Kidney Woes

Cranberry Juice Consumed: *twitch* *gack*
Antibiotics Consumed: God bless cipro
Time spent in a hot bath: 2.5 hours
Finally being able to move (or just lay there)
without wincing in pain?: Since 3 p.m. yesterday




Well, thanks to the gods of Cipro, I think I'm out of the woods. Yesterday afternoon I was pounding cranberry juice (*gack* *twitch*) and toasting a bag of rice in my microwave (to use as a heating pad) so often I was certain that it would somehow turn into popcorn - but the pain would not let up. The only way I was able to actually think was to sit in a scalding-hot bath. As soon as the heat hit the right side of my lower back - the pain would ease. It was fine so long as I laid in there and didn't move much.


But then I got a delivery of antibiotics, Cipro. The family keeps a stock of this stuff on hand and when word went out that I might have a stone, they were quick to hand it over. They were also quick to tell me how many of them had also passed stones in their lives and how it's sort of a "family" medical condition. So what do I have to look forward to in my life? Kidney Stones, Diabetes, Alzheimers, and possible some form of Cancer.

Joy.

After about twenty minutes of taking the Cipro, I was laying down on the couch since I had finally found a position that didn't hurt. Then I realized that I was getting more and more sleepy and eventually passed out. At some point, though I was not really awake for this, I got up and went to the bathroom and heard a weird 'clink'. I stared down into the bowl to find that a pebble about the size of a BB was in the bottom. Not saying that I have a high threshold for pain, but my first thought was that there was no way in hell that came out of me without me feeling it. Then again, I had taken about three kinds of pain-killers before I passed out so I was still a bit groggy.

The family doc said that I should collect it since if the pain returns there may be more stones and they would need to examine the last one to figure out what was causing them. One of the more curious questions that I had for the doc was how could this have happened. Most kidney stones are formed by deposits of calcium and I'm not really what you would call a milk-drinker. There is, however, some connection between drinking sodas like Mountain Dew.

Yeah - there was a moment of silence when I was on the phone with her.

So I guess I'm reduced to water, some juice and coffee for a while.

Ugh.

Just kill me now

This morning at 6 am I woke up with a pain in my right side, in my back. At first I thought that it was s pulled muscle do I grabbed Josh's msgic back massager and tried to fix it. As soon as I started the machine I could tell that something was wrong. There was an odd sensation that radiated around from the small of my back and down to my groin. For about three hours I tried to sleep or find some comfortable spot but noting worked.



Josh got up around 9 and I asked him to take me down to the campus clinic to have them look at me. Yes, the pain was serious enough that I was willing to ask for help.

They confirmed the diagnosis that I probably have a kidney stone. The hospital would be able to confirm it with a batch of tests (about 5k from what we dug around to find out) but the treatment was basically to just flush it out.

So since Josh had to stay on campus for classes, I asked Will to take me home where I promptly threw up (again) as soon as we were in front of the house. I tried to put my mind out of the pain but that didn't work - I couldn't think straight for that.

That's when Josh and Will's idea set in. Taking a hot bath might help the muscle spasms. With Will on the couch and me yelling to him from the bathroom we continued the conversation for a few minutes and it was like someone threw a switch. The pain was gone. So long as the water was hot, there was no pain.

The main problem with kidney stones is that everyone wants to ask you if you've been pissing regularly. I had been, but not too often. I've been drinking water all day and I would get the urge to take a leek but nothing would happen. Pulling the old Boyscout Trick of standing in a hot shower or putting your hand in warm water, however, assisted things along so it's not that I'm blocked.

After sending up the flag to everyone I could think of - I got some of last night's chili on my stomach so that will hopefully help with the nausia. (My chili is mild so it's not like I'm eating fire. Will has headed off for a while and I've gotten some antibiotics in me to help with any future possibility of a kidney infection.

Otherwise, I'm typing with one hand, laying face down on the couch and trying to get my back to stop hurting.

ugh.

someone just kill me.

Garlic Poisoning

Anyone who has ever known me for some length of time knows that I'm allergic to garlic to some degree.

Now I'm not sure how I'm able to eat some foods with garlic (Barbara's Magic Garlic) and be fine and then I can have a french fry with garlic-laden salt and I'm sick to the world for a day.



Last night I was sick to death because of garlic. I woke up around six a.m. with terrible stomach cramps. I couldn't roll over, could barely move and the pain was constant. After trying to rid myself of the pain in anyway I could think of (I'll spare you the details) I hit the net to see if there was anything that could have caused all of the upset.

Logging onto Arby's website, I found that their curly fries contain a heavy amount of garlic-flavoring in their salt. So this explained why I was hugging a bucket on the toilet for about an hour.

Once I discovered that garlic was the culprit - at first I didn't think that it was since normally I'm sick within 30 minutes of eating it - I went to the kitchen and gobbled down some peanut butter sandwiches. Don't ask me why but for some reason, peanut butter kills the garlic poisoning within a half-hour at most.

So...

For the record: Garlic Poisoning Bad. Arby's fries taste good but are also Bad.

Grr.

Curse this mortal existence!

How I spent my Labor Day

... A Pictorial Essay.






Notice that the man in the gray shirt was present in the last picture. He, my father, still lives.

And people say that I'm not filled with compassion.

I'm positively a font of human kindness.

This is where you belong...

Good: Having someone that I went to High School tell me that I'm a good Professor.
Evil: McAngus Bacon Cheddar Burger.

Since the first day of classes, I was a bit uncomfortable about having someone in my class that I knew personally. This is something that is never encouraged due to all the issues of favoritism that could come up. However, since I hadn't spoken to that person in nearly seventeen years, I did not think it that much of a problem; at least professionally speaking.

