Saturday, October 6, 2012

A Season of E-Correspondence, Family Style

July 20, 2012

HEY, WAIT!  we're on the internet at almost the same time!  Don't goooooooooo!  I feel so close, so near!  I haven't read your email, even, I am so excited that you sent it a mere 10 minutes or so,  But... did you hear about the dood who killed 14 people and hurt a bunch more at a theatre where the new batman movie was débuting. [débuting?  don't sound right, do it?  shore as shit don't look right, neither.]  now that is pure batshit.

okay.  a brief pause while i read what looks to be one of your more longish emails...

i will respond by that clever technique of changing font color, and being BOLD.

On Fri, Jul 20, 2012 at 7:19 AM, Grader Boob wrote:
Howdy--  well, howdy yourself, handsome!
I know it will be hard to believe, but your package is actually rumbling your way, tightly grasped in the talons of the USPS. Should take several days to get there.  ah, but the larger question?  do i WANT it to get here.  am i going to go batshit over it... not in the sense of the batshit shooter in the gas mask.  here is a test.  i do not know what state this happened in, but i am going out on a limb and guessing either florida (sorry) or texas (because texas is fucked majorly up).   oops!  it was colorado, and good news, the death toll has gone down.  i'm not sure how that happens, but i like it.  maybe they can work it down to zero.  maybe it's a skill they can transfer to syria, and other places full of weapons going off willy-nilly.  a 3-month old was shot.  a 3-month old.  yep... good morning, grader boob!  
back to the package... of course, i want it.  i am dreaming dreams you would not believe -- not horrid, or even, really, disturbing... but i continue to dream of dad's watch in almost all of them.  he keeps handing it to me.  i keep noting that it is not a rolex, that it is silver and that i love silver, that it is clunky, and then, always, i note that time ran out, that i let time run out.  yeah, i'm swift that way, realizing the obvious, and doing nothing about it.  i also have been thinking a lot about k... the last time i saw her (i think), she and mom and i were at the beach, i was visiting from berkeley, thinking that it mattered to tell "the folks" that i was living with jp, the cheatingest jerk ever to declare love for a girl.  the night i got back, before jp even had my luggage in the bedroom, he was telling me about this waitress he had met who liked his poetry... meanwhile, back at the beach? k was the sweetest help to me.  she made it almost painless and i don't remember exactly how, but she had us all cracking up.  i loved her for it... and even that kind of memory-love doesn't go away.  i remember wondering if she had had the chance to live with Mr. Vivacious V, The Soil Scientist, who clearly shared the cheating gene with my jp, The Writer -- maybe she'd not have married El Jerko.  She deserved so much better.  But then... [ARE YOU STILL THERE?  I HAVEN'T HAD ANY COFFEE, AND THAT IN ITSELF IS A STORY!] according to star trek logic, she'd maybe never have met this joe person, who sounds like a neat dood.  in fact, do 100 words on dood joe, right after you do a 1000 on ms. k.  to my great shame, i've no interest (none, i mean NONE -- what is wrong with me?) in nephew brian... not since i found his MUG SHOT on the internet.  it was the middle of the night, i was in my usual middle-of-the-night state, and i simply entered his name.  this is what turned up... and about all i can say is that he IS a handsome lad:  

[link to a mug shot]

