Friday, June 22, 2012

Margaret and Helen, Always a Relief

Sometimes I forget about the bazillions of reading awaiting mine eyes in my Google Reader.  What fun to remember -- there's everything from the marvelous organicgreendoctor to a valdese blog to other things amanzi, plus well over a hundred other bits of nutrition.

Nothing gives the shiver of expectation, though, like a lit-up Margaret and Helen

Here's what they have to say for themselves on their "about us" page:

My name is Helen Philpot. I am 82 years old.  My grandson taught me how to do this so that I could “blog” with my best friend Margaret Schmechtman who I met in college almost 60 years ago.  I have three children with my husband Harold.  Margaret has three dogs with her husband Howard.  I live in Texas and Margaret lives in Maine.


Are you for real? 
Why is that so hard to believe?  Now I know what Santa Claus must feel like.

Have you really been friends for 60 years?
Some friendships last a lifetime.  We just seem to be living a hell of a long time.

Is this a fake blog?
We got a few scary emails when I first wrote about Sarah Palin so my grandson told me to change our last names on the web page blog.   Philpot was my grandmother’s maiden name and Schmechtman is actually the name of a bird Margaret keeps as a pet.  That bird shits on everything, but she loves him.

Why doesn’t Margaret write more?
She prefers to pick up the phone and call.  I guess I am more the writer, but she is a wonderful artist.   I have some of her paintings in my house.  My grandchildren set me up on this computer, but Margaret always has problems getting on the Internet and says it is too slow.  Maybe it is a Maine thing.  She reads all of the comments and calls me when she sees a comment that she wants to talk about.  Sometimes she offers witty lines that I add to my stories.

Is Margaret a Republican?
Her husband is.

Why did you go so long between blogs before now?
Actually we had several more things on the web page but when it began to get popular my grandson suggested that we take them off because they were personal between me and Margaret.  I sometimes write short stories and would put them on here for Margaret to read.  Some of it was racy.  Much of it was just nonsense.

Will you keep doing this after the election?
Yes, but I don’t know if everyone will keep coming back.  Margaret and I think it would be fun to answer some of your questions.  There are lots of idiots out there who aren’t running for office, but don’t get me started on that shit for brains Elisabeth from The View. 

Why do you use foul language?
It makes me laugh.  Some of the best words in the world are bullshit and ass.  I don’t use bitch very much, but the shoe seemed to fit this occasion.  My grandson says it makes me cool.  Margaret hardly ever cusses.

Are comments moderated?
Not really.  My grandson has been known to remove some remarks and has even banned a few bad apples from future comments.   Margaret and I think some of you are a hoot and we think others are full of bullshit.  But all are welcome – within reason – and considering some of my rants, within reason goes a long way in my book.  The f-word (you decide which one) gets you an automatic kick in the ass.  Same goes for the N word.

How can we reach you?
My grandson set up an email that we can check when we have time.  You can send us a message there, but we can’t promise that we will answer all of them.

the great wall of vagina

And here, for your enticement, is the beginning of Helen's latest post, come-hitherly titled "Vagina is a 6 Letter Word."  Please go visit their wunnerful site for the rest of it,

Margaret, for the life of me I cannot understand how Republican politicians can be so  fixated on telling women what we can and cannot do with our bodies but then be so incensed that we would actually use the medically correct term to describe our front butt.  Yes.  Front butt is what my granddaughter called it until her mother instructed her to call it by the more appropriate term, pee pot.  I, of course, corrected both of them and called it her num num.  Of course I’m being silly Margaret, but this war on women that the Republican Party has waged has risen to the level of absurdity.

It’s a vagina.  I have one.  154 million Americans have one.  197,000 soldiers have one.  111,000 police officers have one with a badge.  When surveyed, all the Republican women who hold elected office reported having a vagina. I’m pretty sure Sarah Palin has a red, white and blue one. I honestly can neither confirm nor deny the existence of Ann Coulter’s vagina but I am quite certain Elisabeth Hasselbeck’s ate a rat on national tv. [READ REST HERE]

I don't know that I've always done it, but I've always meant to -- at the end of every and any reference to Margaret and/or Helen:  When I grow up, I wanna be just like them.

