Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Regardless, the question remains: Can you look like Tom, and still be uber-cool like me? I have included a survey above and would like your feedback only if your answers are a, b, or c. (In fairness to my children, I used to wear glasses more consistently than I do now.)
Monday, January 16, 2012
Shea and Chelsea are still smiling. They were in loads of pain three plates later.
Below is a picture of The Big Nasty--aka Colton Guerney. He got off to a slow start this year, but I still have confidence that he will end up on the podium at the State tournament. West Valley has two good 285 lb wrestlers this year, both of whom could place. I included a picture of Colton because, well, he is The Big Nasty, and because I wanted to mention my role as a volunteer assistant coach in the context of this post. It's my job to wrestle the big guys and coach them up. Well, it was my role until Christmas break when I tore my MCL at practice. I won't bore my World Wide Readership with the details of my injury, but suffice it to say that Dillon Foster (a former state placer for WVHS) has gained a little weight since he graduated. The good news is I don't need surgery; the bad news is I can't wrestle for another 3 weeks. I was determined to help Colton get better. Not being able to help is a big disappointment. I have a lot of big events on my outdoor calendar for 2012 so I need to be patient and get this thing healed, so I'm probably not going to live wrestle for the rest of the year.
However, what is of most interest to my World Wide Readership is my impressive medical acumen and spot on analysis concerning my injury. I immediately diagnosed my injury when it occurred. I briefly (and dramatically) whined about the pain, and then turned to "Fatty Foster" and declared,
"You Fatty, you tore my dang MCL! "
"Trust me, I know these things." I added, "Although, I'm pretty sure it's not surgical."
"Coach how do you know it was your MCL? You're not a doctor."
Upon my arrival at home, I declared to my caring and concerned spouse,
"Fatty Foster tore my dang MCL, but don't worry it's not surgical."
Her reply? "What makes you think you actually tore something? You're not a doctor. I swear, you are so dramatic!" (or words to that effect)
"Trust me, I know these things," was all I could muster.
Now somewhere between my competitive wrestling at USU and my 50th birthday, the She-wolf tired of my immature decision (her words, not mine) to keep wrestling for fun. "You're just going to get hurt, and when you do, I will quarter you no sympathy." I have mostly been impervious to big injuries (setting aside the two orthopedic surgeries for torn ligaments in my left shoulder and left thumb). So it was with great humility when I pleaded with her to drive me to the Ortho Clinic to obtain the drugs and crutches I needed. To be certain, I didn't need a diagnosis--I already had that!
The Ortho Clinic scheduled an MRI to confirm my diagnosis as well as a follow up appointment with PA-C Todd Curtis, to confirm my treatment recommendations. In the end, what I needed most from the medical community was drugs. That's almost always what I need from the medical community. Now there might come a day when I need Dr. Brett DeGooyer and PA-C Curtis to actually treat me, but until then, what I really need is a medical license to prescribe myself drugs.
I am not sure how these things are accomplished. It's too late for me to actually attend medical school and sit for medical boards. I don't have time for that. If I could just get the license, my life would be much simpler. One thing is for certain, I could reduce some of the congestion and out-of-control medical costs we all face. In particular, I would save myself a heck-of-a lot of money. If granted, I would be entirely magnanimous about this gesture in that I wouldn't charge anyone for my expertise. So, if you really care about my well-being and want to help resolve this health-care crisis, please do something about it and help me get what I most needed for Christmas--a medical license.