943 Arthritis of the Whosis
When you do something stupid, you pay for it. But sometimes when you don’t do something stupid, you still pay for it.
A long time ago a twisted knee turned into arthritis and a torn “whosis.” (Whosis is one of those “un-official” and crypto-technical medical terms for something no one can spell or pronounce.) This was from an act of stupidity.
This particular “whosis” is in the left knee. The knee has been a traveling companion for almost 70 years. The banged up, twisted, torn whosis has only been around for a few years.
It was an act of stupidity that produced it. But most of the time, it’s tamed. Housebroken, if you will. Sometimes, though, it asserts itself for no obvious reason. Like now. And that’s not from an act of stupidity.
When your whosis flares infrequently, you forget what you’ve been taught about treating it. So... let’s buy a heating pad. Here’s one that says you feel heat in 30 seconds. Made of a plushy kind of fabric you can hand wash. Electronic controls. Six levels of heat. Mmmmm … feels goood.
But it doesn’t do much for the pain.
Wait, don’t they say try ice? Yes! But ice is too cold. So how about rubber banding a refrigerated water bottle to the knee. Not quite as cold as ice. But cold enough. And the grooves in the bottled water bottle prevent it from slipping out of the rubber band and forcing you to pick it up, which you can’t because when the knee goes, everything else in the body compensates and you get aches where you never knew there was anything to ache.
There are disadvantages. For example, the imbecile in the parking lot who says “Hey, Mack, you know you have a water bottle on your knee?” “Oh, really? Wow, you’re right. Hey, how’d that get there?”
Water bottle on the knee is a lot better that water on the knee.
The orthopedists tell you ice the knee for 20 minutes at a time. Who has 20 minutes to sit there and hold an ice pack? The rubber banded water bottle is a nice compromise. Maybe wearing it in public isn’t the brightest idea. Or even the coldest. But it beats sitting there for 20 minutes at a clip, cooling your heels … or your whosis.
Is there a waiting list for prospective whosis transplants? Is this part of the organ donor program?
Shrapnel:
--You can’t make this stuff up: a breast cancer awareness cement truck. Really. All pink -- cab, doors, roof, trailer -- everything except the big cylinder that actually holds the cement... and that has a huge pink “awareness” ribbon decal on the side.
--Think they’ll come up with a waterproof Kindle? Might not be a bad idea considering how much reading is done in the bathroom. Brings a whole new meaning to the term “dirty books.”
--Martha Stewart taught us all (again) the other night how to cook a turkey. Hers came out picture perfect. Makes you wonder how many re-takes they did to get that segment right and that turkey as perfect as a Norman Rockwell painting... and what they did with the eight or nine turkeys that turned out like most of ours usually do, and that you didn’t get to see.
I’m Wes Richards. My opinions are my own but you’re welcome to them. ®
Please address comments to wesrichards@gmail.com
© WJR 2011
When you do something stupid, you pay for it. But sometimes when you don’t do something stupid, you still pay for it.
A long time ago a twisted knee turned into arthritis and a torn “whosis.” (Whosis is one of those “un-official” and crypto-technical medical terms for something no one can spell or pronounce.) This was from an act of stupidity.
This particular “whosis” is in the left knee. The knee has been a traveling companion for almost 70 years. The banged up, twisted, torn whosis has only been around for a few years.
It was an act of stupidity that produced it. But most of the time, it’s tamed. Housebroken, if you will. Sometimes, though, it asserts itself for no obvious reason. Like now. And that’s not from an act of stupidity.
When your whosis flares infrequently, you forget what you’ve been taught about treating it. So... let’s buy a heating pad. Here’s one that says you feel heat in 30 seconds. Made of a plushy kind of fabric you can hand wash. Electronic controls. Six levels of heat. Mmmmm … feels goood.
But it doesn’t do much for the pain.
Wait, don’t they say try ice? Yes! But ice is too cold. So how about rubber banding a refrigerated water bottle to the knee. Not quite as cold as ice. But cold enough. And the grooves in the bottled water bottle prevent it from slipping out of the rubber band and forcing you to pick it up, which you can’t because when the knee goes, everything else in the body compensates and you get aches where you never knew there was anything to ache.
There are disadvantages. For example, the imbecile in the parking lot who says “Hey, Mack, you know you have a water bottle on your knee?” “Oh, really? Wow, you’re right. Hey, how’d that get there?”
Water bottle on the knee is a lot better that water on the knee.
The orthopedists tell you ice the knee for 20 minutes at a time. Who has 20 minutes to sit there and hold an ice pack? The rubber banded water bottle is a nice compromise. Maybe wearing it in public isn’t the brightest idea. Or even the coldest. But it beats sitting there for 20 minutes at a clip, cooling your heels … or your whosis.
Is there a waiting list for prospective whosis transplants? Is this part of the organ donor program?
Shrapnel:
--You can’t make this stuff up: a breast cancer awareness cement truck. Really. All pink -- cab, doors, roof, trailer -- everything except the big cylinder that actually holds the cement... and that has a huge pink “awareness” ribbon decal on the side.
--Think they’ll come up with a waterproof Kindle? Might not be a bad idea considering how much reading is done in the bathroom. Brings a whole new meaning to the term “dirty books.”
--Martha Stewart taught us all (again) the other night how to cook a turkey. Hers came out picture perfect. Makes you wonder how many re-takes they did to get that segment right and that turkey as perfect as a Norman Rockwell painting... and what they did with the eight or nine turkeys that turned out like most of ours usually do, and that you didn’t get to see.
I’m Wes Richards. My opinions are my own but you’re welcome to them. ®
Please address comments to wesrichards@gmail.com
© WJR 2011
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