Catching up with five-time Olympic medalist Greg Louganis

Greg Louganis won four Olympic golds and five world championships during his illustrious diving career. During the 1988 Olympic springboard competition he hit his head on the board and suffered a concussion but still returned to win gold, capping one of the most memorable comebacks in the history of the Games. In 1995, Louganis revealed he was HIV positive. The New York Times caught up

Aretha Franklin announces stage comeback

Franklin's new album, Aretha: A Woman Falling Out of Love. will be released in MaySinger Aretha Franklin has announced she is to return to the stage in May, months after being admitted to hospital for an undisclosed ailment.The 68-year-old - who also has plans to release a new album - will perform at the Seneca Niagara Casino in Buffalo, New York on 28 May.Last November Franklin cancelled all

Thank You, Sinai

My wife had to have a couple of minor procedures done and her doctor works out of Sinai. Today we had the pleasure of getting up at 4:30am, leaving at 5:30-ish, and sitting in a freezing cold waiting room until the staff arrived at 6:30.

However, when they did arrive there were the friendliest people I've met since I lived in South Carolina. Everyone said either 'hello' or 'good morning'. It was a nice change.

Her operation started about 8:30am. They told me it would last about an hour and a half, so go get some breakfast. And that I did. The cafeteria food actually looked pretty good. Or I was that hungry. I got the breakfast bar, which included eggs with ham and cheese, potato pancakes, sausage, and bacon and an orange juice for $6. Cheaper than Denny's!

I slowly ate, checked in on my kids and finally headed back after being away for 45 minutes. I then sat there for another hour and a half. Finally the doctor came out and said they were done. He took good care of her. We finally got out at 1:40pm. I had sat more or less in the waiting room for 7 hours. But I did manage to read 75 pages of East of Eden by John Steinbeck. Which, by the way, is a 600 page book. My progress has been slow.

One funny story - there was an older gentleman there to get surgery. He was there quite early. When they finally called him back the nurse asked if he had any valuables in his pocket. He reached in and pulled out something and asked, "Is this valuable?" I don't know what it was, but it made me laugh. Then he came back out about 30 seconds later to let his wife know he was going to get ready. Then he came back out about 2 minutes later to let his wife know that she could come back with him. I was totally expecting him to come back out and ask if Wheel of Fortune was on yet. I hope he is home doing well.

So today I'm home again helping out, but Mrs. Eludius is making good progress.

One thing that I need to mention, and would not have noticed this unless I had a wife who just had surgery in the car with me - the roads around Sinai SUCK!!! They're all bumpy and wrecked up. They need to do something about that! They should pass a beverage tax or something so that they can repair the roads!

So in summary - thank you to all of the hard-working friendly folks at Sinai!!!

Eludius - Injured Reserve

As you can probably tell from my lack of posts - I haven't posted many articles in a while. That's oxymoronic, sort of like the phrase medical intelligence.

To begin, if you work with me in the laser guided litter box research & development division over at American Corrugated Conglomerated Industries of America, this article may contain several instances of TMI (too much information for those of you born prior to 1965). So if you think you may get uncomfortable, please stop here. No here. Or here.

Several months ago I started having some discomfort in the jingle-jangles. This happens from time to time. Sometimes it's from wrestling with my son and getting kicked, other times it's the result of a 12 hour orgy with the Ravens' cheerleaders. This time the pain got to the point where I was getting concerned and it was affecting my disposition. I decided it was time to go to my doctor.

To complicate matters, I had to go to a new doctor because my previous doctor decided that $5 per procedure was insufficient reimbursement from my insurance company, so he dropped me like a body down the staircase. My new doctor is actually my old-old doctor that I got rid of because she sucks. Hmm......

So I go to the doctor and tell her that her that my jelly-beans are achy. It's not a sharp pain, but more of a radiating pain. It never seems to be in the same area and I cannot seem to locate the exact source of pain, despite my probing. She thinks there's nothing wrong, but sends me for a sonogram.

I called to make an appointment to see the sonogramist. This is on a Friday in September. Unfortunately, they have no openings for sonograms, but they do have several openings for teddy-grams, and candy-grams.

I make the appointment for a Monday and they tell me not to urinate all weekend and to drink 8 gallons of prune juice on Monday morning. This will help expand my bladder so that they can do before and after urination images, which may help detect any problems.

