Back To Where I Don’t Belong!

Like it or not, I have returned to the scene of the crimes (all of them) although (again) the powers that were insisted it would never happen. Plans to go directly into Rehab following the heart fungal infection treatment (6 weeks!) were shot down the very day of my last heart treatment. 

Seems the Rehab Center had to be shutdown due to an outbreak of an intestinal infection that hit the residents hard. Now, can you imagine my reaction if I had arrived in time to be forced into shutdown mode and had to deal with yet another attack on my immune system? No, me neither.

The hospital was stunned, but even more-so when a test swab revealed that I had Type A Influenza.  I wrote about this in a brief update recently, so I won’t go into the gory details. The episode knocked me out for another week, the hospital went into full isolation mode again and I became Neutropenic - again.  There went my fresh fruits and vegetables..It was nice while it lasted.

When it was time to reschedule a room in Rehab, there were none available except in the one that NO ONE wants to be admitted to and to which I also declined. 

Suddenly my apartment looked pretty good to them and it was clear they wanted me out of there as I wanted out of there before I was hit with another infection out of the blue.

So, me and my 23 days of necessities for rehab were stuffed into an ambulance and shipped to my old apartment.

The only difference, and it’s a big one, is that I have been registered with and admitted to Delaware Hospice, which ought to make my life less stressful and rest a little easier.  I get to stay home and people come to me for basic care and nursing needs.

The final home admissions interview was conducted yesterday morning - about 2.5 hours - and I felt much better following the meeting.  There is still much I don’t know about or understand and I am stressed enough to imagine that it could all be taken away in an instant (it does involved Medicare/Medicaid after all.) but for now it feels pretty good.

Had an uncomfortable, sleepless, strange night with little rest and woke up to this for my card of the day:

“The middle of the night - you are startled out of sleep, nightmare, undigested thoughts: get up and work out what you can do about it!  It’s dark, and many lights appear; mental flashes.  Nine Swords: a whole gamut of new knowledge and insights - exhausting - get used to them carefully.”

I'm still organizing my thoughts and experiences so...More later.

*

Miles and Miles of Heart

Six weeks later, still in hospital, but the anti-fungal has destroyed the heart fungal infection after 6
weeks of treatment. I've been told that most hearts would have just given up and out, but for some reason, I'm still here.

A number of folks I have known in the past have died over the holidays and yet, here I am.

Just began to feel better and now I've got the flu.  Can't seem to win any which way.

The plan is to go into rehab for a few weeks after this flu takes its leave of my poor old wasted body.  We shall see.

Stay tuned.  It's been an amazing ride and it ain't over yet.

Amazed
*

The Epic Dream of My Life, or Something Like It.

 I guess this is what being a shut-in is all about. What an afternoon/night.  I must have dreamed the epic of all dreams during that time.  And it was in the most vivid colour, too. Stand aside Mr. DeMille! I Take Large Steps.

I swear I could almost smell popcorn. 

The locations ranged from Florida’s Gulf Coast, New Orleans, Amsterdam, unidentifiable beaches everywhere, London, New York City (most intense), Toronto, even a desert-type landscape with oak trees instead of palms, and La Jolla. And featured just about everyone I have ever known in my life - long term, or nameless acquaintances - and I performed the most amazing feats that I’ve never done in real life. And I performed them well. 

I woke twice to pee and drink some water. When I returned to bed the dream continued where it left off.  Oddly enough, there were few appearances by family members, which I suppose means something, I don’t know what. 

There were large chunks of reality in there, too. Episodes of rejection and times I was abandoned. It was interesting to watch myself from afar as I pulled myself together and moved on, or hid myself in shame before finding the strength and foothold to move on.

There was a lot of flying involved. Made difficult at times by the other people in a given episode trying to keep me down, in my place, as it were. Sometimes it was hard to break free.

I seemed to be on a search, or quest of some kind and everywhere I went I found something “important” that was stuffed into a carisack as sort of a piece of the overall puzzle.  

It’s now 1:30 AM and I am pretty dreamed out. The dream ended quietly with me living in one of those new tiny houses in a vast open field somewhere in no-man’s land. I was surrounded by the collection of “things” found along the way. Though people would drive by and wave as I sat on the tiny porch of the tiny house, I was alone, but completely at peace. 

