And fun is good

I continue to be graced by TW's photos (and his channeled thoughts) over at American Idyll.

If you

never have,

you should.

These things

are fun,

and fun

is good.

--Dr. Suess

Bianca's Big Mouth or Wetback Entitlements

Mes chers lecteurs, mes lectrices hors comparaison,

Je vous écris à propos d'un petit rien.

Voir: http://prpnurse.blogspot.com/2008/08/entitlement.html

Dégueulasse! Jonathan Swift, a-t-il dû se soumettre à de telles bêtises?

"Ah! Je ris de me voir si belle dans ce miroir..."

Quelle saloperie! Je viens de perdre ma tête, de m'énerver, de me mettre en colère! De quoi s'agit-il? Il s'agit d'une blogueuse impérieuse, pseudo-pseudo, qui voudrait être toutes choses pour tout le monde (eh oui, tout le temps!).

Je me demande... serais-je aussi bouleversée si demain n'était pas demain?

When will they understand that to laugh in the mirror comes only with the well-developed, umm... capacité... la habitude... of seeing oneself? I am fearing the ones without the laugh en face de, in the face of -- the looking glass.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
Retired Educator, here. I need La Belle Bianca's grande bouche getting me in trouble today, of all days, like I need a prosthetic shoulder joint or aortic aneurysm fix!

a cup of trouble, anyone?

dear all,

would anyone like to borrow some trouble?

i had my echo at 8:30 this morning. i asked the tech how it looked and she gave me a thumbs up and a "looks good to me." so we go home and i plan to pay some bills, declutter my piles of paper, etc.

ring ring ring.

it is one of the cardiologists. he is talking fast, and i cannot understand the words.

so... my heart is pumping well. i still have my usual aortic regurgitation from my bum aortic valve. and then there was that other thing. oh what was it?

oh yeah! where the aorta attaches to the heart ("the aortic root"), well... it is kind of dilated. like in an aneurism. i become a regular chatty cathy -- i ask if this precludes me having the surgery on monday and he says, no, that will be fine. then he starts to yell at me about how i need to have echos regularly -- that they found this dilation back in 2003. i don't *remember* that! (after i hang up and am talking to a weeping fred, he reminds me -- my cardiologist told us that it wasn't as bad as it looked on the echo -- and that i did NOT need to foillow up with him anymore! fred remembers that vividly.)

anyway, it measures 4.65 centimeters. i ask what needs to be done about it -- and the guy fairly hoots! (he actually was very nice) "major open heart surgery," says he.

well, what kind of symptoms should i be looking out for? and i am getting a chill just typing his response.

"you won't have any symptoms."

as in, it blows, i die. (hence, the weeping fred.)

there must be something extremely wrong with my mental health, this all seems like a great big joke to me! whahaha! what's gonna happen next?

i told fred that this is definitely an incentive to live in the moment.

so -- i guess it is a good thing i don't have hypertension.

whahahahahahahahaha!

love,
prof

Hiatus

Retired Educator here,

I am having surgery Monday to remove an infected shoulder prosthesis. No one was able to tell me whether or not I will have internet access if I bring my computer. The closest intel was "Well, I know that we are a wired hospital because we have these things everywhere!"

Huh. I anticipate major 'puter withdrawal. The distraction would have been nice and I also was looking forward to blogging the patient-side of a hospitalization -- now that I am more familiar with the major gripes let off by medical types, I think it could be an interesting exercise.

Yes, thank you very much, I know that there is nothing preventing me from taking notes, even sketching the pieces out long-hand. I can still do it. Still -- stop trying to solve my problems, you people, you! I need to fuel useless angst -- it serves to crowd out the more dire reality! You're just messing with my Trojan Horse of Denial.

I'll be in the hospital between 5 days and several weeks, according to the surgeon. According to his nurse, I'll be there 3 days. I'm thinking she probably knows best. They will put in a cement spacer that is laced with antibiotic -- after a "few months" that can be replaced with a new prosthesis. I'll also get i.v. antibiotics through a PICC line. My orthopedic surgeon, however, seems intent on depressing me further by saying, and saying again, that I could end up "without a shoulder joint." There is nothing someone who is already a geeky gimp stuck in a wheelchair wants to hear more! Excuse me while I panic.

I couldn't even get him to give me odds. That's low, when someone won't even give you odds.

If Dr. Seuss had written for ER

by Brent Fogel

Kerry: Now Mark, I think this ER's great,But...there are problems that can't wait!Now Benton's fine, and Carter too,But Ross and Susan just won't do!Now who do you think that we should hire,Since both of them today I'll fire?

Mark: Kerry, maybe we should wait and see...

