Legs (Sleepy)
Dear Dr. Ozzy,
My leg keeps “falling asleep” without any warning. Does this mean I have poor circulation?
Lauren, Sheffield
One time, I got drunk, badly drunk—on cognac—and went to sleep in the wrong position, and when I woke up my leg felt like it wasn’t even there any more. It was just this useless lump attached to my thigh. At first I didn’t think it was a problem… but it went on for three months. I went to my doc, and he told me—seriously—that he might have to chop it off. I said to him, “I’m a rock ’n’ roll star! I can’t hobble around the stage with a wooden leg, singing ‘Iron Man’!” Eventually, another doctor took a look at and said that it was more likely caused by my alcoholism. So if you’re a heavy drinker, I’d recommend cutting down, or giving up entirely. Otherwise, make sure you don’t sit in the same position for a long time. And if you go and see a doctor, remember: if he ever starts using phrases like “electric saw” and “operating table,” there ain’t nothing stopping you from getting a second opinion. I’m certainly fucking glad I did.
M.
Mourning
Dear Dr. Ozzy:
My wife died in January. I’ve been having counselling for the last six months but it’s very lonely with just me and my two Bedlington terriers. I feel as though I have so much free time and need to fill it. Can you offer any advice on coping with grief?
David, London
The thing I realised when I lost someone who was very close to me—my ex-guitarist Randy Rhoads—is that no-one can ever really prepare you for coping with sudden death. You’re pretty much on your own. What you’ve got to come to terms with is that grief is simply a natural process, and that everyone goes through it at some point in their life. The best thing you can do is join a counselling group, or at least find someone you can talk to about it—which it sounds like you’re already doing. Having said that, of course, I didn’t take any of that advice when Randy died. I locked the grief away, so it manifested itself in other ways, like drugs and alcohol. The trouble was, when I was kid, anyone who went to therapy was one step away from the funny farm. I know better now. I suppose another thing you’ve gotta accept is that you never fully get over the death of someone who’s been that close to you. I mean, even today, when I’m on stage playing any of the songs from my two albums with Randy, it’s as though he’s right there at my side. But it’s a good feeling now, not a bad one.
Dear Dr. Ozzy:
I keep suffering terrible anxiety attacks. It started when my uncle—who was like a dad to me—died in his sleep from a random cardiac arrest (I never met my real dad until I was 13). I’ve been to psychologists, but all they tell me is that if I realise I’m not going to die, the panic will go away. That’s bullshit, because I know I won’t die… but I still feel like I’m about to blow up inside. Please help…
Don (17 years old), Texas, USA
Sounds to me like grief, Don. People don’t take grief seriously enough, because the loss of someone, or even something, can be very hard to get over. It sounds crazy, but when I was in rehab, I had to attend “grief groups” for the loss of drugs and alcohol in my life. I thought it was stupid at first—especially when I met a guy in there who was sobbing about his recently departed cat—but I soon discovered that grief can mess you up, badly. I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what’s causing your panic attacks. Your body is overloaded with emotion. So my recommendation would be that you get on the internet and find your own local grief group. It’s a lot healthier than going to your GP for a bottle of Valium: that’ll just fix one problem and start five others.
N.
Napping (Guidelines Regarding)
Dear Dr. Ozzy:
What’s the ideal length for an afternoon nap? My friends swear by them, but every time I doze off during the day I wake up in a terrible mood with a splitting headache.
Ross, Aberdeen
I never used to understand naps. When I was a kid, I’d see my old man dozing off in his favourite chair and think, “You went to bed last night, why d’you need to sleep now?” But as I got older myself, I began to understand. For me, the point of a nap isn’t about sleep, it’s just about getting some “quiet time,” so you can recharge. It’s a break from all the craziness of modern life. So if you find yourself waking up from a nap feeling like a dog’s arsehole, my advice would be, try just giving yourself twenty or thirty chilled-out minutes by yourself instead. Read, do some stretching exercises, or go out for a walk.
Nightmares (Prevention Of)
Dear Dr. Ozzy:
What can I do before I go to bed to prevent bad dreams?
William, Alnwick
Funnily enough, one of the few things I’ve never had a problem with is nightmares. Every so often I’ll have a really confusing dream—but never one where a zombie Ryan Seacrest is shooting blood from his eyeballs and trying to cut out my liver with rusty steak knife. Mind you, I didn’t dream at all for about 40 years, because I’d never go to bed—the only rest I got was when I blacked out once every three or four days. One time, when I was on tour in America with Mötley Crüe, I blacked out in the central reservation of a twelve-lane freeway (I’d been trying to find somewhere to take a piss). In fact, waking up was always the biggest nightmare for me. Not that I’d recommend my former lifestyle as a way to avoid bad dreams. Instead, try thinking about something that makes you feel really good before you shut your eyes. Or have a nice cup of tea—but nothing too stimulating (ie, black coffee). And whatever you do, avoid sleeping pills at all costs, or you might end up with a worse problem than the one you started with.
