I’ve been a runner for 25 years, three to five miles a day. Pretty much every day! It has become a holy time for me, I-pod streaming music into my ears as I’m either on the beach or running the streets of whatever city that I’m in. I see things that I would normally miss and thoughts come to me that never would have. There is a Spirituality to it.
These aren’t the reasons that I started though. My Dad had bad veins and horrible circulation problems. He wasn’t too keen on exercise unless it involved walking to the truck to drive to meet his friends at the pup. The older he got, the worse his circulation issues got.
Knowing this, I started running wanting to avoid these issues. And everything was fine until a few months ago as I was heading out for a run, Bill Berry (not the former drummer for R.E.M. but the other one that I went to seminary with) said, “What’s that on the back of your leg?”
Having never examined the back of my leg I had no idea. I felt the area just above my knee and sure enough there were these purple blackish bumps.
I am my father’s son after all. Damn you Dad! You gave me many wonderful things but you could have kept these!
So I went to see my doctor and she sent me to see a specialist and sure enough, it was confirmed that I am my father’s son. I’ve got the same issues that he has. And there were these clots.
Luckily the consistent running means that I am in much better shape and my veins are good except for where one ruptured in a couple of places and blood was seeping out causing the bumps on the back of my leg. Who knew?
So this morning I had my leg zapped.
First I put on a hospital gown for the first time in years. They still suck! My butt was flashed all over the place as there just isn’t any way to tie those things. Whoever invented these things was one perverse SOB.
In the out-patient operating room, I was initially misled when two nurses prepped my leg from my ankle all the way to my groin area. This was quiet the pleasurable experience and I would pay good money to have it done to me again. Both legs next time! Plus the groin!
Then the doctor came in and put his mask on right off so I wouldn’t recognize him again. He then proceeded to describe everything that he was doing to me as he did it. “This is just a little bee sting,” he said in a sweet voice.
17 little bee stings later I wanted to hit him repeatedly with both fists.
He then cut me, rammed an I.V. tube in my vein, stuck a lazer gun in it and shot it off 43 times. He even counted out loud with each shot.
As he did this it dawned on me that I was paying him for it as I hadn’t met the deductible on my insurance yet so had to give them my credit card for the pleasure of a man wearing a mask shoot me in the leg 43 times. I don’t care what you say the American health care system is screwed up!
“You may get a strange taste in your mouth,” he softly cooed right before my mouth felt like someone had lit a bon fire in it.
Then he was done and left so the nurses, who suddenly were nowhere near as attractive as they had been just a little while ago, could clean me up. I looked at my bloody leg. They wiped it off and then the winches wrapped it from my foot to just below my groin as tightly as they could.
I was ordered to keep it on for 48 hours. Then they had the gall to order me to come back next week so that they can do whatever sadistic pleasures that they conceive of between now and then.
I handed them their now stained hospital gown, happy to moon them as I retrieved my clothes. If I could have found the masked guy, I would have done much more than that!
So, thanks Dad. I’m still glad to be your son but when we hook up again I hope that you’ve been running since we last saw each other. Cause I’m chasing you down for this.
