A Barking Dog

Well, my posting frequency has shit the bed. Between getting indoctrinated at the pool (I’m technically no longer “in training” and now on the run crew doing some day maintenance shifts as needed), having a social life and working the last two weeks straight at the theater and doing a corporate I committed to in June, it’s been fun packed. I’ve had a few posts in the can, mostly comparisons to what I’m doing and what I’ve done. It’s been eventful, from the witnessing of the staging of a new show, to our trials in running an audio department in big time Las Vegas production show business, to me getting wheeled out of the theater by parametics because of a reaction to my BP meds that the show trainers had never seen. We had a bit of a discussion of if I was having a heart attack. In front of a significant amount of the cast and crew. It was a couple of weeks ago and I’m still getting “are you OK?” from various crew members. in a six plus story building with more than 120 crew members, you don’t see everyone every day, but having the paramedics called gets everyones attention. Especially if it’s the new guy.

The BP meds I’ve been on for a couple of years, Toprol XL and Lisinopril are some pretty powerful drugs. A couple of years ago I went to a dive medicine specailist because as I was having issues in my sinus tract which turned out to be a condition that lead to me not being able to dive without surgery to correct it. While I was there, it was determined that I was suffering from the most chronic type of high blood pressure and we started treatment immediately. I don’t say this to share my middle aged man maladies, but rather to have you lot get off your fat asses and get your BP checked. Hypertension is a silent killer, if you don’t manage it, it’s likely a couple of decades will be knocked off your life. If not more. So, after a period of different doses and combinations, we found what worked and I didn’t review the data sheets that completely. Turns out, this shit is powerful wack. If your body is out of wack, for example dehydrated, the drugs will turn on it and cause pretty adverse reactions. Because I’ve been, well, more “physically active” in the last month than in the last decade or so, I might have overachieved that week.

A while back, I did have a reaction to the meds. I was onstage doing a gig for my buddy Dansound about a year and a half ago at a children’s fest in the Jet City (actually Thee children’s fest) where I hit the stage like a sack of bricks, or a nearly 300 lb roadie. At that time, anyway. The show staff thought I was having a stroke, I didn’t know what the fuck was happening. After several visits to the doc, a myriad of tests, to the tune of not quite US$10k, out of pocket, no insurance. Don’t get me started on the health care system of the “most powerful nation on earth”. Sure, we can bomb the shit out of some motherfuckers we don’t like, but try something like decent, affordable health care for all citizens and we shit the bed. We do have the best medical technology available, too bad many people that need it can’t get it. I was lucky, though not insured, I had enough ratholed away to get what I needed. Not everyone is so fortunate. After all that was done and my meds adjusted, I knew what it was like to have a reaction to the BP meds. Too bad the sports med guy at my gig didn’t know.

I rolled into what we call the DI garage, not because it’s shaped like a Countryman Type 85, but rather because it’s the initials of the place that was imploded to make way for our 2 billion dollar palace. And a nice one it is. Amber and I had dinner in one of the restaurants there last week and it was devine. Exceptional, in fact. So anyway, I roll into work on Sun afternoon (two weeks ago) and get out of my car and feel dizzy, nearly pass out. I know the feeling and remember what the Diving Doc told me. I liked Diving Doc so much I made him my primary care a couple years back. Bummer is, he’s in Seattle. I’m not. The deal is this, if I feel I’m in danger or not sure, get yee to the trauma center ASAP. If not that bad, rest, and take BP and if it doesn’t level off and I still feel dizzy, get yee to a trauma center for an EKG. If I feel OK, then just rest. I felt OK but was a bit woozey (is that even a word?) and as the chick magnet sound guy and I were working on our dive systems intercom on the pool deck, I thought I’d stop at Health Services (we have our own health dept at the show) to have my BP checked. Just to be sure.

After waiting about 10 mins as they were providing PT and sport massage to many of our 85 cast members (we got lotsa people performing), I got my turn to see the EMTs. Apparently, there is an MD as well, but not there at the time. I explain the situation, BP meds, yada, yada, yada. Seen this movie before, yada, yada, yada. Just need the BP checked, yada, yada, yada. So they check it. It’s off the the map. I know it will be high, but not at that level. At the level they measured I should either be dead, or have my heart residing outside my chest cavity. He takes a short history and vitals. When he’s done, I get up to leave. “You’re not going anywhere” he says. “Who is your supervisor?” I tell him and ask what’s happening. “I believe you to be in major coronary distress at the moment and we need to transport you to the hospital, STAT”. Stat? Exfuckingscuseme? Perhaps you’ve made a mistake, I’ve seen this before, being treated for two years, I know what’s going on. No matter. My HOD (head of department, my direct boss) is summoned, as well as the executive staff of the show, the resort security and the parametics. I felt like the guy on the sled in the Grail flick, “but I’m getting better”.

So they prep me for the arival of the paramedics. They strap O2 on me, put me in a wheelchair and decide to bring me to the dock on the pool level. Which happens to mean all the carps, aquatics, fluid FX and much of the cast will see me. And as it happened, many of the riggers and some of the electrics dept were also there. Great, I should sell tickets. By this time, my HOD (actually the assistant HOD, the guy that hired me, my pal Steve) and a Sr. show exec had showed. They each asked what I wanted to do. Well I had two shows to mix that night. That’s what we do in big time roadieism. If we aren’t mortally wounded, or dead, we gig. Tis only a flesh wound. They would have none of that. I’m relagated to being Sideshow Bob, waiting for the paramedics to arrive and being eye candy for the entire production, which including cast, crew, production and execs, is over 200 people.

The paramedics pull up and I’m relagated to give a medical history in front of 20 people I don’t know. The paramedics have an EKG and know what questions to ask. They ask if I have ringing in my ears, I answer that I have tinnitus so I can’t tell tell if it’s my normal condition or the effect of the meds. I look the show exec in the eyes and say, “if you mix big time shows for a quarter century, you’ll have hearing loss”. The paramedic jokingly says “WHAT!” in a loud manner. We all laugh. The paramedics determine I’m OK, bad reaction to the meds. Just like I said.

I don’t want to seem unappreciative to the Health Services staff, I’m glad they are looking out for me. At the same time, I knew what was happening to me and there was really nothing one could do until it ran its course. The show med staff is used to seeing well fit, well oiled, hard body athletes that are in prime condition. When some overweight, oversexed, middle aged show biz roadie appears they don’t know quite what to do with it. In the end, just like I knew, I’m fine. My new doc and I are working on a regimen to lessen the impact of the meds.

One thing I’ve done different, I’ve brought my own BP machine to the gig.

This entry was posted on Monday, October 2nd, 2006 at 8:05 am and is filed under Bright Light City. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.