Weekend two back SCA college war - good fight, good fun, yay further bonding with new crew.
Birmo and Burgers - good chat, good food, drinks - hurrah
Last week and Last weekend - Four days straight moving house. Two days of move with ute. Yay Sui and ow muscles. Two days of unpacking boxes.
Dropped trailer on foot. Still purple a week later. Boo!
Week was early starts Up @ 6.15am for 7am starts when it is under freezing out.
Weeknights were unpacking boxes and some chillax.
Saturday - Went to Matt Farrer's book launch @ GW Woden, then 4 loads from the house. 2 to Sui's house, 1 to the tip, 1 to the house.
Sunday - Pottered around clearing boxes, the NRL with BP and Gnomes. Then dinner with BP. Watch "Twilight." Found it to be a reasonably good comedy.
Today - finishing shift soon then off to last run at Macmaw.
Showing posts with label medical. Show all posts
Showing posts with label medical. Show all posts
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Vale Barry Fitzgerald
My friend and flatmate Barry Fitzgerald died today. Family have been contacted and are coming in to CNB soon. Local friends gathered for an impromptu wake today. I will be organizing contacts with friends. Please contact me at ysambart at gmail.com if needs be. More news later.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Hypnomania
Now:
Ah okay, here it is. The counter to being sick all this time. Hypomania. Someone at work caught me - they said "Stop! You are confused, and it's like you don't know what day it is!" And they were dead right.
I'm going to be typing this at stream of consciousness, and so I will be throwing things around, giving others an experience of what a Hypomania state is like, and hopefully slapping myself around and rebooting myself so things don't head on to the next step, full mania.
Then:
In the late nineties, I was working a job where I was doing fifteen and sixteen hour days, and getting no sleep. I was partying hard, and I was promiscuous. I have a science brain. The chemicals I was playing with I had researched, and I was on very low doses. I know there are no safe doses. but they were very low. Much lower than the legends some people might tell. I had no interest in babies or loosing my sexual health, so I was a safety boy. Bareback is a nicer ride, but HIV and penicillin injections hold no appeal. The most dangerous thing I was doing at this time was abusing my sleep.
Late 1998 I quit a cool, well paying job as a Tipmaster because I had on the certain feeling that 'something was wrong.' I had two warnings about sleeping on the job. Actually, that wasn't true. I had warnings for going to sleep in my car before the gates to the compound I had to open. The truck drivers would be there, and I would open up once they blasted the horn. If I didn't try and sleep there, I couldn't get to sleep at all. I couldn't explain it, I couldn't fix it, and I didn't want to get fired so I left before I was pushed.
I had been to medical specialists. I had been to a couple of counsellors and shrinks. Unfortunately, the old adage was true. They were, without a doubt, much, much more messed up than I was.
So I spent about half a year travelling around Australia visiting friends, and then about a year doing odd jobs. I talked to people, but they couldn't figure it out, and no-one spotted it. Eventually I worked at a seed factory. The job was easy labouring and sorting work, and involved throwing 25kg and fifty kg bags around. The job perfectly suited my body. I carved off my usual 120kg down to 87kg, and a six pack stomach. I was back to being able to do hand stand push ups, which I had not done since I was a kid and a gymnast.
My labouring meant that I was exercising all day. And I had never been that fit post puberty. So when I shrank my needed sleep, I just presumed it was a side effect of fitness. When I was going into pubs and club, smiling and winking and a charisma stunned girl would follow me home and we would shag like bunnies, I just presumed this was western, decadent, pagan Australia.
Our good friend wikipedia says " Patients may be relatively unlikely to seek psychiatric treatment for Hypomania alone." To which I say "Hell yeah".
"People with Hypomania are generally perceived as being energetic, euphoric, visionary, overflowing with new ideas, and sometimes over-confident and very charismatic." I'm not sleeping, being hyper charismatic, I'm shagging like a bunny, and I'm super fit and energetic. If Hypomania was a tablet, it would be the most valuable and potent pharmaceutical in the world. Quick, doc, I want to be fat, asleep, boring and unattractive! Cure me!
And when I'm hypnomanic I'm a natural born poet, which I can tell you doesn't hurt with the hyper charismatic factor. "In the hypomanic state, people may feel like they can't slow their mind down, and that the speeding thoughts are crafted exceptionally well. Some examples are speaking or writing in rhyme or alliteration without planning it first; quick responses to people talking; or the ability to improvise easily on the spot."