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

in lieu of originality....

in lieu of a post dedicated to marlinspike hall and manor fans alone, please allow me to copy the high wit and zaniness that i sent out to my friends and family list last night and this morning.

i must highlight a scientific discovery, however:  dark chocolate seems to be the cure for most illness.  dark, dark chocolate -- low sugar.  sensuous.  you heard it here first.

okay, here are my cut and paste offerings:

#1.  To MDVIP  Go-To-Guy and his hopping nurse, Jalapeño:

HI -- 

I just called yesterday to say that I was going home from X Hospital.  Dr. D felt good about the surgery, did not see obvious infection, removed the spacer, etc. so I am shoulderless on the left.   Dr.B did not feel so optimistic -- seems more worried about the situation in the bone and less about the joint space, and ordered another bleeping PICC line and a month to 6 weeks of intravenous antibiotics.-- daptomycin.

He said I need either vancomycin or daptomycin -- vanco messes up my ears, and I get high liver enzymes on daptomycin, but those are my only choices [?].

I am exhausted and depressed and hurt.... BUT if we had not been able to stop the CRPS spasms beforehand?  This would have been a disaster -- so I THANK YOU FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART for helping to get those stopped.

We have to make numerous trips back and forth to Dr. B's office and Fred is unhappy.  Five minutes before we left the Manor Monday to check in for surgery, he told me he was not going to stay with me after surgery, and "so what should I do with your stuff?" [like a *wheelchair*]  I made him leave once he dropped me off, because all I was getting was more ADHD/PTSD stuff and I couldn't take it anymore.  So I went into surgery sobbing like a nincompoop and he didn't show up until 4 on Tuesday, just in time to leave the hospital... I don't believe he remembers doing or saying any of that stuff on Monday.  It's amazing, infuriating, depressing, scary, and it makes me very lonely sometimes.  But love is miraculous, and on the way home he stopped of his own accord to get me some chocolate.  Sometimes buying your partner chocolate is the biggest "I love you" you are gonna get.

This time, though, even if he has to lose it for a little while, I am okay, I am not febrile and falling down!  It's time to take care of Fred for a bit.  And ManorFest is now just weeks away.  We are thinking of submitting the film of this surgery to the Sundance Festival Competition, Cannes, and have a preliminary showing here, shown on the outside wall of the Labyrinth -- which is now big enough to serve as an IMAX screen.

Okay, well, let me get busy trying to see what life without a shoulder is like!  So far, I haven't even had the guts to look at the wound but Dr. D seemed very pleased.

You all are wonderful.  There is no need for home nursing or any of that -- Fred, Bianca, or I (probably me) will do the PICC infusions -- they are just once a day.  If I can get the long extensions put on the PICC do-dads, then I can use my left hand for flushing the lines.  Fun, fun, fun!

Nathalie at G's switched me to 25 fentanyl patches.  Do you think she will believe me that we went through 3 of them in 3 days?  One fell off in the shower on Sunday, they pulled the next one off in pre-op, put a new one on that Hank pulled off, thinking it was tape,  We are a lot like the Marx Brothers.

Much love and appreciation for your prayers and good thoughts.  If I spike a temp or feel really rotten, I will call: you, D, B -- in that order!

Profderien, Gimp par excellence

PS My new least favorite experience?  Being given the paralytic medicine in the operating room before having access to any breathing tube... can you say "panic"?

#2 To Friends and Family, with a few foes thrown in for good measure:

howdy, group --

i am home, but now you can only cry on one shoulder.  you can only put your head on one shoulder... i can't think of any decent shoulder jokes!

there was a divergence of opinion -- the surgeon felt there was no "significant infection," and the infectious disease doctor was more concerned with the state of the bone, not the joint space.  in battles between infectious disease bigwigs and shoulder surgeon bigwigs, it's the "ID" guy who wins.

so they inserted another bleepety-bleep PICC line yesterday and started 6 weeks of daptomycin.  never mind that it gives me liver toxicity, ID Man says "we'll keep an eye on it and if it gets too bad, we'll switch to vancomycin."  vancomycin makes me have auditory hallucinations, and ringing in the ears which can be permanent.

if i did not like and trust ID Man so much, i'd have taken off at high speed in my trusty chair, clearing the way with a cane wielded with fierce precision.

okay, so it hurts like the dickens, i have not had the guts to look at the wound, and we have to be at ID Man's office in just a bit.  so this well-written, well-thought out missive must end.  don't cry...

fred is fine.  i about killed him, but he's fine.  i don't think he has any memory of the crap he pulled prior to surgery, which is just as well....

i love all of y'all, and have appreciated your support over the ten surgeries these past three years!

if you are not an obama supporter, and i suppose that is in the realm of possibility, please still give thanks to the man for giving me the opportunity to buy insurance when all the private companies refused to cover me any longer.  it is still a bankrupting situation, but i am covered and treated well.  i grieve for those who are not.  i am pretty sure that romney would not recognize me as either a corporation or a "person." 

love ya,
profderien, the one-shouldered gimplet