Sunday, August 5, 2012

Mabuhay, Mes Amis, and Have a Nice Day!

"Quick, quick," I thought. "Wake the Fredster up, roust Sven and Bianca from their *very* original sleeping configuration (inspired by a shared Olympic synchronized diving obsession) and gather the Feline Remnant!  Hurry!"

These are not my average early morning thoughts, which normally range from "Oh, my God, please, Sweet Jesus, O Holy Mary, I cannot do this again." [as in "...live another day."]  The coda is normally, "Christ in a freaking hand basket, where are my pills?  Where is my grabber?  Where are my legs?  Why is there air?**"


After invoking this cheery crowd in the Medieval Kitchen, after the 20 minutes required to make each one a coffee with my one drip Melita cone (I broke the café presse last week), such that I was pouring Sven's stein a refill just after serving Marmy Fluffy Butt her first 13-ounce café au lait porcelain bowl.  

It didn't matter!  Their grumbling mumbling and weird kinesio tape art (another London 2012 fad) and gigglingly timed requests for coffee top-offs could not, would not, defer me from my joyous intention.



Okay, it *was* difficult to ignore La Bonne et Belle Bianca Castafiore, who has reached Tagalog in her project of artistic translations of Gounod's L'Air des bijoux ["Ah ! je ris de me voir si belle en ce miroir"], such that there was a constant back beat groove of "Ah! kong tumawa upang makita ang aking sarili kaya maganda sa mirror na ito."

She finally paused in her Filipino practice session to request a cup of hot tea with lemon and honey, and everyone else had worn their wit out;  My moment had arrived.

"Good morning, my friends! Magandang umaga, ang aking mga kaibigan!  Bonjour, mes amis!" I began with good cheer writ large upon my face.

"It happens so rarely," I began...

"Oh, my God.  The miniature gay minotaur went after Field Marshall again," moaned Sven.  Field Marshall is 6ft 5ins tall and still growing.  He's the largest bull in the world and has not shared with us, as yet, his sexual orientation, although he seems to enjoy his stud work well enough.

"Crap-and-a-half," yelled Fred.  "The garderobes are blocked, and right on time, it's our busiest day in ManorFest.  I HATE medieval architecture...  Would it KILL the Haddocks to fork over enough for a dozen port-a-loos?  Do you KNOW what it takes to unclog a blocked garderobe conduit, DO YOU?"

"Fred, dah-ling," purred The Castafiore, "All caps, this is tantamount to shouting.  And it is too early to shout, yes, my Fred?"  She's been baiting him nonstop ever since he put her on the midnight-to-3 AM ManorMaze Rescue Duty

"*Ack*::*Ack*" was Marmy's contribution, while Buddy the Freakishly Large Kitten delicately placed his freakishly large paw into my now cold caffeinated beverage, leaving something small but indefinable floating on my careful foam.  Dobby assumed the Perfect Cat Position, and would not budge, no matter the rising kitchen tension.    




I began to dole out the heart-healthy and delicious sweet chocolate oatmeal with raisins that I had made, with love, and half-and-half.

That got my Big Girl Diva's attention right away. Bianca's is made with golden raisins soaked overnight in rum.  Sven prefers a dark bitter unsweetened chocolate and eight individual packets of Domino's Sugar and Stevia blend, and Fred ruins his with Organic Amber Agave Nectar.  The cats add a quarter cup bonito flakes and forego chocolate and sweetener.  And oatmeal.  

With everyone finally happy, and silent, I finally got to my intended objective:

"I just wanted to let you know that I slept well, don't have a fever, and that I haven't had any CRPS dystonia activity in over ten hours.  I am not harboring, to my knowledge, even a single rancorous thought, and am filled with love and appreciation for each and every one of you.  Marmy left a poop on the stool by the window in the Baroque Music Chamber, when she easily could have targeted the Oriental Rug Room.  Dobby threw up on my new sari quilt,but it washed well, and since it's actually made of old saris, who cares that it faded another few shades? Buddy scratched a hole in the bag of liquified rotten turnips, after taking the lid off of our wheelie bin, and really, it had a homey, nutty kind of smell that we might consider for our next batch of Original Manor Potpourri.  Fred scratched my right shin with his untrimmed big toe but the resultant ulcer didn't even bleed.  Bianca got to Tagalog and my migraine preventive medication worked like a charm.