Of course, this has to fall down. Now, the really unlucky (vast majority) of bastards plummet from this height to depression. For some reason, I don't. I might get as low as 'a little blue' or 'slighty miffed.' I thank goodness that I don't plunge into the black. Conversations between myself and depressed people are weird. I can't even imagine what they are trying to express - and they sit there jealous as hell but not really understanding mania.
When this falls down for me, it goes to mania. The trouble with mania is that from sitting inside, it's Hypomania, but EVEN BETTER. The merry-go-round is going faster. You need less sleep. Nothing hurts. The vast majority of people are electrified by your company, and want to share it. I got disciples. The kind of people that want a hand to get through life latch onto you and ask to receive your wisdom.
Manic symptoms include irritability, anger or rage, delusions, hypersensitivity, hypersexuality, hyper-religiosity, hyperactivity, impulsiveness, racing thoughts, talkativeness, pressure to keep talking or rapid speech, grandiose ideas and plans, and decreased need for sleep (e.g. feels rested after 3 or 4 hours of sleep).
I had every one on the list. Bingo! Eyes heavenward for a full house! Rapid speech meant that I was motormouthing so hard that no-one could follow. From the inside, it just seems like everyone is a bit slow, and not following the new improved you. Racing thoughts - I think we had covered that. Decreased need for sleep - I was down to a couple of hours a day. I was not angry. I was hyperfocused on what I was doing, but I never got violent, I walked away from impediments to my plans, I didn't try to hurt anyone. Hypersexuailty - I've already covered that. And thank goodness I always 'covered that'. Boom boom.
Hyper-religiosity was weird. I was raised devoutly catholic, and it is completely ingrained into my thinking and actions. I have never denied its massive effect. So when the strong religious feelings of need for exploration came, I decided to try and commune with God, using meditation methods I was researching. The fact that you decide "I'm just going to talk to God" also neatly covers grandiose ideas and plans. Well I made it, which has been handy ever since. It took days of meditation, and travelling without moving. When I got there, God's message was "I will call you if I need you". That was quite reassuring, and has been handy every since. My rational science brain says that it was a scientific explainable chemical imbalance. And when I talk to the deeply religious, I can look them straight in the eye and say "Sorry, when I spoke to God, that's not what he said to me." Like I said, Handy.
The religiousity and charisma mix was very strange. As I said, I got very charismatic, and had followers and stuff. I also became a compulsive gift giver and receiver. People seem to just give charismatic people gifts. And I wouldn't keep them, I was stuck by the 'you need nothing but faith' where faith is fine amalgam of faith/ confidence and arrogance. I was giving stuff away at a great rate of knots, and minimalising my personal possessions. I've always had a strange relationship with money, and it got weirder with the mania.If you have
have enough disciples, all you need to do is cover rent and people just invite you out for food to hear you speak.
"Manic patients are frequently grandiose, obsessive, impulsive, irritable, belligerent, and frequently deny anything is wrong with them." Eventually it all came to a stop. Enough people who cared had said 'what the hell' to enough people who knew me, and eventually my brother Matthew, who is a psych nurse, had the sense to call it all to stop and convince me to go to hospital on 2nd January 2000. I sometime use the line that my brain had the millennium bug. I was on a 21 day order, and I was out in 14. I was medicated heavily for a couple of days, and weaned off really rapidly down to some seds and lithium. I think the main things I needed were real sleeping hours and real food.
Hospital was great fun, and really interesting. Only one thing CREEPED ME OUT, even when I was doing it, and that was the ability to play the piano. Why did it creep me out? Because I can't fracking play the piano normally. I can sing, but I couldn't stand doing the drills necessary to learn to play the piano. I learnt as a kid, but I found the whole process painful. In hospital, I could think of a song and play it. When I asked the staff
"Hey, Is this any good or am I just crazy" they said " It's pretty good, but rushed." Then I said "Well it's scaring me 'coz I can't play when I'm sane." They had tight smiles at that point. That's the trouble - all your question and answer and testing mechanisms are out. Was I crazy? Was I playing well? Were the staff humouring me?