Camera pulls back to a wide shot of the house in the middle of a vast, brownish-gold plain, a narrow dirt road a few yards from the house. There is no evidence of a car of my own. The only bright colors are those of the house. Sound of wind in the background. Fade to black.

I had no narcotics beforehand. I was tired and sleepy after lunch and decided a nap would be a good thing.  Little did I know…

Thought I’d write about it before it all fades away and I have only snippets to taunt me.  I mean, I doubt a dream like this one is likely to come to me again.

I am amazed. 

*

Life and Death are Simply Wearing Me Out!

Things on the apartment search are moving quickly, too quickly to keep up with. Two of the

apartments found on Craigslist have already been taken, am waiting to hear about 2 others. Learned that moving in with someone with pets would be borderline acceptable.  No cats, birds, ferrets, etc.  Only dogs that are primarily indoor pets, are clean, will stay off my bed, etc., will be considered

Another evaluation by the PT folks today, one more tomorrow, and now they’re talking about allowing me to return to my 2nd. floor apartment temporarily as I continue to search for one on the ground level.

The catch is that I’d be allowed up and down the stairs once daily and my occupational therapy would be limited.  Though in what ways I do not know.

My case manager is doing her damnedest to keep me in the medicaid link so that I am eligible for additional long term home health aid. She spent half her day on the phone on my behalf today.  Every time I see her my personal file, usually tucked under her arm, gets thicker and thicker. 

Medicaid sent a 1/4 inch thick survey/questionnaire to Linda that she was supposed to complete and return before this weekend. Problem is that she has no access to most of the requested documents while most of other info seems to have nothing to do with her role as my POA.  Gave it all to the Case Manager, Suzanne today. She didn’t bat an eyelash. I would have been bonkers in that situation. 

If I am released from here soon, the first thing on my gay agenda is updating, sorting, and reformatting all the medical documents, then put them all in one easy-to-reach place for quick access. 

The second thing is to prepare the paperwork to make Linda the Executor of my estate. I thought that was one of the documents we took care of 3 weeks ago, but that wasn’t the case. POA ends when my life does.  Clearly, that’s not good enough.

Gather more data about assisted living opportunities and their costs.  Seems this is one of those loose ended gambits that varies from state to state, usually with the person needing assisted living getting virtually fucked (and not in a nice way) due to loopholes and financial shell games.

A new Cell Phone Carrier.  If this current experience has shown me anything it’s that good cell coverage is important in critical situations like this. I need a more reliable carrier and I find that Verizon is the best around.   Though their level of suckitude is beyond measure, they do have to most reliable network around here. Granted, I’ll be paying over half again what I’m paying now, but what I am paying didn’t produce a signal or wifi for texting. Time to bite the bullet.

Probably the most pressing issue about being back in my own space is the inability to clean, do laundry, mop, dust, scrub, change sheets, etc., on my own. I know it will be almost impossible now, but Linda has told me not to worry. If the Home Health person doesn’t do it, she will see that it gets done, somehow.

Having been laid up for a month I have no idea what I can and cannot do for myself anymore or how much stamina I will have when sprung initially.  Still, Linda says I am not to worry.  So I won’t worry. Well, maybe just a little.

There were two huge dark chocolate bars waiting for me when I woke up this morning. No note or card. Just one 60% cacao and the other 85% - 100 grams each.The have to be from one of the nurses, but from the night crew from last evening or someone from the day crew today. And, no one will tell me.

I’ll find out sooner or later - or not. Meanwhile I will enjoy the chocolate and thank the Universe that such a kind person thought of me.

And so it goes.

*

Rigers, Oxygen, & Demerol

Bother!  It’s happened again.  Just when I thought I was getting a handle on the relationship between the fevers and the acute pain another new wrinkle is added to the mix.

At 1:30 this morning I was virtually flattened by a fever of 103! It came out of nowhere, sent nurses into quick action, left me sprawled, trembling with Rigers as they attempted to warm me up and make me comfortable. I also received another 6-pak of platelets. Which seemed to help, too.

No false alarm this time round (you know how tired I get just writing the same things over and over again?) only a real slam-bang slice of the nasties to ruin my night’s sleep and make the day miserable. I’m eating a little more, though not much. 

