State of the Tulane Chris: Part I

Well, that sucked.

I had some blood drawn in December when I changed doctors, and about a week later the nurse called to tell me everything was “fine.” Well, last week I thought, “You know… college. I’d like to make sure my liver is working,” so I called to ask for a printout of the lab results, and everything is not “fine.” I’m not dying, but…

-     HOMEBOY IS TOO FAT. My blood is apparent the vampire equivalent of a Mallowmar. It doesn’t so much “flow” as “ooze.” My general cholesterol level is low, but it’s essentially all bad cholesterol – and guess who’s coming for dinner? Diabetes. It’s not here yet, but it’s got my address and is getting directions from Google Maps. It texted metabolic syndrome to see if it wanted to come too but hasn’t heard back.

-     HOMEBOY HAS AWFUL HEREDITY. Apparently I carry three out of four genes “associated with sudden ischemic heart disease,” or as I like to call it, “heart-gonna-explode-pox.” I also have a gene that means I can’t take popular cholesterol-lowering drug Plavix, because it might kill me.

-     HOMEBOY IS DEFICIENT. In Vitamin D and “omega-3 oils.” No wonder my bones snap in a stiff wind and my hair is dull and lifeless.

And this is just the shit I can understand. Silver lining is that my liver seems to be tootling along just fine, turning its homework in on time and getting eight hours of sleep at night.

Now, here are my emotions about the above:

-     GRANTED, I’m too fat. I did not think I had been NEARLY fat enough for NEARLY long enough that my pancreas felt it had to sit me down for “the talk.” I don’t think this is fair.

-     I have a guardian angel. About four years ago, I was so poor I almost took part in a clinical trial for Plavix. This involved taking enormous doses of Plavix and eating oranges “to see if it would still work.” I got strep throat the day before and couldn’t do it. This, you know, might have killed me. (I’m exaggerating, but not by a lot.) I like to imagine my guardian angel – I’d say it was Rue McClanahan because she apparently likes me (MORE ON THAT NEXT WEEK!), but she was still alive – floating to the hospital, touching her wand gently to a pile of medical waste, floating back over my sleeping form, and then scratching the hell out of my tonsils with her infectious wand.  (I also clearly like to merge the concepts of guardian angels and fairy godmothers.)

-     Sometime this week, my mother, uncle, and aunt will all get letters from me warning them not to take Plavix. I wrote these on postcards because I think if I amuse the postal workers they’ll be more likely to bring me my mail on time.

-     To remedy my “severe” omega-3 deficit, I’ve started taking fish oil. This results in three or four sardine-flavored burps each day. Since I can no longer have sweets, I’ve decided to try to think of the fish burps as a new dessert concept. It is not working.

-     I’m mad as a Goddamn hornet. Why the hell didn’t the doctor think this was worth telling me? It’s not like it takes much time to say “Lose thirty pounds YESTERDAY and occasionally make eye contact with a multivitamin.” I want to write a furious letter, but I’m afraid they’ll then want me to come back in and retake the bloodwork, and I want to have a few months to do better before being confronted with more red-bordered numbers.

-     I have a new game called “Diabetes Is Watching.” I’ve created a personality and work history for diabetes so I can think of it as a person I’m avoiding through good judgment rather than a fatal metabolic disease I’ll develop if I keep frying ice cream. Here are the text messages I sent Butter Legs about my new enemy diabetes last night:

Diabetes: it’s watching.

Diabetes: it knows the last four digits of your social security number.

Diabetes: it just made eye contact with you from across the bar and tipped its Kahlua Mudslide in a little salute while raising an eyebrow flirtatiously.

Diabetes: it has one IMDB credit – the prisoner early in “Silence of the Lambs” who sexually harasses Jodie Foster.

Diabetes: it thinks your screenplay is a weak attempt to be the next Todd Solondz.*

Diabetes: it saw a typo on your resume and didn’t tell you.


Diabetes: the honey badger of metabolic disorders.

Diabetes: it donated forty-five dollars to the Santorum for President campaign in your name.

Diabetes: it can tell you’re not a virgin.

You know what’s going to suck? Diet and exercise. I’d almost rather die, but I have so much TV to watch. If “Roseanne” isn’t a reason to stay alive I do not know what is.



Anonymous said...

TC- great post, though I am sorry to hear about your impending attack from diabetes. I am a doctor, and a huge fan, so if you need any meds on the down low, I'm your girl. Do I smell a 2B1B investigates...I think so.

Just a note though, Plavix is an anticoagulant, not a drug to lower cholesterol. Taking it will help your blood do less of the slow ooze, but you'll also bruise like a peach. And who really wants that?

Em said...

Tulane Chris - while I laughed out loud reading this post (Diabetes: the honey badger of metabolic disorders), I would like to offer a serious recommendation: try the Paleo way of eating for the few months before your next blood work is done and I am sure you will astound your doctor with the results. Check out http://robbwolf.com/

Anonymous said...

Fab post ! Hilarious, not if it were me though :( get better/slimmer/more fishy soon

Not *Not* Stoned said...

I hate that I'm leaving a weight loss commment, because that makes me a particular kind of asshole, BUT I lost 20 pounds over the last 3 months and I'm giddy over it. I used something called a bodybugg, which is basically a watch that tells you how many calories you're burning. Then you enter the food you eat into their calorie calculator thing, and it tells you if a) you're calorie deficient for the day (lost weight) b) you've eaten excess calories (fatass) or c) you maintained.