I was at my parents place and was a zombie on lithium and seds. They got me off the seds after about three months, and I came back to 'slow but reasonable function' pretty fast. By March that year I went to Rowany Festival okay. I was a bit of a slow mover, but I was there and happy. I was out of my parents place and back into sharehousing pretty quick. I spent a year doing all sorts of little stuff. My nominal house I had keys for was B's, but I was couch surfing and crashing in with friends and exes. I was on sickness benefit, and was not able to work until after I was off the lithium.
I moved to a student sharehouse and decided to use my free income support to study. I know, studying while on medication was going to be special, but I gave it a go. It was a mistake. My biggest mistake was my choice of subjects. I decided on philosophy. Thinking about thinking. What was I thinking? I had a ball. It was freaking great. It made my head go so fast...
The wise amongst you will see where this is going.
I was in trouble again, and this time it was spotted a lot faster, by a certain red headed angel. She found me, owned me, smacked me on the nose like a naughty puppy, supported me through another two weeks in hospital, and this time shared everything with me and married me. It might have only been a symbolic 'jump of the broomstick', it might not have been in a church, it might not have been the type of married that would have made my mother happier, the terms might have only been the old pagan 'year and a day' but it was real in our hearts and heads. We got each other pointed in the right direction. It didn't last, but the happy ending was that the next boy she dated I approve of heartily. She did get married in the way that made her mum happy. I think we are both happy with the fact that we know we love each other but know that we can't be together. I have not been back to hospital since then.
Back to Now:
I have just today realised that I am having a Hypomania episode. All the symptoms were there. As I said before, I caught it this time. I do not need hospital. I have developed the instinct to pull it back. I need sleep, and I probably need something to get me to sleep.
Theoretically others should be able to spot it. But I am an odd fish, I am a very smart person/ genius, and I am stubborn as any Beswick and strong willed. So to call it, and then back your call, takes the sort of guts and sensitivity that is very, very rare. So far it has only been two other geniuses who love me, and even those had Psych training, who have had the certainty of will. Thanks to all who have given me enough 'little warnings' to realise what is happening this time. ML, RC, ST, KB, KP and Dr Nick.
Sorry to anyone who I have freaked out. Sorry to anyone who I have worried. Thanks for reading this far.
I hope to resume regular programming after fixing these small technical difficulties. :)
Ah okay, here it is. The counter to being sick all this time. Hypomania. Someone at work caught me - they said "Stop! You are confused, and it's like you don't know what day it is!" And they were dead right.
I'm going to be typing this at stream of consciousness, and so I will be throwing things around, giving others an experience of what a Hypomania state is like, and hopefully slapping myself around and rebooting myself so things don't head on to the next step, full mania.
Then:
In the late nineties, I was working a job where I was doing fifteen and sixteen hour days, and getting no sleep. I was partying hard, and I was promiscuous. I have a science brain. The chemicals I was playing with I had researched, and I was on very low doses. I know there are no safe doses. but they were very low. Much lower than the legends some people might tell. I had no interest in babies or loosing my sexual health, so I was a safety boy. Bareback is a nicer ride, but HIV and penicillin injections hold no appeal. The most dangerous thing I was doing at this time was abusing my sleep.
Late 1998 I quit a cool, well paying job as a Tipmaster because I had on the certain feeling that 'something was wrong.' I had two warnings about sleeping on the job. Actually, that wasn't true. I had warnings for going to sleep in my car before the gates to the compound I had to open. The truck drivers would be there, and I would open up once they blasted the horn. If I didn't try and sleep there, I couldn't get to sleep at all. I couldn't explain it, I couldn't fix it, and I didn't want to get fired so I left before I was pushed.
I had been to medical specialists. I had been to a couple of counsellors and shrinks. Unfortunately, the old adage was true. They were, without a doubt, much, much more messed up than I was.
So I spent about half a year travelling around Australia visiting friends, and then about a year doing odd jobs. I talked to people, but they couldn't figure it out, and no-one spotted it. Eventually I worked at a seed factory. The job was easy labouring and sorting work, and involved throwing 25kg and fifty kg bags around. The job perfectly suited my body. I carved off my usual 120kg down to 87kg, and a six pack stomach. I was back to being able to do hand stand push ups, which I had not done since I was a kid and a gymnast.
