3295 Bits

Saturday, July 2, 2011

There's no reason to waste a creative thinker on an implementation task.
-- Dilbert --

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When the Nugget got her first immunizations, Daughter had been worried about how she would react when the nurse hurt her baby, and she didn't want the Nugget to think her mommy had done this terrible thing to her, so she asked me to go with her. Well, when the time came, Daughter did take over, and talked to Nugget. Nugget startled, the lower lip came out, but she recovered quickly and smiled at her mommy. All was well. Daughter picked her up, held her in her arms, and told her she was a good girl, very brave. And I put my arm around Daughter and told her she was a good girl, very brave.

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I'm reading one of the free books that came with the Kindle, a collection of old fairy tales. Very bloody. They use a lot of old or unusual words, too. I have to look up words in every story, like "firmity" (a sort of a pudding-like glop made with soaked cracked grain, thickened with egg), "league" (the distance a man can walk in one hour, being farther on flat smooth ground and shorter on rough or steep ground), "cimeter" (a smallish knife with a curved blade shaped like a scimitar), "drest" (old adjective form of dressed), and so on.

I most enjoyed looking up "league". The first part of the Wikipedia article on anthropic measurements is very interesting. Ever wonder what a cubit is? Or a fathom? Furlong?

It struck me as odd that many of the measurements seem to assume an average human height of six feet. (On a well-proportioned body, the distance from the tips of the fingers to the opposite tips of outstretched arms should be equal to the height from the ground to the top of the head.) And yet I'd always heard that people in antiquity were much smaller than now. That David's giant was actually probably just a bit over six feet tall. I know that when you look at uniforms in Civil War museums (I lived in Gettysburg a few years) the uniforms seem tiny, too small even for me, and that was only 150 years ago. Same with Victorian dresses.

So it seems odd.

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I'm thinking I can probably live with this kidney stone. I still have the other part of that double kidney functioning well. I believe the stones formed because I had the year-and-a-half kidney infection, and if I can avoid any future kidney infections, it won't get any worse.

The organism was the usual Escherichia coli (E. coli). "They" tell women that to prevent UTIs, we should wipe front to back, and piddle after sex. I don't know about the rest of the world, but I have great difficulty doing either. I have to wipe side-to-side, just being careful not to pull forward. And I can't piddle after sex because I have to piddle before, or I can't relax to enjoy it, so there's nothing there. Besides, I can't piddle that many times in one evening.

So I was thinking about that, and decided that I will have to use the Azo strips periodically. Check often, and insist that if something does show up, we cannot assume it's just a simple bladder infection.

That got me wondering about bidets. Um, wouldn't they contribute to UTIs? I can't imagine that the stream of water is very careful about where it carries and splashes and deposits stuff. At least then it's your own ickiness. Not like the automatic-flush toilets in public restrooms, like those along the parkways and throughways, that flush even while you're still on them and splash your bottom with God-knows-what left by God-knows-whom. Those things make me cringe.

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I heard fireworks last night. I automatically got up and went to the window, and was disappointed to find that I could see nothing. The sounds were coming from the north and northwest, and from the southeast. North and northwest would be Brooklyn and Staten Island, and in the winter I can see them, but with the leaves on the trees now I can see next to nothing. Southeast would be along the bay shores or ocean shores, but being at sealevel myself and surrounded by trees, I could see nothing.

Disappointment. The old house is on a ridge with a view to the mountains, and I used to be able to see the fireworks from Bard college, Kingston, Rhinebeck, and Saugerties, and if Woodstock invested in the good stuff that would rise above the mountains, I could see theirs, too.

Tsk. I'll miss them.
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3294 Dear Diary

Friday, July 1, 2011

How "good one is in bed" has more to do with the combination than with any skill.
-- Silk --

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One purpose of this blog is to act as a diary for me, so I kind of know what happened when. I don't always remember what I did three days ago, let alone last month. Of course, I also often don't realize the significance of small things when they happen, so they get left out and lost. So the usefulness is often compromised. Eh.

I wanted to go upriver this past week, probably Tuesday evening through Thursday, and had told the Hunk I'd be up. But it didn't happen. And I'm already starting to forget why.

Nugget had a pediatrician appointment on Wednesday afternoon. Daughter had managed to convince the doctor to delay Nugget's first immunizations for a month, so she'd be getting them Wednesday, and Daughter was a nervous wreck. She asked me to go with her. She was so afraid herself that I think she was almost afraid she'd have to leave the room. Ok, Gramma can be the bad guy. So I didn't go upriver Tuesday evening. I can go Wednesday, and return Friday.... (Yuck. Garden State Parkway, Friday on a holiday weekend, heading toward the shore points?)

Tuesday afternoon Daughter and had I spent some time looking up baby carriers on the internet. She wanted one that could be used on the front with the baby facing in or out. I pointed out that Nugget would soon be too heavy for a front carrier, so maybe she should look for one that could also be used as a back carrier. We found a few that looked good. I emphasized that she shouldn't buy it online, though, at least until she'd tried one on for size and comfort.

So Wednesday after the pediatrician appointment, Daughter suggested that we locate a selection of carriers on Thursday. Wednesday, by the way, was a long day. Daughter is pokey anyway, but she stops dead every two hours or so for 20 minutes or so, to breastfeed the Nugget.

On the way home from the pediatrician we had stopped at a huge Target to see if they had any carriers (no, not a single one), and while I was standing at the counter in the Target snack bar a man next to me set a cup of coffee on a small bit of shelf set there to hold a debit card reader at the front of the counter, while he paid his tab. The unsecured shelf tilted, the coffee slid off and hit the floor, and the hot coffee shot straight up, a veritable volcano, and splashed my neck, tiny boiling droplets from behind my right ear to my shoulder.