Kerry: That's great Mark! I knew you would agree...

Jerry: Dr. Weaver? Sorry to interrupt...But the paramedics just pulled up.

Mark: Ok, I'm here. What have you got?

Shep: This little boy has just been shot!His pulse is faint, his breath is weak.We did all we could to stop the leak.

Riley: And this woman here, she has a broken hip...

Carol: How did she fall? How did she trip?

Shep: The kid's mom was getting in my hair,So I shoved her--lightly--down some stairs.

Mark: Benton, Kerry! Take the mom to three!Doug and Susan! Come with me!

Riley: But wait, but wait! Oh don't you see?We've got some more; one, two, and three.

Kerry: You've got three more? How can this be?Explain it, tell it all to me!

Riley: Well, Shep was driving. Really fast.A light turned red. Shep hit the gas.We hit a car, it hit two more.Soon the total rose by four.Another bang! Another crash!But we couldn't stay, we had to dash!We grabbed these three but I am sure,The injured totaled sixty score!

Carter: These people really are a mess!Their injuries I cannot guess!It makes me sick, my knees are weak,A toilet I must soon go seek...

Benton: It's ok Carter! Stay on your toes!It doesn't get worse than this you know!To Trauma four let's take these three.You can do it, come with me!

Green: Ok, let's get this boy on the table.To save his life if we are able!

Haleh: Dr. Green! This boy is cyanotic!I can't find a pulse...oh, wait I've got it!But it is weak! Oh, woe is us!

Doug: Give him saline! IV push! CBC, chem 7, stat!We will save him, bet on that! Oh no, he's showing poor perfusion!Lydia, start a blood tranfusion!

Lydia: But Dr. Ross, I hate to say.The blood bank didn't come today!We're out of blood, I can't believe!

Doug: Here, use mine! (rolls up his sleeve)

Kerry: We need some help! There's been a crash!Someone's heart stopped with a flash!But Dr. Benton saved the day,And Carter's going to be ok.

Susan: What can I do, where can I go?I'm not incompetent you know!I deserve a chance and with good reason,I only killed one guy last season!

Chloe: Hey, Suze? Look! It's me...I doing great...oh, can't you see?I'm back on drugs and feeling woozy,Can you take care of little Susie?

Susan: Not now Chloe! I'm in a panic!

Kerry: Get Susan out, she can't handle it!

Mark: It's fine! It's done, the kid's ok.We're sending him up on his way.To surgery he's off to go,They must sew up that bullet hole.But Dr. Ross, he's out of sorts...We had to take a dozen quarts.

Benton: Ok, we're done. I did it all.I used a double breasted suture saw.I closed them up, I fixed their ills.I patched their wounds, I gave them pills.I have their livers in this sack.I did it all, behind my back.I need more patients, give me more!I just cured three, now give me four!

Carter: What happened? Did I miss it all?I saw some blood. I took a fall.But it doesn't matter, we saved the day!

Carol: Get ready! There's more on the way!

$25,000 ou La Litote

Comment se fait-il qu'en lisant l'article cité ci-dessous, j'ai pensé tout d'abord à Corneille, à cette litote célèbre de sa Chimène?

Qu'est-ce que c'est, une litote?

Selon un certain D. Fontaine: "Affaiblir une expression pour lui donner davantage de force." Supposément une figure de style délicate... ici cela me semble aussi délicat qu'un marteau. "Shoddy care"? $25,000?

"Va, je ne te hais point."

California fines 18 hospitals for shoddy care
Published: 8/19/08, 9:46 AM EDT
By SHAYA TAYEFE MOHAJERLOS ANGELES (AP) - Eighteen hospitals in California were fined for state health code violations in which patients died from various mishaps such as an improperly inserted tube and a ventilator that wasn't turned on. Other violations include surgical tools left inside patients after surgery.

The fines made public Monday stem from investigations by the California Department of Public Health that found shoddy care had either killed or endangered the lives of several patients. The hospitals were each fined $25,000 - the latest of dozens of penalties the state has issued in recent years to more than 40 hospitals.

Kathleen Billingsley, director of the health department's Center for Healthcare Quality [said,] "The entire intent of these fines is to improve the overall quality of care in California."

The report detailed a death at a La Mesa hospital in which a worker failed to turn on a ventilator for a patient who was being transferred....

Today's Diary: The Man on the Train

Retired Educator, here --

I am in an odd place, and by that I do not mean merely living in Tintin-world with a quasi-fictive diva, La Belle Bianca Castafiore, my darling intrepid Fred, and three very wily cats -- always half-stuck in Marlinspike Hall et (ce qui est beaucoup plus important) dans la Tête de Hergé, qui est, d'ailleurs, très décédé.

