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Greetings, snarkheads! (That's my new name for loyal and faithful readers. All this time off sure has allowed me to think up some great stuff, huh?) I've taken back the reins of my column a week earlier than expected. (Or a lot later than expected, depending on your viewpoint.) I'll take this opportunity to thank Greg, Dim and SEW for filling in for me. For anyone who thinks these guest hosts weren't quite up to my caliber, remember, it's still better than glorified reruns like that Top Ten column a couple of weeks ago with Jilly's new material. (Shame on you, Spicy!)SO, WHERE THE HELL HAVE I BEEN ANYWAY?
Quite a few developments have kept me away from you and yours these past several weeks. To name a few:
--Had emergency surgery and almost died.
--Earned my A.A. degree in English.
--Have been applying to Graduate Schools.
--Went-yeah, you want to go back to the surgery thing, right?
I have been sick since November. I had several flu-like symptoms, the centerpiece of which was massive vomiting. After several weeks of this "flu" coming and going, I finally saw a doctor. After running some tests, the doctor determined I had H. pylori, a bacterium which causes ulcers. This is rare, but not unheard of, for someone my age. I was put on a regimen of four pills a day, twice a day, for two weeks. Most of these were antibiotics. They seemed to help as long as I took them, but as soon as the two weeks passed, my symptoms returned. During this time, my appetite was gone, and when I went back to the doctor (less than three weeks after the first visit), I had lost eighteen pounds. (All in all, I lost sixty pounds during this medical crisis. Luckily, I was fat, and could afford it. I can't see Susan Lucci losing sixty pounds.)
With my problems now officially too much for the town doctor to handle, I was given a prescription for Prilosec, and shunted off to various doctors. I had x-rays and ultrasounds, and an endoscopy. Nothing conclusive was shown. It was theorized that I may have Crohn's Disease, a cronic illness which damages your digestive system. My next scheduled examination was a coloscopy.
I never made it.
Three days before the coloscopy, I began to have serious pain. I thought it was because I was watching DAYS, which is always painful. I became very dizzy and disoriented, and eventually called for an ambulance, which came five minutes later. (It's nice to live in a small town.) I could barely walk out my door, and lock it behind me. I had to lean on the two workers to get inside the ambulance.
After multiple attempts to stick me with an i.v, more x-rays, and hooking a tube up to my-wait, can I say penis around here? Ah, I'll do it anyway.-penis to suck the urine, cause I was so damn weak, the problem became clear. There was some sort of tumor blocking my small intestine. Surgery was needed-ASAP. Of course, this all happened on a Friday afternoon, and it's Hell finding a surgeon on a Friday afternoon, unless you're willing to drive out to the golf course. They did find a surgeon, one Dr. Bedside Manner (more on that later). I was prepped for surgery. I was knocked out. And three hours later, I woke up and had missed the whole thing.
My mother later related several quotes to me from the doctor:
"Yes, this was in his small intestine, and things like that are not very easy to catch."
"Part of his intestine was very twisted and gnarled. I've never seen anything like it. I've never seen anything like this tumor either."
"While we were operating, his blood pressure dropped, and we almost lost him. But we got him back. Oh, and while I was down there, I went ahead and removed his appendix."
Yes, I almost went on the table. You could've come to this column, and the headline would've read: GOD CANCELS SNARK. But, at the last minute, I got renewed.
The next eight days were worse than the surgery. My nose was swollen from tubes. My mouth was dry from an oxygen mask, but I couldn't drink water for two days, and had to swab my lips with a bizarre fluoride Q-Tip. And they still had that tube hooked up to my penis. Worst of all, the TV had an archaic remote with NO back button, and no number buttons. Do you know how hard it is to watch three networks that way? (And with their lousy cable system, there wasn't much more than the BIG 3. But, they did have the Cartoon Network. And TNN, so I could watch RAW on Monday night.)
In the hospital, soap watching became an even more bizarre experience than usual. I began asking myself questions like: Has AMC really gotten stupider, or am I just tired? Why are most of the shows so boring? This is sweeps, right? Hey, I just watched a whole episode of OLTL! Has it really improved, or have the drugs weakened my defense levels? And, why do I find Passions much more enjoyable now that I'm hooked to an I.V. full of morphine? (Spicy George has since told me that mixing Passions with morphine is equivalent to, quote, "dropping some really good acid." Trust him, he's done both. Frequently. Much too frequently.)
I'm home now. The mystery tumor turned out to be a rare polyp. I have a nice scar from my breastbone all the way down to the end of my stomach, complete with 20 side marks leftover from where the staples were. And best of all, I'm no longer on any medication, which means I'm fully lucid and ready to write again.
But, these soaps may send me back to the hospital! Look what's happening. AMC is in the ratings toilet. (Hello, better writing, and equal division of airtime, please!) In fact, ABC daytime seems to be shooting down the ratings tube. (And the first e-mailer blaming it all on Soapnet gets a free smack from me!) JFP's transition to GH is less than smooth. (And will hopefully get bumpier.) GL is now officially a sitcom, thanks to Reva. (AKA: Flying Reva, Blind Reva, and after this week, Daredevil Reva, the Woman Without Fear.) And those Emmy nominations?! How will I ever get to it all?
Oh well. There's always next week.
Comments on past, present, and future columns can be sent to snarkieposter@yahoo.com. I'd especially like to hear your comments on future columns, you wacky psychics, you.