Not much going on here--I'm holding "office hours" as I write, but no one seems to want to log on and chat. I think that if I held them in the evening it would work better for them, but I'd then be at the mercy of the home computer, which is currently residing at the Computer Corner undergoing repairs. What a technological world we live in.  sadly, i've found it cheaper to get new laptops than to have the messed up ones repaired.  of course, you probably don't spill entire cups of coffee on yours... or drop them, repeatedly, on your CRPS-afflicted foot.  same foot each time, same spot each time.  but maybe you have a desktop?  if i spent more time out of bed, i'd go back to desktops.  i'd like to see a desktop fly off my desk and onto my foot!  ha!  is Computer Corner reputable?  do you get frequent flyer miles?  i would LOVE  to have a top of the line, fast, readable (remember, i have the family glaucoma gift, plus cataracts, and the poundage gift from 15 years of steroids... also i don't have much of a chin and my nose is an obvious punk, and who the hell thought giving me rough, curly, uninteresting hair?) 'puter.  make it a laptop that does not heat up, weighs less than a pound and doesn't collapse under the stress of piles of cat hair.
Speaking of technology, has it figured out a way to handle your new strain of bacteria? Or even the old one? Hope the regimen you're on has some positive results. Do they tinker with the various percentages of the components in the cocktails they give you?  the last question is easiest.  one of the reasons we practically LIVE at that damned office is so that they can measure the levels of each antibiotic, as well as the many pretty effing serious side effects they cause.  so they sometimes tinker with dosages every 7 days.  a good joke?  in the hospital, i keep fighting with nurses/doctors/janitors that i am NOT allergic to daptomycin, despite it perpetually appearing on my computerized (they're everywhere!) allergy list.  last week, dr. b -- whom you would love -- explained to me that yes, i have one of the life-threatening side effects, usually starting in the second week of administration, but that he doesn't care because he thinks i can stand it and it is the drug HE WANTS.  okay, so, as for p. acnes, no one has told me whether they've even cultured for it again -- not, i am guessing, since the swabs that grew came from "deep tissue" in my arm.  my p. acnes antennna are still going off, based on fever and increasing, instead of decreasing, pain in that former shoulder area.  that's the one he is throwing daptomycin at...  if i may offer advice to you and anyone of your acquaintance who end up getting weeks of i.v. antibiotics:  yogurt, plain, not mixed with fruit, and ridiculously expensive little pills of probiotics.  
And in answer to your question, Mom is, indeed, staying at the beach house. It's the place that has the most meaning for her, and it has ties back to Mimi.  good for her, god bless her.  does she need help, have help?  since the fix-it folks attended the memorial, i am guessing she's got that covered.  oh, god bless her.  waking up to the sound of surf.  walking the beach.  god bless her.  does she think often of mimi?  all i remember were mimi's final years, so full of alzheimer's confusion.  were you there the day we found her in the closet?  i *believe* she wanted to leave, and had decided to get her coat, and that's about as far as she got.  i used to love going to mimi's on afternoons i was supposed to then go on to st. paul's united methodist church choir practice or confirmation classes.  i often did not end up at st. pauls... but at the library, or walking the mean streets of downtown g'boro.  but mimi would watch her "stories," catch me up on the plots, smoke and cough, tell me funny stories. but she was not my mom, and i didn't have to watch her mind decline.  staying at the beach house!  yay!  gin rummy.  boiled shrimp served on newspaper.  happy hour.  stupid question, but please be honest:  does she need anything (beyond the obvious)?

 One question, Jim R asked me to ask you if he could start swapping email with you. I told him I'd ask.
If you want to start the conversation, his email is x.  um, holy shit, batman.  why would he want to talk to me, and why would he want to swap howdies with me NOW?  but, okay, i will send a pro forma. well, i will AFTER you tell me what he is like.  i'm serious. all i remember is that he had red hair -- probably no longer, eh? -- and that mom once called his wife a whore.
That's all from here. Hope you're doing well--worry about you.  i am not doing well and i am worried, too. scared.  and feeling very alone, no matter that someone is around.  i think the best i can hope for is dobby's sweet, loving face cheering me on when i die.  right now, though, he is sitting like a very old guy, comfy in a well-worn [imaginary] la-z-boy, scratching his [imaginary] nuts, looking up now and then to smile at me like a little cat maniac.  
Love to all, feline and human, at Marlinspike Hall. and all our love back... 
Grader Boob Profderien

P.S.  DO YOU NEED ANYTHING?  smooches and hugs! 

August 10, 2012

Just a short note for ya. Sitting in the office at XXX trying to figure out what the hell I'm doing--which is a full-time job all on its own.
Haven't heard from you, so I do hope that the medicos are helping and not hurting you.
I'll keep a good thought for you, no matter what your situation is--that's just the kind of guy I am.
Pass along a howdy to Fred and the felines.
Grader Boob

PS. I'm attaching the photo I scanned for Jim R. I've got others that I've yet to get around to. This has Granddad reaching up and grabbing a tree limb. Shot from behind, it's always been one of my faves, so much so that I keep it in my office.

my brother-units, the photographers
granddad, who was, at this point, blind

August 10, 2012 (17 minutes later)

dearest grader boob: a 17-minute response time, gotta be a record of some sort!