No, I don't need 911. No, I don't need the store nurse. I would like a cloth with some ice, please. Now!, if it wouldn't be too much trouble? Yes, I would like to see a manager. Yes, I would like to fill out an incident report - for the sole purpose of bringing attention to that unsecured shelf, which should be removed or secured, because the next person burned could be a Nugget-type. Or a litigious type. Who would certainly have a case now that I am reporting it.

The manager removed the shelf immediately. Next time I'm in Target, I'm going to check.

Then Daughter asked me to watch Nugget that evening while she worked on some medical insurance problems** and wrote an article for an organization newsletter. So I didn't make it up river Wednesday evening, either. Ok, I can go Thursday evening, then return Saturday evening, and that's better for traffic anyway.

So Thursday Daughter, Nugget, and I headed for the largest Babies R Us in the area, south of here, just a bit north of Asbury Park. We tried on several carriers. Daughter ended up with a frame backpack - the Cadillac of carriers. Good for hiking with Nugget. By then it was close to 5:30 pm, and she suggested we visit the Asbury Park boardwalk, Hercules works near there so he can join us, and we can have dinner there.

Boardwalk? Yeah, ok. Asbury Park, by the way, has gone through about 50 years of depression, despite the ostentatious (and pretentious) mansions lining the roads in. The city and boardwalk are just now starting to sort of recover. The boardwalk is bracketed with buildings showing obvious decay, but also apparent recent attempts at restoration. We walked the full length and back, with dinner in the middle (overpriced and not that good). During a Nugget diaper change and feeding, I decided to walk down to the water. I'd forgotten how difficult it is to walk on soft sand, and with the dead nerves in my right ankle and shin, my foot dragged, and I ended up pulling something in the top of my right thigh.

We didn't get home until after 10:30 pm. Nope, not going upriver Thursday evening.

Now it's Friday and there's no way I'm going anywhere near the parkway or the turnpike today. Not to mention that the top of my right thigh clenches every so often.

Maybe Saturday evening? No, that would be returning Monday evening, eeeeek! Sunday evening? Returning Tuesday? No. I have a mammo scheduled down here for next Wednesday, and I need to pick up my old mammogram films (CD) up there, and they won't be ready until Thursday, so I may as well wait until then to go up, or it would be another week before I get the films.

I wonder why I never get anything done.

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**The insurance problem. It's a lot more complicated than this one example, but I'll describe one of the problems that has me shaking my head.

When Daughter's water broke early in her labor, there was a lot of thick meconium, which is a bad thing. Then she didn't dilate beyond 9. Then she developed a fever, and they were worried about infection, both her and the baby. They actually piped saline through her uterus to wash out the meconium when her fever kept going up and the baby's heartrate increased. And Daughter's blood sugar was too high. She had poorly controlled gestational diabetes, so the Nugget was likely to be born with too much insulin in her system, which could result in hypoglycemia.

So finally there was an emergency caesarian, and the Nugget went into the neonatal ICU for two days while her risk of meconium inhalation infection and hypoglycemia were assessed and controlled. Daughter was breastfeeding, so she visited the Nugget every few hours. Then they had a day and a half of rooming-in, with both of them on IV antibiotics.

It was altogether, from the time Daughter arrived at the hospital very early in the morning until they were released, four days. (Or something like that. I forget and I'm not going to look it up now.) Anyway, it all sounds like medical necessity, right?

Surprise. The insurance company allows three days for a birth. Period. And they count the first full day as the day you arrive at the hospital, so if you arrive Monday night at 11:45 pm, that's the first one of the three days. They don't count from the birth, but from the mother's arrival. Duh? Does this mean that if you arrive late one evening, and are in active labor for two days, which is not unheard of, the hospital is expected to kick you out an hour before the baby is born?

I guess this is to discourage anxious mothers from arriving too early. BUT!!! Daughter's water broke early, and there was heavy meconium. ALL medical advice is that this is a concern, and to call your doctor, and then do as you're told. Daughter was told to go to the hospital immediately. Why is there no exception for emergency cases?

So, the insurance company is refusing to pay for the fourth day.

Second, although Daughter had originally wanted a home birth, but all kinds of obstacles were thrown in her way, she ended up with a hospital 40 minutes away, which is what the insurance company insisted on, because she was considered high risk. Got that? That the insurance company wanted this particular hospital because it was a high risk birth?

Surprise surprise. The neonatal ICU at this hospital is (for some unexplained reason) considered OUT OF NETWORK! The fact that Nugget ending up in the ICU was not exactly planned, but should have been a consideration, given that it was a high risk birth, and the fact that it was an emergency, doesn't seem to matter to the insurance company. When Daughter asked what else she should have done, she was told that she should have had the baby transferred to another NICU that was in network. The fact that Daughter was breast feeding was not a consideration. So no, they're not paying for two days of NICU since they hadn't given prior approval. Duh?

Um, why did they insist on this particular hospital again? When you say "high risk", doesn't that presuppose the risk of NICU? Wasn't that implied?

It sounds to me like the insurance company is giving them a hard time just because parents of a new baby are unlikely to pull out the big guns, being tired, depressed, and busy with higher priorities.

I say fight it.

This is stupid.
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3293 Social Security

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Virginity is important to men who fear comparison.
-- Silk --

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Congress, those folks with the generous lifetime retirement and medical plans regardless of how long or short a time they HAVE the job, want to cut Social Security benefits and again raise the age at which people can collect. They seem to think that SS is going broke. Or something.

Not true. The real fact is that SS is fine and healthy as it is. The truth is that Congress has "borrowed" enormous funds from SS, which has caused a potential deficit, and they don't want to pay it back. Pure and simple.

For some reason, AARP has backed off their objections to the plan.