That Monday I walk in sloshing back and forth with my pants unbuttoned half-way down my thighs. They make me wait 45 minutes and I see them peeking over the counter pointing and laughing as they play videos of waterfalls and flushing toilets in the waiting room.

I finally get called back and this nice lady puts me up on the table. She then pulls the sonogram image reader out of the freezer, places it on my snow pencil causing me to shriek like an 8-year old girl, and then does a pile-driver into my bladder. I tell her that this cat Shaft is one bad mother.... She hollers, "Shut your mouth!" I tell her that I'm talking about the shaft, to which she replies, "Then I can dig it!" She finishes the pre-urination images and tells me to go urinate so that she can take the post full-bladder images.

Twenty minutes later I finish emptying my bladder and I return. She takes the post-urination images and then tells me it's time to do the jelly-beans. She gives me a shoe-string to help conceal my privates. At this point I wonder what the point is. The only part of me that she hasn't seen is the bottom of my foot.

The procedure finally ends and she sends me along my little way. A couple days later I get a call from Dr. Przyjblablar and she says that I suffer from a slight case of Hydrocele, which is a collection of fluid around the testicles. She gives me some pills and tells me to ignore it because it should go away on it's own, sort of like how teachers' unions view bad teachers.

The pain does subside for a while, but eventually returns, but with greater symptoms. I start having upper abdominal pains that occur without reading anything about Martin O'Malley. The pains shift from one side to the other and I feel a slight lump in my groin. I decide to research hydrocele. It says it can be caused by a hernia, cancer, or even global warming. CANCER?! I'm beginning to panic. I'm pressing every cavity I can find in my body. The thought occupies my thoughts nearly all day. I better go back to the doctor.

This time I go to a real doctor with an Irish name. I had written out all of my symptoms and my biorhythms. In my experience most doctors don't really want to hear what you have to say. They're too busy thinking about how awesome they are.

I call the office on a Saturday morning and request an appointment with Dr. Irish. The lady asks what is wrong. I pause - a male problem. What kind of male problem? With my manhood. Like what? Jeez, lady, I'm trying to keep this as discreet as possible. But I lose it. MY PENIS AND TESTICLES HURT! HOW'S YOUR VAGINA, LADY? This probably doesn't help my case because she says she can't take me in until next November. I start whimpering and she suggests Monday. Arg. Okay.

Monday arrives and I finally meet Dr. Irish. He seems really nice. I hand him my list of symptoms and he reads it. Sounds like you have a hernia! Really? Sure, let's check. He reaches down and cups my inner thigh (yes, awkward, but he is a doctor). Yes, you have a massive hernia. You're getting surgery!

Okay, it took him exactly 7 seconds to diagnose this. Meanwhile, if I would have returned to Doctor Przyjblablar, she probably would have sent me for another EKG for my heart murmur and to a urologist for a penmanship test.

On Tuesday I have an appointment with the surgeon. When I arrive the nice nurse does the vitals. She then tells me that I can either strip down naked while she lowers the temperature in the holding cell, or I can just lower my boxers when the doctor arrives. I tell her that I'm commando, that's how we roll in the conglomerated industry. The doctor arrives and I tell him I have a hernia. I drop the drawers and he tells me to cough when he pulls. I'm not sure what he did, but I screamed like a 5 year-old girl being chased by an icky boy. He confirmed the hernia and said not to worry, most guys get one at least once in their lifetime. He got his 2 years ago. Welcome to the fraternity.

I then go to schedule the surgery. How about November of 2015? Ahhh....do you have anything sooner? How about Thursday? Thursday???!!!! OMG - this is for real! They tell me I need a physical and blood work on Wednesday and if my blood work proves that I'm not an orangutan, then the surgery will be on Thursday at noon.

I call for an appointment with Dr. Irish, but he's not in the office on Thursday. They ask if Dr. Przyjblablar is okay. I guess so. I arrive the next day and she has no clue who I am. I tell her that I have a hernia. Oh. She does my vitals. You have a heart murmur. Yes, but I'm an orangutan, so it's okay. My physical lasts 35 seconds and includes her looking at one of my eyes for 3 seconds, and confirming my billing information for the other 32 seconds.