Nightsweats
Dear Dr. Ozzy:
Almost every night I wake up in the early hours drenched in sweat. It’s disgusting—the sheets are soaked through. I’ve tried to turn up the air conditioning, but to no effect. What’s causing this, and how do I stop it from happening?
Olivia, New York
Could be nylon sheets. Those things make me sweat like I’m on Death Row. I can’t have ’em near me. Same with feathers, which mess my chest up, and sleeping bags, which are one step removed from being buried alive. If it ain’t your sheets, it could be what you’re wearing, or it could be an allergy—or the side-effect of some medication you’re taking. If I were you, I’d try something different every night, and try and solve it that way.
DR. OZZY’S SURGERY NOTICEBOARD
Wet Dreams
It’s amazing how many people wake up in the morning feeling sweatier than one of Jabba the Hut’s armpit. One reader, Lisa, wrote to me: “I suffered night sweats for 15 years before a gynaecologist did a blood test and diagnosed that I had next to no oestrogen. Although I wasn’t menopausal or pre-menopausal, I was having the same kind of symptoms. Now I take a daily supplement and my life has changed utterly.” Meanwhile, Gabrielle in London reckoned she’d solved the problem with a silk-filled duvet, while a GP from Scotland—he didn’t want to give his name, funnily enough—said a bad case of the sweats might be a symptom of something called “polymyalgia rheumatica.” I’m told that means “pain in many muscles” in Greek. Sounds like one of my mid-1980s hangovers.
Nipples (Unusual)
Dear Dr. Ozzy:
Like Francisco Scaramanga in The Man with the Golden Gun, I have a third nipple. Should I be worried?
Gary, Dorset
Only if it starts talking to you.
O.
Obscene Language (Excessive Use Of)
Dear Dr. Ozzy:
I’ve become addicted to swearing. It started two years ago, and basically I swear in nearly every sentence now, even in front of my parents at school. I’ve tried to stop but can’t. I think I must have Tourette’s syndrome. What should I do?
Ben, Cheshire
Swearwords are weird, aren’t they? I mean, the American word “schmuck”—which pretty much no-one finds offensive—apparently comes from the Yiddish word “shmok,” which is a very rude term for a bloke’s Upstandi
ng Citizen. It’s as bad as calling someone the C-word. Then there’s the English word “bollocks”—which I love—which used to be slang for a Vicar, or so I’ve been told (although in the old days a more common way of spelling it was “Ballocks”). People just decide which words they want to get upset about, basically. So my advice to you, Ben, is to carry on swearing as much as you like: just do it in a foreign language. That way you won’t get into any trouble.
P.
Pain (Management Of)
Dear Dr. Ozzy:
A few weeks ago, while in a New York hotel room, I accidently stepped on the door stop. The pain was intense. Now, three weeks later, it hurts when I walk. I think I might have broken something in my foot. What’s your expert medical opinion?
Mark, Rancho Santa Fe, California
There’s an easy to fix to this one, Mark: try playing football. You’ll know if it’s broken after that.
Dear Dr. Ozzy:
I have just had a gallbladder operation and, frankly, I feel bloody awful. Given the many medical disasters you’ve recovered from during your lifetime, what are your rehabilitation tips?
Hec, Glasgow
Two words: baby steps. You’ve just had someone rip open your stomach with a knife, so you can’t expect to be starring in Riverdance any time soon. Having said that, I wasn’t exactly very patient after I fell off my quad bike and ended up in a coma for eight days. As soon as I woke up, I tried to check myself out. Hospitals aren’t very nice places to be, in my opinion—if only for the fact that there’s fuck all to do in there. But I’ve now learned that you’ve gotta go easy on yourself as much as you can. Trust me: if you’re too impatient, you’re only gonna end slowing down your recovery in the long term.
Parents (Living With)
Dear Dr. Ozzy:
Okay, I’m just going to come out and say it: I’m 40 years old, between jobs, and single. How bad is it if I move back in with my parents, who have plenty of room at home? I’m not relishing the thought, but it would save money while I get my life together.
Robert, Pontefract, West Yorks
It sounds like you’re trying to live your life by other people’s rules. If you like your parents, and they don’t mind you in their house, then move in. If you were Italian, you wouldn’t even think twice about it—most guys over there live with their mothers until they get hitched, no matter how long it takes. I realise people might not be so cool with that kind of thing in West Yorkshire, but it’s a lot fucking better than being so broke you can’t afford to eat, never mind pay for dates. Just do what you’ve gotta do, man.
Phobias (Pigeons, Etc.)
Dear Dr. Ozzy:
Every time I get on a plane, I convince myself that I’m going to die. It’s reached the point where I’m starting to make excuses at work to avoid travelling overseas. Please help!