From an email letter and news release from the National Retiree Legislative Network (NRLN):

...
The NRLN maintains that Social Security is not a welfare program paid for by the U.S. Government. Social Security beneficiaries and their employers have paid into the Social Security Trust since 1937. And every year since 1983, the payroll tax for Social Security has generated tens of billions of dollars in surplus, every dollar of which was borrowed by Congress to cover other federal spending.* In the future, the Social Security Trust should be insulated from access by Congress and never again be loaned out as a piggybank to cover other government spending.
...

[* Emphasis mine. That sum "borrowed" and never paid back amounts to something like 1.8 trillion dollars.]

Not a welfare plan. It's more like insurance, an annuity, and those deductions from your paycheck are the premiums. Then if you manage to live until retirement, you get to collect from the retirement insurance you paid for.

Well, yeah. If Congress gives you back your money and stops taking it away from you, that is.

For more information about the NRLN, visit their website at http://www.nrln.org. And write your congressional representatives, the ones who don't understand the financial uncertainties faced by real people.
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3292 Exhibitionist

Sunday, June 26, 2011

“Ever try to order the panda at Panda Express? Boy, those people need to get a sense of humor.” -- André at shoebox.com --

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Last Monday I walked all over the nearby business district (and the neighborhoods on the way there and back) in an ankle-length, brown, yellow, and orange gauze dress with a full skirt. I usually wear that dress (any dress) without a slip. Slips are hot. No breeze. Defeats the purpose of gauze.

It was Oprah who started this "no slip" business many years ago. On her show one day she said that her "people" had wanted her to put on a slip with her dress, because "you can see through it". She refused, saying so what? All anyone can see is the shadow, the shape, of her legs, and they'd see more if she were wearing shorts.

Women all over the country agreed and threw their slips away. Tucked them in the back of the drawer with the girdles, garters, stockings, pantihose, sanitary belts, camisoles, and underarm shields that no one wears any more.

(Man, when I think about all the undergarments we wore only 40 years ago...!)

When I look in the bedroom mirror in this dress, I see only the outline of my legs, and then only if there's a light behind me. Fine.

Today I put the dress on, looked in the mirror, nodded, went downstairs, and opened the front door. The bright morning light shone in. There's a mirror next to the door. I saw not only the outline of my legs, but also some spider veins. And some leg hair. And my underpants. I could tell my panties were black, and I could almost count the stitching in the embroidered rose. Ack!

Last Monday, starting out on our walk, Daughter had said, "Mom, that dress is pretty transparent. It needs a slip. [...pause...] Oh well. Some of my friends wear stuff like like that." (The implication being of course that SHE wouldn't.) I walked all over downtown displaying my panties. Ack!

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I bought an eyeliner pencil. On the box it says, "Finished product not tested on animals."

Huh? What is one supposed to conclude from that?
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3291 Home again, home again, fiddle-dee-dee

Saturday, June 25, 2011

“... the error of the artisan who boasts of twenty years experience in his craft
while in fact he has only one year of experience - twenty times.”
-- Trevanian, Shibumi --

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(I know that's supposed to be "jiggity-jig", but I'm feeling more like Scarlett these days.)

I'm back in the new house, got home around 10 pm last night. I didn't bring much back with me - all my CDs (but not yet the cabinet, so they'll be stacked along a wall for a while) and some summer clothes.

I awoke to find this today:
(The pink foil next to the broom is the pot. The black circle is a cork mat the pot had been on. The thing that looks like a ball next to the mat is a hyacinth bulb. The funny things in the back are drums.)

I don't know whether the rod fell on its own, or maybe Jasper got scared by something outside and pulled it down. I must have been tired because I swear I didn't hear a thing. The damp dirt was spread across the floor, and then tracked all over by little kitty feet. It's partially swept up in this photo.

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Daughter brought The Nugget over for a visit this morning, because they're going to Pa. for the weekend, and I hadn't seen Nugget since Tuesday. She's changed already! Her face was round, now it's more square. It got longer.

She's very social. Very strong eye contact. It's obvious she's trying to communicate with little hoots and kicks and arm-waving, and she shows her appreciation for your attention with the most beautiful sunny smiles.

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A woman I sorta almost but not quite know wrote a "complaint" for the New York Times Complaint Box, http://cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/06/20/complaint-box-i-dont-have-kids-deal-with-it/, about how annoying it is when people ask her why she doesn't have children. I like this, from one of the commenters:

... "Why, in a country so rich in diversity and differences, in a land where contrasts and distinctions are rejoiced and applauded, do child-free people still have to make excuses..." Because the sad truth is that Americans celebrate sameness not diversity, homogeneity not differences and imitation, not originality. Examples of intolerance, unwillingness to accept differences of religion, skin color, life-style, ethnicity, and speech are everywhere and increasing each day. Our self-aggrandizing celebration of diversity is just another feel-good myth together with "Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness", "Liberty and justice for all", and "Without regard for race, creed and color" that Americans toss around in a pathetic effort to convince themselves of this nation's superiority.

Pax,

Doug

Oh, yeah. Especially that last sentence.
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3290 Hair, final version!

Friday, June 24, 2011

"My admiration for you has found new limits."
-- Trevanian, The Eiger Sanction --

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When the new woman cut my hair on Monday, just sitting there in the chair I was pleased with what she was doing. I've been happy with it since.

Yesterday, arriving at the old house, I went into the master bath and looked at me in the huge three-way mirror. Sitting next to the mirror was a wig stand, holding the wig I had purchased last summer for my mannikin Peggy Sue, and had worn a few times myself. Everyone liked the wig on me, they thought I looked amazing, but I wore it only a few times because it slipped and itched. But it was that wig that convinced me that maybe going short might be ok.