Bev-Ann, one of the best nurses at the center called this morning to say good-bye, seems she’s on her way to 3-weeks in Spain and wanted to tell me she missed me and hoped I was doing well.  Now how nice is that??

The rest of today has been more surprising than ever. As the sun tried to make an appearance through heavy cloud and rains, my energy level seemed to perk up and I was suddenly very hungry. 

After a moderate size breakfast - with 2 cups of coffee, mmd you! - I shaved and trimmed by beard (baby-fearsome is still thicker than I ever imagined. I set about doing a medi-wipes hand shower, followed by a good shampooing.  I’ve not been able to shave my head in almost a month, still can’t, but I was able to scrub it clean and feel refreshed.  More than I have in weeks.

Attacked all the paper work and updated mailings from credit cards, credit union, etc. It’s been sorted out and will go into the file cabinet when Linda returns this weekend. 

By lunch time I was hungry again, but only enough room for a soup, crackers, and some sherbet.  More than enough for me; it felt good not to waste food, too.

After lunch I knew I was done for the day and settled in to read a while.The pain was really bad, but so far, no fevers. A very good sign. Put on oxygen, grabbed an icepack for my upper back, slid under the covers and rested.

For some bizarre reason I feel a kind of calmness that some things are about to fall into place and I’ll be out of here soon.

The LocosGuys called with more cryptic questions and statements regarding my time frame for the move. They keep pointing to an apartment in a specific development, but won’t give me information, so I am not going to take in seriously as I continue to hunt for new digs. 

While I like the guys, this is no time for 20 questions, Truth or Consequences, or Jeopardy.  I need a place to live. No games! I have no time for games, and even less time for bullshit.

Now I await a happy painkiller to see e through.  

Here’s hoping for a peace filled, glorious night. The Seawitch Weekend begins tomorrow.

And so it goes.

*

Counting the Beats and Pain.

Three weeks and counting. The past few days have been confusing, astounding, and eventful.

Had a few visitors - folks brave enough to face what I look like without screaming into the wind and jumping into the ocean. A few of my doctors have dropped by just to check in. A couple of nurses and techs from the Center have also come by to check to make sure I’m still breathing.

This past weekend was Jazz Fest and, as usual, one of my fave bands were playing at the restaurant. Well, you can imagine my surprise when I received a phone call on the hospital phone from the leader of that band. He proceeded to inform the audience that I was on the phone (the collective reply was, “Hi Wayne, Get Well.” 

Tim then told me he was going to play 2 of my favorites back to back and wanted me to listen to the new arrangements he’d just worked out. I was both thrilled and embarrassed, but he put the phone down before I could voice a complaint or say another word.

Keep in mind that I didn’t have a high fever, but the pain level was through the roof. I have just been zapped with a painkiller and was halfway to happy town when the music began to flow. Autumn in New York drew me in right away allowing me to wallow in my own past images of NY in the Fall.  Great memories. There was great applause when it ended. I think he’t got another winner there.

He picked up the phone, asked my opinion, then before I could give a revise of my own, he launched into the second one.  I Happen to Like New York. I was totally blown away. Yes, of course, I was in tears when that one ended.  But what a treat for a shut-in on a cold autumn weekend.  I loved it.

Linda has called every day from Ireland to check in and make sure things are moving right along. I suppose they are, but achingly slowly at this point.

Two guys from the restaurant showed up last evening for a brief chat, while Nicole came by with bags of junk mail and other nonsense from the apartment.  She took the car out for a drive since it’s been over a month since I’ve done so.

No fever last night either, but great pain in legs and lower spine. I was given  an IV earlier but that’s worn off, so I am about to be put down with another IV push.

I wish I had more energy to sit up long enough to read through, and respond to your many comments.   Maybe tomorrow.

One day at a time, just one at a time.

And so it goes. 

Adventures in Dry Cleaning

So, there I stood with a fist full of receipt/tickets waiting in a rather long line (especially for the day of the week and time of day) to pick up items being dry cleaned and others being pampered some other way. 

The 2 counter clerks seemed to be in a tizzy, running in circles and making

excuses to the customers being served as to why their items couldn’t be located. OK, this isn’t one of those same-day quickie cleaners, they take time and do a very good job. I  have all my dress shirts, kilts, tuxedo, vestments cleaned and pressed there as do many clergy in the area.

