In Which We Indulge in Bloodsports

I realize a lot of my posts lately focus on my struggles with the American medical industry, but when you reach my incredibly advanced age, medicine is about the most interesting thing you have going on.  I used to be an expert on sex clubs in San Francisco and now I have opinions about doctors' waiting rooms all over town.

Anyway.

My latest medical misadventure started when my regular doctor told me my blood work showed that I had too many red blood cells.  Does that seem like a problem?  It sounded like some kind of superpower to me.  Actually, initially I thought she was saying I had anemia, which is sort of too few red blood cells and which led to a very confusing chat.  Eventually she was able to cut through my mental static and explain that too many red blood cells makes your blood too thick which can lead to strokes.  Oops.  So, not a superpower, is what I'm hearing you say. 

Of course this finding led to me being handed off to yet another doctor, because that's what my life is these days.  As I wandered into the hematologist's office, I thought "this place looks really familiar" but there are plenty of offices in that building and I assumed the bland decoration simply must be common there.  It wasn't until I sat down for my conference with the good doctor, that I suddenly realized I was back in the same office where Rman was treated for the cancer that killed him.  It turns out the hematologist is also an oncologist and was Rman's doctor.  I mentioned to him that he had broken the bad news to us at that very table.  He was sympathetic, but seemed to want to talk more about my blood.  Fucking vampire.

The condition has a fancy name, polycythemia, because it's a fancy condition and I am a fancy boy for having it.  The fancy condition led to a gala round of tests and blood work and an ultrasound slideshow.  Of course that entailed even more waiting rooms which all could have benefited from my homosexual good decorating skills.  I circled back to the doctor/vampire and he dropped a whole bunch of medical words (which he might have been making up for all I know) and then concluded that he didn't know what was causing the problem. Oh, I am so glad we got that out of the way. The treatment was to remove some of the too thick blood, which had the sound of a quaint 18th century bloodletting.  I was concerned leeches might be involved. 

I had my first blood session last week and it was really easy.  The very chill chicks who drained me initially said it would take about a half hour.  Pooh.  I was through in literally less than 5 minutes.  Turns out I am just that good at bleeding.  I then got to watch them dump the equipment and a bag of my blood into the medical waste bin.  That's okay, it's not like I was using that anyway. 

The only other advice I got about dealing with the polycythemia was to drink more water and thus help thin out my blood, but I think "drink more water" is just one of those standard bromides that doctors trot out regularly.  My pee is always very pale and clear so I am convinced I'm not particularly dehydrated.  Nevertheless, I have been guzzling water like a camel getting ready for a caravan.  Speaking of pee, about 3/4 of my waking hours are now spent in the bathroom, pissing away. Should I cut myself when shaving, I'm sure I will leak water like the Titanic. 

Also, I suffer from kitties taking up all the room in the bed. 

Dickheads.  I am surrounded by dickheads.

Dickheads (and butts) I wish I was surrounded by:

I'm sure your neighbors appreciate the view.

I'll just hang out here.  Thanks.

I forget this guy's name, but then, he has forgotten how to put his panties on.

Some superior buttchops, but also feets for all you feet freaks out there.

We are going long on asses this week, because that's what I have to work with.

I am not 100 percent sure this guy is not AI, but I am convinced he is too cute to ignore.  Complaints that he is not nude should be addressed to someone who gives a fuck.

In this week's edition of Baroque Butt.