The first cutting, I showed the original hairdresser the photo of me in the wig, and told her that's what I wanted. That's not what I got, then or in the next two trims. I was discouraged. Maybe I didn't have enough hair for the same effect.

Well, yesterday I looked back and forth between the wig and the mirror. It's exactly the same! I finally got what I'd wanted all along.

My hair is almost white. The wig is a medium blond. Hmmmmm.............
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3289 Not a lot of headway

Friday, June 24, 2011

The question Diane Sawyer (interviewed on Oprah) would most like to ask the Pope:
What do you think Jesus would think of the way you dress?

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Yesterday I slept a bit late, shuffled a few things around in the old house, watched "The View", which I hadn't been able to watch since moving, then went into the village for lunch. When I walked into the diner I saw Vinnie in a booth, so I joined him. He said Piper would be coming. So I had lunch with Vinnie and Piper - the usual l--o--n--g lunch.

Vinnie'd had a hip replacement since I'd last seen him. Piper had just returned the day before from a two-day trip to Florida to sign the papers to have his sister (who has been trying to die in a hospital in Florida since January) taken off life support, but at the last minute her sons, who refuse to face facts, started legal proceedings to stop it, so he was very upset. Turns out that they couldn't find a lawyer who was willing to take the case for what they were willing to pay, so she would be taken off support yesterday afternoon, and Piper was angry and upset that he would not be able to be there. So there was a lot to talk about.

After lunch I went to my car guys. They are willing to work on Suzie, but suggest that I have AAA tow her in, save some money. So I'll do that today.

When I got back to the house I looked in the "cars" folder in the (HUGE!) file cabinet, and naturally, the car titles, the main task for this trip, aren't there. In fact, the folder was empty. It's supposed to have all the service records, too. I don't understand. Where are they?

So all afternoon and evening I sorted through the "to be filed" pile looking for the car titles - one of the main things to accomplish on this trip. And that's all I did for ten hours. Naturally, I had to read everything to determine whether it was to be saved or tossed (I saved all personal correspondence), shredded or not, and at the end of the evening I had cleared two square feet of floorspace in the den. Wow. Only 3,998 more square feet of floor, attic, and basement to go! At this rate it will take me only three years to get out of here.
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3288 Finally upriver again.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

It is the great flaw of equality ... that everyone believes that
only [he] know[s] what is best for the others.
-- Alex Haley, Queen --

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I arrived at the old house early last evening, after stopping at the diner in the village for dinner. I had intended to visit Piper, but his office was closed and dark when I passed at 5:30, so I probably just missed him.

The minute I walked into the house, I got a discouragement headache. There's so much stuff here! I never know where to start. The Hunk has parked his dump trailer (it's so cool - it's a regular trailer, but it has a hydraulic lift on the front, so it dumps) in the driveway so I can fill it with stuff he'll take to the dump for me.

Today I want to visit Piper and then go to my favorite car guys and ask if they'll come get Suzie and tow her to their shop. I think a mouse has chewed into the heating system or something, because smoke billowed into the car the last time I started her, which was back in March, or maybe February - the last time I was able to get up here and get through the snow to get her door open.

A task for today is to locate the titles for the three vehicles, so I can get them registered in NJ. I haven't been diligent about filing, so that search alone could take some time.
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3287 Heating up

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

We see the world not as it is, but as we are.

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I have been lax about updating here, not because I'm busy, or because nothing's happening, but because my internet connection goes down about every half hour, which makes it awfully hard to get anything at all done, let alone the lower priority stuff.

This morning I got a popup when I tried to connect saying that Novell wanted to do a "firmware update" to my modem --- with a stern warning that any interruption of the update could severely damage the modem. Uh, ok. That explains why it's been so unreliable lately. It needs an update to be compatible with the other end? So I clicked "Ok". The connection hadn't actually been made, but I figured the updater ought to be able to figure that out and make the connection, right?

Yeah, sure. It got halfway through the update and couldn't connect. No kidding. That's what has been the problem the past few days. Can't connect or won't stay connected. Duh. Catch 22.

So it failed.

Scared me half to death.

But then after I restarted the system, I was able to connect. Modem not dead. Halleluiah.

I got the "update now" message again this evening, after about the fifth bounce, and this time it actually worked.

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Daughter, Nugget, and I walked into ... gee, I don't know what to call things around here. Out there in the country you've got actual villages and towns. Around here it all runs together, there's residential neighborhoods, businesses along the highways, and, uh, clumps of "main street shops" kind of things, sort of like once upon a time when this was countryside, it used to be a village and that was the "downtown". Well, we walked into the downtown. There was a Thai restaurant she wanted to have lunch at, and a new salon that might do a better job on my hair.

We walked. I had the best Pad Thai ever. I got about an inch cut off my hair, and I'm really happy with it now. The back is finally exactly the way I want it. Then we walked back. I checked it on the map, and it was 1.9 miles out and 1.9 miles back, so after avoiding walking as much as possible for the past month, my first excursion was four miles in rubber flip-flops, and I had no problem at all then or today.

I need to get up to the old house. Maybe tomorrow.

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Tomorrow is the 7th anniversary of this blog, if you count the original on the now-defunct AOL Journals. I go back and read the old stuff occasionally, and I no longer recognize that person. She seemed smarter and more passionate then.
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3286 How it all began

Sunday, June 19, 2011

In Mexican Spanish slang, "Mensa" means "stupid/crazy woman".

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I have erased the original content of this post because it's just taking up room, and there are versions of it all over the internet. Just search for "bay of ezekiel" (you must include the quotes, or you get football stuff), and you'll find it. (Some versions are longer and more filled out than others.)