What was bothersome to the customers was that the items were to have been ready a week ago and they were nowhere to be found. That chain-link mechanical snake and carousel thingy (how’s that for a description) was almost in constant motion as they went round and round spot-checking ticket numbers.  All to no avail.

Each question by the clerks like “were there special instructions for these garments?” was met with teeth-clenched, irritated answers. Nothing special, just ladies evening dresses and men’s suits and dress shirts with French cuffs. This was going nowhere fast. 

The rather translucent clerks finally asked the customers to stand aside so the other waiting customers could be served.  They refused to budge.  Charming people.  It was all about them. Everyone else can wait. So, there.

With that, a few customers ahead of me emitted  groans and left the store. There were 2 of us left standing behind the 2 - now obnoxious - customers who were practically crawling all over the countertop. 

Suddenly the store owner arrived with a new batch of garments and as he wheeled them in to be placed on the snake belt, the clerks practically knocked him down trying to get at those hangers. They eventually found missing garments, but the customers were anything but happy. They didn’t want to pay the bills.

The owner - calmly smiling all the while - told them they didn’t have to pay, but the garments would not leave the store; they could leave whenever they wished to leave. They stared at him with eyes wide. What did he mean?

The owner produced the original ticket with special instructions, including removal of certain stains that required a lot of TLC. The two customers must have enjoyed one hell of a party because his and hers were quite a difficult mess to clean up.  The point is, the cleaners DID the job and as the man said, “after working that hard to get the garments looking like new, they’re not going anywhere for free.”

At this point let me say that I have no idea of the relationship between these people; if married, why separate receipts? By their attitudes one could tell they weren’t from around these parts. So all that will (blessedly) remain a mystery.  I’m just sayin’. 

New version of the Utility Kilt.

The person who had been next to me suddenly remembered something in her car and ran out the door. The cheap-ass whiners finally coughed up the cash and when they said they’d never be back, the owner said over his shoulder, “great, thank you” and they were gone.

It was finally my turn. I know my stuff was in because they told me it would be delayed because of the Kilts. The owner returned to placing the new items on the belt as my slacks, shirts, jackets, and kilts are hung next to the counter.  The already frazzled counter clerk looks at the kilts, then at me and said “oh, another problem. These were a nightmare to press properly, please don’t bring them back again.”

I looked at her in shock. They’ve always done kilts and not just mine, but the rental ones from the Formal Wear store across the highway. (Having just witnessed a fierce battle I wasn’t in the mood to fight.) As I mentioned this the owner came over with an exasperated expression, about to cover for her, when the other customer returned from her car. 

Seems she had forgotten 3 girl’s school uniform skirts in the car, and guess what?  They were pleated skirts. The other clerk stopped in his tracks and rolled his eyes, the owner stopped breathing, the clerk handling my transaction let out a sigh and as I started to laugh, I heard, almost inaudibly - - “shit!”  

These poor folks were clearly having a very bad day. That’s not my problem.

I paid for the cleaning and as I turned to leave I said, “I’ll see you when these need cleaning again, or what?” The owner smiled, resigned to his fate and said, “sure, but I know we’ll see you before then.” I must make a point of visiting the cleaners again while wearing a kilt. Show off their fine work, and all that. My bad?

I'm thinking I might just wear the kilt to the post-Labor Day party at the Irish Pub next Monday.

And so it goes.

*

Possibly Good News

Two nurses from the Cancer Research Department sought me out today.  Their job is to find studies or trials that are suitable for current patients and try to match them up, hopefully getting a spot for a patient, like me, who has few other options.

The good news is that the NIH and Mayo Clinic run studies periodically and I may be eligible for one or more of those - if they begin again in the Fall. From what I gather some are studies, others are clinical trials for specific drugs. 

The NIH study could be based anywhere from Maryland to New York, to Florida. The Mayo studies could take place in Minnesota, Florida, or New York in the US, and France or The Netherlands. No word about whether housing is provided or there is a nominal fee, and/or how long the studies, or trials, run.  Again, it seems a study can last anywhere from 4 to 12 weeks. 

Not sure about how the drug trials work. Of course, if the drug isn’t FDA approved, the trials would take place in another country, but may include Americans willing to travel (read desperate for options) abroad for an extended period of time. Any of you medical professionals out there will know more about this than I.