let's just say i'm having a hard time, and that i should learn to shut up and get in the "having a hard time" line.  too much pain for me to handle with anything approaching dignity.

funniest anecdote of recent days:  fred and i had two appts to make this week, the most important being making first contact with the hip surgeon, "world famous, one of the finest," via a meeting with his physician's assistant, one susan s.  i should have been more aware of the probability for a screw-up, given the obvious seussian etymology of her name.  we allow 45 minutes of driving time for all appts on the famed beechtree street, yes, the very street that orris du-MAH road up and down, selling milk by horse-drawn cart.  we got caught behind a wreck, and arrived 10 minutes late.  

i should qualify that we arrived 10 minutes late to "the beechtree office" that i have used for the past 7 years.  after another 15 minutes of sitting in the waiting room, a breathless clerk told us we were at the wrong office, that there was another beechtree office, two buildings down.  we rush over there, me cursing the mindless clods in wheelchairs that were moseying along well below 3.5 mph, as i wove in, i wove out, approaching that maximum limit of 5 mph.  we arrive, check in (again), are welcomed nicely and told to take a seat.  a bit later, i hear my name, close my stephen king masterpiece, and roll in the direction of the beckoning noise.  "profderien, you were late for your appointment and the PA decided she will not see you.  your appt has been cancelled."

mwa ha ha!

the next funniest anecdote?  yesterday, meeting with the gorgeous jacqueline j, PA to my world famous infectious disease doc.  i explain why i don't have the testing her boss wanted all set up by the new hip doctor, seeing as how i had my appt cancelled due to tardiness.  jacqueline has no sense of... well, i want to say ANYTHING, but i guess it would be more accurate to say... no sense of what we normal folk go through.  so she says, "but, profderien, didn't you explain that you really needed that appointment, that it was important?" a beautiful woman, except when she has her brows furrowed as she faces yet another idiot patient.  [they think my right hip prosthesis is infected.  mwa ha ha!]

moving right along, i love all the job offers you got, but want to scream out:  trust no one!  

is mom alone at the cottage?  personally, i would want to be, but probably not after just losing my husband...  i hope she finds comfort there, and packs on a few pounds from the milkshakes.

jim r never answered me... i may have said something "wrong," but i don't know what.

lovely photo, grader boob.  thanks for sending it.

to be honest, i am fighting off suicidal tendencies.  i think they are neurologically based, as asinine as that sounds.  whenever a "spell" of crps dystonia/spasms begins, the first 15-20 minutes, all i can think of is suicide, literally.  it's like it occurs in the part of my brain responsible for making-all-this-shit-worthwhile.  after 20 minutes, i am okay again.  i tell medicos, because i find it rather scary, but get The Stare in return.  some of them talk about the limbic system, which is integrally connected, some think, to crps.  i am more on the side, though, of the vast majority that believe there is no limbic system at all, so... there you go!

should i write jim r. again?

tell brute i love her.  how goes the restaurant venture?  (cannot recall if it was a restaurant or catering or bakery... help!)
i'd say tell mom i love her, too, but i think she'd just be insulted.  thanks so much for letting me know how she and "they" are doing.

oh... yeah... and YOU... how you doin'?  smooches and love,

treading water

August 11, 2012


Hang in there.

I do have to compliment you on one thing--the lack of cursing and swearing in your anecdote. I supplied those as I was reading. (I've noticed that my swearing is always a union of two themes--sex and intellect; hence, as I was reading your email, my recurring epithet was a variation of "Motherfucking Nitwits" or "Cocksucking Morons". It's never race or gender with me--just sex and intellect.)

As for the darker tendencies, fight through them by imagining that you've killed the medical personnel instead. (No, that would be wrong.)

As for Jim, I'd not read anything into the silence. He seemed genuinely interested when we talked, so unless you told him off, I'd just wait it out. The ball's in his court then.

K and J's venture is called "X," a tasty xxxxxxxxxx concoction, and their target market seems to be the hoity toi or the local rednecks. They seem to be picking up a bit when last I spoke with her about them.

And Mom was planning to send you a thank you note. I think she's not gotten around to them yet. But like I said before, your card and boxwoods were so very sweet and considerate.

What a way with words you have--you have no idea. And I'll not tell you because I can't figure out what to write down!