This has allowed me to do things like eat pizza at an office party or have bloody marys at brunch or eat cake on a particularly sad Saturday and yet still lose weight. It's also given me - for the first time in my life - an understanding of what foods cost, calorie-wise, and how many calories you need to eat to not be a fatass. So I really do feel equipped to continue losing weight, even if I stop wearing the watch thing.

Anyway, sorry for the commercial, and I swear I have nothing to do with the company, but I thought I'd share what's been working for me.

Diabetes: an invitation to reams of layman fitness "wisdom".

Anonymous said...

I just want to say "WHAT?!" to the 'Welcome to the Dollhouse' sequel! How does this exist and I had no idea? I love awesomely-bad movies. Shit, VH1 is on regularly in my home.

I don't know how that caught my attention above Diabetes is coming. I totally agree on hating diet and exercise, I only go to the gym to judge.

Kate said...

[A] Dear Chris' Heart: Please don't explode.

[B] Dear Chris: How fat are we talking here?

Glad you're back, buddy.

Kelly said...

Advice for you on fish oil. I take it thrice a day as well, but to avoid gross fish burps - put the capsules in the freezer. By the time it unfreezes, the oils are far enough down and you get no burps! The same applies to the typhoid vaccine. But hopefully you don't need that advice right now.

Anonymous said...


erin bg said...

More advice for the fish oil. My cousin's company makes fish oil that's coated in mint. So when you burp, you burp mint instead of gross fish. It's brilliant. Check it here.


Anonymous said...

hahah palindromes is the best movie. I've seen it like 10000 times. WATCH IT.

2b1b: The sardonic voice of 20-somethings everywhere, Monday through Friday. said...

I used something called a bodybugg, which is basically a watch that tells you how many calories you're burning. Then you enter the food you eat into their calorie calculator thing, and it tells you if a) you're calorie deficient for the day (lost weight) b) you've eaten excess calories (fatass) or c) you maintained.

STRAIGHT BIGGEST LOSER STYLE! I've (Meg) been wavering if I should get one and you just blew my mind.

Not *Not* Stoned said...


[B] Dear Chris: How fat are we talking here?

He's not fat at all! I don't get it!

- Meg

Sara said...

This entire post was going along swimmingly until I read the bit about the Welcome to the Dollhouse Sequel and spat my Diet Coke out with excitement. "DAWN... YOU'RE A TOTAL DAWG!" Well played, Chris.

2b1b: The sardonic voice of 20-somethings everywhere, Monday through Friday. said...

Holy shit that's expensive. Nevermind.

Meg @ write meg! said...

I feel you, Chris. I get "The Weight Talk" every time I go to the doctor with something as simple as the sniffles, which is actually really annoying. I mean, I'm here for antibiotics; why do I have to sit through a lecture on my chunkiness? I'm aware of my chunkiness. I live it.

I'm getting on a "healthier" path, I guess, but I can't resist the siren call of Reese's Peanut Butter Eggs this time of year. Good luck!

2b1b: The sardonic voice of 20-somethings everywhere, Monday through Friday. said...


Unknown said...

YOu guys are back on your stride :)

Not *Not* Stoned said...

Meg! You will not regret your bodybugg investment!! I first got mine while I was ON CRUTCHES and yet I STILL lost weight. Now that I'm back in the gym, shit is falling off. You're right that it's not cheap (nor is a food scale, which I recommend), but then you get 6 free months of the online service thing, so after the initial chunk o' change you're good.

But, I have to ask, will you PLEASE PLEASE BLOG YOUR BODYBUGG EXPERIENCE! That will give me ridiculous amounts of pleasure.

Anonymous said...

While I did giggle a bit about your new frenemy, diabetes, I also have to point out that diabetes is NOT a death sentence.

I've been living with Type 1 (juvenile) diabetes for 18 years, I was never a fat kid, and life is good. Even Type 2 (adult onset) diabetes can be controlled or in some cases reversed.

Lets not make sweeping blanket statements that make some people feel like dead (wo)men walking when, in fact, you're just scared about getting your act in shape. We could all use a little gym time, and being scared of dying from diabetes doesn't need to be the scapegoat (again).

Meg said...

The fact that you mentioned the TV show Roseanne as a reason to live made me want to start a slow clap when i read this during class. My favorite TV show EVER! So glad you both are back :)

Unknown said...

Yeah, I have to side with Diabetic!Anonymous up there. I've been living with Type 1 (which, I'm assuming is not the type you're talking about, Chris) for 24 years, and it's so ridiculously tiring to hear people talk about diabetes and NOT differentiate the types.

Type 1 is autoimmune and permanent. Type 2 can be controlled and (sometimes) reversed.

Also, the people with Type 2 that I know probably wouldn't be too pleased to hear that you're saying (essentially) T2 is caused by being fat. Some T2s are completely normal size.

I get that you're going for humor here, but I also think you need to know your facts.

Loraine Karins MLB BLOG said...

TC- great post, though I am sorry to hear about your impending attack from diabetes. I am a doctor, and a huge fan, so if you need any meds on the down low, I'm your girl. Do I smell a 2B1B investigates...I think so.
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