Liz, Buckinghamshire
Flying can be deadly. For example, I was on a plane once to America and the bloke next to me started to make funny noises while eating his nuts. Next thing I knew, I was sitting next to a corpse. The worst thing was having to press the little buzzer to call for a flight attendant, and then explain why a bloke who’d been alive a few minutes earlier was suddenly face down on his tray table. For a moment, I thought they’d send out Columbo to meet me when I landed at JFK. In the end they put a blanket over him and moved me to a seat in first class with champagne. I only mention this story because I’m told that having someone drop dead next to you is probably more likely than your plane falling out of the sky. In fact, they say you’re more likely to die in a car crash on the way to the airport than you are to die in a plane crash. But not many people lie awake at night, worrying about the drive to Heathrow. Try reminding yourself of that next time you have to fly somewhere. It might calm you down.
Dear Dr. Ozzy,
My friend has a rare phobia: she’s terrified of pigeons. Is there a cure?
Anna, Finland
I ain’t got a clue, but if your friend lives in Finland, how many pigeons does she come across on a daily basis? I mean, if she lived in the middle of Trafalgar Square, it might be a problem. It’s not like the Finns eat pigeons, either: all they have over there is reindeer burgers, reindeer ice cream, and reindeer stew. Tell her to picture a sparrow and relax.
Dear Dr. Ozzy:
I’m terrified of butterflies. Is this is a common phobia? And what should I do now that the summer is approaching, and my room will soon become infested with the horrible things?
Lola, Irish Republic
I had no idea it was possible to get so upset about butterflies. I mean, what else are you scared of? Rainbows, puppies, and sunny days? Personally, the only creatures I really can’t stand are rats. If I see one, I freak, big time. But what can you do? You can’t walk around all day in HAZMAT suit with a bag over your head on the off-chance you might come across one. Having said that, it’s pretty easy to stay out of the way of rats, but it might be a bit harder with butterflies. If it’s causing you a lot of anxiety, talk to your GP. Maybe he’ll be able to sign you up for some kind of desensitization therapy.
Q.
Quinquaud’s Decalvans Folliculitis*
R.
Rabies (Suspected)
Dear Dear Ozzy:
How can I tell if I’ve got rabies? The reason I ask is because I was bitten by a stray dog while on holiday in Turkey, and now I’m worried it might have given me a terrible disease.
Denise, Portsmouth
I thought I’d caught rabies after eating that bat in Des Moines, Iowa. The injections they gave me were horrendous: one in each arm, one in each arse cheek, one in each thigh. Then you’ve got to rub the stuff like crazy to make sure it spreads over the muscle. It’s like an oil, very dense—you can feel it trickling around inside you. It’s the safest thing to do, and I’m sure the treatments have improved since 1982, but it ain’t very nice. Personally, I gave up halfway through. I said to Sharon, “If I start barking, we can start up again.”
DR. OZZY’S SURGERY NOTICEBOARD
Going Batty
According to Bernard in London, anyone who gets bitten by a stray animal in a faraway country like Turkey should immediately go and see a doctor—not wait until they start howling at the moon—’cos it could be “a life and death matter.” Even though I didn’t finish my own rabies treatment in 1982 after eating a bat’s head on stage, Bernard says the injections I had in hospital later that night might very well have saved my life.
S.
Sleeping Pills
Dear Dr. Ozzy:
I can’t stop taking sleeping pills—this has been going on for about five years now. I’m out of work, and at a loss what to do. Help.
Yoshizawa, Japan
I’m convinced that once you start relying on sleeping pills, it damages your sleeping pattern forever. A lot of sleeping pills are made from benzodiazepine, which is the same family as Valium—very addictive stuff. When I finally got off it after 25 years, it was the worst withdrawal I ever had from anything. The way I stopped was by switching my sleeping medication to an anti-depressant called trazodone, and I recommend that you talk to your doctor over there in Japan about doing something similar. The secret is to go very slowly: there’s no hurry. I also tried using a non-benzodiazepine sleeping pill, Ambien—or zolpidem—but it was the worst. My short-term memory got so bad I didn’t even know what time of day it was (see here). Mind you, I wasn’t just taking the regular dosage. I built up such a tolerance, I was popping the fucking things like M&M’s.
Sleepwalking
Dear Dr. Ozzy,
I keep waking up in my next-door neighbour’s front garden. I live alone, so either someone is coming into my house in the middle of the night and carrying me there, or I’m sleep-walking. Have you ever heard of this? What can I do about it?
Jane, Bradford
I’m always pottering about in the middle of the night, fast asleep. I was in a B&B one time, and I sleep-walked into the wrong room, got into bed, and carrie
d on with my whatever dream I was having. Then this big hairy bloke climbs between the sheets with me. I wake up and go, “What are you doing here?” He takes one look at me, screams, claps his hands over his wedding tackle, and goes, “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?” Sadly, there ain’t no cure for sleep-walking, as far as I know. But it’s not always a bad thing. A few years ago, for example, I was sleep-walking around my house in Buckinghamshire, when I walked smack into a burglar. If that doesn’t wake you up, nothing will. I almost caught the guy, too. I put him in a headlock for about five minutes, but didn’t have any handcuffs or anything, so in the end I thought, fuck it, and threw him out of the window… and he hobbled off across the field with about $3 million worth of Sharon’s jewelery in a plastic bag. Still, looking on the bright side, if I hadn’t been sleep-walking, I would never have met a real-life diamond thief.
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