:: Life on Planet Dan-E ::

:: So Now What? ::

I did my usual Wednesday night tennis thing. I wanted to get my mind off of my current unemployment status and beating the crap out of a little yellow ball seemed like a good idea. I get there and start warming up. Once we get split up I noticed a girl in a blue tennis outfit that's also playing on our court. She's kinda cute but I only noticed since the advanced clinic is usually a pickle farm.

As it turns out, she's pretty good and possesses a killer backhand (and that's not a metaphor for "she has nice legs," though there is that). While picking up balls we make eye contact. Normally, I'd probably just smile a little and keep picking up balls but instead I smile and ask, "How's it going?" She smiles back and says "hi."

I try to make some casual conversation with her between drills by starting off with "you have a nice backhand. Where'd you learn to play?" (Seriously, I have no game.) Fortunately she gives me more than just short, curt answers. If anything, she's laid-back and chatty, and has an easy smile. I find out she's from Chicago, lived in Miami for many years, is a school teacher, and likes Da Bears.

Once the clinic is over, I approach her to get her number. Only thing is, I left my cell phone at home - I never bring it with me when I play - and I didn't have a pen. So I ask her for her phone and she hands it over; I punch in my number and press dial.

"That's my number, and now I should have yours."

"Cool, I'm gonna save it." She flashes that smile again.

"Alright, I'll call you about Saturday."

"Bye."

"See ya."

(And this is despite the fact that I'm dripping with sweat, probably smell funny, and sporting a patchy two-week old facial shrub. Either my personality won out or she *really* doesn't care about looks. I'm guessing the latter.)

After she walks away, I pack up my rackets with a stupid grin on my face. I get home and grab my phone and... nothing. Absolutely nothing. WTF. It should have said "1 missed call" but there was NOTHING. How did it not go through? I pressed the green button! Did she have bad reception? Did she save the number too quickly?! I guess it's irrelevant because there was NOTHING.

So now what do I do? If I see her again at the clinic, she's going to think I'm just another asshole that doesn't call. (I mean, I can be an asshole but I usually call.) Just my luck. This is why I sometimes hate technology. Anyway, I'm gonna go self-immolate.

Labels: dating, girls, please just shoot me, tennis, wtf

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 10:05 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
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:: I Need a New Hobby ::

I played tennis like usual Saturday morning despite staying up till six in the morning (I really wish I could say it was because I stayed out late at some club or bar, meeting some hot brunette but really, I just couldn't sleep). I had a really good session. I felt good once I got out there, and I was hitting the ball as well as I ever have recently. I figured I'd do just as well, if not better, when I played again Wednesday night.

Nope.

Tonight, if I wasn't hitting it into the net, they were sailing to the back fence. I hit half my shot off the frame, which would be okay except I'm supposed to hit them off the strings. Once the drills were over, I played a set against one of the other regulars. He's okay, but not quite at my level and yet, he kicked my ass. If tennis had a water hazard, my rackets would be in there right now and I'd probably be scouring ebay for replacements.

Good thing I'm not too temperamental. For that matter, good thing I don't play golf.

Labels: anger, frustration, tennis

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 10:37 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
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:: I got Beat by a Thirteen-Year Old ::

I played another round of tennis tonight. I usually get grouped with the advanced crowd, there's a few guys who are better than me, a few who are worse. Tonight, about halfway through a kid joins our group and is easily able to keep up. Florida is a hotbed of tennis talent, since the warm weather allows for year-round practice. Anna Kournikova lives here (though her record indicates she hasn't utilized the "practice" part much) and there are lot of ranked juniors who also practice at where I play.

The pro had us play King of the Court and this kid immediately had us on the ropes. And by "us," I mean some of the usual crowd that shows up at these clinics: late 20s, early 30s (and on other nights even older) guys who are B-Level players. We thought he was around eleven, so he wasn't hitting very hard, but he chased down every shot and returned everything deep with a metronome-like consistency. We've seen kids like this before but few ever played this well against grown ups so we thought maybe he was ranked Top-10. I was trying to go for a little too much so I beat myself more than anything but even on points where I though I had him, he managed to send it back. One regular who's a little better than me was putting up a good fight but he wasn't doing that much better.

Not only that, the runt started talking trash.

Us old guys started talking about humbling the little twerp, not on the court but by treating him like our little red-headed cousin: dumping the water cooler over his head, or maybe giving him a swirly. Ultimately, we decided to give him a wedgie but never got around to it, unfortunately.