The topic is how the internet began.
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3285 Settling Down

Thursday, June 16, 2011

A round woman has an extravagant body.
-- Silk --

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I'm feeling pretty good now. From not walking in so long, my energy and stamina are a bit low, and my legs complain, but that should pass. My bladder aches today, and the urethra feels bruised, but the stinging on urination has been gone since Tuesday overnight, and my tummy is shrinking.

Time to pick up my life again.
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3284 Maelstrom

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

There is negative perfectionism and positive perfectionism.
Negative perfectionism is based on a fear of inadequacy.
Positive perfectionism strives for mastery.
-- Silk --

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In the past few days I have experience a maelstrom of emotions, ranging from anger, sadness, discouragement, fear, and disillusionment to joy, happiness, hope, and excitement, and everything in between, sometimes in quick succession and sometimes all at the same time.

Early Monday afternoon I met with the urologist. I had looked up the ESWL procedure scheduled for this Friday, and I had a bunch of questions and concerns, and when the office help said I wouldn't see him before the actual procedure, I had asked for an appointment to talk with him.

When I was shown into his office on Monday and took the seat in front of his desk, before I had a chance to speak he looked at me angrily and said, "You went to the internet! You can't believe anything you read on the internet! It just causes trouble!" or something like that, it may not have been his exact words, but that was the gist of it, and he was VERY angry.

I responded something to the effect that I went to the internet for questions, and have now come to him for the answers. Doesn't matter, I guess. It's obvious he doesn't like questions either. He's Egyptian, I think, has a heavy accent, and I got the distinct impression he doesn't like challenges to his authority. He asked what kind of questions.

So, I sorta blinked twice, and said, "Well, the most important one I guess, is that I have fragile capillaries. Could that be a problem?" His face turned purple, and he said, "Yes. I will not do the procedure. Do you have any other questions?" Well, that response pretty much eliminated the rest. I asked if it was possible that the fragility was only maybe in my skin, not the internal organs, and asked if there was any kind of test, and he said no, no, no, and reiterated that he would not do the procedure. Period. End of discussion.

I asked what next, then? He said we'd take the stent out and then "play it by ear". Those were his exact words. I was dismissed.

I was stunned. On the way out, I stopped at the desk to get the appointment for the stent removal, and was told that the first opening was June 30th.

I pretty much crashed then. June 30th is two and a half weeks away! This useless stent HURTS! It's hurting more every day. And there's no reason for its existence, let alone to be tearing up my insides!

I wanted to cry. I wanted to kill somebody. After all this, there's been no headway. There's been nothing but deterioration since April 2, when they removed a stone blocking the distal end of a ureter, and put the stent in the wrong place.

Driving home, I wanted to cry, but I was too angry to cry.

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You know, I got the distinct impression that it was not so much that I had questions at all, but that I said the words "fragile capillaries". One of the questions always asked is whether you have a bleeding problem or if you are taking a blood thinner. I always answer that I don't have a bleeding problem, I clot well and quickly and I heal quickly (in fact I have phenomenal healing ability), BUT that I do have fragile capillaries. I ALWAYS state that. And if it's not an interview, if it's the checkmark list, I always check "no" on bleeding problems, but then write in "I have fragile capillaries". So it was in my folder right there on his desk. It shouldn't have been a surprise.

(In fact, I suspect it's related to the blowout problem with my veins when anyone attempts to draw blood or set an IV. I just have thin walls, I guess.)

Now , here's the part that angered me more than anything else, more than his attitude, more than having to endure unnecessary pain for another two weeks, more than having no other avenue to resolve this -
I had the distinct impression that if I had not specifically asked, if I had not mentioned it to the nurse and she wrote it down as a concern when I made the appointment and if it had not been overheard by his office staff, no one would ever have asked, he would have gone ahead and done the procedure, and it's entirely possible that I could have started bleeding in and around the kidney, which is a life-threatening emergency. If I lived, I could have lost that kidney. If I had never mentioned it to him, he would have gone ahead and taken that chance!

By my actually bringing it up, he's now open to malpractice if anything went wrong.

And THAT's what made him angry!

That's not a conclusion I came to later. I had that impression right there in his office. Instantly.

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So, I have a double kidney with stones in the lower collection chamber, one of which is blocking the lower ureter, no stones in the upper collection chamber, but a stent in that upper chamber that is tearing up my bladder and doing absolutely nothing else since it's in the wrong chamber, and possibly tearing up the kidney, too, who knows, and I've had only one day in the past month or so that I haven't bled. My stomach is sticking out like I'm seven months pregnant, and it's incredibly tender, there's a nyt-load of edema going on, and since there's all that edema, but the doctor's scale says I've lot four pounds in the last month, I've probably lost a lot more than four.

There's a lump just in front of the urethral opening "down there" which I suspect is the stent poking the bottom of the bladder. It hurts. It hurts when I sit. It hurts when I walk. Imagine a fork shoved up in there, and then the tines are bent every which way, and the handle is hanging out. Now sit, and walk, and bend over. That's what it feels like. It HURTS!

I tell the doctor it hurts. I tell the nurses it hurts. Everybody just shrugs. I don't think they believe me. I tell them I'm bleeding constantly, and we're not talking pink lemonade, we're talking BLOOD! But nobody asks for a urine sample. I think they think I'm exaggerating.

In the meantime, I haven't been able to do anything physical, I haven't been to the old house in months and if I don't get out of there soon I will lose the buyer who's interested, my back and stomach are losing tone, which is dangerous because I need those muscles to keep my spine aligned, and nobody seems to care. Like two and a half more weeks don't matter. And I still have half a double kidney full of stones and blocked. That can't be good....?

--------------------------------

So, that was my status on Monday afternoon.

Late Monday afternoon, I got a call from the urologist's office. They had a cancellation Tuesday morning. Could I come in then to get the stent out?

Uh, yeah.