Of course, I would keep the apartment here, unless otherwise instructed. I have nothing holding me anywhere, so it doesn’t matter. But this news gives me hope where there was little to none beforehand.

Without getting his hopes up, this Cajun is optimistic.

And so it goes.

*

THE SUMMER EARTH FARTED

It may not be the best title for a Sci-Fi flick, but who cares.  That’s what’s happened, and is happening.

The thought that I may be alive to witness the beginning of the end of human life on the planet is intoxicating. Greed, arrogance, stupidity, quest for power, all shot to hell as most life may disappear, but the planet will heal and maybe be parent to new species when it’s damn good and ready. 

From the UK Telegraph:

Researchers investigating three giant holes that have appeared in the Siberian wilderness may have solved the mystery.
Andrei Plekhanov, a researcher who led an expedition to the original 262ft wide opening, believes rising temperatures, not aliens, could be the cause.
He said that warmer summers in the region, in 2012 and 2013, might have contributed to the permafrost thawing, before collapsing and releasing methane gas trapped underground.
His team discovered that air near the bottom of first hole,found in the Yamal Peninsula, contained an unusually high concentration of methane gas.
They say more tests need to be done to confirm their theory and want to study the methane concentration in the air trapped in its walls.
However Plekhanov, from the Scientific Centre of Arctic Studies in Russia, believes it will be difficult as “its rims are slowly melting and falling into the crater”.
He told science publication Nature: “You can hear the ground falling, you can hear the water running, it’s rather spooky.”

More HERE with more links to related articles.

This from Arctic Ice Expert Jason Box in an article at Salon:

As with everything else in the news anymore, this is one more retribution by an angry god because - - the gay!

And so it goes.

*

Scientists: BP Spill Much Worse than People Think.

Don't believe the commercials and the "it's all cleaned up" propaganda

from BP.  Not if you know anyone in the areas impacted by the spill, or read the scientific data.

Yes, just as BP stalls again files yet another appeal with the SCOTUS (story here) essentially crying “foul and unfair” - again - this report is released by Climate Progress at Think Progress:

Scientists at Penn State University have discovered two new coral reefs near the site of BP’s historic 2010 oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico, and the impacts to those reefs from the spill have been greater than expected, according to research released Monday. 

The two additional reefs found by the PSU team were both farther away and deeper than the one coral reef that had previously been found to have been impacted by the spill. That indicates not only that marine ecosystems may be more greatly affected, but that some of the 210 million gallons of oil that BP spilled into the Gulf is making its mark in the deep sea. 

“The footprint of the impact of the spill on coral communities is both deeper and wider than previous data indicated,” PSU biology professor Charles Fisher, who led the study, said.

The rest is HERE. Includes a conversation with Prof. Fisher and more.

BP commercials continue to saturate TV and radio in New Orleans and the Gulf with their lies and propaganda, but folks who know better just sluff it off because, well, they know better.

And so it goes.

*

Vlad the Sex Toy?

Yep.  Gives a whole new meaning to Vlad the Impaler, don't you think?

Yes, this is real. Putin the Plug!

h/t MPS

More later.
*

Candidate Scares Political Analyst

Christ on a cracker.  From a Cook Political Report on a LA State Rep running in the November election.  Scary stuff.

Louisiana state Rep. LENAR WHITNEY (R), candidate, Louisiana's 6th Congressional District 

PERSONALITY: 12 

GRASP OF ISSUES: 3 

SENSE OF PURE ANIMAL TERROR: 30 

LEFT SHAKEN BY ENCOUNTER: OH GOD, YES 

Our Summary 

Review"Fourth in the GOP field" but first among "climate deniers," Louisiana state Rep. Lenar Whitney succeeds in standing out among the "over 300 congressional candidates over the course of seven years" that this reviewer has sampled. Where the average candidate is "accustomed to tough questions" and typically capable of merely leaving one feeling "impressed" or merely "underwhelmed," Whitney -- a self-described "Palin of the South" who "relishes poking Democrats in the eye" -- stands apart from the candidates met in "hundreds of Cook Political Report meetings" by being not just "fact-averse" but, indeed, "the most frightening candidate I've met in seven years interviewing congressional hopefuls." The best moment was when Whitney "fled the room." Sure to be somebody's "worst nightmare."

Jason Linkins

Also, too, She fancies herself as the Palin of the South.  Hahahaha! Isn't the south fucked up enough already?