Our on-court (and psychological) beating went on for a few more minutes. One of the guys found out he was thirteen, and when I asked, he said he was ranked 30th in the state of Florida age 14 and under. Okay, so he's not in the Top 10 and he's a teen. That didn't make me feel any better. I was still losing to a kid whose balls haven't even dropped yet.

And here I was starting to think my game was improving. Oh well. I could always take up bowling.

Labels: anger, I'm getting old, tennis

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 12:11 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
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:: Getting Back out there ::

I played tennis for the first time since my hospital visit. It helped that the weather was nice and chilly (for MIami) at 70 degrees so I didn't have to worry about overheating. I still drank plenty of water but I took a some Gatorade with me as well (doctor's orders... it's too bad she didn't tell me to eat more steak).

My timing was a little off but I played decently enough, and the best thing I can say is that I didn't once worry about getting enough water or drinking too much since all my plumbing has been working fine. I probably would have played as early as last week except I didn't have the night off, despite the doctor telling me to avoid strenuous exercise for at least a week. (But I'm stupid like that.)

I started running again a few days ago but for whatever reason, I can't seem to get going. I tried again this morning and drank a large can of Monster to get a boost but my session, like all of my relationships, was rather unsatisfying. I can't complain too much though, at least I'm back to normal.

Labels: exercise, running, tennis

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 12:14 AM [+] :: | 0 comments
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:: Hospital ::

Thanks to the well wishers who were nice enough to leave comments in the last post. That was very kind of you. The rest of you readers can eat my ass. Just kidding. This was the first in my adult life I had to go to the hospital as a patient and can I tell you? It SUCKED.

The short version is that my stay was caused by hyponatremia. It's a case of severe electrolyte imbalance from low sodium levels in the body. (Read more about it here and here). In my case, it started after a round of tennis Saturday morning. I usually chug some water beforehand since I naturally sweat a lot. But I had some diarrhea beforehand from eating ceviche the night before and didn't compensate for it. I played my usual time, it wasn't any warmer or more humid than before, but I felt a little lightheaded once I got home. I didn't drink my usual amount of water but I refilled my water bottle twice while playing, which I thought would be plenty.

Once I got home, I chugged a couple more glasses of water before stretching out my kinks. Then the cramps started. It started in my legs, moved up to my back, then my abdomen, and even my toes. I was still feeling light headed. I drank another glass of water. I made my way to the restroom to pee but I noticed the volume was inconsistent with my intake, and what little came out was this putrid yellow color. Heat exhaustion? Maybe.

I read a lot of sports articles so I'm familiar with the symptoms of heat exhaustion. I also read about hyponatremia but it never crossed my mind since the articles I read usually related to endurance athletes (marathoners, triathletes). I drank more water and stood under a cold shower for a while. (I should point out that my glass is a little larger than your average water glass.)

Didn't help much. I became dizzy, my breathing was shallow, and my hands were cold. My hands are almost never cold. On top of that I felt nauseous. As stupid as it may sound, that was my first indication that something might be really wrong since I have a Seinfeld-like streak of never vomiting .

I got home before one and now it's almost four. I have to be at work in an hour and I can't even stand up without feeling faint. I somehow manage to call work and tell Antonio that I'm not sure if I can make it. He knows my track record in my short time there so for me to call in sick, he knows something's up. He tells me to stay home and get better.

When I tried to walk to the fridge to get more water, my legs gave out. My nausea built up to the point where I had to throw up. I somehow make it to the bathroom and I vomit almost nothing but water. No blood, fortunately but I'm actually somewhat upset that I broke my streak. I still had my phone so I dialed 911 while wondering why the ceiling was spinning faster than the ceiling fan. The paramedics show up, and I try to explain to them what happened in as much detail as possible.

I barely remember the ride to the hospital. I kinda remember being handed a clipboard in the waiting room, but my vision was blurry and my hands were so weak I couldn't write anything. I vaguely remember laying on a gurney with the doctors asking me what happened, asking my name, the date, and if I knew where I was (earth!). I distinctly remember trying to explain but I just couldn't find the words. I can only imagine how incoherent I must have seemed. "Played tennis... dehydrated... cramps... diarrhea... dizzy..."

I woke up a few hours later and saw blurry silhouettes of people looking down at me. Once I gathered my senses, I noticed I had an oxygen tube in my nose, a bandage inside my left elbow, and an I.V. drip on my right hand. I had these sticky things on my chest with wires attached, and those wired led to a heart monitor. I wasn’t flatlined, which I took as a good sign. I finally saw these people looking down at me and half-expected a large black man to lean over and say "hello Neo." I pass out again.