--------------------------------

So, Tuesday morning. Yesterday. Stent removal. Office procedure.

On Monday, during the unpleasant office conversation, I had pointed out that we still didn't know how the ureters from the left kidney were arranged - whether both ureters emptied into the bladder, or whether they joined into one before reaching the bladder, and that it was important to know that because if they joined, the stent itself could be blocking the lower ureter. I asked if it was possible to actually LOOK into the bladder with a scope, and then we'd know if there was one or two.

Apparently he hadn't thought of that. And you know sumthin'? I think that had a lot to do with the "cancellation". I think I piqued his curiosity.

When I arrived the nurse asked for a urine sample. (The first one in this office.) I filled the little cup with blood. The nurse's eyebrows shot up, but she didn't say anything.

The procedure involved a topical anesthetic swabbed around the urethra, and then a scope was inserted. With men, they use a flexible scope, but with women they use a rigid one (according to the internet - HE didn't say a single word to ME!). There's also a lot of saline pumped in to clear it out and expand things smoothly. The nurse stood next to me and told me what was going on.

The urologist cranked that damn scope all around like he was digging a hole. Then he grabbed the end of the stent and pulled it out. That surprised me. The stent has curls at either end that are supposed to keep it in place, one end in the kidney and one end in the bladder. When it's put in, a guide wire is used to keep the curls straightened out. I had assumed a guide wire would be used to straighten out the kidney end for withdrawal, but if there was any wire used yesterday, I wasn't aware of it. There were a few slight pinches, and a short feeling of heavy pressure, and then it was done.

I think the nurse asked him if he saw a second ureter on the left, and he muttered something about too much edema, so I guess that didn't pan out. I wonder if he'll ever say anything to me about it.

I put my panties back on, and the nurse told me that there would be blood for a few days, that's normal, and some pain and stinging on urination. They gave me a prescription for an antibiotic (Cipro) and a pain killer (Phenazopyridine). Six weeks from now, we need a 24-hour urine collection to find out my urine's chemical composition, and then we'll "play it by ear".

As I was walking across the parking lot, I suddenly realized I was walking without pain. The pain had crept up so slowly, and increased so subtly over the past two months that I hadn't realized how really bad it was until it was gone. Also gone was the pain I'd had in the right lower back, that I'd ascribed to my spine, because it was lessened by changing position. (Now I'm wondering if the stent had been pressing against my spine and had thrown it out of alignment.)

I threw my arms up in the air and shouted, "I'm walking! I can WALK!" I startled a few people.

Since then, I haven't seen a single drop of blood, not from the instant the stent was pulled and I was allowed to empty the saline load. It's a clear pale yellow, like evening sunshine. There was a little stinging when I piddled yesterday, but that's gone. I haven't even opened the pain pills' bottle. (And after reading the info sheet on it, I don't think I'd have ever taken it even if I did have pain. That crap can do some really nasty stuff!)

Of course, I wonder. Is all this pretty urine coming from the right kidney, and the left isn't working? Was all that blood coming not from the bladder, but from the left kidney, and now without the stent it's just building up in the kidney and not coming out? Is there any way I can know?

But I can walk without pain. I can sit without pain. For now, I'm happy.

Later, I'll think about the stones, and the blockage, still there. But not now.
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3283 Poor Little Thing

Saturday, June 11, 2011

If there is life on other planets, they probably won't believe that Jesus Christ is the son of God.
-- Andy Rooney --

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I saw a firefly (lightning bug) in the front yard this evening. One. All alone. Its blinks were far apart, and lasted a long time. So slow.

Poor little thing. It looked so lonely. So discouraged.
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3282 WOW!

Saturday, June 11, 2011

A great leader knows the way, shows the way, then goes away.

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No bleeding today, for the first time in ... uh ... ages!

I'm happy about that.
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3281 Out, out, damned stent!

Friday, June 10, 2011

“A sad soul can kill you quicker, far quicker, than a germ.”
-- John Steinbeck --

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Yesterday it hit 100 degrees. Odd, I didn't notice the heat much at all. I did notice the humidity in the house. Bleck.

The Nugget visited with me for a few hours Wednesday and again Thursday while her mother went to appointments. We played "stick your tongue out like Gramma". Now "open your mouth wide like Gramma." At 6.5 weeks, she's very good at copying what you do. She loves the sound "moo", so Old MacDonald has a lot of cows when we sing the song. She smiles a lot, especially a big grin when she first sees me, which feels nice.

Today I saw my new GP for the first time. Actually, he and his daughter practice together, and I really wanted his daughter (I prefer a female GP), but she had jury duty this week, and I needed to establish a GP before the pre-admittance testing next Tuesday. The urologist and the hospital require my "family" doctor's approval for the ESWL procedure.

I like him. He really listens, and added some stuff to the testing based on things I said.

Tuesday's testing will involve a LOT of blood drawn. At least I can drink water that morning. I intend to be absolutely bloated.

I see the urologist again next Monday. I have many concerns, mainly about how we don't really know what my anatomy is in there, except that I do have two unconnected collection areas in the left kidney, and I'm concerned that if the second ureter joins the first somewhere along the line instead of going all the way to the bladder, the stent could actually block the broken up stone pieces from passing. If the second ureter goes all the way to the bladder (and it seems like it should be easy to LOOK in the bladder and see if there's a second ureter), then the stent is useless, and I don't see why we can't get rid of it.

Plus there's my fragile capillaries thing, and I'm worried that the zapping could damage the capillaries in the kidney and cause eventual failure. Plus there's no way the anesthesiologist is going to get an IV in me if I'm dehydrated (as they want me to be) for the procedure. I need the IV in place the day before. Plus I want to be absolutely certain there's no NO NO infection in the kidney, and I'm not sure they're going to check for that.