My labouring meant that I was exercising all day. And I had never been that fit post puberty. So when I shrank my needed sleep, I just presumed it was a side effect of fitness. When I was going into pubs and club, smiling and winking and a charisma stunned girl would follow me home and we would shag like bunnies, I just presumed this was western, decadent, pagan Australia.
Our good friend wikipedia says " Patients may be relatively unlikely to seek psychiatric treatment for Hypomania alone." To which I say "Hell yeah".
"People with Hypomania are generally perceived as being energetic, euphoric, visionary, overflowing with new ideas, and sometimes over-confident and very charismatic." I'm not sleeping, being hyper charismatic, I'm shagging like a bunny, and I'm super fit and energetic. If Hypomania was a tablet, it would be the most valuable and potent pharmaceutical in the world. Quick, doc, I want to be fat, asleep, boring and unattractive! Cure me!
And when I'm hypnomanic I'm a natural born poet, which I can tell you doesn't hurt with the hyper charismatic factor. "In the hypomanic state, people may feel like they can't slow their mind down, and that the speeding thoughts are crafted exceptionally well. Some examples are speaking or writing in rhyme or alliteration without planning it first; quick responses to people talking; or the ability to improvise easily on the spot."
Of course, this has to fall down. Now, the really unlucky (vast majority) of bastards plummet from this height to depression. For some reason, I don't. I might get as low as 'a little blue' or 'slighty miffed.' I thank goodness that I don't plunge into the black. Conversations between myself and depressed people are weird. I can't even imagine what they are trying to express - and they sit there jealous as hell but not really understanding mania.
When this falls down for me, it goes to mania. The trouble with mania is that from sitting inside, it's Hypomania, but EVEN BETTER. The merry-go-round is going faster. You need less sleep. Nothing hurts. The vast majority of people are electrified by your company, and want to share it. I got disciples. The kind of people that want a hand to get through life latch onto you and ask to receive your wisdom.
Manic symptoms include irritability, anger or rage, delusions, hypersensitivity, hypersexuality, hyper-religiosity, hyperactivity, impulsiveness, racing thoughts, talkativeness, pressure to keep talking or rapid speech, grandiose ideas and plans, and decreased need for sleep (e.g. feels rested after 3 or 4 hours of sleep).
I had every one on the list. Bingo! Eyes heavenward for a full house! Rapid speech meant that I was motormouthing so hard that no-one could follow. From the inside, it just seems like everyone is a bit slow, and not following the new improved you. Racing thoughts - I think we had covered that. Decreased need for sleep - I was down to a couple of hours a day. I was not angry. I was hyperfocused on what I was doing, but I never got violent, I walked away from impediments to my plans, I didn't try to hurt anyone. Hypersexuailty - I've already covered that. And thank goodness I always 'covered that'. Boom boom.
Hyper-religiosity was weird. I was raised devoutly catholic, and it is completely ingrained into my thinking and actions. I have never denied its massive effect. So when the strong religious feelings of need for exploration came, I decided to try and commune with God, using meditation methods I was researching. The fact that you decide "I'm just going to talk to God" also neatly covers grandiose ideas and plans. Well I made it, which has been handy ever since. It took days of meditation, and travelling without moving. When I got there, God's message was "I will call you if I need you". That was quite reassuring, and has been handy every since. My rational science brain says that it was a scientific explainable chemical imbalance. And when I talk to the deeply religious, I can look them straight in the eye and say "Sorry, when I spoke to God, that's not what he said to me." Like I said, Handy.
The religiousity and charisma mix was very strange. As I said, I got very charismatic, and had followers and stuff. I also became a compulsive gift giver and receiver. People seem to just give charismatic people gifts. And I wouldn't keep them, I was stuck by the 'you need nothing but faith' where faith is fine amalgam of faith/ confidence and arrogance. I was giving stuff away at a great rate of knots, and minimalising my personal possessions. I've always had a strange relationship with money, and it got weirder with the mania.If you have
have enough disciples, all you need to do is cover rent and people just invite you out for food to hear you speak.
"Manic patients are frequently grandiose, obsessive, impulsive, irritable, belligerent, and frequently deny anything is wrong with them." Eventually it all came to a stop. Enough people who cared had said 'what the hell' to enough people who knew me, and eventually my brother Matthew, who is a psych nurse, had the sense to call it all to stop and convince me to go to hospital on 2nd January 2000. I sometime use the line that my brain had the millennium bug. I was on a 21 day order, and I was out in 14. I was medicated heavily for a couple of days, and weaned off really rapidly down to some seds and lithium. I think the main things I needed were real sleeping hours and real food.
