Doctor's Orders; Put the Lime in the Coconut

I woke up yesterday looking like Jimmy Durante.
My shnozz was painful, ginormous, red and throbbing.

In true Savant fashion I thought, more for blogging.

As I went about the business of making a doctor’s appointment, I hypochondriacally wished for an exciting diagnosis like leprosy or advanced syphilis (without the negative connotations – I wanted the NICE leprosy/advanced syphilis. The cool kind.)

Turns out I’m so … [what’s the word?] …fabulous? delicate? glamorous? that a sinus infection spread into my nose and according to Dr. Substitute Doctor it had nearly infected my skin.
What?! An infection is oozing outta me?

Say gross now. Or ew.

That’s how I roll in the retard morass that is Savantery.


I take Remicade for Rheumatoid Arthritis. In the simplest terms; the medicine eradicates my immune system to manage the RA.
As an allergy-sufferer I get frequent sinus infections.

Somebody’s keeping track. And I can feel the stinkeye.
Lemme tell you about Dr. Ed Fullacrap, my Rheumatologist.

I was first seen by Dr. F. in late 2003. The initial, unimaginable five-month wait for an appointment at his busy office was whittled down to five days because of a cancellation.
Thank You, merciful Lord.
And Step One towards I am lovin’ this physician.

Little did I know.

I was in desperate need of some steroids and looked forward to a cursory exam and a lifetime of ‘scripts with no strings attached.

Turns out Dr. F. is the Living End as a doctor and a friend.


I’m a walking theasaurus of terms to describe the symptoms of Meniere’s disease.
I can regale you with stories of vomiting so colorful you’ll laugh ‘til you pee and faithfully follow my blog in hopes of more frequent attacks.
No worries. I’m okay with suffering for your reading pleasure (if “okay with suffering for your reading pleasure” equals socially deprived and basing all my self-worth on your opinion.)

I can spin an informative-yet-entertaining yarn about Meniere’s, but I can’t tell you about my RA.
Suffice it to say that it raged, unmanageable for almost ten years.

My half-assed wordsmithery could never paint an adequate picture of living like that.



On my first visit with Dr. F., I’ll be dipped if I remember why I ranted against the demon alcohol. It was somehow connected to the fact that I had to order ephedra via Wisconsin. It was illegal in Illinois.
I railed about the injustice of lawful booze and the destruction it brought to the fabric of families.
At some point in my lighthearted tirade I raved about phentermine.

When I paused for air, Dr. F. remarked, “I think this is gonna be a lot of fun.”

He took a detailed history and did a thorough exam. Then he began what’s known in “The Official Book of Really Big Doctor Words” as Effective Treatment.
It was all new to me.

Dr. F.’s excellent treatment of my condition allowed future conversations to progress beyond doctor/patient and small talk.
Doc: How’re we feeling today?
Kel: Good. Very good. I’m good every day.
As Doc palpated knuckles and manipulated elbows, shoulders and knees, we talked outside the doctor/patient stuff.

He’s seen me in a paper gown. And he kept a level head, so don’t even. Go. There.

One day he asked if my Mr. was The Chaplain who offered a blessing before the prison-sponsored half marathon. He liked what Mr. said in his prayer.
They’re both runners, both theologians, both brilliant and patient. It was bound to happen; Mr. accompanied me to an office visit. And another. And another.

It got to the point where Doc was insisting that we request the slot before lunch.
It gave us more time.

Conversation was lively when we got together.
And we laughed.

We tried for months to arrange an actual meal during Doc’s free time between patients.
After several failed attempts we took it 100% Social. We met for dinner.
Then for movies.
And in each other’s homes.

Our friendship has grown over 5+ years.
Our fellowship is an absolute haven. I know Doc agrees.
We’ve experienced each other’s victories and struggles; changes in jobs, churches, health, and relationships. Dr. F. and I have both lost our moms in the past five years.

Our kids know and love Dr. Fullacrap. He’s part of our family now.
We’ve begged him to accompany us on our family vacation and [eventually] this is a plea to that end.


I should tell you he’s 45 and single, rich, tall, handsome and smart. I don’t actually know if he’s rich, but he is tall. He’s a doctor! A man of honesty, integrity and compassion.
He’s funny as H and the nicest, most caring man I’ve met shy of my own Mr.

If he was a female you’d never blink if I described him as my RL BFF.
But the explaining takes too long, so disregard, but consider.

I love Dr. Fullacrap like a brother (if like-a-brother equals genuine affection).
My husband loves him like a brother (if like-a-brother means actual fondness).

I generally detest people. My social deprivation is by choice. With my sparkling wit and charming personality you’ve got to know that my social circle is a DOT because I like it this way.

Nobody stacks up. I had to become friends with a DOCTOR to get the intellectual stimulation suited to my intelligence.

And in this regard I am blessed. This is the Most Remarkable Non-Familial Relationship I’ve had in my lifetime.
In other words, I don’t have to like Mr. Fullacrap, but I do.

And I sure wish he’d find a way to Edisto Island next month.




... then you feel better...