Okay, so maybe it harkens back to the days of marijuana and Courvoisier, or maybe it was those brilliant performances for the 'rents from the backseat of the Cadillac, designed to make them pull over at the earliest opportunity. Maybe it was what kept me from killing my stepsister when we were saddled with cleaning up the kitchen.
Whatever. Sometimes I need a Mna Mna.
And if anyone knows what a Mna Mna really is, kindly do leave word.
And just for fun, the most downloaded of all the Muppet Vids, Bohemian Rhapsody:
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Repost: War and Peace: I Have the Power When I'm in the Shower
originally posted 11/15/2009
Good morning, Fearless and Beloved Readers! I've missed you, I really have. Give yourselves a hug.
Have a seat on the red horsehair loveseat over yonder. It's one of the few Victorian Pieces in The Manor. {guffawandsnicker} Go figure, huh? Captain Haddock's more recent ancestors were a wily people, a sang froid of common sense running in their blue, blue veins.
The space that we are in today served them as Reception Hall during the American Civil War, and for roughly 60 years afterward. Back then, it was worth their Snooty While to allow a more plebian sort of individual to attend the legendary Marlinspike Hall Afternoon Teas.
But a few changes were necessary, so as to honor their actual intent.
Horsehair furniture. Horsehair as stuffing, horsehair as "fabric." *Small* furniture of unwieldy proportion, shape, and style. American furniture! To provide the necessary Provenance of Snoot, most of it was purchased from a small dealer specializing in the paraphernalia and artefacts of Abraham Lincoln.
We're talking austere. And sturdy.
But mostly? We're talking un-freaking-comfortable! Somehow, some way, the earthier visitors to The Manor found that the rich folks' furniture variously pinched their derrières, squeezed their oversized working class thighs, and often made them break out in an itchy rash. Slowly but surely, word spread, and the afternoon receptions thinned out, freeing up The Haddocks for their beloved Tea Time Mahjongg Tournaments.
Oh, yeah. They also switched from what most people in this region of Tête de Hergé (Très Décédée, D'ailleurs) prefer to drink, a strong polyvalant coffee, to thinly brewed and overly sweetened English teas.
That's the succinct version of why there is such a massive collection of Bone China Coffee Cups, Mugs, and Saucers -- and of why it is hidden from Common View. It must be said, doggone it, that must also be the reason for the chintzy, stained tea cups and the dented, tarnished silver tea sets.
It's not that Haddock Stock disapproved of tea, per se. There are over three dozen delightful tea pots in the working kitchens in the East Wing, alone.
But today, we chose to greet you here in La Recepción! Yes, we are planning a surprise renovation for this space -- from Lincolnesque austerity to teeming, busy Spanish Colonial. Coffee reigns supreme again! I know, it will be a striking change, yes? From itty-bitty loveseats to massive, in-your-face stuff!
My! I do go on. The words seems to have built up over the past few weeks. Explosive posting.
Anyway, please pour yourself a cup of this fine, winey yirgacheffe. It is Fred's favorite from the years he lived in Ethiopia. And why not, let's use the Imported Fine English Bone China Coffee Accoutrements!
Here, look in the bottom of the china cabinet -- note the paw foot, the curved glass -- no, the bottom, there you go! Smart Reader!
If you're a strict, unyielding traditionalist, use one of those Royal Crown Derby Posies-patterned coffee cups and saucers -- a very fine bone china, with both gilded rims and handle bands! Stop! Right there! Very good, Sweet Reader.
It's part of Captain Haddock's extensive Imported Post War Bone China Collection.
Now that everyone is seated, all comfy (how is that horsehair treating your various tushes?),
the inmates here at Marlinspike Hall would also like to extend a Warm Welcome to My Two Cyber Stalkers. I think I spotted them sprinting between haystacks earlier this morning, as dew lay on the Manor Holdings. I'm unclear as to how the Second Cyber Stalker came to be on scene, but I surmise that she is basically an unbalanced woman fallen under The Spell of The Primary Cyber Stalker. Maybe, if I am good, one of them will leave a comment explaining the exponential growth of my fan base. But until such time as the two of you begin to focus on each other -- the absolutely predictable ending to your saga -- please, make yourselves at home.
Just don't touch anything.
This morning, for the first time in about two months, I woke up feeling pretty darned okay (I don't want to jinx it with excessive exuberance).
The cows are giving sweet frothy warm milk again, sparing us another morning of nasty "non-dairy creamer," and providing The Castafiore and Her Denizens with the raw material for yogurts, various creams, and cheeses. We are thinking of reopening The Manor Dairy.
Marmy and her Fluffy Butt has made peace with Sam-I-Am, thereby helping Uncle Kitty Big Balls to de-escalate his frenetic efforts at a military-style feline coup d'état. Sammy is finally able to doze with both eyes shut. In other Cat ChitChat News, Dobby has learned how to wink when prompted. As we tell him with great frequency, Dobby is a very good boy.