Hospital was great fun, and really interesting. Only one thing CREEPED ME OUT, even when I was doing it, and that was the ability to play the piano. Why did it creep me out? Because I can't fracking play the piano normally. I can sing, but I couldn't stand doing the drills necessary to learn to play the piano. I learnt as a kid, but I found the whole process painful. In hospital, I could think of a song and play it. When I asked the staff
"Hey, Is this any good or am I just crazy" they said " It's pretty good, but rushed." Then I said "Well it's scaring me 'coz I can't play when I'm sane." They had tight smiles at that point. That's the trouble - all your question and answer and testing mechanisms are out. Was I crazy? Was I playing well? Were the staff humouring me?
I was at my parents place and was a zombie on lithium and seds. They got me off the seds after about three months, and I came back to 'slow but reasonable function' pretty fast. By March that year I went to Rowany Festival okay. I was a bit of a slow mover, but I was there and happy. I was out of my parents place and back into sharehousing pretty quick. I spent a year doing all sorts of little stuff. My nominal house I had keys for was B's, but I was couch surfing and crashing in with friends and exes. I was on sickness benefit, and was not able to work until after I was off the lithium.
I moved to a student sharehouse and decided to use my free income support to study. I know, studying while on medication was going to be special, but I gave it a go. It was a mistake. My biggest mistake was my choice of subjects. I decided on philosophy. Thinking about thinking. What was I thinking? I had a ball. It was freaking great. It made my head go so fast...
The wise amongst you will see where this is going.
I was in trouble again, and this time it was spotted a lot faster, by a certain red headed angel. She found me, owned me, smacked me on the nose like a naughty puppy, supported me through another two weeks in hospital, and this time shared everything with me and married me. It might have only been a symbolic 'jump of the broomstick', it might not have been in a church, it might not have been the type of married that would have made my mother happier, the terms might have only been the old pagan 'year and a day' but it was real in our hearts and heads. We got each other pointed in the right direction. It didn't last, but the happy ending was that the next boy she dated I approve of heartily. She did get married in the way that made her mum happy. I think we are both happy with the fact that we know we love each other but know that we can't be together. I have not been back to hospital since then.
Back to Now:
I have just today realised that I am having a Hypomania episode. All the symptoms were there. As I said before, I caught it this time. I do not need hospital. I have developed the instinct to pull it back. I need sleep, and I probably need something to get me to sleep.
Theoretically others should be able to spot it. But I am an odd fish, I am a very smart person/ genius, and I am stubborn as any Beswick and strong willed. So to call it, and then back your call, takes the sort of guts and sensitivity that is very, very rare. So far it has only been two other geniuses who love me, and even those had Psych training, who have had the certainty of will. Thanks to all who have given me enough 'little warnings' to realise what is happening this time. ML, RC, ST, KB, KP and Dr Nick.
Sorry to anyone who I have freaked out. Sorry to anyone who I have worried. Thanks for reading this far.
I hope to resume regular programming after fixing these small technical difficulties. :)
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Back, Shoulder Arm Treatment
Well there are now better guesses as to what is going on. Gina got to have a play this time - first time she couldn't even touch my back without flinching. The current guess is that there is sheath damage to the nerve that runs from the spine to under the shoulder blade, to the left arm. It explains why I couldn't find a rest position, and it explains the pain.
Voltaren 50's from the doc, and Mycendol means that I actually got sleep over the weekend. I'm off to Gina's in just a few minutes to get cranked again. I made it to work, and got through the shift okay. However, I'll have to change my pain management - I just hit the recommended limit on Mycendol and have no interest in back effects - but I also have a great interest in making sleep possible.
Voltaren 50's from the doc, and Mycendol means that I actually got sleep over the weekend. I'm off to Gina's in just a few minutes to get cranked again. I made it to work, and got through the shift okay. However, I'll have to change my pain management - I just hit the recommended limit on Mycendol and have no interest in back effects - but I also have a great interest in making sleep possible.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Icky Medical Procedures
Inspired by Umanda's (much better) post, I thought I would chime in with some more modern medical jibbering.