I head off to the phlebotomist. This is what they call people that take blood. Apparently they don't like to be called vampires or jackasses. This is over and done in less than 5 minutes. Meanwhile there is a lady there with an infant in a baby seat. They tell her that she needs to provide a urine sample. She asks where she can put the baby while she uses the bathroom. Hello! How about taking her with you? Oh, just leave her in the waiting room, there are plenty of magazines for her to read.

That night my wife sends out an email to friends and family. It goes something like this: My husband Eludius is going in for surgery tomorrow to have a hernia repaired. He will be home for a week recovering. I ask that you all pray for me. Oh, and pray for him, too. I guess you have to have a pretty good sense of humor to be married to me. One of our friends always reminds Mrs. Eludius that she has a one-way ticket to heaven.

Thursday arrives and I'm anxious. I tell my wife that I changed my mind. It doesn't work. I then tell her that I'm lucky because Hoffman's is right next door to the surgical center and we can get ice cream after the operation. Oh, okay, she says.

We arrive at the surgical center and they have the temperature set at Ice Station Zebra. I'm already anxious, which causes me to shiver, but now I'm freezing and shivering even more. I tell my wife that I think I just shook the hernia back into place and we can leave.

40 minutes later they take us back into a room and tell me to get undressed. OMG. Why don't you just wrap ice-packs around me? The nurse asks which side the hernia is on. I tell her it's the left side. I then ask her, do you go by your left or my left? She looks at me and I tell her that my left is different than her left and that I considered writing on my body which side to operate. She then takes a Sharpie and writes DT on both my arm and leg on my left side. I'm not sure what DT means, but several days later it's still there.

I'm escorted into the operating room. The anesthesiologist injects something into my catheter. I ask her if this is what will put me to sleep. She says no, it's just an appetizer. She said that I should start to feel groggy, then out I'll go. We start talking, but I never feel groggy. I then wake up from what seems like a long nap Mr. Eludius, wake up! I open my eyes. What time is it? It's 2:30. 2:30? Is Martin O'Malley still our governor? Yes. Damn! It wasn't just a bad dream! And apparently 2 hours had passed.

I'm really confused. I thought I'd feel groggy, then drift off. I have no memory of anything. She tells me that we talked for a while. She said that I mentioned that Van Halen is my favorite group because they are the best band ever. She told me to lay down, I must be dillusional. She told me that I said a friend told me that I will be in pain because the muscles that get cut are the same muscles that are used to cough, laugh, sneeze, and poop. He did say that. Thanks, Jorge.

I'm given a couple of orange Hugs to drink, the nurse dresses me and says that my insurance requires that I leave immediately. Accountants have determined that I will heal better in the car than in the recovery room.

I'm really tired, so I'll have to finish the story later. But that's what's been going on with Mr. Eludius. More to follow.

Plastic surgeons now offer to redesign fingerprints

Plastic Surgery is now the fastest-growing medical field. Beauty is the main, but not the only public demand.

Rich criminals are used to undergo facial plastic surgery to change their faces. Doctors are also busy with celebrity-imitation faces, skin-color change, hair transplant, tatoo removals, piercings, split-tongues and a few other aggressive surgeries.

Now, the False News Agency invented the Redesigned Fingerprint Surgery. Is is very simple: the surgeon cuts slices of skin in your fingertips, mixes them around, and grafts them back in the fingers. The result is a natural-looking, scrambled fingerprint that police cannot track back to your criminal records.

It is also possible to erase or modify digital marks with laser.

Notorious gangster John Dillinger had his fingerprints removed with acid, but they grew back. That will not happen now. The new method comes with a 0% failure rate (so far) and a money-back guarranty.





Contrary to the expectations, law-evading patient candidates are minority. Many fashion-oriented youngsters demand hearts, initials and logos carved in their fingers by laser. The surgeon works looking at a mirror, because the stamp-like carvings must be negative for prints to be positive.

Some web marketers demanded their website addresses in their fingers, but that is not currently possible. Fingers have not enough room for anything longer than auch.com.

Instead, feet can be used. If your shoe size is 9, you can easily fit False-News.com. If you play in the NBA and wear 11s, you can fit Geocities.com/Something.

Just imagine the beach in summer, covered by WWW marks. Some marketers event pretend that is a cheap form of viral marketing, and demand surgery plus paid beach-side vacations.

We can provide ideas that are not necessarily better, but certainly cheaper and not surgical. Ask for a free Viral Marketing proposal.