And so on. I intend to be a pain in the urologist's rear.

Right now, the procedure is scheduled for next Friday, assuming I pass all the tests.

I don't care about the damn stone anymore. I could probably live with that. I'd still have one and a half functioning kidneys, and that seems to be enough. I just want this stent OUT! My bladder is irritated, I've had bloody urine for the past few weeks, it feels like something's poking sharply at the bottom, and my stomach is sticking out horribly and I can't hold it in because even that hurts.
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3280 Spam

Wednesday, June 6, 2011

"SpellCheck programs may ensure that the word is spelled correctly,
but it doesn't ensure that you used the right word."
-- Me --

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I just came upon another slur against Spam - you know, the ham in a can?

For the thousandth time, Spam is NOT gristle, brains, eyeballs, innards, or anything else.

Spam is perfectly good shoulder/hip meat, and that's ALL it is.

When you buy a boneless ham in the store, ever wonder how it got boneless? When the ham is removed from the bone, there's a lot of meat left on the bone, because the bones are oddly shaped and there's a lot of scrap left when you cut out a nicely-shaped ham (boneless hams come from closer to the joints than bone-in hams, which come from the area with nice straight bones).

Spam is the trimmings left on the bones. Trimmed off, put in a can, and cooked in the can - and that's where the jelly comes from. There's nothing in Spam that isn't also in the ham. If you've ever fried a slice of ham, you've seen it make the same jelly, that turns brown in the pan and tastes sweet and salty.

So quit panning SPAM! Stop following the herd. It's good stuff, nothing to turn your nose up at.
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3279 Humid

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Computers may make it easier to write, but they don't make the writing any better.
-- Andy Rooney --

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On Saturday morning I finished crocheting a blanket for Nugget. My kitchen floor is large ceramic tiles, perfect for blocking a rectangular item, so I machine washed the blanket, pulled it out after the "gentle" spin, and then laid it out on the floor. That was Saturday morning.

Tuesday morning, three DAYS later, it was still damp. I figured air wasn't getting through it, maybe? I figured the shape might be pretty well set by then, so I draped it over a stool to finish drying.

An hour later there were 8" pools of water where the four corners were dripping. DRIPPING!

Today is Wednesday. It's still damp.

Daughter opens her windows. I don't because the air out there is full of dust and pollen. I can't believe how dusty it is around here. The town is amazing about sweeping the street, and there isn't all that much traffic. I don't know where the dust comes from. So, anyway, I have the A/C on. I thought A/C pulled moisture from the air. That's what the "Conditioning" part means. Otherwise, it's just air Cooling.

This is as bad as Florida. I'm waiting for my leather stuff to start molding.

Speaking of Florida, we expect to reach 95 degrees today, and 97 tomorrow.
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3278 About Blogs

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

A lot of men consider rape merely assault with a friendly weapon.

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I follow about 94 blogs through Google Reader, and another 10 that don't have feeds. Some of them are things like LOLcats, many are news blogs of one type or another, most are people's personal journals. Of those personal blogs, many update only sporadically, and a few are people I happen to know in "real life".

I also read a lot of Just-Plain-Stuff that I find here and there. One thing leads to another, you know, that sort of thing.

I have several regular readers (I haven't the faintest idea why), only a few of whom have been known to leave comments.

A few things I've noticed about bloggers:

• Many people with personal blogs start out innocent enough, doing it for themselves, then they find out that if they build up a readership, they can make money! Several of the blogs I had followed for years turned into books. Others don't get a book contract, but they start selling advertising space. And then next thing you know, either they stop blogging (book), or the tone and content changes (advertising).
• Many of the old blogs I had enjoyed suddenly had a post saying, "I'm moving to Facebook! (...or Twitter) Follow me there!" and the blog abruptly died. For about half of them, the owners got disenchanted with Facebook or Twitter when they discovered they didn't have the control over their time that they'd had with a blog, and they came back.
• Many blogs just plain peter out, like the bloggers can't think of anything more to say. That's sad.
• With other bloggers, their life suddenly gets interesting, and they think they don't have time. That's even sadder ... just when things get interesting.
• A lot of bloggers pretend to be something they're not.
• A lot of bloggers flat out lie.

A few things I've noticed about blog posts:

• "TLDR" means "too long, didn't read". Yup. My posts are sometimes long, and I know a lot of people won't read long posts. I don't care.
• Too many posts a day will make people not pay attention. Yup. I often do that too. But again, I don't care. That's one reason I don't subscribe to feeds from many of the good middle-eastern blogs - several have multiple members, and you can get buried in posts. Instead, I visit once a week or so and skim, or more often if I know something interesting is happening.

About blog readers:

• People take things personally. A few months ago I wrote about people who try too hard to be BFFs, and end up turning folks off, and it came from thinking about a guy I used to work with, and a few Mensans, triggered by something I'd read somewhere. I was very surprised when TWO of my blog readers whom I know personally asked me if I was talking about them. Many bloggers have gotten in worse trouble for that kind of misunderstanding, when someone read something and thought they recognized themselves.
• Other times, when a blogger DOES attempt to address some cautionary tale to someone in particular that you know will read it, without naming names, hoping they'll see themselves and "get it", it's really funny how they never recognize that it applies to them. Exactly the opposite of the above point. So if you think something here was addressed to you, you're probably wrong. If you think it wasn't, maybe it was. But mostly it isn't. Mostly I deal in generalities, thoughts that wandered through my head. Maybe you kicked it off, but probably not. Even if I say "a blogger", remember that I follow about 100 bloggers. I'm amazed at the coincidences that crop up constantly.
  

