"I never would have thought...it could be me." Those are usually the first words out of someone's mouth who has recently been diagnosed with a serious illness. Usually it's someone within pop-culture or in the mainstream media who will then heighten their fame through various advocacy campaigns. Their goal is to put a face with the disease. However, up until the camera flashes, and the magazine covers claiming, "I survived" appear on newstands, these individuals most often didn't give two shits about the diseases behind their wristband laden charities. Do you think Sheryl Crow will cause a surge in pink wristbands? But...not every public figure saturates a disease with their image. After finding out she had lung cancer last summer, you didn't see Dana Reeve putting her face on a poster. There were no flashy campaigns, no rides to victory, no wristbands...just a gracious woman, her spoken words of strength and a ton of "class" (remember that word?) as she faced the disease head on. Since she was not a smoker, her passing reminds many of us that cancer does not discriminate.
So I'm going to attempt for a moment to be like Dana and take the high road...the way a peach should in a moment of crisis, and bring your attention to my "condition." I promise there will be no "I'm No Peach" wristbands, no articles such as, "How A Peach Almost Became Cobbler And Survived", and no media circus. Because honestly, like I said before, I didn't give two shits about "DVT" before it happened to me.
What was that?
No, it's not the girl that sings the dance/club version of "Listen to Your Heart."
That's "D.H.T."
Love her voice, love the beat of the remix...but nope, not the same thing.
No...no...DVT stands for something far more serious...Deep Vein Thrombosis.
Perhaps this might sound more familiar when I mention the name of NBC journalist, David Bloom. An embedded journalist in Iraq at the start of the war, David, just 39 years old, collapsed and died on April 6, 2003 of a pulmonary embolism. Days before his death as he traveled around in his "Bloom-Mobile" (an armored military vehicle with a camera mounted on top to capture the attack on Iraq), he had complained of pain behind the knee. It is believed he suffered these pains due to days of being cramped up in the "Bloom-Mobile" as they made their way toward Baghdad, remaining inside to eat and sleep. According to sources he had reported his pain to military doctors and consulted with doctors overseas. Believing it to be a symptom of DVT, they advised him to get medical attention. Instead, he ignored their advice, took some pills, and kept on working. The result was unfortunately...death. For David there were no ad campaigns, and no magazine interviews. I have DVT and unlike David, I am taking the doctors advice. Unfortunately, two years ago, I thought I was invincible and did not.
So, many of you have already heard about my gay version of the "Nancy Kerrigan-Tonya Harding" styled-whack-to-the-back of my knee while out at one of Portland's gay night spots during Mardi Gras in 2004. I still don't know how it happened. One moment I was dancing my heart out (maybe I was like D.H.T and I was...listening to it?), and suddenly I felt a whopping blow to my knee. As I went to put my left leg down on the dance floor, I could not bare weight. My knee would not support me. I felt paralyzed. I looked around for friends. Michael Star was doing his Britney thing up on the highly sought "dance box" (yeah, Michael and I need to have a little talk) and my friend Dan was...in the bathroom? I don't remember. As I made my way off the dance floor I stumbled into just about everyone. The assumption was that I was drunk and no one would help me. Long story short, I found Dan and we got out of there. I went to the emergency room the next day but they simply gave me a velcro leg brace and told me to keep it elevated, applying ice as needed. I eventually healed on my own. Since that day I have probably re-injured it three or four other times ...nothing major, just slight twists and because I always healed naturally I didn't bother to seek medical treatment. Last July I injured it again while doing "jump squats" with a temporary trainer. As I came down to land on the tenth squat around the room, POP went the knee. This resulted in me having an MRI. I got the results back in September and as expected my ACL was torn. Once again, I healed on my own without further medical treatment. I declined the option of surgery because the doctor at the time told me it wasn't necessary if I wasn't planning on doing any extreme activity. Extreme activity? What? Like dancing? How about sex on the knees?
TIme soon passed which brings me to last week. While performing a stretch/lunge routine with my reliable trainer Brandon, I simply stretched too far and down I went. It was the most excruciating pain I've had to date. I couldn't move. After an hour of keeping it on ice he supplied me with a pilates stick so that I could get downstairs to retrieve my belongings from my locker. Of course since we had been exercising, I was sweaty and needed to shower. I know, I'm crazy but who wants to stink when they go to the doctor? So I found a way to undress and suprisingly made it into the shower, hobbling on my right foot and using the pilates stick for support. I did my thing and as I was leaving the shower...the pilates stick slipped and I went falling to the ground.
I was mortified! Three other men happened to be showering at the time. Nudity must bring out a nuturing component in every male, as each one took the time to walk over to make sure I was ok....completely naked. One even offered to help pick me up off the floor...but how do you maintain composure when you are lying there half covered by a towel and someone's penis is hovering above your head? I've heard of tea-bagging, but I wasn't in the mood. I've seen people pee in the shower and have discovered a curly pube here and there so my first thought is that the wet tile floor wasn't exactly an ideal place to remain. I admit it, I'm a GERMAPHOBE. I reached for my stick...the pilates stick...and found a way up.
Since that day I have spent quite a few days visiting with the doctor and the physical therapist. Unfortunately, the news hasn't been good. After mentioning a severe pain in my calf to my physical therapist, I was given an ultra-sound on Monday (thank god I "manscape") and unfortunately they detected a blood clot behind the knee. They are not sure when it formed, but there is a possiblity it is an older blood clot. The blood clot is due to DVT (Deep Vein Thrombosis). I am 31. I have too much of a life let to live to have a potentially fatal disease. The good news is that it has been detected and I have been given medication which includes two injections to the stomach daily for the next 7-10 days, and a drug known as Coumadin (a blood thinner) which I will take for the next six months. Our hope is that the clot will dissolve. I will also need to have blood drawn for the next several mornings so that they can let me know what dosage of Coumadin to take each evening. This is not...going to be fun. The fear of course is that the clot will dislodge and travel up the leg to the lung or heart. If this happens it can prove fatal. I am confident that it will not. I believe strongly enough in my doctor (thank God for women doctors!) and my family to know that I am in good hands.
So while I won't be appearing on the cover of a magazine any time soon (except maybe for my obsession with Madonna), trust me when I say, "If you have a knee injury or any type of leg injury, get your peachy ass to the doctor before it becomes cobbler!"
Lots of love,
The Peach!
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