Fingernails on the Chalkboard

It boggles my blogging mind!

In an effort to find out how Laura Beckett was doing -- the woman who was "trapped" in Germany after contracting pneumonia and systemic MRSA infections on the second day of a week-long ketamine coma designed to treat her CRPS -- I started looking around various CRPS/pain forums. It's always disruptive to me to read the commentary of ordinary people. It scares me to death.

In an intellectually challenging discussion of the ketamine coma trials and protocols, Dylsierra writes, using a great big font and with a cute bunny and an adorable bear:

"HI Michelle,
I agree with you and Jojo!
I think that Jojo is soo right when she says that [the ketamine coma treatment] is not approved here for a reason. What the reason is, well, i don't know but it is something!!!"***

The response to Dylsierra's on-the-road-to-Damascus insight? Read on, McDuff:

"Very True!! Very good point!"

Oh, God, take me now.

These groups are everywhere and are as promiscuous in The Willies they inspire. I used to believe that GroupThink was something to fear. And then I found its opposite, and The Truth set me free.

***The reason? The FDA does not recognize coma treatments that go beyond 3 days, and the ketamine coma requires 5-7 days for effective dosing. The agency HAS approved "awake" (subanesthetic) ketamine infusions but these have proven much less successful than the full course of coma therapy, followed by "boosters." Whether or not Mrs. Beckett's complications have caused a change in the work in Saarbrucken, I don't know. I tend to hope not, since complications from MRSA are not necessarily an indication of poor standards or more risk than one would have in any ICU the world over. Some apparently unbalanced people have written that Beckett died subsequent to her return to New Jersey -- I can find no proof of it, and these folk seemed to have an agenda that included shutting down this promising avenue of research, as well as denigrating Dr. Schwartzman and Dr. Kirkpatrick, personally and professionally.

I also cannot find any more information about the tragic death of Andrea Lynn Gianopoulos, who was to undergo her *second* ketamine coma, this time in Monterrey, Mexico.

My neurologist, a great fellow, almost begged me to not participate in online CRPS "support groups." That is like telling a toddler not to put a bean up his nose -- but it proved to be excellent advice.

More Rotten Pot -- That's "Pot Pourri" to You!

Hmmm. I began this hodge-podge of an entry on October 3, and promptly forgot about it. In fact, when I stumbled upon the list of my dozen or so drafts, it was quite enlightening. As in: Oh, so that's where I left that thought.

Today is October 11, 2008, and I am different than I was on October 3. Primarily, I am much, much poorer, having lost beaucoup d'argent in the market. My health care costs (insurance premiums, co-pays, out-of-pocket, and care not covered) use over 85% of my private disability income. I am responsible for keeping the household afloat, so supplementary monies from my investments are the only help I have. Rather: HAD. I pay all utilities (except water), groceries, and half the mortgage -- plus, I cover the inevitable unscheduled expenses that occur in the maintenance of your average centuries-old European manor located in the Tête de Hergé. Stuff like the costs of reparation of smoky Rembrandts when Marmy decides to do a little vertical marking. Like weaving a textile patch to match the one-of-a-kind medieval tapestries that depict the warring and artistic history of the Castafiore family. Yes, and the more mundane stuff -- a better grade of lawn mower, hedge clippers, HVAC repair, and the odd new roof. So, as my investment account was decimated, my panic grew in countertime, in immensity. I cannot show fear to the Fredster, to the Felines -- not even to La Belle Biance Castafiore. "Don't worry!" I practically crow. And my-oh-my, the afflictions that go with living with CRPS / RSD? The exacerbations due to emotional stress? I've got 'em! For once, I will spare you the laundry list. (There is one thing, though, that has me confounded -- a blistery rash that feels and looks like a bad burn. Not knowing what to do, I slathered on some betamethasone dipropionate cream. When in doubt, find the closest steroidal concoction!)

After deleting all the now irrelevant detritus from the draft, and after adding all the flaming issues of the day, this is the sad bit that remains:

• I have fallen in love with Jon & Kate plus 8 -- I sometimes watch marathon sessions of the television show and am simply in awe... Laughter comes easily: yesterday, one of the sextuplet boys ran to Daddy, full of eureka and aha, to whisper "I am your son!"; Kate keeps her toenails painted because another one of the boys has a toe fetish; The twin girls shop for each other's Christmas gifts but insist, as well, that they each *receive* the same item that is being gifted... Still, I wish Kate would ease up -- verbally -- on Jon, although I get that she is maxed out in every imaginable way. He's amazing, she is awesome -- I am slack-jawed, and those children are blessed.


• Austrian National-Socialist Joerg Haider is dead. Saves me some trouble. Why is Mugabe still alive?


• I killed Pinochet. Yes. Yes, I did. Shush! I did, too! Much in the same way that I kept the paper cutout of the life-sized head of Jesse Helms impaled on my cork bulletin board with a 5.5-inch Henckels boning knife.


• What makes hydrogen peroxide fizz?


• The mail just came -- and despite my instructions that no bills find their way to me this morning, Fred somehow allowed Plumtree Orthopaedic Dudes' bill into the pile of junk mail (a Vera Bradley catalog, a Fidelity mailer on "retirement planning," and my yearly "invoice" for our CCF-sponsored Ethiopian child). How is it that my insurance refuses to pay for the services of the PA who apparently assisted my orthopedic surgeon in my recent surgeries? Even more wondrous... how is it that said PA *dares* to charge me $7,427.12 for his services when he is as much a surgeon as I am? And... jagged deep breath... what the hell is this additional $17, 125 listed as a balance? Plumtree Orthopaedic Dudes have always engaged in crooked billing, in my experience, but after two go-rounds, years back, I gave up trying to fight it. So how screwed am I? If you have followed my saga, you know that my real and actual (i.e., not the PA) orthopod is yammering the pros and cons of gifting me with a new right shoulder prosthesis, once he is convinced the infection that decimated the success of the old one is definitively gone. Will he proceed if these charges are still in dispute? Because in dispute they are. The hospital bill was over $100,000 and was paid in full by insurance... what is the problem with resolving the surgeon's fees? Could it be that they have finally caught on to the fraudulent billing (primarily double-dipping, duplicate charges in masquerade)? I have excellent coverage and am darned lucky to have it -- but I pay over $17,000 a year for the privilege (privilege?). Where did I stash those spare millions?


• Sarah Palin, reverse-nepotism in action!


• Does crystal meth give women a high, whiny voice? Or do women with high, whiny voices have an unusual affinity for the drug?


• And, as always, I wonder, along with Bill Cosby: Why is there air?