And here everyone thought there were crazies only in Texas and Mississippi. We grow 'em big in Louisiana swamps, y'all.

October is going to be a long month.

And so it goes.
*

Mardi Gras - 10 Years Apart

1950 Duke and Duchess of Windsor share a float in the Rex Mardi Gras Parade.

The Duke and Duchess (Wallis Simpson) at the Ball, being received at court by Rex, the King of Mardi Gras - 1950.

1960. A Duke in Costume for Krewe of Terpsichore. 

And a good laugh was had by all.  I wonder who this person could be?!?

And so it goes.
*

Everything Old is New Again, and Again.

At the Cancer Center for treatment today, I had a sudden blast from the past. 

Flashback to the early-nineties. Reminding me of when healthy people were first diagnosed with HIV; everything was fine as long as they remained relatively healthy. Friends were always on hand for dinners, parties, movies, or quiet evenings at home playing board games. Scrabble, Trivial Pursuit, and cut-throat sessions of Monopoly were always in order.  Remember, I was part of the Buddy system back then.

But at a visible sign of illness (like KS lesions) or hospitalization (usually PCP) those friends, those happy times evaporated, were history.  Never to be repeated. Friends and family vanished overnight. The very time when a person needed someone most was when he/she was deserted, essentially labelled DEAD already. And no one wanted to be a part of that messy time.  Oh, the hospital stories I could tell…

Anyway.

 This is what drew my attention today at the Cancer Center for the first time.  I don’t know why I didn’t recognize it earlier, the ugliness is unmistakably there. Maybe I’m the only one to notice it. I saw a lot of it 25 years ago. 

Many patients are my age and older, but there is a group of younger men and women dealing with the same, or worse, cancer diagnoses  and treatments. Some who used to be transported by friends/family members now arrive by taxi, or assisted hospital van - alone. 

Seems things never change. Folks are squeamish about the seriousness of the illness a friend or loved one is dealing with, and suddenly have other things to do. Sometimes they come back to pick up the patient, but only when called by nursing staff that all treatments are over for the day. 

As usual, the patients buy into the excuses and denial wins the day.  Very sad. Nothing for it, though. I try to chat with these patients about their current treatment and add my own experiences.  It helps relax them a little.  Like, we’re in this together and it’s OK to talk about it.  Especially with the nursing staff.

Still, it makes me sad to see anyone tossed aside as if they’re lives were nothing.  I’m already alone, so no need to suffer such indignities, myself.

We just keep plugging along.  Laughter is the best therapy, and we do a lot of that when I’m around. At least until they drug me, that is.  And sometimes that’s a good thing. 

Besides, I’m still riding high on the energy from last Friday’s Happy Hour shindig. 

And so it goes.

* 

Stirring up Trouble & Stir Fry

Just when I thought it was safe to take a short walk around town, there was an

attempted robbery - yes, here in town - and the summer rent-a-cops are having a law-enforcement field day.

As I watched the chaos unfolding, hearing the shouts and crackling radios, I realized no one knew what he or she was doing. So, I did an about-face and returned home. The walk will wait for another day.

After the morning lab work and Neupogen shot, I stopped at the market for veggie fixin’s - red pepper, snow peas, bamboo shoots, spring onions, and broccoli.  I’ve been on a stir-fry kick lately. Wokking everything in sight; chicken, pork, beef are alternately on the menu. Nothing is safe from my Wok! Such cooking adds spice and zip to my otherwise bland diet. I need the extra zip because my taste buds are not functioning well and spicing things up helps a lot.

Tonight will be sliced pork in a hoisin and peanut sauce. With sticky rice, of course. There is usually enough  left over for another meal, so when I am tired and don’t feel like cooking, it’s pork stir-fry magical microwave time.  Supper in less than 10 minutes.

Just received a text from Linda, the wee Irish Lass, and my old GM at Dos Locos, wanting to set up a Happy Hour Birthday Celebration with me this week. I had hoped no one would remember, but no such luck. She ticked off 5 options, informing me that there will be at least 4 other folks involved and that I will be picked up and delivered home for the occasion. No Ifs - Ands - Buts about it. She asked what I wanted for my birthday…I chose not to share my real wish.