Well, I think I'll leave this office and waste the day. Why work when you can just fret about it?

Love to those in Tête de Hergé. And don't forget that there's to be a Ryan on the Romney ticket--woo hoo. Jesus.

Grader Boob

August 17, 2012

hullo --

so where do you stand with classes -- none, some, an overabundance?  feel ready?

how's this for a wordsmith such as i?  i'm pooped.

fred got a ukulele! it's real cute and don't you dare ever tell him i said that. his workroom is now making musical space for three guitars, a keyboard, one drum thingy, and the itty bitty uke.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX?   hell, i've got a new swear phrase right there.  XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX!

no, i didn't tell jim off, you ninny.  i don't know what i did. given the way things have been going, i just hope he's okay...

i think it might kill me if mom were to write me a thank you note.  may the earth swallow me up.

is she safe there, alone?  is their dog the protective type, you know, one look, and and an evil-doer takes off in the opposite direction?  should i get her a taser for xmas?

god, this must be hard for her.

do you know what i've been watching on the telly, sometimes 4-5 episodes at a time?  LITTLE HOUSE ON THE PRAIRIE.  help!

cat update:
this here is dobby as i find him every morning after i've fetched my coffee.  it's dobby's spa time -- 10 minutes of belly rubs (hence the pose) and combing/brushing.  if you don't do it, he starts knocking stuff onto the floor.  not kidding.

okay, marmy has not forgiven me for administering her eye "goop" when she had an infection. it's been about 2 months, and she'll have nothing to do with me.  this is usually what i see:

buddy, our massive and soon to be massiver maine coon?  it's almost impossible to get between his ears.  so this is what he looks like.  all i know about what he might be thinking is that it likely involves food.

i loves ya.

fred is plucking away on his uke... but he'd wave or something if he knew i was writing...

August 26, 2010 (just prior to the RNC convention, held in Grader Boob's village)

okay, isaac is in place, what's next?

i just wanted to drop a line to say "good job" on the category 2 hurricane, but do you think that will be enough?  we don't want any deaths, like they had in haiti -- maybe the catering to the convention could be disrupted by old egg salad and the delegates/candidates forced to munch on matzot and lime-flavored bottled water.

or magick cause the microphone to function only when ron paul speaks.

so keep at it... 

but stay dry and safe, too.

all my love,

September 3, 2012


just give me a simple "howdy, i'm busy, will write when i can.... but i am basically okay." 
or "things suck majorly, send in the troops."


September 4, 2012

Sorry for not responding, but I'm tired of sitting at the computer and seeing no end in sight or a solution to the "fine mess, Ollie" that I've put myself in.
Am wrangling with 3 plagiarists as well, two from a XXX semester that's in its first week. What the hell are these people thinking? The time that these will take up is time I don't have.
Will write once mood improves! (Good luck figuring out that nonexistent date!)
Plus, all I want to do is sleep.
If I thought I'd be around more, I'd buy me a dog.
Well love to all in Ukuleleville.
Grader Boob

PS. Sorry for the grumpiness. I have to make a concerted effort not to carry this into class.

October 6, 2012

Haven't heard from you in awhile, so I hope you're doing well.
I'm slowly slipping over the edge, as the grading and the prep consume all of my days.
I've was ill on Monday and Tuesday, cancelling classes at both XXX and XXX. The revelation was that XXX expected me to line up a sub and to pass along my lesson plan. I chuckled and told them no sub but here's half a lesson plan! I then realized why I don't teach at the lower levels. Lost a lot of respect for the school. When I suggested just cancelling the class and that I could reschedule everything that was missed, I got back a line something like "we need to give the students all of the quality time they deserve."
XXX, as always, just cancelled the class for the day.
Either way, my reaction to both was the same--vomiting and sweating, sneezing and honking.
Well, I'm gonna step out of the office now. Came in at 4:30 to finish XXX's 110 papers. DId that and am trying to figure out what to do next. I've got a list but I'm avoiding it.
Many thanks for the too-much gift. Save your money and write me some emails!
(Now don't think you'll be getting it back. But do send those emails.)
Love to all the Tête-de-Hergéites.
Grader Boob
PS. Mom's doing okay--some days better than the others. K, or as she likes to say, "the sweet in Sweet Goobers," is doing fine and says howdy to you.
And that's the news.
I didn't see it but did Obama really do as poorly as everyone is claiming? Romney's such a stick figure--I can't imagine him besting anyone in any sort of conversation.
And I never heard back on your reaction to the "It was tense." joke. Huh?