A little later, I wake up again, feeling a little closer to normal. I stay awake, and I realize I have this massive urge to pee. I try to get up, and I vaguely hear a lady say "not again" and walk over to my bed. "Sir, please don't try to more around. You have to stay in bed." My first coherent words of the night were, "dude, I have to piss." She hands me a jar. You're fucking kidding me right? Oh this is gonna suck. I do this a few more times during the night, which apparently shows the doctors I'm healthy enough to remove from the ER and into an intensive care room.

On the way up a nurse tells me exactly what happened. It's then he mentions hyponatremia. Really. I thought maybe my heat exhaustion advanced to a heat stroke, but I got fired from a restaurant despite being the only one there who didn't do drugs, so what the hell do I know. I ask what would have happened if I didn't call 911. "You might have suffered from brain damage, maybe fallen into a coma..." Oh, good to know.

Basically, I lost a lot of salt and fluids from all the sweating and didn't replace the salt. I overdid it in replacing the fluids, throwing my electrolyte balance completely out of whack.

They wheel my to my room, complete with a TV and a brand new urine jug. Great. I look at the clock. It's after 3am.

I end up staying all of Sunday and Monday, despite my constant pleas to leave. I felt fine, I wasn't suffering any ill effects, and I was getting sick of having my blood drawn (eight times! EIGHT! My left elbow looks worse than a heroine addicts'). The reason they kept me so long was to make sure my CPK levels returned to normal. I think one of the nurses told me when I arrived, my CPK levels were around 3000, and normally, healthy levels are... umm... considerably less (somewhere in the low hundreds if I remember correctly and a lot of my recollection is a little hazy).

During my stay, I have to pee into a jug, endure having my blood drawn repeatedly, and deal with limited mobility thanks to being hooked up to an I.V. the whole time. (It was a 9% sodium solution in case you're curious. You probably should know these things.) I don't sleep well. I fight boredom. I have bizarre dreams I think too much (never a good thing). The food is bad. I hate this place.

But I keep telling myself that it beats brain damage or death.

I finally get released Tuesday afternoon. I'm relieved more than anything. The nurse tells me that while my CPK levels aren't quite back to normal, they've dropped fast enough that I'm safe as long as I follow a few precautions. She tells me avoid sports for a while, and to drink lots of Gatorade over the next few days.

It's about one when I get home. Mike looks hungry. Rick-E is nowhere to be seen. I figure he's sleeping under my sheets again. I take a nice cool shower and get ready for work. I walk into my closet for some fresh clothes and see my cat sitting on top of the shelf like he's Simba on Pride Rock. How the hell did he get up there? I look down and see the pile of clothes and hangers strew about the floor. That's how. I wanna be mad I'm more impressed than anything, kinda like Ron Burgundy when his dog pooped in the fridge but at a whole wheel of cheese.

There's been a lot going through my mind those few days in the hospital and afterwards, and I'll probably blog about it later. But I'm happy to still be here. But I never want to go through that again.

Labels: exercise, hospital, still here, tennis, wtf

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 4:47 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
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:: Big Ass ::

I went to my usual Wednesday night tennis but instead of the usual clinic, there was a mixup with the available pros so I took a private clinic instead. We were standing around chatting afterwards and I asked him where I needed to improve.

"Your groundstrokes are fine. You just need to improve your conditioning and you'll be fine."

"Okay."

"You have those big legs so you move really well but you start dragging your feet when you get tired."

"Yeah."

"And work on your serve." "Well, yeah." "But your forehand and backhand are some of the most fundamentally sound that I've ever seen." "Cool, thanks."

"And not to sound like a homo but you also have the biggest ass I've ever seen."

Wha-huh?

"You ever play soccer?" "Not really." (Being a goalie doesn't really count, I don't think.) "Football?" (Did it just get uncomfortable here or is it just me?) "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious. You're built like a football player."

"Yeah, I get that a lot (I do). Anyway, I gotta get going."

That was just awkward. It's one thing if guys compliment your biceps or your abs, and I've had random guys come up to me and ask me how my legs got so big back when I owned a gym membership and that was fine. It's even okay if your play on a sports team and your teammates slap your ass after a good play. But that's the first time a guy ever said anything about my ass being big - at least one that wasn't gay - and I'm pretty sure there's some unwritten Man Law against doing things like that.

I don't have a complex about having a big ass (or, at least I didn't) but that was just weird.

Labels: big ass, tennis

:: Miscellaneous Ramblings by Dan-E at 9:34 PM [+] :: | 0 comments
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