The final Neupogen shot happens tomorrow along with a double transfusion session, so I suggested we aim for Thursday afternoon.  With new blood coursing through my veins I should have the energy of a bear and will likely be more positive about the whole affair than I am right now. 

Still, it’s nice that she is thinking of me and wants to spend some quality time with me. (Ahem! What she really wants to do is get me drunk with friends. She may just succeed.) She and the other 4 cohorts are former co-workers of mine at Dos Locos, so it ought to be a hell of a good time.

Meanwhile, many of the ebooks I’ve downloaded in the resent past have been rejected for one reason or another. Bad writing, editing, proofing, and storytelling...and I don't think I'm that hard to please.

I find myself wanting to revisit books read many years ago.  I also find that they hold up better, writing-wise, than most of the new product on the market. Then imagine my surprise when, today I found another Pern book from the Dragon series. Of course, I downloaded it,  “The Dolphins of Pern” will be special (read distracting) for tomorrow while being transfused.  

Sometimes life does indeed suck, but this isn’t one of those times.

And so it goes.

Sassy Bear & The Cajun Treatment Comparison

OK Sassy Bear, you’re on.  Here is a shot of Sean (aka Sassy Bear) patiently awaiting treatment, and one of Self scowling after treatment, posing in our individual, unique torture chamber devices er’ Infusion chairs.

 Sassy looks all Sunshine and Lollipops in a cheerful, brightly lit atmosphere. He is resigned, showing the face of experience; one who has been around this block - or others like it -  a few times before. Like, “This Too Shall Pass” kind of face. Yes, the photo is shamelessly pilfered from his site. So, sue me!

While I, on the other hand, stuck in a corner, look like a refugee from the walking dead.  Sporting my festive rash on calves and forearms. I ain’t none too happy about being where I have to be.  In our own way we are each saying "well, here we are again.  Now, what?"

First off, the chairs at my Center are new, boasting heat and massage capabilities with a fly-away, drop-down tray for use when needed.  Sassy’s Center chairs look like High-Chairs for grownups.  But never mind. 

Sassy, thank the goddess Eiron we’re not treated in the same center - together - simultaneously.  Although it would do us a world of good, the staff would probably run out of the place screaming. And, you know what, that’s as it should be. 

Seriously Sean, I hope your nursing staff is as caring and compassionate as mine. They help me to carry on, maintain my sensashumah, and are very sensitive to my needs. Sometimes even before I know I have them.

I am grateful that you have your man and your close friend to see you through what must be frustratingly horrendous to deal with.

On the other hand, I am looking for a way out of this medical madness. I’d like to leave the planet. I’ve tried phoning home - no one answers.  With my luck they’ve probably changed the locks while I’ve been away. I’m stuck.

Anyway, Ladies and Gentlemen, If you call right now, you can vote on the most fashionable infusion center furnishings.  Operators are standing by…

And so it goes.

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GOP Self Destruction is Complete

From Ana Marie Cox (the original Wonkette) at the Guardian. This is one reason I read the European news outlets.  You wouldn't see stories like this one in the American press anymore:

Conservatives are stuck in a perpetual outrage loop. The reappearance of Todd Akin, the horror-movie villain immortality of Sarah Palin, the unseemly celebration of the Hobby Lobby decision – these all speak to a chorus of "la-la-la-can't-hear-you" loud enough to drown out the voice of an entire generation. Late last week, the Reason Foundation released the results of a poll about that generation, the millennials; its signature finding was the confirmation of a mass abandonment of social conservatism and the GOP. This comes at a time when the conservative movement is increasingly synonymous with mean-spirited, prank-like and combative activism and self-important grand gestures. The millennial generation has repeatedly defined itself as the most socially tolerant of the modern era, but one thing it really can't stand is drama.
Republicans were already destined for piecemeal decimation due to the declining numbers of their core constituency. But they don't just have a demographic problem anymore; they have stylistic one. The conservative strategy of outrage upon outrage upon outrage bumps up against the policy preferences and the attitudes of millennials in perfect discord.
We all can recognize the right's tendency to respond to backlash with more "lash" (Akin didn't disappear, he doubled down on "legitimate rape"), but it seems to have gained speed with the age of social media and candidate tracking. The Tea Party's resistance to the leavening effect of establishment mores and political professionals has been a particularly effective accelerant. Palin's ability to put anything on the internet without any intermediary has rendered her as reckless as any tween with a SnapChat account. Akin's whiny denouncement of Washington insiders is likely to make him more credible with a certain kind of base voter. The midterms are, as we speak, producing another round of Fox News celebrities, whether or not they win their races: the Eric Cantor-vanquishing David Brat, Mississippi's Chris McDaniel and the hog-castrating mini-Palin, Jodi Ernst of Iowa.