In my youth I played a lot of sport very well, and that means injuries. And that means medical attention, and that means some okay procedures, and some where the procedure is worse than the injury. This is such a tale.
I played indoor cricket in my youth. How does you explain indoor cricket to someone who doesn't even follow cricket? Ummm, okay. Imagine you are playing baseball. With two batsmen. And eight fielders. You are allowed to bounce the ball every pitch, and there is only one base. With me? Here is the tricky/ extreme part - you are doing this IN A BATTING CAGE, in an area just longer than the distance from pitcher to batsman, and the whole thing is netted in, and rebound catches count.
Okay, so cricket balls kill people, so they made it safer by making the ball a tennis ball wrapped in leather. So it goes much faster off the bat, but doesn't hurt people as much when it hits them.
I was fielding in close when there was a good strike that came of someone else's hand and hit me in the eye. It hurt a bit, and I was taken off the field. I got driven home, and dutifully went to the doctors the next day. He said the orbit (skull bone around the eye) was okay, but the flexibility of the ball and the fact that it might have 'sucked back' the eye meant I had to go to the hospital to have it checked by one of the special machines. The doctor advised I would have to go with someone else, as I would be unable to get back home by myself. Hrmmm.
I rocked up to the doctors with my SO, and they got me and put drops in my eye. "This will relax your eye muscles, and your pupils will dilate heavily to allow us a good view of the eye. It takes half an hour to work. tell us when the light begins to hurt."
One other thing is that I'm one of those people for whom most drugs work ten times better than everyone else. It's a skill in the "Fallout" series, and I like the inexpensiveness of drinking. Apparently its manly to need $200 to get drunk, I like my $20 benders as I am a cheap bastard.
So the SO looks at me and says "Good grief, I can see your pupils peeling back. So I wrap a jumper around my head and wait the half hour. Once the doc comes I peel off my improvised light block, and the doctor manages to stay vaguely professional. The assistant has the giggles "That looks so weird." great. They take me into a fairly dark room, and adjust a machine with funky opticals so my face fits into it. "There may be a sting as I turn on the blue light" Urggh! "And now I need to do some adjustments... Oh my God that is beautiful. I usually use this machine on the elderly, and I have to say, the inside of your eyes are simply stunning."
So I could be an inside of eye model. Interesting to note, not much of a pickup line.
"Here comes the unpleasant part, in order to check I need to put this puff of air into your eye."
Urkk! The puff hits and it's like a finger in the eye. Your hold body does that desperate tense and release, and you realise you are bending the steel in the chair arm.
"Oh my GOD, I need to find a colleague." I hoped this was a continuation on the beautiful theme, and not a new 'we will have to have that out presently' theme.
So I'm sitting in this dark room, and the doctor has skipped off to find someone else. The doctor comes back in with the mention colleague, and a bevy of ten obvious med students. The senior sits, prepares me for the puff of air, and addresses me along with everyone else. "This patient has no sign of injury, but has an interesting phenomenon, an extreme high propensity for cone versus rod receptors. It causes a distinctive sheen to the eye when viewed as compared to the base eyes you have seen before. I bet you can't find a thing in the fridge, but can catch exceptionally well" - Why yes, except for the one that put me in this chair. He laughs politely.
"Now, if you could all shuffle through and have a look at the eye in question" ten more med students, ten more blasts of air to the eyeball, and ten more quivering jerk jumps as I get poked. In that very Brisbane way, one of the med students was in my Senior year. Confident and extroverted tho I am, I could not pull off the 'pick up an old mate while strapped to the chair and being mildly tortured' maneuver.
I wonder what MM is doing now...
Anyway, I was allowed to leave, I was advised that the medicine in my eyes would wear off in six hours, and that I should avoid bright light for that time. Six hours later, people would still laugh out loud at my trippy super- pupil eyes, and a day later, my eyes had returned to normal. i was off all contact sports for 3 months.
I think i would have been annoyed, except that I had just purchased a new computer. Happy co-incidence then...
In my youth I played a lot of sport very well, and that means injuries. And that means medical attention, and that means some okay procedures, and some where the procedure is worse than the injury. This is such a tale.