October 6, 2012

you're just going to have to believe me when i tell you that i had TWO emails to you, both awaiting some sort of witty ending, i guess, sitting in my "drafts" folder.

because i LOVE that joke!  hank loves that joke!  it is my favorite kind of joke!  the only joke i ever made up was modeled on that... model.  it goes:

the bartender looks up and sees three guys walking into his bar.  he screams:  "get out of my bar!"

hahahaha! i love it.  sure, i get strange looks, but it makes me laugh.

is mom really okay? i have no right to ask, i know, but what is she doing with her time?  does she feel safe?  does she still have the pooch?  is it a watch-pooch?  (rolling eyes)  do you think it'd be okay if i dropped her a line.  do you think she'd like my joke?

i'm trying to be insensitively sensitive.  i cannot imagine how she must feel.

say "hey" and happy BD to brutus.  is that sweet goober stuff selling?

now... screw XXX  do the make-up classes and show them how it's done in the big boy, grown-up world. yes, i am in a mood.

because you are sick!  if YOU say you cannot teach because you are sick... then you absolutely cannot!  too bad on the spot "vomiting and sweating, sneezing and honking" couldn't have been magically produced upon their desktops.

crucial question:  do you feel better?

moi?  oh... well... i have been kicking specialist butt, just for fun.  i had a revelation, much like the saul-into-paul thang, but not on the road to damascus, on the road to downtown atlanta, to park in another doctor's lot and pay $5 for the privilege. what would i be doing on the road to damascus anyway, do you think i am crazy?

i was badgered into seeing a hip ortho specialist to determine if the p. acnes bacteria had spread to my wily hips, as they hurt a LOT.  he couldn't look me in the face, nor the hip, nor the leg.  he sort of looked at the floor.  he was "the best." everyone of my docs is "the best." he said, "even if they are infected, i wouldn't operate on you." bells went off and a voice came over the invisible loudspeaker, saying, "thanks for playing!"

so i reported back to all the specialists who thought he would help them out, and tried to ignore their discomfiture.

went home, got mad.  thought about who HAD helped me, and it came down to two "practices" -- dr. s, my go-to-guy internist, and dr. d, who did 10+ shoulder surgeries trying to defeat that goddamn bacteria.  thought some more.  realized that EVERYTHING eventually gets dumped on dr. s, and that he never complains.  he also fields ridiculous emails from me -- and i write in the same style for just about everyone.  "audience" be damned.  he is universally helpful, polite, and compassionate.  also, very, very patient.

so... i went to d's PA, whom i like a lot.  his name is bob!  told bob i was done with trying to cure the osteomyelitis. (he actually teared up, the cad)  decided i want good pain control and to be left alone.  he recommended a medication -- mobic -- for bone pain.  and it turned out that that was a splendiferous pick. it does help.  god bless bob.

then i practically demanded an immediate appointment with my hawaiian-shirted, always-sandaled neurologist, barry m. ooooo, he made me mad.  he kept saying, "i wish you would go find a great specialist who knew all about crps,  a researcher somewhere... etcetera." finally, i blew.  "i can't travel.  and i am tired of specialists abdicating their responsibilities and dumping everything on s.  so step up!" 

lo, and behold:  he prescribed an experimental drug i have been wanting to try and a stronger med for spasms.  and though it is too early to tell much except that i am seeing double, i think they might also be helping with pain and spasms, as per The Grand Plan.

Did you know that to reference Quality of Life to a medico, you say "QOL"?  ha!

so that's where i am at... trying to get used to three meds that are kicking my booty.

i will try to call tomorrow... cause i love you and hope you have a wunnerful, wunnerful birthday.  the world is so much a better world for having you in it.

profderien and a big hey from a very sleepy, just up fred. sans uke

No comments:

Post a Comment

The Haddock Corporation's newest dictate: Anonymous comments are no longer allowed. It is easy enough to register and just takes a moment. We look forward to hearing from you non-bots and non-spammers!