Image via WikipediaIt seems to me that you have a 72-hour window to complain about non-chronic pain that is going to go away, probably in a day or two but certainly in a week for two. I think now is the time for the theater of my distress to "go dark." Just don't ask why I'm wincing a little and mincing a little. When anyone new inquires, I think that starts the clock all over again -- for them.
Anyway, I went to my regular Kaiser doc today, just to check in and to get permission to drive. He was in a rare mood, suggesting the Hayward ER guys were "sissies" for keeping me for six hours because of a fainting spell. Pain can cause a "vasovagal" episode, he said, and loss of blood certainly could. Checking out the purple mural on my thigh (and the domains that there adjacent lie) he guessed I could have dumped a couple pints of blood out into the fat and muscle, so that could have knocked me out, too.
The idea was that if he had been in the Hayward ER, he would have given me an inspirational poem and a pack of prophylactics and sent me on my way.
Now, of course, E. had already measured my thighs, computed comparative cubic volume using some calculus fudges and concluded I had lost three pints of blood as measured in cubic centimeters. As for the rest of it, my doc essentially said I should .... Well, he had no specific recommendations other than never ever riding my bicycle in the rain. That was right out, he said. But I had already figured that part out on my own.
Oh, I also told him I had to miss a departmental meeting today because of my difficulty sitting down and a general malaise (last complaint; no more).
Well, good for you, he said, with feeling.