Wednesday, September 20, 2006


I'm sorry I've been absent from my ever lonesome blog. But it's been a helluva September so far.

My body has decided that Dialysis isn't enough of a hellish burden (two hell references in the first two sentences, sheesh) that my body needs to react even when I'm not at the clinic.

I believed that I had, in my ever evolving late 30's, developed allergies.

That turns out not to be the case.

Greek Goddess informed me that because my body slowly stores fluid from the moment I leave Dialysis, that my body reacts with coughing, sneezing and general stuffiness in an attempt to alleviate my system.

What follows is a gross description of how this is highly tortuous on my body.

Most mornings I wake to a nose full of snot and a debilitating need to cough. Phlegm tries to escape through my esophogus and nasal passages, but instead, is sanctioned into my stomach.

The coughing irritates my digestive system and it starts to become sore.

Then more and more phlegm swims with my stomach acid and creates a Stacy Vomitorium.

You can guess what happens next. It's a plot point I would care to stick in the guy who screams at everyone at Dialysis, but instead yours truly, the put upon protagonst, must stab himself with this truth and attempt to move on.

This is highly regrettable when it happens at work. No one wants to hear someone puking their guts out when they're trying to sell air time to a plumber in Glen Ellen.

I slyly asked for a key to the bathroom on the breezeway. Very few people use it because we have four bathrooms for men and women within the walls of this fine broadcasting empire.

But the receptionist isn't stupid. She sees me race out there, fumbling with the keyhole as I try to keep from spewing all over the generic male bathroom icon.

Most of the time I haven't eaten anything, so it's just clear mucus. But it makes it's presence known before being spiraled into the waste water system by leaving a burning sensation all along my esophagus.

I've noticed that I digest food pretty fast these days, because I'll try and hold some food down and then a half hour later have to spew. A lot of times I'm thankful for that fact.

I truly miss the days when all I had to worry about was whether I woke up early enough to watch "Speed Racer" in syndication.

When I was twelve years old shuttling back and forth from UCSF for my continual hospital visits, I would listen to Frank and Mike in the morning on KNBR. They were a duo morning team and my inspiration for wanting to be a broadcaster.

I would imagine the possibility of working on the radio, having as much fun as those two seemed to have each and every day.

It's intersting to witness how a dream is never truly fulfilled the way you imagined.

Nobody really ever wants their own Vomitorium. It's vile and disgusting and shouldn't be a part of anyone's life.

Which is probably why I won't charge admission.

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