The rest is HERE.

More later.
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Rolling Coal, The Weekend, & Card of the Day

Hooray for me!  I saw my first “rolling coal” vehicle (which ought to be illegal) on the highway today. It was a pickup truck with a king cab packed with 5 rednecks swilling beer (which is illegal), playing  loud music, and howling. I call it "black smoke with a side of stoopid." And man, does that smoke stink.  Well, it is coal after all. No briquettes baby, this is the real deal. I can just imagine that nasty stuff ruining the engine of that nice big red truck. 

Summer traffic being what it normally is (heavy, bumper-to-bumper, etc.) on a Friday, they didn’t get their point across.  Instead of the black smoke billowing out behind them as they ripped down the highway, (see image above) they sat in traffic with hundreds of others, that black smoke belching upward (for some reason, the exhaust pipes are installed vertically) then falling and coating nearby vehicles in ashes and soot. Other drivers were not amused - especially those in convertibles. I hope that is the last of those contraptions I ever have contact with.

A reminder that a few miles to the west of here it is mostly redneck country where big confederate flags fly, high power rifles are part of fireworks displays, tiny brains abound, and common sense is in short supply.  

To read about this stuff, or to see video is one thing, but who’da thunk it I’d see the real thing on a local roadway making dreadful noise and giving free asthma attacks to anyone in the vicinity.

Then, there’s the tale of the obese, practically naked, good ‘ol boy rescued from his pontoon boat when he sliced through his penis while cutting bait for his crab traps.  Yes, he was under the influence at the time.  Like you had to ask? 

Or the little girl who went temporarily blind after sticking her face in the bowl of the (running) cotton candy machine. Of course she is fine, will probably breed and the whole scenario will be repeated in the future. Always something to look forward to...glad I won't be here.

But, these are stories for another time.   Maybe not. 

Like I say, you can’t make this stuff up.

I went to thrift stores hunting for Chef’s knives today and  found a 6” Victorinox and a 5.5” OXO. I gave them my box of kitchen things to add to their collection and they wanted to knock a few bucks off my purchase. Christ on a cracker, everything is already so inexpensive, I declined the offer. They put the money to good use helping families in need - and there are a lot of those around here. I am not that needy. 

I have (had) Victorinox knives and know they’re some of the best, but had not heard of OXO until recently, but I hear they’re good and hold an edge.  We’ll just see about that.

Oh, and apropos of nothing, here is my card of the day:

Card description: Honor. 

The symbolism is honor through the forces or accomplishments of the purity and power of spiritual undertakings. This is honor unmarred by ego, something wholly, entirely and completely outside of self. There may be an element of self-satisfaction in that one is closely allied with the source of honor, but the honor is deserved only by the selfless entity symbolized by the flowering rod. 

Note: Rod = Wand, Stave in other decks.)

Anyway, the weekend is here. No more Chemo until Monday (Yay! for me) so all my poked places have a chance to heal before the next 2 rounds.  If the sun makes an appearance, I get to take a few Dawn Patrols walks on the boards - sporting my festive new chapeau. 

And so it goes.

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Who Is This Man?

Anyone know who this guy is? I see his picture everywhere. I know he’s an actor and currently in the TV show, Game of Thrones, but know nothing about him. Not his name, nothing. I’ve never even heard him speak.

I just want to say that I think he’s extremely sexy.

That great scruffy hair…

That beautiful mouth. 

Those incredible eyes. 

Oh my!  Prissy, get the Rose Water!

When I look at these images my gaydar makes my head itch, so I wonder if he might be gay. Not that it matters. 

As you can tell, I know absolutely nothing about the TV show, which I am told I would probably enjoy. Well, I found something I enjoy about the show, already.

And so it goes.

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Civics Lessons, Anyone?

I'd hope that this has been PhotoShopped, but it seems pretty close to the reality of the thinking of the Crazies in this country.

More later.
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