and split my thumb open.

 

I've generally been free from injuries (dumb or otherwise), but two do stand out.

When I was a college freshman, two other guys and I were walking back to the dorm after a night downtown at the bars (it was about a half-mile walk). Somehow I misstepped and sprained my ankle. It didn't hurt much at the time in my inebriated state, but it was unbelievably painful the next morning.

And eight or nine years ago, I forgot about a 1-foot-high gate we'd put up to keep our small dogs from getting outside, tripped and fell, and fractured my left elbow. Foolishly, I went into work that night and toughed it out, but the pain was excruciating and I went to see the doctor the next morning. It was a relatively minor fracture, but he put my arm in a sling and told me to take the next two days off. Called the boss and she said, "Are you sure you can't work? You seemed fine last night." I almost felt like I needed to present her with a note from my doctor.

 

I can't say my dumbest because it would out me (I've shared it plenty of times).

However, when I was a kid, my genius friend decided he was going to hit the side of my deck with a baseball bat. Not out of malice just being an idiot. Well, part of the side, the support beams, fell off. He tried to put it back up and the rest of the side of the deck fell off. An old, rusty nail lacerated the side of his head. It was bad. To this day I wonder if that's why he's an idiot.

 

I'm recuperating from nasal surgery right now. Had it done two Thursdays ago. I'm not 100% yet, getting mild headaches, suture sites sore, dissolvable sutures are backing out and feeling like boogers flapping in the breeze.

22 years ago I had the same surgery done, and I didn't realize there were loose sutures in there. So, the flapping in the breeze boogers drove me nuts, to the point that I got a pair of tweezers and grabbed hold of one of them and pulled and tugged, thinking it was just a booger scab, and then suddenly there was a snap, and immediate nosebleed. At this point, I figured I should probably look in the mirror to see what the fuck I had done. Well, there was an inch long suture sticking out of my bloody nose, and the far side of the suture was still attached in there. It was like I had a tampon string sticking out of my face.

So, I got some scissors and snipped it off. I had forgotten all about this episode from 22 years ago, until last week when I started having these flapping booger feelings again, and then, just as I went to get some tweezers, I thought, hey, deja vu. I think I am about to do something stupid that I have done before.

I am now in a multi-week effort of trying to establish some self-control. Just stay away from the tweezers man!

So, I go back to the ENT two times a week and let him work on it. And the great thing about that is that he has a really HOT receptionist / admin assistant. I mean, she should be a model. Goddamn.

 

After my surgery, I could feel the tip of a booger in my right nostril, but I could never blow it out or, you know, pick it out. It nearly drove me mad trying to get it out. The sort of tickling sensation and the feeling of it just being out of reach occupied my thoughts. Watching Law & Order reruns from the couch as I recuperated, I would suddenly realize I hadn't paid attention to the story for 10 minutes because my mind was on the booger. Wen on for days.

Finally -- finally after about a week -- with one huge honk it came flying out. Holy cow, I could breathe, really breathe, through my nose for the first time since forever.

It was a good 2.5 inches long, 3/4 inch wide and probably 1/4 inch deep, the single nastiest thing to ever come out of my nose. Of course, i took a picture and emailed that to friends and relatives, with no hint of what they were going to see. That's been three years ago, and some of them still talk about it to this day.

 

I don't know how I forgot this because the injury affects me to this day.

Last fall, I was using a log splitter at my father-in-law's house to help them prepare for the winter. I'm merrily splitting wood, taking the big logs and splitting them into smaller and smaller pieces. Pull the lever, split, toss over and over again.

I put the log on the splitter, pulled the lever -- and as the splitting wedge started pushing the log I realized too late that my hand was between the log and the splitting backstop. The pain was immediate, intense, my left hand being crushed. For a split second I tried to yank my hand free as the splitter pushed harder before I threw the lever into reverse.

I yanked my hand away from the splitter, scared shitless that I had mangled my hand beyond repair, visions of crushed bones and blood and destruction. I hopped around a few seconds, cursing, cursing the pain and my stupidity. I pulled the glove off, my middle and ring finger already swelled up like sausages trying to split their casing.

I shut off the splitter.

I was in shock.

I walked into the house and said, "I need some ice." My wife, daughter and in-laws looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language. "I need some ice," I said again, "for my hand. I crushed it in the log splitter." They got me some ice, and I wrapped my hand in it. My mother-in-law got me a scotch, no ice. I downed that one. poured another and got a beer back.

I went and sat on the couch, my nerves buzzing and jangling as I slowly came down. My fingers hurt for a good two months, and today was the first day my ring finger's knuckle finally became less swollen, and I was able to take off my ring.