My Stay-O at the Mayo: Pt. I...

Quick update from Day 1 of MAYOPALOOZA '08! Woke up at 6 a.m. today feeling like the sun-baked husk of a cicada nymph because of the fasting I had to do last night. Something I've learned? Apparently, your body needs liquid in it in order to take a goddamn dump. I was unable to successfully lay some pipe this morning before all the festivities, so that has certainly put a taint on the day. Heh... taint.

Anywhich, today has been a whirlwind, so far. Met with the doc, Dr. G, who is apparently THE goto dude for amyloidosis in pretty much the world. Very nice guy -- kind of a John Turturro meets a guy who looks kinda like John Turturro... but older, type. I told him my entire saga, he did a fairly quick physical exam and then he told me that he's somewhat dubious about the diagnosis, but wants to redo some of the tests before he makes any real judgments.

So, he whisked me off to get another fat-pad aspiration sample, some blood tests and to pick up a giant moonshine bottle for a 24-hour-whiz-collection Peestravaganza!



The dude who performed the fat aspiration was totally cool -- not a douche like that asshead who did it back in Lansing. And this guy did the fine-needle kind and not the giant core-needle biopsy like Dr. Asshead. In and out -- zip and zip. He told me that a lot of the more inexperienced pathologists fuck the fat pad test up, and that, if there's anything actually in my fat, they'll find it at Mayo. He was strangely comforting, as he sucked meat out of my stomach with a needle.

Then I was whooshed over to the blood-letting area, had a few more gallons of blood sucked out of my gnarled and withered veins. Five minutes later, I was being handed the giant pee-collection vessel and told to "fill 'er up!" Apparently, I have to collect my liquid-leavings for 24 hours, which means I either have to hang around this hotel-of-death for the next day, or I have to lug this fucking carafe around with me as I tour the wondrous sites of Rochester. I was thinking of going downstairs to the "Grand Grill," plopping the jug on top of the table and saying to the waitress, "Honey, fetch me a pitcher of lemonade and pot of coffee and keep 'em comin'. I've got me a flagon to fill."

Oh, I forgot to mention the restaurant. The Old Lady and I went there last night so I could have my last supper before my 7 p.m. food/liquid cutoff time. I was told not to eat "anything fatty," so I ordered a cup of wild rice soup and half a turkey sandwich. Sounds lean, right? Well, the soup was like a cup of Campbell's condensed soup, without the added water, so I couldn't fucking eat that, and the sandwich was on a goddamn greasy-ass croissant, so I had to just gum the meat, sans bread. It was truly pathetic. Meanwhile, the Old Lady ordered a Cobb salad, that came with this nuclear-waste-red dressing that tasted like liquid Blow-Pop, and had chunks of turkey so salty, I got a mild goiter just glancing at them.

Oh, and this hotel, man -- it's like a goddamn geriatric-seeking neutron bomb went off here, as there are all these electric wheelchairs just scattered haphazardly around the lobby. Like all the scooter drivers just vaporized instantly, leaving their vehicles idling in the hallways.



And our room is like a smaller college dorm lounge room (think a smaller Clark 3rd, for any Grinnellians out there), but instead of it smelling like stale beer, it smells like BenGay and adult diapers. And old ham.

I swear to shit, think I've aged about 39 years since I've stepped foot in this fucking mausoleum.

But now I basically wait until my follow-up appointment with the doc on Monday. I collect my tinkle until tomorrow morning, and then we're off to Minneapolis for a Saturday amongst the living. Probably check out the art museum and have a meal somewhere that doesn't serve rice pudding and doesn't employ a waitress that calls anyone under the age of 93 "Hon."

Oh, and thanks to everyone who has sent their "positive vibes" my way. I don't know how this mofo is gonna turn out, and I'm not going to speculate because that will surely jinx everything, but all the well-wishes have made me feel less isolated and shitty, so I appreciate that. But for the the next two days, at least, I can pretend I don't have anything, so I think that's just what I'm a-gonna do.