I played indoor cricket in my youth. How does you explain indoor cricket to someone who doesn't even follow cricket? Ummm, okay. Imagine you are playing baseball. With two batsmen. And eight fielders. You are allowed to bounce the ball every pitch, and there is only one base. With me? Here is the tricky/ extreme part - you are doing this IN A BATTING CAGE, in an area just longer than the distance from pitcher to batsman, and the whole thing is netted in, and rebound catches count.
Okay, so cricket balls kill people, so they made it safer by making the ball a tennis ball wrapped in leather. So it goes much faster off the bat, but doesn't hurt people as much when it hits them.
I was fielding in close when there was a good strike that came of someone else's hand and hit me in the eye. It hurt a bit, and I was taken off the field. I got driven home, and dutifully went to the doctors the next day. He said the orbit (skull bone around the eye) was okay, but the flexibility of the ball and the fact that it might have 'sucked back' the eye meant I had to go to the hospital to have it checked by one of the special machines. The doctor advised I would have to go with someone else, as I would be unable to get back home by myself. Hrmmm.
I rocked up to the doctors with my SO, and they got me and put drops in my eye. "This will relax your eye muscles, and your pupils will dilate heavily to allow us a good view of the eye. It takes half an hour to work. tell us when the light begins to hurt."
One other thing is that I'm one of those people for whom most drugs work ten times better than everyone else. It's a skill in the "Fallout" series, and I like the inexpensiveness of drinking. Apparently its manly to need $200 to get drunk, I like my $20 benders as I am a cheap bastard.
So the SO looks at me and says "Good grief, I can see your pupils peeling back. So I wrap a jumper around my head and wait the half hour. Once the doc comes I peel off my improvised light block, and the doctor manages to stay vaguely professional. The assistant has the giggles "That looks so weird." great. They take me into a fairly dark room, and adjust a machine with funky opticals so my face fits into it. "There may be a sting as I turn on the blue light" Urggh! "And now I need to do some adjustments... Oh my God that is beautiful. I usually use this machine on the elderly, and I have to say, the inside of your eyes are simply stunning."
So I could be an inside of eye model. Interesting to note, not much of a pickup line.
"Here comes the unpleasant part, in order to check I need to put this puff of air into your eye."
Urkk! The puff hits and it's like a finger in the eye. Your hold body does that desperate tense and release, and you realise you are bending the steel in the chair arm.
"Oh my GOD, I need to find a colleague." I hoped this was a continuation on the beautiful theme, and not a new 'we will have to have that out presently' theme.
So I'm sitting in this dark room, and the doctor has skipped off to find someone else. The doctor comes back in with the mention colleague, and a bevy of ten obvious med students. The senior sits, prepares me for the puff of air, and addresses me along with everyone else. "This patient has no sign of injury, but has an interesting phenomenon, an extreme high propensity for cone versus rod receptors. It causes a distinctive sheen to the eye when viewed as compared to the base eyes you have seen before. I bet you can't find a thing in the fridge, but can catch exceptionally well" - Why yes, except for the one that put me in this chair. He laughs politely.
"Now, if you could all shuffle through and have a look at the eye in question" ten more med students, ten more blasts of air to the eyeball, and ten more quivering jerk jumps as I get poked. In that very Brisbane way, one of the med students was in my Senior year. Confident and extroverted tho I am, I could not pull off the 'pick up an old mate while strapped to the chair and being mildly tortured' maneuver.
I wonder what MM is doing now...
Anyway, I was allowed to leave, I was advised that the medicine in my eyes would wear off in six hours, and that I should avoid bright light for that time. Six hours later, people would still laugh out loud at my trippy super- pupil eyes, and a day later, my eyes had returned to normal. i was off all contact sports for 3 months.
I think i would have been annoyed, except that I had just purchased a new computer. Happy co-incidence then...
Monday, February 2, 2009
Cricket cramps turns into superbowl day off
I took all the precautions. I dosed up on magnesium and calcium for up to three days before. I made sure I didn't overindulge in food. I only had one game this weekend, not two. I took lots of liquids, a water, a 1 orange juice - 5 water mix, and the same mix with apple and guava. 4.5 litres of liquids. I only ate a light, nutritious breakfast.
Still, once I was out in the 37 degree heat trying to chase that little red ball, I was cramping like crazy. Hot damn I hate cramping. It is partially the price I pay for my laziness, but also has been a constant fight all of my sporting life, happening even when I was super fit. This one was even a variation - the normal extreme pain radiating off the hamstring that shoots the leg dead straight, with a wraparound conflict between the quads.