Quasi-fictive -- what do I mean by "quasi-fictive"? Have you ever heard La Belle Bianca Castafiore belt it out? Do you really have a clue as to how "belle" she is in "ce miroir" -- how captivating is her laugh? No? Then check yourself, my friend, check yourself! The tree, it falls in the forest -- the one hand, it claps.

Since December or January, I have been fighting an infection which translated into daily fevers and sweats, pain and general misery. Since this was an addition to an already difficult mix of SLE, CRPS / RSD, multifocal AVN, and adrenal insufficiency, I haven't been, ummm, well. Finally, my white count fought its way out of the 13,000s and the 15,000s, making its way to the 17,000s -- the platelet count went bonkers -- and so on. In spite of several visits to high-dose-steroid land, the pain and inflammation were not self-limiting or even slightly improved. So I was sent to my favorite orthopedic surgeon to determine whether one of my three joint replacements, or one of my three reconstructed joints, was infected. Yesterday, after managing to finally unearth my gallium scan results, it was declared a fait accompli. The right shoulder is the offender.

So I have been in this weird, strange place of fever and fiction, dread and denial. I am not sure that I can go through the process of losing that prosthesis, being further limited in what I can do. I am already living this vida loca from the perch of my wheelchair.

I maintain a diary and while a part of me knows this is nothing but an intentional confusion, some days, I want the diary to speak on the blog. The interstices, they have always fascinated me, even -- no, *especially*-- in my academic life -- which, I'd best acknowledge, is as dead as Hergé's tête.

Public blithering, always a pleasure. En tout cas, this is what I wrote today, in diaryspeak:


dear diary,

i sat down to purge my soul and instead got hung up thinking about an album by the roches. it must have been one of their first, as most of the songs were written around 1979. ah, yes, it was their first. that LP once felt like the soundtrack for my pretty awesome and full life. with the help of heavy denial, amnesia, hard drugs and heavy metals, it still can!

that was around the time that i both worked 40 hour weekends (...) and had a side gig working nights at a convenience store. the fact that i was also going to school full time ought to be more important but somehow it just sits there like an overweight, exhausted factoid. i was sharing a house with the woman i still call my best friend, all current evidence being, unfortunately, to the contrary. we were a tad bit wild, so it is safe to say that my approximate 60 hours of work a week plus my 21 semester hours probably saved my sorry ass. it turned out that she wasn’t actually *enrolled* in school – she had dropped out and was spending most of her time waging war against corporate america (she is iranienne). [ha! neither assertion complements the other! what a hoot that i had a moment of thinking the one danced with the other!] still, we managed to meet up most weekday afternoons in the foreign language department lounge – i thought we were meeting after classes! in reality, who knows what she had been doing all day beyond passing bad checks to buy such household staples as cognac and fresh flowers.

not terribly domestic (or domesticated), she was famous for waxing and polishing the twisting wooden staircase to our second floor. i was well-known for almost breaking my neck upon said stairs.

she saved my convenience store job on several occasions. perhaps it was due to a slow build up of fatigue, perhaps i just really hated that job, but i developed a serious pathological aversion to the task of cleaning, straightening, and filling the cooler section of the store. it was cold, it was creepy – when you are the only one there and it is 2 am – everything is creepy! i began to leave it a sad mess, as my dedicated manager quickly noted. few things escaped her jaundiced alcoholic eye, except the occasional bank deposit bag that she tended to leave on the hood of her car.

romy began driving over and doing the cooler part of the job for me! bless her sweet bones! the real gift was one of company. i betrayed little of the fear that some nights obsessed me. after an incident that ended with me chasing away four or five guys intent on robbery (don’t ask. to this day i don’t know what possessed me! i was so angry that they would even *think* of robbing “my” store. harrumph.) – i was happy for her company. if my manager had ever come in... ah, but did i mention her jaundiced alcoholic eye? i could easily just have cued romy to switch off the back cooler lights and waited her out – luckily we never had to do that.

we did, one night, have to escape two idiot guys (sum doods) who were not stellar citizens. they wanted admission to the store of Convenient Wonders, but i had closed. romy and i headed for the pristine 1965 baby blue cadillac that was to serve as our cushy ride home -- only to find a flat tire.

lucky us, we had the two yahoos to change it. they were three sheets to the wind (someone tell me of that phrase's origin.) but still focused enough to realize that they had two pretty girls, and that one of them was kinda foreign looking. small detail... this was during the “hostage crisis” in iran. romy did not advertise her background, her home. relatives and friends of hers in the states had been attacked, and calumnied.