About comments:

• Most readers never leave a comment.
• There seems to be some kind of convention that all comments on personal blogs must be agreeing/positive/encouraging. Bullpoopy. Fire away. I've been banned from a few blogs for telling the blooger what I thought they needed to hear as opposed to what they wanted to hear, like that they'd find life a lot easier if they quit drinking, or if they're really looking for a nice girl, maybe they should try someplace other than a bar, whatever. Back on AOL Journals, in about 2005, before the economy tanked, I had one occasion when the supporters of a gal who was blatantly soliciting, and GETTING, expensive gifts from her readers, came after me personally because I simply asked, "Have you applied for any jobs?" The spam was incredible. I have learned that people don't want and don't appreciate constructive criticism, but I won't support something I can't agree with, either.

What are your thoughts on blogs, bloggers, blogging? Is personal blogging (as opposed to "special topic" blogging) going to be around for a while, or have you, like I, seen blogging dropping off? (That list of "blogs I follow" over there on the right is woefully out of date. Half those people aren't around anymore, but I keep the URL and keep visiting just in case they decide to come back.) Given that a lot of people use anonymous blogging as cheap therapy, will Facebook and the like fill the role?

Over to you....
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3277 Critical Analysis

Monday, June 6, 2011

Woman describing how one does not realize how final death is: “And then I found I was waiting for him to come home. He'd been dead long enough now, it was time for him to come home.”

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Yeah, back on one of my favorite hobby horses again. Mainly because I've recently been exposed to a few more egregious examples of muddled thinking.

Another blogger mentioned a newsletter. I located it and read it. As often happens when someone has an agenda, the writers stated "facts" (whether verified or not is another issue), and then drew conclusions from those facts that were in no way supported by those facts! Connections were made between statements where there was no direct connection. "Oh, this sounds good - let's throw this in, too!"

If someone were to read this uncritically, they'd believe those conclusions to be valid. They may or may not be true - my point is that they are not supported by the "evidence" offered.

I stewed about that for a while, and concluded that anyone who'd accept those "proofs" and arguments is beyond reason anyway, so I didn't bother to attempt to refute it.

Then just this morning I ended up (again, one of those link to link to link wanderings) at a site on making one's own kefir (pronounced keFEER, by the way, regardless of how Dr. Oz mispronounces it - it's an Arabic word), where there was a discussion of making it from non-bovine milks, including cocoanut milk and soy milk. Some commenter sneered that she didn't see why anyone would want to make it from soy, after all, "soy is very bad for you", and she included a link to a site that slams all soy products.

So, ok, I went there.

And yeah, they had their own drum to beat. And again, they stated "facts", and drew from them asinine conclusions. Which to an uncritical reader, would sound like a valid argument.

For example, the author states that since soy products have arrived in the western hemisphere, the rates of high cholesterol and obesity have soared. From this, they drew the conclusion that soy causes obesity and high cholesterol.

Um, the timelines might match up, but that doesn't mean they are in any way related. In fact, the people who consume the MOST soy, both fermented and unfermented, who seek it out, are vegetarians and vegans, and they are emphatically NOT members of the typical artery-clogged obese herd.

Note that by the same logic (or lack thereof) we could conclude that actually, obesity and high cholesterol create a craving for soy! How is that any more silly than the other conclusion? It's based on the same data, handled the same way.

It may or may not be true that too much soy is bad for you, but this website sure as hell doesn't present any good arguments.

It reminded me of the breakfast cereal commercials that pissed me off - the "healthy" cereal that bragged that people who ate it were the most healthy, and had the best BMIs, implying, of course, that it was the cereal that did it. Snort! The people most likely to buy a cereal whose very box screams, "this stuff tastes like cardboard, but it's loaded with FIBER!!!" are the same people who take the stairs instead of the elevator, and run marathons for "fun". Oh, come on.

Please, everyone, read critically. Think critically. Ask whether the conclusion is really supported by the facts.

Please.
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3276 Morbid urge

Monday, June 6, 2011

“Progress ... is not the result of individual accomplishments, but the product of a vast human consciousness that contains ... a perception of purpose, potential, and need.... [The] contributions of any single person is not substance, but style.”
-- Les Kamm, letter in the Mensa Bulletin --

----------------------------------------------------------------------

I've been bitten by an urge I don't quite understand.

By the usual circuitous internet links route I ended up this morning at this article, http://religion.blogs.cnn.com/2011/06/05/thats-not-in-the-bible/?iref=obnetwork, about how people misquote the Bible. I then read the comments, which were interesting until people (as usual) stopped commenting on the article and began sniping at each other.

Many of the commenters in attempting to refute the author's arguments did not seem to realize that they did exactly what the author bemoaned - they interpreted the passages to suit their desired interpretation.

Anyway, I wanted to look up the passages in question. My late youngest sister's Bible happened to be on the shelf over the computer, so I pulled it down. My late sister had tucked in a newspaper clipping of my mother's obituary, and apparently my sister's mother-in-law had also tucked in a clipping of my sister's obituary before she sent the box of materials to me.

I read the brief obit again, for perhaps the third time since I'd discovered it, and was seized by a strong desire to visit her grave.

I'm not a grave visiting kind of person. I visit the place where Jay's ashes were spread, but mainly because it was one of our favorite places. Otherwise, no. I see no point. But for some reason I want to visit youngest sister's grave.

The obituary has the name of the town, the name of the church and the cemetery, and the name of the funeral home. It's smack in the middle of Georgia. The town is tiny. Google maps has found the church for me, but not the cemetery. That's disappointing. I would have liked to see the satellite view. There are many online lists of cemeteries in Georgia, but the one I'm looking for isn't listed anywhere.

I suppose I could call the funeral home and ask, but somehow I don't want to. I want to go to the little town this summer sometime, when I'm able to drive distances again, and to the church, and find her myself!

I lost her, and now I want to make the effort to find her.
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