Sunday, June 11, 2006
On August 23, 2004, my car was hit by Long Ngoc Van, a man who ran a red light.
I was injured pretty badly.
While in the hospital I had a bunch of things put inside of me that were not original factory parts. There were tubes and needles and probes and human fingers. There were sharp knives and drill bits, there were staples and threads, there were rays of light illuminating private sinew, then being sucked into stranger's eyes, projecting images of my common but oh so intimate tissues onto their retinas.
These things slid into my orifices, sometimes making new ones - breaking open my skin and spilling my blood.
Slowly, most of them were removed by gentle, caring hands owned by the superhumans who had cared for my body and worked hard for a week to help me remember who, where, what, and when, to comfort my fear and pain, to ease my confusion and heal my broken body.
The stuff that didn't come out is structural - metal stuff screwed into my bones. I did recently have a THIRD surgery on my left leg that produced some really cool show-and-tell material in the form of three big assed bolts in a sterile plastic package that I like to pull out in restaurants and use as dinner conversation starters. The other bunch of metal in my arm will hopefully still be there many years from now for the forensic guys to use to help identify me if I get kidnapped and killed and dumped in the woods.
The metal doesn't concern me. There are brazillions* of people out there with metal aftermarket bits inside of them.
The part that I sometimes wonder about is the tiniest part. You have two scaphoids. REALLY. I bet you didn't know that. Well, I have one original and one that was pulverized and replaced with "artificial bone material". Now, just exactly what the hell does that mean? It's trivial in the face of all the other questions you pose to a doctor when you get him into a little room so it's not made it up the long list yet, even after almost two years.
And then I read a story like this one, a true gothic horror tale of body snatching, and well - how can a girl not wonder?
*Donald Rumsfeld briefed the President this morning. He told Bush that three Brazilian soldiers were killed in Iraq. To everyone's amazement, the color ran from Bush's face and he collapsed onto his desk, head in hands, visibly shaken, almost whimpering. Finally, he composed himself and asked Rumsfeld, "Just exactly how many is a brazillion?"
I was injured pretty badly.
While in the hospital I had a bunch of things put inside of me that were not original factory parts. There were tubes and needles and probes and human fingers. There were sharp knives and drill bits, there were staples and threads, there were rays of light illuminating private sinew, then being sucked into stranger's eyes, projecting images of my common but oh so intimate tissues onto their retinas.
These things slid into my orifices, sometimes making new ones - breaking open my skin and spilling my blood.
Slowly, most of them were removed by gentle, caring hands owned by the superhumans who had cared for my body and worked hard for a week to help me remember who, where, what, and when, to comfort my fear and pain, to ease my confusion and heal my broken body.
The stuff that didn't come out is structural - metal stuff screwed into my bones. I did recently have a THIRD surgery on my left leg that produced some really cool show-and-tell material in the form of three big assed bolts in a sterile plastic package that I like to pull out in restaurants and use as dinner conversation starters. The other bunch of metal in my arm will hopefully still be there many years from now for the forensic guys to use to help identify me if I get kidnapped and killed and dumped in the woods.
The metal doesn't concern me. There are brazillions* of people out there with metal aftermarket bits inside of them.
The part that I sometimes wonder about is the tiniest part. You have two scaphoids. REALLY. I bet you didn't know that. Well, I have one original and one that was pulverized and replaced with "artificial bone material". Now, just exactly what the hell does that mean? It's trivial in the face of all the other questions you pose to a doctor when you get him into a little room so it's not made it up the long list yet, even after almost two years.
And then I read a story like this one, a true gothic horror tale of body snatching, and well - how can a girl not wonder?
*Donald Rumsfeld briefed the President this morning. He told Bush that three Brazilian soldiers were killed in Iraq. To everyone's amazement, the color ran from Bush's face and he collapsed onto his desk, head in hands, visibly shaken, almost whimpering. Finally, he composed himself and asked Rumsfeld, "Just exactly how many is a brazillion?"
Labels: accident, headlines, medicine
# posted by Carol : 3:41 PM
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Unfortunately, it appears that I have been 'implanted' with some of the material the New Jersey doctor decided to steal. The gross factor is still reeling inside my head! How am I supposed to get past that?!?! I had periodontal surgery last October, so I'm in the process of being tested for several diseases. Still, the illegal bone and tissue are with me FOREVER. I've been looking through tons of different articles, and it just gets worse and worse. I have to stop reading this stuff! My husband has been very sweet during this whole ordeal, but now I worry if I might transfer something to him or my kid. Geez - I paid the periodontal dentist a FORTUNE, and this is what I get in return?
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# posted by 
: 5:04 PM
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