so our sum doods played twenty questions and by the end, we had them convinced that romy was CUBAN. they had a brief offer of persian, but did not seem to understand the term, and kept arguing that she looked like an “island girl,” and the island heavy on their little minds was cuba, and only cuba. to keep them happy, we interspersed some spanish in our witty conversation, encouraging them to “andale, andale, ariba!” with that there tire change.

if my memory does not fail me, little miss anti-everything actually worked in the cotton fields for one or two weeks that same summer. it was a magical summer of possibilities – we were at an age where we successfully confounded world fears with dastardly daring, panache, and other-funkily-worded grand attitudes. it would take me many pages to write enough that the sexual energy of that time could be distilled into the one, or two, right words. Quelquefois, il n'y a pas de mots justes.

anyway... the jobs! the hot, sweaty, elevating and demeaning, safe and dangerous work – comingling with our existential confusions, and our out-and-out joy in living. my mind goes to the roches’ plaintive mr. sellack:

Mr. Sellack
( Words & Music by Terre Roche )

O Mr Sellack
Can I have my job back?
I've run out of money again.
Last time I saw ya
I was singing Hallelujah
I'm so glad to be leavin' this restaurant.

Now the only thing I want
Is to have my old job back again.
I'll clean the tables;
I'll do the creams;
I'll get down on my knees and scrub
behind the steam table.

O Mr. Sellack
I didn't think I'd be back.
I worked here last year
Remember?
I came when Annie
Was going on vacation
And I stayed on almost till December.

Now the only thing I want
Is to have my old job back again.
I won't be nasty to customers no more.
When they send their burger back
I'll tell them thatI'm sorry.

Waiting tables ain't that bad.
Since I've seen you last,
I've waitedfor some things that you would not believe
To come true.

Give me a broom and I'll sweep my way to heaven.
Give me a job;
You name it.
Let the other forty-million three-hundred and seven
People who want to get famous.

Now the only thing I want
Is to have that old job back again.
I'll clean the tables;
I'll do the creams;
I'll get down on my knees and scrub
behind the steam table.

**************************
i won’t drive you all crazy with my demented trip down memory lane with the roches... i actually did not start with mr. sellack – no, i began with a pity party driven by the refrain of i am trying not to have a bad day...

it was another night of not sleeping, of actually fighting my way through some kind of dense, heavy fog of fatigue – hearing myself begin to snore, trying to relax and go with it – but twitching back to wakefulness – afraid of sleeping? it was hot because my fever would not *quite* break and i alternated between sweating and burning dry, and because our demented cat marmy has decided to literally stick to me.

and i came into today ungrateful, full of dramatic suffering. i also had to contend with more cat piss – but that doesn’t fit the heroic theme of my wounded travails... thank god fred was sleeping... it gave me time to get over myself somewhat.

as a result of the beginning of this rapid prednisone taper, i was hit with major gastro-intestinal upset and backache, plus a headache. i don’t *do* headaches very well. i also fear addisonian crises -- having had three of them when fighting infections in the past. you've no idea how stupid it feels to completely forget about your adrenal insufficiency and end up in a crisis.

so i started trying to clean up my pitiable pity-party – and into my feeble head sauntered the roches... and the train.

The Train
(Words & Music by Suzzy Roche)

I sit down on the train

with my big pocketbook

the guitar and a sugar-free drink

I wipe the sweat off of my brow

with the side of my arm

and take off all that I can

I am trying not to have a bad day

everybody knows the way that is

Even though my baggage and I

are using up a two person seat

I'm not trying to be funny

but the guy who sits down next to me

is even bigger than that

we are overflowing out of the seat

I can't look at him

he doesn't look at me....

My face is pressed upagainst the window

and through it I can see

the reflection of the train

I spy on the big guy

sitting next to me

he's drinking two beers

and reading the New York Post

trying not to get in my way

everybody knows the kind of day that is

He is miserable

I am miserable

we are miserable

can't we have a party

would he rather have a party

after all we have to sit here

and he's even drinking a beer

I want to ask him what's his name

but I can't cause I'm so afraid

of the man on the train
****************
it has become my pity-party theme song. we’re all of us screwed up and scared, why can’t we turn and share all that we know we share?

because we are all so damned afraid of the man on the train.

love,
retired educator

American Idyll: We Continue our Journey

(la photo, elle vient du photographe tw qui dirige un blog qui s'appelle American Idyll)

It is necessary that to you I whisper. It is perhaps possible that you alone do not know of my deep sorrowful suffering with the mal de tête terrible. Yes, my adoring public, moi, I am a migraineuse. After all of the médicaments and the careful avoiding of the light and of the sound, it is an addition good to look at the pictures merveilleuses of this place the Américains call so correctement the Grand Canyon. This blog, it is become my blog the most favorite when La Belle Bianca Castafiore, moi, or I am in the pain très profond or I am not making the sleep. Quelquefois, simply the looking at is a cure.