La Bonne et Belle Bianca and Fred have had several run-on and amorphous spats, but today? Both have tweeted at me asking for my version of how and why their internescine battle began. I pretended to have a broken tweeter, thereby encouraging them to give up their fruitless efforts to justify the Recent Unpleasantness. Last I saw? They were off to town in Ruby the Honda CRV, laughing and carefree.
I gotta say, if you will permit me to wander just a little from my tight prose, that this household tweeting has become a real thorn in my imaginary side. How much trouble is it to get off one's lazy arse, leave one's quarters, cross over to the Central Ballroom, and take the Checkered Spiral Staircase to the Former Cloak Room, recently converted into My Reference Room Slash Office?
Exercise your stubby legs, get some bloodflow to that congested brain, enjoy some energizing endorphins!
Fill your lungs with bracing fresh air! [We have ongoing draft issues in that Manor Sector... but that is a Tale of Frustration better suited to another time.] If you absolutely cannot make the trip and the message is of real import? Go low tech and give Dobby a note (on letterhead, of course, for verification of authenticity). He always knows where I am. He is a very good boy.
Well, darn. I seem to be the only Responsible Adult left in The Manor at the moment and some children from a neighboring village have asked to tour The Petting Zoo. Now I've no time to edit, to spellcheck, to render the dull, lackluster phrase more witty.
I had planned for this clear but slightly chatty introduction to lead into a wickedly clever, oh-so-subtle excoriation of right wing conservative assholes. Remember, please, that that is just a stream of adjectives so as to particularize "assholes." In and of themselves, those who are "right wing" or "conservative," let's even add "republican" and the slightly deceptive "libertarian" -- those good folk are not necessarily also nominative assholes.
Now I've only time for a rough esquisse and pompous use of easily translated foreign words.
It seems that some of the less able assholes referenced above have chosen to claim a certain photo of President Obama, his family, and some military officials -- situated on a dais -- to be a snap taken on Veterans Day, reflective of the President's lack of respect for the military, even for the war dead. This, because while everyone else in the photo has either hand to heart or arm raised in salute, the President is just standing there, presumably like an ignorant, superior, snotty dolt.
Something, praise Heaven, made me go to Snopes.com in hopes of a thorough debunking of this obviously manipulated photograph -- I thought perhaps it had been PhotoShopped.
It turns out to be something more insidious. In a way, I am glad to not have time to reproduce the hateful email and blog posts written as illustrative introductions to the photo, which turns out to be an unretouched one, taken not on Veterans Day or at the recent Fort Hood memorial, but considerably earlier, on Memorial Day, at Arlington's Memorial Amphitheatre. It was a ceremony held as adjunct to one held at the Tomb of the Unknowns -- this one honoring blacks who fought in the Civil War.
So President Obama had to travel from one honored site to another. He was slipping into the amphitheatre... Well, I guess presidents don't really get to "slip in" -- quiet and unnoticed -- anywhere. No, they are introduced by that pesky toe-tapper, Hail to the Chief.
The deference being displayed was intended to honor him, as required by Department of Defense bylaws, which dictate that the same gesticulations and do-da shown during The Star-Spangled Banner, another American masterpiece, are to be gesticulated and do-da-ed during Hail to the Chief. Therefore, I am a little glad he is not sticking out his tongue, jumping up and down, beating his chest, and acting the insolent fool that the aforementioned assholes apparently envisioned.
He looks, to me, a mite embarrassed and shy.
No. That's not right.
I just momentarily forgot, is all, in the midst of renewing my relationship with my Beloved Readers, wallowing like a happy pig in the squishy mud of what looks to be a great day.
I know that look. So do you.
That's the look of sad. A weary-to-the-bone sadness that, at one time or another, can be seen on all leaders of good heart. Clearer than a precision-tooled 140-charactered tweet. More expressive than the best of mots justes.
It's nice to be back with you, Reader. Thank you for waiting for me to catch back up.
Shit. Now I can't get that "alternate" version of Hail to the Chief from the movie Dave out of my pointy head.
"Hail to the chief, he's the one we all say hail to! I have the power when I am in the shower!"
I gotta get down to the zoo. Y'all feel free to roam around. Someone keep an eye on the two reprobates, would you?
Friday, February 5, 2010
Anal Community Colleague: The Impotence of Proofreading
The following thought piece, by Taylor Mali, is featured today in honor of Dearest Brother-Unit Grader Boob. The Boob just informed me "I've graded 28 with 80 more to go, so the weekend will be hectic. But, as is evident by this email, I look for any opportunity to avoid direct contact with student papers."
God bless him, and God bless the United States.
Always remember and never forget: When it comes to proofreading, the red penis is your friend. Spank you.
God bless him, and God bless the United States.
Always remember and never forget: When it comes to proofreading, the red penis is your friend. Spank you.
The Family
Fred snapped this a few hours ago -- finally, these three together in a photograph. In order from the left: Marmy Fluffy Butt, Dobby, and our newest addition, Uncle Kitty Big Balls.That they are related is clear. Marmy is Dobby's mother and Uncle Kitty Big Balls' sister. We took Marmy in when she and UKBB were both strays, and she was about as hugely pregnant without bursting as possible.