"Clearly, I'm having a good day.  

"I thought that deserved an announcement."

************************************************************************
** "Why is their air?" Cosby's third album, is my first memory of recorded formal comedy and I loved it.  Still do.  Much in the same way that I loved a catcher's mitt and wanted to use it in lieu of a proper first basewoman's mitt.  That may be how I built up my left wrist to such awesome proportions, a useless attribute because, right-handed, it did nothing to help my future forehand, but did inspire acumen as well as necessity for two-handed backhands.




Friday, August 3, 2012

Baking Scones or Rotting Turnips: You Be The Judge

SPEEDO



I *know* that it is poor form (Oops! Someone has been watching too much of the London Olympics on the telly.  I wonder what's for tea this afternoon.  Is that the aroma of baking scones wafting my way or is it the bag of turnips I let rot on top of a bag of potatoes and a sack of fresh garlic?  We better have some clotted cream and jam, either way.)...

As I was saying, I know that regaling you with emails is the lazy woman's blog tactic, but this is the best way to bring you up to date as to what is happening to moi at the moment.  I could lie and say that I just hate repeating myself, but, puh-leeze, my Readership wouldn't fall for that.

So... Youse Guys already know how much I rely on the judgment of my MDVIP Go-To-Guy, otherwise known as a pseudo-concierge set-up with a spot on (Heh-heh) internist.  Well, here's the latest, and please keep the info in mind should my blog posts get even weirder, if I'm not batting on a full wicket (ar ar!).

I think I may take a break from the shivers and do some imaginary badminton.  Or rowing.  But if I choose to swim around the moat, it'll have to done nekkid, as I've heard those swimsuit contraptions are nearly impossible to put on without Randy from Say "Yes" To The Dress.  Check out how hard it was for Summer Sanders... and then die laughing thinking of me trying to get even one thigh in the right spot of fabric.

FIRST EMAIL, FROM ME TO MDVIP GO-TO-GUY, YESTERDAY:


i had my PICC line pulled tuesday.  still having fevers, sweats, chills, spasms, the whole spiel.  dr.b was out of town, saw his PA jacqueline.  when i asked what the plan was now, i was told "there is no plan." of course!  what was i thinking?


is this slow drop in hgb/hct anything to worry about?  i know it's not enough to explain fatigue, but i am so tired.  they drew labs again this week to see if it is still dropping and i am to show up for one more appt next week.




7/3
HGB 11.1
HEMATOCRIT 34.4
CRP 1.27 (EXPECTED < .8)


7/10
HGB 11.2
HCT 34.9
CRP  10.49 


7/17
HGB 10.8
HCT 34.3
CRP 1.73


7/24
HGB 9.9
HCT 31.2
CRP 2.28 


i see dr.d today and will see if i can get him to somehow pave the way with next week's appt with dr. s's PA.  i expect that appt will be a bust, but who knows.


i don't know what to do about my eyes... dr. k probably thinks i've disappeared.  ID informed me that p. acnes is one of the most "catastrophic" of all infections after cataract surgeries (well, *of course* it is!) and that she probably will want some assurance that there aren't any p. acnes colonies hanging around.  right-o!


yesterday, i briefly blacked out twice, both times while walking to the bathroom.  each time, i was able to forestall any severe damage or need for 911 by simply landing against the wall, leading with my head.  so my head hurts, but i'm fine.  i knew that my brain would count for something one day.  if it gets worse, i guess i'll Pick-A-Specialist, probably dr. m.


i hope you had a restful and refreshing vacation.


what are the odds that i could get dr. d to come HERE, versus wickedly tired fred and cheery me hauling ourselves out to the airport office?


profderien,
laughing all the way to hell


SECOND EMAIL, FROM MDVIP GO-TO-GUY TO MOI, YESTERDAY:



The HGB dropping below 10 could cause some fatigue. The main concern with anemia is to be sure it’s not coming from GI blood loss.

Have you seen blood in your stools or black, tarry stools to suggest older blood from the upper GI tract? If not, the anemia may be from suppression of your bone marrow from your chronic infection. That will only improve as the infection improves.