Pain and Oversize Pink Frames

Oversize Pink Frames by Linda Farrow for Luxe
PRICE: $525
AVAILABLE AT: Aloha Rag
505 Greenwich St.
Soho
212-925-0882

Retired Educator, here. La Belle Bianca Castafiore? Wouldn't you know that she is a migraineur (proprement dit: migraineuse)? And so it is hand-to-forehead, sigh-then-moan, a red-lipped pucker (Chanel Rouge Hydrabase Creme Lipstick in Red N°5) and these big old pink-framed dark glasses, all topped with that blessed paisley turban that announces her migraines like a neon sign. Quel douleur, quel désespoir profond, quelle souffrance! Néanmoins, je ne peux pas la convaincre qu'elle serait infiniment plus heureuse dans sa propre chambre! I cannot convince her to retire to her well-appointed, restful, easily darkened room that just happens to be at the opposite end of our cozy Marlinspike Hall. No, she prefers to suffer in plain view.

I find myself humming quite a different version of her favorite refrain:
"Je ris de la voir si souffrante dans ce manoir!"

In the midst of this mini-petit-micro pain crisis, I checked my correspondance to find the sainted Jim Broatch calmly at work, connecting people with CRPS / RSD to all kinds of possibilities out in the world. It is so easy to lose oneself with this disease -- not just by deciding to saw off one's arm one Saturday afternoon -- but by losing social interaction. As hard as it is to leave a protected environment and risk being jostled, pushed, stepped on, or -- my personal favorites -- slapped on the shoulder or given that well-meaning warm hug by the requisite Church Lady, we have to go out there or totally give in to a life of pain, spasms, contractures, and depression. So God bless Jim and his talented minions for their constant assault on our laziness and fear!

Here is the latest e-alert with details about a recruiting study -- one of the few I have seen that explicitly includes those of us with CRPS Type 2. I was starting to get an inferiority complex and I think we can all agree that I don't need another complex...


Study Currently Recruiting: Neurotropin to Treat Acute Dental and Chronic Neural Pain

Neurotropin to Treat Acute Dental and Chronic Neural PainSponsored by the National Institute of Dental and Craniofacial Research (NIDCR)

Purpose: This study will examine the effectiveness of the drug neurotropin in treating acute pain after tooth extraction and chronic pain after injury to a limb or a large nerve.

Individuals who meet the following criteria should apply:

Three groups of patients will participate in this study: 1) dental patients undergoing removal of impacted third molars (wisdom teeth); 2) patients with chronic regional pain syndrome type 1, or CRPS-I (also called reflex sympathetic dystrophy); and 3) patients with chronic regional pain syndrome type 2, or CRPS-II. CRPS-I is pain that develops after relatively minor injury to an arm or leg, but lasts much longer and is much more severe than would normally be expected. CRPS-II is pain resulting from injury to a large nerve.

Candidates will have a history and physical examination, blood tests, electrocardiogram and, for dental patients, oral examination and dental X-rays to confirm the need for third molar extraction.

Participants will undergo the following tests and procedures:

Patients with CRPS I and II will receive an individualized regimen of physical therapy and standard treatment to control their pain. In addition, they will receive neutropin or placebo tablets for 5 weeks, then no trial medicine for at least 1 week, and then the other trial drug for the next 5 weeks. That is, patients who took placebo the first 5 weeks will take neutropin the second 5 weeks and vice versa. Neither the patients nor the doctors will know who received which drug during the two intervals until the study is over.

Patients will complete questionnaires about their pain, quality of life, and ability to perform daily living activities. They will have various tests to measure pain (such as sensitivity to heat and cold, to an electric current, to a mild pin prick, etc.); to provide information about changes in their condition (such as tests of range of motion of joints and limb size); to measure blood circulation and sweating in the arm or leg (such as measurements of blood flow to the limb, skin temperature, and sweat production), and other procedures.

Contact:
National Institute of Dental And Craniofacial Research (NIDCR)
9000 Rockville Pike
Bethesda, Maryland 20892 United States

Patient Recruitment and Public Liaison Office1-800-411-1222 TTY 1-866-411-1010 prpl@mail.cc.nih.gov

http://www.rsds.org/3/research/neurotropin_research.html

This E-alert was made possible by the contribution of the members of the Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy Syndrome Association (RSDSA). To learn more about becoming a member of RSDSA, please click here.

