Coagulant

Coagulate: (v) to change a fluid into a solid

Every once in a while, my silly little boy shows up to take over my manly frame.

For what I hope is a brief time, I start thinking like a child or an adolescent instead of taking advantage of the library of my journey.

One day I convinced myself I was having a heart attack. Of course, the more I considered that my heart was being attacked, the more abundantly symptoms leaped to the forefront to do their best imitation, trying to reinforce my foolishness.

Eventually I found it necessary to drive to the emergency room and check in.

Well, nobody questioned my contention because…well, because I’m fat. After all, that’s what fat people do. They eat too much cake and pizza and have heart attacks. Since I wasn’t eating, the possibility of cardiac arrest was available.

So they put me on a treatment while they tried to figure out what to do with me. One of the things they gave me was an anti-coagulant. This is a drug that keeps your blood from clotting. I didn’t think anything about it.

But when it turned out that I had mingled a case of indigestion with an anxiety attack to simulate a cardiac event, they sent me home. They offered one warning: “Keep in mind, if you cut yourself, it’ll be very difficult to stop the bleeding.”

I ignored them.

That evening when I went into my bathroom to shave, I did nick myself. I put a little piece of toilet paper on it, as gents often do, but it continued to bleed down my neck, over and over and over again.

I do not know when it eventually coagulated, because I had to lay down and wrap it in gauze.

Whatever they intended for that particular drug was very effective.

I could not coagulate.

So as it turns out, on that particular day my greatest danger was not having a heart attack, but rather, bleeding to death from shaving.

 

 

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Blockage

Blockage: (n) an obstruction that makes movement or flow difficult or impossible.

Dictionary B

Sometimes I forget how it works.

I mean, I understand when I take my car to the repair shop, that there will be a whole list of things presented to me, that need to be done to the vehicle because the mechanic is:

A. Trying to restore the car to good shape, and

B. Attempting to make as much money as possible.

But when it comes to the doctor’s office, I can’t seem to convince myself that they, too, are practitioners who want to make things perfect–while also acquiring a profit.

Every human being needs to be aware–especially males–that eventually you will go into your doctor’s office and be told that you have a blockage. Yes, there’s some buildup in your arteries that forewarns of a heart attack.

You see, the first time I was told this, I freaked out. Matter of fact, I had a minor anxiety attack, which simulated the heart attack they promised would eventually come due to my blockage. Then, when it turned out to be nothing, they kind of treated me like I was stupid for getting so upset.

So what you have in the medical field are people who will make extreme statements, assuming you know how to filter them to realistic interpretation.

If you do not know how to do that, you will listen to them and be afraid to leave the parking lot … because you are convinced that you’re very near to having a stroke.

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Blizzard

Blizzard: (n) a severe snowstorm with high winds and low visibility.

Dictionary B

Actually, a blizzard is just more than I want.

I will call it a blizzard because it has met my disapproval and it is inconvenient:

  • A blizzard of activity
  • A blizzard of problems.
  • And of course, a blizzard of snow.

Many years ago, driving home, I found myself in the midst of one of those classic midwest winter squalls. I had an old car which had a heater with memories but no present evidence, and bald tires, which were known to slip even on rain.

Listening to the radio, I was informed that we were in the midst of a blizzard. Being a young man and not having my frontal lobe fully in place, I freaked out. I began to imagine myself sliding off the road, landing in the ditch and freezing to death before I could be discovered by some perseverant mailman who was paid to deliver his goods no matter what.

I tried to calm myself down, but a blizzard of fear entered my blizzard of misunderstanding and created a blizzard of anxiety. My heart rate went up and I was convinced that I was about to experience cardiac arrest.

It was enough just to keep the car on the road, but I decided to add an anxiety attack, just to keep things interesting.

Somehow or another, I managed to drive the fifteen miles to my house, climb the stairs and make it inside. I drank a cup of hot tea and my heart attack went away. (I can recommend the cure.)

Now I realize how we name things affects our view of life, which determines the energy we place in our endeavors.

In other words, you never achieve more traction by calling a flurry a blizzard.

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Antacid

dictionary with letter A

Antacid: (n.) a preventative to correct acidity, usually in the stomach.

All of us human mortals suffer from some form of “wimp factor.”

It’s not easy to admit, especially if you’re preoccupied with the notion of appearing macho or self-reliant.

But honestly, one of the more endearing factors about being a part of this race is that when we get candid with one another about our foolishness and silliness, we can really be quite charming.

I think the first time I was consciously aware of having a bad case of indigestion was in my early twenties. I had never even considered antacid or assistance of any sort for my digestive tract.

Being a silly goose, I assumed that the rumblings in my chest were the onset of a heart attack. Even though it would be unusual for anyone of my age to be plagued by such a tragedy, I convinced myself that I was the exception to the rule, and rather than having ingested a very greasy piece of smoked sausage, I had clogged up an artery which was trying to keep me from breathing.

So every time I felt the little twinge of pain, I frantically took deep breaths to make sure I would maintain consciousness, and in doing so hyperventilated, only increasing my worry, which led to having an anxiety attack–which, by the way, feels similar to the heart variety.

It was so silly–especially when I found myself in an emergency room and they poured out some white liquid in a small cup, and I asked them if it was for my heart. The nurse calmly replied, “No. It’s Di-gel. For your belly ache.”

I only spent half an hour there, and received some giggles from the attending physician, who told me that if I didn’t lose weight, I probably would be in there with a heart attack in thirty years or so, but I was safe for the time being.

I know there are people who have to use antacids all the time, but basically, if you don’t eat too much fatty food while also consuming large amounts of fluid, you can usually avoid gastric distress.

And if you do happen to have a twinge in your belly that radiates up into your chest, don’t immediately assume that you’re dying.

You are one belch away from salvation.

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