I kept playing, requesting a bit of mercy from the captain, and he put me in point - nothing requiring a big run came my way, thank goodness. When it came time to bat, we were not in much trouble, but we just couldn't score well enough. Nursing my injury, I dropped myself to nine. When I came in, it was 8 runs an over required. I tried hiting out, but kept finding fielders, and eventually got dismissed. I ran a few runs, but didn't make much difference. We couldn't make the runs. After the game, I did the right thing, and got straight back into the mag-cal, with a warm shower, and then went straight to bed.
11 hours sleep was not enough. When the 7am alarm went, I tried to make my feet and get to the shower - not happening. Still stiff as a board, I called myself in as sick, and rolled back over to attempt sleep. Not happening. I spent the next hour manually messing with my leg in order to get it moving, whacking and stretching in enough to make it to the shower. Once I got in, the hot water did it's magic and gave me reasonable movement, and I wondered what I would do with my day. Hey, wait a minute, it's superbowl Monday!
I called the only person I knew who would not be at work, Sui, and told him to get on over. It was time for a very impromptu superbowl party. Being typically Australian, he didn't even know it was on, and had never done the party before. I limped down to the shops and laid in the supplies - hotdogs, sauerkraut, a sixer of millers, a sixer of budweiser. The rule is that you buy the cheapest american beer you can find - they had a tie, so we grabbed one of each. Sui didn't think the dogs would cut it, so he grabbed some nacho's fixings as well.
I did all the hotdog cooking and preping, and then got myself laid out straight on the couch to nurse the leg. Sui was behind me, painting some 40k figures. He has recently gained the urge to paint, and I couldn't sit in a chair, so he got the crafty-artist seat.
Luckily it was a good game, with plenty of action and stayed nice and close, and the 100 yard intercept was awesome to watch. If I was well, I would have been at work and missed it, but it was nice to take advantage of my cringing agony to watch the superbowl. First one in about three years.
Still, once I was out in the 37 degree heat trying to chase that little red ball, I was cramping like crazy. Hot damn I hate cramping. It is partially the price I pay for my laziness, but also has been a constant fight all of my sporting life, happening even when I was super fit. This one was even a variation - the normal extreme pain radiating off the hamstring that shoots the leg dead straight, with a wraparound conflict between the quads.
I kept playing, requesting a bit of mercy from the captain, and he put me in point - nothing requiring a big run came my way, thank goodness. When it came time to bat, we were not in much trouble, but we just couldn't score well enough. Nursing my injury, I dropped myself to nine. When I came in, it was 8 runs an over required. I tried hiting out, but kept finding fielders, and eventually got dismissed. I ran a few runs, but didn't make much difference. We couldn't make the runs. After the game, I did the right thing, and got straight back into the mag-cal, with a warm shower, and then went straight to bed.
11 hours sleep was not enough. When the 7am alarm went, I tried to make my feet and get to the shower - not happening. Still stiff as a board, I called myself in as sick, and rolled back over to attempt sleep. Not happening. I spent the next hour manually messing with my leg in order to get it moving, whacking and stretching in enough to make it to the shower. Once I got in, the hot water did it's magic and gave me reasonable movement, and I wondered what I would do with my day. Hey, wait a minute, it's superbowl Monday!
I called the only person I knew who would not be at work, Sui, and told him to get on over. It was time for a very impromptu superbowl party. Being typically Australian, he didn't even know it was on, and had never done the party before. I limped down to the shops and laid in the supplies - hotdogs, sauerkraut, a sixer of millers, a sixer of budweiser. The rule is that you buy the cheapest american beer you can find - they had a tie, so we grabbed one of each. Sui didn't think the dogs would cut it, so he grabbed some nacho's fixings as well.
I did all the hotdog cooking and preping, and then got myself laid out straight on the couch to nurse the leg. Sui was behind me, painting some 40k figures. He has recently gained the urge to paint, and I couldn't sit in a chair, so he got the crafty-artist seat.
Luckily it was a good game, with plenty of action and stayed nice and close, and the 100 yard intercept was awesome to watch. If I was well, I would have been at work and missed it, but it was nice to take advantage of my cringing agony to watch the superbowl. First one in about three years.
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