15 Open Clinical Trials for those with CRPS/RSD

FIFTEEN OPEN CLINICAL TRIALS for those with CRPS/RSD:

1
Not yet recruiting
Safety and Efficacy Study of Ethosuximide for the Treatment of Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS) Type I
Condition:
Complex Regional Pain Syndrome, Type I
Interventions:
Drug: Placebo; Drug: Ethosuximide

2
Not yet recruiting
Graded Exposure (GEXP) in Vivo Versus Physiotherapy in Complex Regional Pain Syndrome Type I (CRPS-I)
Condition:
Complex Regional Pain Syndrome Type I
Interventions:
Behavioral: Graded exposure in vivo; Behavioral: Physiotherapy

3
Recruiting
A Study of the Effect of Lenalidamide on Complex Regional Pain Syndrome Type 1
Condition:
Complex Regional Pain Syndrome, Type 1
Intervention:
Drug: Lenalidamide

4
Recruiting
Association Between Focal Dystonia and Complex Regional Pain Syndrome
Conditions:
Focal Dystonia; Peripheral Nervous System Disease
Intervention:

5
Recruiting
Effect of Delta-9-Tetrahydrocannabinol on the Prevention of Chronic Pain in Patients With Acute CRPS (ETIC-Study)
Conditions:
Complex Regional Pain Syndromes; CRPS
Intervention:
Drug: Delta9-Tetrahydrocannabinol

6
Recruiting
Evaluation of Autonomic Cardiac Function in Patients With CRPS
Condition:
CRPS (Complex Regional Pain Syndromes)
Intervention:

7
Recruiting
Capsaicin-Evoked Pain in Patients With CRPS
Condition:
CRPS (Complex Regional Pain Syndromes)
Intervention:

8
Recruiting
The Efficacy of Motor Cortex Stimulation for Pain Control
Conditions:
Neuropathic Pain; Phantom Limb Pain; Stump Pain; Brachial Plexus Avulsion; Deafferentation Pain; Facial Pain; Complex Regional Pain Syndrome
Intervention:
Device: motor cortex stimulation

9
Recruiting
Evaluation and Diagnosis of People With Pain and Fatigue Syndromes
Conditions:
Fatigue; Fibromyalgia; Pain; Complex Regional Pain Syndrome; Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy
Intervention:

10
Recruiting
Evoked Fields After Median and Ulnar Stimulation
Condition:
Complex Regional Pain Syndromes
Intervention:
Procedure: Evoked fields before and after a local block (Xylocaine)

11
Not yet recruiting
Regional Anesthesia in Combat Trauma Improves Pain Disability Outcomes
Conditions:
Complex Regional Pain Syndrome Type II; Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder; Depressive Disorders; Anxiety Disorders; Substance Abuse
Intervention:
Drug: Opioid Analgesics

12
Recruiting
Double Blind Placebo Controlled Study of Outpatient Intravenous Ketamine for the Treatment of CRPS
Condition:
Complex Regional Pain Syndrome
Interventions:
Drug: Ketamine; Other: IV NSS; Other: Normal Saline

13
Recruiting
Neurotropin to Treat Chronic Neuropathic Pain
Conditions:
Causalgia; Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy
Intervention:
Drug: Neurotropin

14
Recruiting
Susceptibility to Chronic Post-Traumatic Extremity Pain
Condition:
Chronic Pain
Intervention:

15
Recruiting
A Pilot Study of Switching From One Pain Medication to Another (Opioid Rotation)
Condition:
Pain
Intervention:
Drug: oxymorphone IV

As usual, thanks to Jim Broatch of RSDSA for the electronic alert. Trials were reported at http://www.clinicaltrials.gov/ -- under the search term complex+regional+pain+syndrome.

Mirko "Cro Cop" Filipović: For the love of God, get new shorts!

After I was finally shot up with gallium this afternoon, Fred and I locked ourselves in the bedroom to watch a Pride DVD --Shockwave 2005. Fred fell asleep pretty quickly but I was up and down, hurting very, very badly and incredibly hungry (high dose steroids again!). I don't know why the pain is up and I pray it eases sometime soon.

Mirko "Cro Cop" Filipović and Samoan Mark Hunt had an interesting match. Cro Cop issued some authoritative head kicks -- that he is so quick as a heavyweight is remarkable; he doesn't telegraph his kicks, either --but Hunt merely shrugged off these blows that would knock most fighters unconscious. Hunt won by split decision, which was the right call, as he was more aggressive and inflicted more damage. (Another split decision was definitely *wrong* -- allowing Wanderlei Silva to keep his belt over Ricardo Arona.)