My style of teaching is very much driven by interaction with the students. I want them to give me their feedback, their thoughts on a particular topic. I constantly ask them to tell me what they think on various issues that we're discussing hoping that they'll understand the topic more because it's relevant to their own lives. When it comes to someone that I've grown up with - this could be possibly a problem. It's easy for a student to say that they grew up with a person who has done "something" or knew of someone who had "something else" happen to them if they don't know the professor. They're a fairly anonymous face in the crowd as far as that goes. However, when you know that person for years, you know their family - know their history and could easily put two and two together to create a more complete picture of their own childhood.

It goes both ways. I continually use examples from my own childhood to illustrate points in class. Usually the students are nearly fifteen years younger than I am so there's no frame of reference for them. When there's someone in the class who knew me growing up - it's like revealing part of your life to them on a more personal basis. They -knew- what you were like growing up, or knew what kind of kid you were, etc.

Well, all of this was what had been crawling through my head for the past week or so with one student in particular.

Stella is a woman that I met in middle school, I believe. We grew up together having mutual friends but not mutual interests. In the broadest sense of how I felt about her - she was nice. This is a huge difference to the majority of the people I grew up with who I could classify as "will be destroyed when my army of evil robots arrive" or not-nice.

She found me after class last night and wanted to touch base since we've only briefly spoken a word or two within the context of the lecture. The first thing that she said blew me away.

"This is where you belong. You were -meant- to be a professor."

I couldn't stop grinning.

She had heard stories from her co-workers as to how I taught and what kind of professor I was, but she said that she couldn't imagine me as being "that Riley". After three weeks had passed, she was more than impressed.

I don't think my feet touched the ground all the way to the parking lot.

Even now as I type this, I'm grinning once more.

It's good to know that others feel the same way about your career choice. I'm glad that I'm no longer working for the City / Count / State any more. I think that if I had continued working with them I would continue to be an angry, unhealthy person. Here, I can use my skills for what they were meant for.

Notice, I did not say "Use my powers for good".

Change happens slowly.

Blue Paper

Evil: Rippled Potato Chips & French Onion Dip
Good: Helping a student find a tutor for their writing skills

Today was the start of the second, full week of classes on campus. It's been long enough that many classes have had at least one grade recorded for some homework, assignment or the like. This is also when a lot of students decide to change their schedule based on those grades so they walk around campus with blue scheduling forms to get signatures.

So, while waiting for my Psychology class, I had two students come to get my signature to drop the class. Let me tell you a little about them.

Student #1: This student is in his mid-forties and had a bad educational history. He quit school at 15, came back to get his GED at 30 and now came back at 45 to get an actual degree in something. He had never written anything more than his name or the occasional list so when he was given my assignment - he freaked. "In two pages, tell me what you hope to learn in this class." This is a standard assignment I give to my students - it's a 'plot device' to help me grab their interest in some of the material to be covered in the class. I also use it to get a sense of who are going to be the serious students and who are the Sheeple. Student #1 didn't strike me as a Sheeple - but he just didn't have the skills that one needs to jump into college and run. In my opinion he would be an average student once he completed a 'pre-college' program; something to help him learn how to write, proof-read and construct professional papers. This student couldn't type without capitalizing every other word and ignoring all punctuation and rules of spelling. I could tell that he was sort of getting the material that we were covering, but he didn't have the skills to communicate them very well.

Unfortunately, student #1 decided to drop the course. I would not be surprised if he doesn't finish his first year without serious attention to his professional / academic skills.

Student #2 was a punk; at least that's what I originally thought. With more tattoos, piercings and successful attacks on the English language than I have notebooks - he seemed like he was just in school for the overage money. He didn't sit in class - he sprawled across two desks because he 'wasn't comfortable'. He would ask questions that had nothing to do with the topic being discussed - and then become argumentative if I didn't answer him immediately. The cap was when I noticed that he had nothing with him to write - or write on. so all the times he was asking questions, it seemed as though he had no intention of capturing the material in the lecture and that I was there for his amusement. If you can't tell - I was not amused.

Then, out of the blue (ok, bad joke - I own it), he came by my office today with a blue paper in his hand. He explained that he did not have anything to write on or write with in class because, get this, he -couldn't- write. I was confused and asked him if he just had problems taking notes, or couldn't focus his attention - etc. He explained that he was constantly passed up the grades through High School because no one wanted him in class - that they didn't want to help him learn. Being the paranoid, suspicious person that I am, I countered him and said that if he was going to be successful in college - he had to help himself. He had not written the paper or taken a single note yet in any of his classes because he didn't know how. So, I got a hold of some of the services we have on campus, even walked him down to the tutoring center so he could get signed up for help. They said that they could help him teach himself - something that he seemed to respond to quickly. Rather than waiting on someone else to help him - he would do it himself with a little help from others.

While he was filling out some paperwork for the Center, I went back to my office to grab one of my spare notebooks (yes, I carry an extra in my bag. You never know) and brought it back to him. I gave him a pen and notebook and told him that he doesn't have any other excuses. He has the help and now the materials to survive on Shawnee's campus. What he did from then on was on -his- shoulders. It was sort of a 'grow up or shut up' speech that I've given a few other students and considered the matter closed.

Psychology came and went and as I was closing up shop and answering some questions from straggling students, I saw him pausing in the wings. He still had the notebook and pen that I gave him and I saw him writing furiously in class. He put the notebook on the podium and wanted me to look through his notes. We talked about what he wrote (which was pretty good concerning the topic today was Abnormal Psychology) and he said that he was going to 'impress' me this term.

I was surprised but willing to give the guy some latitude. We'll see where this goes.

ATQ
-T