The blackouts are another concern. Please rely on your walker or scooter more since you have the anemia. You are at increased risk for blacking out and falling.

Please keep me updated on the labs, etc. I would also hold off on Dr. K until we know there’s no infection.

THIRD, AND FINAL OF THIS SERIES, FROM ME TO YOU-KNOW-WHOM:


dear dr. MDVIP Go-To-Guy,


i've put in a call to i.d., trying to get tuesday's lab results.  have both called and emailed.  i am feeling pretty awful, temp got to 101, dropped to 99, now back to 101, but more significantly, to me, i'm having chills, feel all woe-is-me-weepy, and exhausted.  there's been no feeling like passing out, just a feeling of distance/unreality.  and a headache.


if things get worse, i will contact them again, first, using the "emergency" line (my understanding is that dr. b is out of town), and do what they say.  if need be, i'll have fred drop me off at the Lone Alp ER.  unfortunately, he refuses to stay with me in the hospital any longer... he just hates that environment, and, it seems, me,  in that situation.  


i'm just letting you know in case there is a communication failure... for instance, when i had to go to the ER a few weeks ago, the EMTs reported that they picked me up in a "GP's office" [instead of the infectious disease infusion center] and that the problem was "a dislocated shoulder." i thought fred was following us over there but, no, he just got in the car and went home.  i was shivering so much i couldn't correct anyone, but wish i had a photo of the face of the x-ray tech who immediately filmed my shoulder.  she told me, "uh, we need to do this again because i seem to have cut off part of your... [long pause] ... clavicle."  sure, i could have told her there was no shoulder on that side, but why muck up a perfectly good learning opportunity?


it's often like that kid's game, "telephone," where you pass around a piece of information to see how changed it is at the end.


i hope to not be calling, but thought i'd give you a head's up.  thank you, thank you, for your good care and forbearance.  


much of that forbearance is put to use on these emails, i am sure.  sorry but when i feel this sick, i talk and talk.  i am afraid, and that's what i do!


so i at least hope that my verbose communication sometimes makes you smile, even if it kills an extra few minutes of your "free" time.


hey, j (j is his Super Nurse)!  come do private duty with me this weekend?????  movies, popcorn, wheelchair races?


oh, and the gut is fine, no obvious bleeding.


bowing out of another graceful communication,
profderien




So there you have it, Sweet Readership.

And as is always the case, I feel better already.

Cheerios and Fruitloops, Clotted Cream and Jam for all.

STOCKHOLM 1912


Higher Education: The Committee





After serving as the responsible full biological offspring representative at my father's recent death celebrations, Brother-Unit Grader Boob returned to the Land of Erudition last week where he continues the attempt to weave and knit together enough university employment to have a usable oven mitt to remove the pizza rolls from the microwave without blistering His Instrument:  the red pen-holding hand.

He just sent me an email that had this warning in the subject line:  "Get ready for a long one..."

"Ayuh," said the Maine girl in me.  I eyeballed the roughly 4 inches of text I was gonna have to labor through, a good part of which consisted of this:


Well, that’s it for now—but let me end with an anecdote.

On Wednesday evening, the entire ABC online faculty had an ******* meeting to discuss the fact that “some” professors were giving higher grades than had actually been earned. The Center for Online Edification had been “horrified” to discover that a basically illiterate student had worked his way through several classes, actually getting a B- for the second Comp course. (I started chuckling and began yelling at the computer: “I’m shocked, shocked to find there’s gambling going on in this establishment!”)

At first, the group blamed student quality, always a safe scapegoat, especially after it was revealed that 75% of those taking the “entrance exam” end up in remedial courses. (By this time, I was chanting, “Money! Money!” at the screen.)

They then decided that plagiarism was the culprit, even though they do like how Turnitin.com has gotten so user friendly. Moments later, there was a call for an institutional grading rubric and a committee to look into that.

“Money! Money!”

Finally, someone noted that this seemed to be a faculty issue, for they’re the ones giving out the higher grades. Silence filled the chat room.

“Exactly! Exactly!”

The evening ended shortly thereafter, with the standard academic result—further discussion and a committee.

Sadly, no one got fired!

Well, that exhausts my narrative skills, and so I’ll just say ta-ta.

I do love my Brother-Units!  And their emails.  When I get them.  Hint, TW, hint.