Anyway, what inspired me to write this short, stupid post? Mirko Cro Cop's fighting shorts. If it is a matter of money, let me be the first to contribute. If it is a matter of superstition, a few sessions of hypnotherapy will clear that right up. While it is true that he works for the secret police, it is unnerving that his shorts seem to bear testimony somehow! They are old, they are tight, they are weird. And since this is a man determined to toss his legs up in the air, please, dear God, let's get him some decent shorts. There are some things best left to the imagination, and Cro Cop's package is one of them.

This has apparently been an editorial about Mirko Filipović and his fighting togs.

I have a personal calling to elevate the level of discourse in the blogosphere, one earth-shattering post at a time.

Here are the 12 fights we watched -- I won't reveal the results:

1.1 Charles Bennett vs Ken Kaneko
1.2 Yuki Kondo vs Kazuhiro Nakamura
1.3 Paulo Cesar Silva vs James Thompson
1.4 Sanae Kikuta vs Makoto Takimoto
1.5 Aleksander Emelianenko vs Pawel Nastula
1.6 Fedor Emelianenko vs Zuluzinho
1.7 Welterweight Tournament Final: Murilo Bustamante vs Dan Henderson
1.8 Lightweight Tournament Final: Takanori Gomi vs Hayato Sakurai
1.9 Ikuhisa Minowa vs Kazushi Sakuraba
1.10 Mirko Filipović vs Mark Hunt
1.11 PRIDE Middleweight Championship: Ricardo Arona vs Wanderlei Silva
1.12 Naoya Ogawa vs Hidehiko Yoshida

The Working Girl

Monday, the Fredster was guiding my wheelchair as it was being lifted into the car, when a very lanky-skanky prostitute came sashaying by (we're located between two major thoroughfares), and called out to him, asking if he wanted a good time (I'm chopped liver or she didn't see me. Or both.). When Fred cheerfully answered that no, he was fine, thanks -- without missing a beat, she wanted to know if he needed help with yardwork, then! I about fell out of the car at the look on his face!

sashay (v.)
1836, from mangled Anglicization of Fr. chassé "gliding step" (in square dancing), lit. "chased," pp. of chasser "to chase," from O.Fr. chacier "to hunt," from V.L. *captiare (see capable, and cf. chase, catch). The noun is attested from 1900.
--Online Etymology Dictionary

Mal à la gorge

Quel matin catastrophique! Ecoutez, écoutez, tout le monde, je dois vous faire une annonce de tristesse profonde: J'ai mal à la gorge. Oui! Moi, diva exceptionelle, mal à la gorge! Fred --un coup de fil immédiatement au médecin! Et toi, Retired Educator, conduis-moi vite à la salle d'urgence. Chop-chop, allons-y!

[Oh God, not again. She has the least little scratchiness in her throat and it is off to the races... call the doctor, drive me to the Emergency Department (Room? Department? Cela ne me fait rien -- but WhiteCoat cares, apparently.). All so that she can sing that stupid L'air des bijoux -- over and over and over again. Still, she does have her public, and she is scheduled to perform a matinée today. I'm sure she won't have to wait... not after they get to know her and the deleterious effect she might have upon a room of sick people.]
Va-t-en, Dobby! Chaton bizarre. Fou, même. J'ai mal dormi à cause de lui, ce petit fou. Ma pauvre voix en démontre le résultat: mimimimimi, tousse-tousse, lalalalala! Comment serai-je capable de chanter le grand air de Boudon aujourd'hui, alors que ma gorge est si douloureuse, la vie si cruelle? Jésus a pleuré, tu sais. Et Jésus a pleuré. [She always pulls that old "and Jesus wept" crap. Jeez. And... right on cue, she commences to sob.]

Et toi, Retired Educator, comment se fait-il que tu sois si heureuse en face de mon désespoir? Hein?
[Comment? Piece of cake, la Belle Bianca Castafiore, piece of cake.]
(Sonnerie de téléphone)
Saved by the bell! It is Cranky Nurse at her doctor's office, returning our frantic SOS. She spreads melodious concern as if it were just so much manure. A *special* concoction of Magic Mouthwash has been called in to the Best Pharmacy In The Area -- felicitously close to the house. "Send one of the minions," purrs Cranky Nurse to La Belle Bianca Castafiore. "Mais bien sûr, bien sûr," elle murmure, en réponse. "Moi, il faut que je reste à la maison, silencieuse -- afin de remettre ma voix, tu sais, Cranky Nurse."
She whispered her way through the day, rinsing, gargling, slurping down beef consommé with alarming alacrity, slagging her way through dainty gobs of garlic bread -- the secret restorative of divas the world over, claims La Belle.
But she was ready to sing, come time for L'air des bijoux. And afterward she told us, laughingly:
"Ah, je ris de me voir si belle dans ce miroir!"

