Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Nothing Funny about U.C. Part 1

This is part 1 of a 6 year battle against Ulcerative Colitis.
In July of 99 a young Soldier went to the Battalion Aid Station in Germany complaining of stomach cramps and bleeding. Little did he know 6 years latter he would be sitting in a doctors chair with her talking about removing his colon.......
On night after returning from a weekend at his girlfriends, a young Soldier noticed the unmistakable color of blood on his tissue. He had been having stomach cramps for about a week, but thought nothing of them. Having had his Grandmother and more recently his Cousin of 32 die of colon cancer, fear went down his spine. He remember the Army had issued a small guide to your health and immediately grabbed it and started thumbing through it. "If you have bright red blood in your stool.... Immediately go to the doctors!"
The next day there was no question in his mind, he was going to the Aid Station. Problem was he was an Infantryman. They aren't supposed to get sick, and they definitely aren't supposed to get sick down there. Unless they caught an S.T.D. Somehow that was cool? As he was filling out the "Sick Call Slip" he stopped when it came to illness. What was he supposed to write? Knowing all the medics in the battalion, and knowing all of them went threw the medical records (even if it was wrong). He knew what he was going to write was going to be read and get around the whole battalion fast, but he didn't care. He was scared. And so the Soldier wrote " BLOOD IN MY POOP!...."
Unfortunately for him the Commander of the Battalion Aid Station was a man by the name of Doc Bunch. He was a tall black man that probably played football for the University of Alabama. The Soldiers foot could fit in the palm of the doctor's hand, which was a very bad thing in his situation. The Soldier explained the situation of his grandmother and cousin and how scared he was. The doctor assured him it wasn't cancer "Bright red blood is never cancer." Doc Bunch then read the sick call slip and asked a few questions then he asked the Soldier to do the unthinkable. "Turn around and slide your shorts down". Oh the Horror, the misery... and this was only the beginning of a long 6 years of pain. Luckily this only lasted a few seconds, unfortunately the good doctor didn't have much experience in this area and needed the Soldier to go to the bigger clinic down the road. The Soldier wiped the squishy stuff from his cheek's, pulled up his shorts and limped down the road to the next clinic. This would be the first of several walks from clinic to clinic with squishy stuff between his cheeks and no answers to his questions as to what or why.
The next clinic was ran by a small Asian 2nd Lieutenant. As he walked in and was met by her a pit fell to his stomach. It was bad enough a dude stuck a finger in his butt, but a chick????? He couldn't bear to look her in the eyes. She read over his chart and what Doc Bunch had wrote and then came to his Sick Call Slip and chuckled. She pulled a pin from her pocket and crossed out "POOP!..." and wrote "stool." Now why couldn't he think of that word? She led him down a dark dreary hallway and into a room and asked him to put a gown on with the "slit in the back." She must of had a couple of dumb grunts, as Infantryman were called put the gown on the wrong way.
Two fingers in one day. As he sat there with nothing on but his gown and his combat boots. He could remember how much hell he had given his father when he had gotten "The Finger" on his last physical. What goes around comes around. One good thing maybe the 2nd Lieutenant had gone to get a male nurse. Is that weird? For some reason, he would rather have a man stick a figure in his bum then that cute 2nd Lieutenant. No luck. In she came..... shortly after, she came to the conclusion it was IBS (Irritable Bowl Syndrome). She said to eat a lot of bran foods and it would be fine. If it was still acting up in two weeks he should follow up with Doc Bunch.
The Soldier left the clinic feeling pretty good, humiliated but it wasn't cancer. He went back to the barracks a waited by the phone. He had mentioned to his mother the blood so he could imagine the worry she was going through. He had injured his knee in Basic Training and she didn't sleep for three months. At four o'clock that day he made the phone call. "It's just IBS. No big deal. No need to worry". He would always say that, but he knew she would. Every since he walked into his living room 2 years earlier and announced he was joining the Army, and not just the Army but the Infantry, she had worried.
That next afternoon his bath roommate walked in and asked if "he had a little blood in his poop?" he happened to be a medic. You need to understand the military medics are one of a kind. In the heat of battle there is no one you would rather have by your side. But when you are in garrison they like to get in trouble. A lot of trouble. So for the next week or two he had to hear all the jokes you can imagine a battalion of Infantry Soldiers could put together. Luckily for him they got a couple of new Soldiers in and the attention went from him and his bottom to them.
The two weeks past with no change, his stomach still hurt and there was still blood. He really did try and stick with eating more bran. The problem was the Army didn't cater to Soldiers in the field. And they spent a lot of time in the field.
The night before he was due for a check-up he sat on his girlfriends bed by himself and cried. He knew the doctors had said "Bright red blood is never cancer", but he was scared. He thought back to his grandma and her laying in her bed the last time he saw her. He was the last person she could recognize, he couldn't hold the tears back. It had been a longtime since he had cried. Probably since she had passed away.
Monday morning came and the Soldier went back to Doc Bunch. He explained if anything it had gotten worse. He Figured the doctor would just have him go back to the 2nd Lieutenant so he wasn't prepared for what happened next. Doc Bunch asked him yet again to turn around and slide his short to the ground. As he did this the Soldier remembered what what the doctor had said before, about how he didn't have much experience in this area. Never the less he did as he was told. A few second later standing there with the squishy stuff between his cheeks, Doc Bunch told him he still didn't know what was causing this. "What! You don't know what is causing this! Why did you you stick your huge finger in my bum again?" The Soldier thought. He explained, he needed to watch his diet and drink lots of water. "Yes sir," the Soldier replied. As he left the Aid Station, again limping down the road squishy stuff between his cheeks and still having no answers.
Stay tuned....Next, the army's version of a colonoscopy......

Picking a name?

Isn't it amazing how hard it is to pick a name for everyone to know you as. You don't want to make it too obvious in case you are having a bad day and don't really want the person you are closest too, to find out really what you are thinking. At the same time you want it to have some meaning.
To be honest the only reason I was in this predicament is to be able to comment on a blog my witty sister has set up. I have no intention of trying to compete with her when it comes to this dribble. For heavens sake she has a prestigious degree and I, with the help of her got a "D" in the one attempt at College English.
As far as the the name "The Partial Godfather", its hard to call yourself a "Godfather" when in truth I couldn't tell you when my Godchild's birthday is. Not that that is saying much, I really couldn't tell you when my mother or fathers birthday is either. Ever since my little mishap with the dreadful Listeria it has become even harder to remember such important things. Not that I was great at it before. As much as I would love to be the "Full Godfather" and be more in Elder Miss's life. It is hard when she is across a huge pond, and since my father didn't start me in golf when I was 8 as Tigers dad did (don't worry I forgive you father). I do not have the funds it takes to see her as often as I would like.
Reason two for the "Partial" is ever since the bout with Listeria and the M- countdown, I no longer feel like I am a whole.... well anything? Hopefully with time and I am sure even more drugs this will change.
To be honest I don't know how much I will write. Hopefully you will be less critical then that Liberal English Professor. Thanks for wasting your important time on this mindless dribble....