Black Spot evaded
Surely you remember the Black Spot:
It was some time before either I or the captain seemed to gather our senses, but at length, and about at the same moment, I released his wrist, which I was still holding, and he drew in his hand and looked sharply into the palm.
“Ten o’clock!” he cried. “Six hours. We’ll do them yet,” and he sprang to his feet.
Even as he did so, he reeled, put his hand to his throat, stood swaying for a moment, and then, with a peculiar sound, fell from his whole height face foremost to the floor.
I ran to him at once, calling to my mother. But haste was all in vain. The captain had been struck dead by thundering apoplexy. It is a curious thing to understand, for I had certainly never liked the man, though of late I had begun to pity him, but as soon as I saw that he was dead, I burst into a flood of tears. It was the second death I had known, and the sorrow of the first was still fresh in my heart.
Obviously we’re not at the Admiral Benbow Inn, but I’ve often wondered if, when my sentence was pronounced, I would immediately keel over. So when word came down that they’d analyzed those two CT scans, I took the call in the car, on the dubious reasoning that having to pay attention to my surroundings, as a driver must, might trump an oncoming stroke. (Were I wrong — well, I wasn’t in gear yet. I’m not completely mad.)
In the meantime, my condition has been upgraded to Not Quite Dead Yet, although the perversity of things has seen to it that I suffer from two simultaneous ailments, thereby quadrupling the symptoms. The less severe of the two is a case of diverticulosis, which isn’t particularly treatable but which demands a dietary alteration: no more Rocky Road, no more Braum’s Raisin Nut Bread, no more sunflower seeds. ["You hate sunflower seeds."—ed. Shaddup. I'm trying to make a point.] This, however, doesn’t cause me recurrent pain in the side; pneumonia does. According to one of those Severity Indices, I score in Class III, with an estimated mortality rate of 0.9 percent, odds no scarier than, say, the New Jersey Turnpike. On the assumption that this is bacterial rather than viral, I will be plied with industrial-strength antibiotics for ten days or so. (And apparently Ye Olde Family Doctor has pulled off another coup: who would have thought to schedule upper and lower scans?)
The only concern here, apart from the humongous bill for the CT scans (do they take PayPal?), is that this is my third bout of pneumonia in ten years, after not having it at all for almost forty. It’s never severe, but that doesn’t mean it’s never going to be.
I thank you all for your concern, good wishes, prayers, and other often-underestimated benefits of life.
Mel »
19 February 2009 · 8:36 pm
I still vividly remember a doctor palpating my lower abdomen, checking the appendix. When it resulted in no pain whatsoever, he made the most anti-HMO statement ever. “I don’t think it’s the appendix but let’s do a CAT scan anyway.”
… which revealed a several days ruptured appendix and a bonus blocked kidney (since birth).
Jeffro »
19 February 2009 · 8:59 pm
Whew! Thanks for the update, and glad you know now.
Tatyana »
19 February 2009 · 10:02 pm
so, your patience with those 2 scans paid off. Walking with pneumonia – no wonder you couldn’t function.
“Whole grain and green leaf veggies”, says webmd; oats is good, and also buckwheat, even made into flour.
You must be dehydrated and weak all the time. I hope now you can stay home, rest and take care of your diet.
fillyjonk »
20 February 2009 · 7:26 am
Yes, whew. It’s always good to know.
I’ve had enough relatives with the first complaint to know that it’s a pain, but manageable.
And I presume the second is treatable and will be limited in extent.
Kirk »
20 February 2009 · 7:59 am
I’ve been down the pneumonia road, too, Chaz. Like you, none for 40 years, and then a good case of walking pneumonia. I now respond to anything like a chest cold with a run to the doctor to get my lungs listened to. It’s not particularly rational, but I have a hunch that one of these days it may save my life.
Glad you know, and that it’s all things that can at least be dealt with. Prayers for speedy recovery will continue apace.
Gabrielle Dolly »
20 February 2009 · 8:43 am
Well, that’s a bit of a relief, isn’t it, even if you DO have to regrow the bacteria in your gut after massive antibiotic therapy for the pneumonia.
Take care.
GFD
fillyjonk »
20 February 2009 · 8:52 am
And now I feel duty-bound to do what my mother has always done to me when I report being on antibiotic therapy (usually for “bugs” infecting my sinuses):
“Eat yogurt. Lots of it.”
Jeff Brokaw »
20 February 2009 · 2:56 pm
Good to hear, CG. Good to hear.
This is the second piece of good health-related news I’ve gotten in the last couple of hours. My uncle, who is only 56 — and in otherwise great health — has kidney failure and has been on dialysis for a few months now. He found out last night that his wife, who they’d been told could not donate for him because of prior health issues, can now donate, and they’re scheduled for transplant in a couple of weeks. Quite a relief.
My mom’s kidneys aren’t doing so great lately either. And I’ll be a 50-something in a few weeks. Hmmmm.
Michael Bates »
20 February 2009 · 10:18 pm
Happy to hear they’ve found the problem. We’ll keep praying for a speedy recovery. Take care of yourself.
MikeSwi... »
21 February 2009 · 2:30 am
Well, Chaz, I just read this and I’m glad on the one hand that they finally found out what’s going on. Sorry to hear about the antibiotic treatment. We have to concern ourselves with the treatment and then if something happens – the treatment for the treatment’s treatment. Who’s on first? I’ve been on a similar antibiotic the past 10 days and was told that yogurt can’t hurt, keep that good bacteria going in the gut! Hope all turns out well and my best wishes are with you for a speedy recovery.