American Pain Foundation Alert and Advocacy Group Gripe

I wonder if I am alone in my issues with some advocacy groups and their mailings: the gung-ho, unbridled and breathless; the addled punctuation -- specifically, extreme exclamation point abuse. Mostly, I just want the information and tend to respect a fairly sparse missive that delivers that information and leaves the question of my exuberance alone. If I am on your mailing list, I probably support your cause. So leave my motivation... to me. I don't *do* decaf and I don't do "OhMyGod!"

That gripe made, please consider the following e-alert put out by the American Pain Foundation:

National Pain Care Policy Act of 2008

To: All individuals and organizations that care about improving pain care in America
URGENT CALL TO ACTION!

The National Pain Care Policy Act has been introduced in the Senate! With the Senate recess rapidly approaching, the time to act is NOW!

ACTION REQUESTED:

CONTACT YOUR SENATORS TO REQUEST THEY BECOME A CO-SPONSOR OF THE THE NATIONAL PAIN CARE POLICY ACT of 2008, S. 3387
The National Pain Care Policy Act of 2007, HR 2994 has been in the House of Representatives gaining more and more support since July 2007. This bill has now been introduced in the Senate thanks to the efforts of Senator Orrin Hatch (R-UT) and Senator Christopher Dodd (D-CT). With this important bill now in both houses of Congress it is important that your Senators hear from you. With the upcoming election and recess, THE TIME IS NOW!

Click here to TAKE ACTION! Send a letter to your Senator urging their immediate support for this important legislation! Our Online Advocacy Center will send your message for you. It is quick and easy.

Inform them that you are concerned about the hidden pain epidemic in our country and as a resident of their state you are urgently requesting their support by signing on as a co-sponsor of S. 3387 before the summer recess. The letter has been written, just add a personal comment and our system will send it for you. CLICK HERE TO TAKE ACTION!

To view the National Pain Care Policy Act of 2008, S. 3387, please click here. The bill will soon be available on the official site, http://thomas.loc.gov/.

Encourage others to TAKE ACTION! Let your voice be heard!

Forward this message to a friend!

There is strength in numbers! Thank you for being part of this united effort to eliminate the under-treatment of pain in America.

For important updates on the Military and Veteran Legislation, click here.
TAKE ACTION NOW!

Get involved! If you would like to be involved in further advocacy efforts, please complete the Advocacy Survey.

CONSIDER ADOPTING AN EXCLAMATION POINT!!! RETURN AFTER 9 WEEKS FOR FREE SPAY/NEUTER!!!

I don't "do" decaf

Retired Educator here, fresh from catching up on my favorite blogs on my Google Reader.

Kim over at Emergiblog opens an excellent, and sadly necessary, post on Emergency Department etiquette with a few remarks about coffee. Back in the day, she recalls that patients in Coronary Care were only allowed a certain hideous form of freeze-dried instant decaf.

"No coffee for you!" cried the Nurse Nazis.

This made me think of a week I spent in the hospital back in the late 80s. The medical center is well-known and ranks in the top 10 of the U.S. News Best Hospital List.

My doctor started a medication that required me to have a certain minimum blood pressure in order for the nurse to be able to administer it. My normal blood pressure makes medicos want a crash cart nearby, so this was proving something of a challenge.

First, my nurse had me get up to a chair.

Next, walk around the room.

Calisthenics.

Move into a slow jog, a trot, a canter.

Take a shower.

60/40.

No go.

"Coffee, I need coffee, real coffee. I don't do decaf and I don't do instant." I told them.

"You're not supposed to have coffee. It's contraindicated. " Still, she had a curious look on her face, and was checking her watch. The med was to be given before breakfast, and time was marching on, she had report to give, charting to do, a life to live.

She left.

She came back, slinking inside, a mug (a real mug!) of steaming coffee in hand. I did mental handstands and managed to refrain from inquiring after my shot of steamed milk. Like a simpering dutiful child, I blew and slurped, blew and slurped, all under her watchful eye.

Note to readers: it is impossible to properly enjoy the beverage under that kind of woeful surveillance.

Guess what? 80/45.

Almost, but not quite.

So here is the part that you will likely not believe -- I said something about wishing I could smoke a cigarette with my coffee. Just chitchat.

Her beady eyes narrowed so that she had very narrow, very beady eyes.

Yes, she had me go in the bathroom and smoke 1/2 of a cigarette.

And B-I-N-G-O! 90/60. She gave her med, told me to keep quiet, and to be ready to do it again the next morning.

I swear! And I was better prepared the next morning, too. I kept some cream containers in an emesis basin full of ice.

I wish I knew what the medication was but I don't recall. I was more intrigued by this nurse and our transgressions.