She had a litter of five, of which we kept the runt, Dobby. Marmy remained almost completely feral for another year, but this past year she turned some mental corner and became a very loving and sociable cat. She's not particularly bright, but she seems happy. She has become a real girly girl lately, and demands more one-on-one time than any of them. Very, very coy is she.
Dobby, you've met.
Uncle Kitty Big Balls. What a guy. He remained on the street for another year or so, although he came to visit now and again. The visits were becoming fewer and he began showing up with wounds, loosing hair, etcetera. There was a long stretch where he seemed to have disappeared and we feared the worst. I had put my foot down after three cats, but felt horribly guilty.
Last April, I was in ICU on a ventilator (just hanging out), and Fred came into my room looking terribly distraught. He said there was something he needed to talk to me about.
"Oh, my God, he's leaving me. He can't handle this anymore."
"Uh-oh. Maybe he wants to disconnect the respirator, the bastard!"
So I wasn't exactly the Reigning Queen of The Cogent!
He informed me that UKBB had turned up just as he was leaving to come to the hospital to be with me, and he was very sorry, but he simply was going to have to take him in. He looked to be near death, and was holding a rear leg off the ground, and clearly had abscesses all over another leg. He barely had any fur left and he was almost skeletal.
How wonderful that acquiescing to such an easy request could make someone so happy. So he left me there in ICU, and ran home to trap this wild and dying cat.
UKBB and I recuperated in syncopated time. Both of us needed a long convalescence. Sadly, part of a rear foot had to be amputated, and he battled severe infections post-op. We dutifully downed our antibiotics together, though it was clear from the beginning that I was just some girl... whereas Fred? Fred was his saviour! He still suffers something akin to a feline panic attack when he cannot locate Fred within the bazillions of rooms and acres of land here at Marlinspike Hall, deep deep in the Tête de Hergé (très décédé, d'ailleurs).
He has become our first overweight cat, though if The Castafiore and Fred are to be believed, no one is feeding him little treats shaped like fishes, tasting of eggy tuna, and designed to prevent furballs -- because his fur! His fur is thick and beautiful, the softest thing we have ever felt, our friends have ever felt, even the parish priest is astonished by the silky nothingness of his mane...
So, he's fat and we are not to blame. It is perversely pleasing to see him eat to his heart's content, after all his time hungry and cold on the street.
I cannot keep from laughing out loud when he looks at me. He looks like a Wise Guy, a mafioso. All banged up, eyes crossed. When we're not around, he likes a good stogie. We don't promote smoking but somehow his humidor is ridiculously well stocked with the best cuban cigars. That Bianca!
He has a very sweet and sensitive spirit. He spent almost no time acting ridiculously feral like his sister Marmy had done. No, he took to domestication as if he were the original housecat.
Here is his mugshot:
Our fourth cat, the awesome Sam-I-Am is the eldest now, which is a shock to him, and to us, as he spent many years in the position of postulant. Dobby has been a new life force to him, and I catch them playing like maniacs, Sammy behaving like he was but a few months old, and not a decade into this affair.
But this post seemed more dedicated to The Family: Marmy Fluffy Butt and her valiant brother Uncle Kitty Big Balls, and The Dobster.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Dobby: His Wisdom, My New Year's Resolution
In an effort to cheer moi up, The Fredster went a-diggin' through some old photographs of Our Little Idiot, Dobby the Runt, back when he was an otherworldly kitten.
Those old eyes and wizened face were what won us over to begin with -- and how, in almost every photo, however grouped, whomever served as photographer, his sweet little face came shining through like a slightly bored nebula.
I will give you a moment to ponder what a "slightly bored nebula" might look like.
In fact, I will sit here with you, and ponder in tandem. Hope you don't mind Ponder Company!
Done?
Today, Dobby is my buddy, my pal. He also figures in my very first resolution of the new year, now not old, but no longer new, either. But because Dobby is part of the wording, I find myself remembering my pledge more often than not.
What is it, you ask?
Those old eyes and wizened face were what won us over to begin with -- and how, in almost every photo, however grouped, whomever served as photographer, his sweet little face came shining through like a slightly bored nebula.
I will give you a moment to ponder what a "slightly bored nebula" might look like.
In fact, I will sit here with you, and ponder in tandem. Hope you don't mind Ponder Company!
Done?
Today, Dobby is my buddy, my pal. He also figures in my very first resolution of the new year, now not old, but no longer new, either. But because Dobby is part of the wording, I find myself remembering my pledge more often than not.
What is it, you ask?
Like I would tell you!
Just joshing. I will divulge the Dobby Part, and try to explain it, too.
It goes: yadda yadda yadda and remember that Dobby is very wise.
How is he wise, and more importantly, how the heck do I translate that into some real form of behavioral change in myself? Well, in large part, it can all be summarized by The Dobster's Way Of Asking For What He Wants.
It is, of course, The Purity of The Dobster's Way that holds the secret and contains the magic. He never invests his askings with too much desire, and hardly ever with any personalization of intent. Above all, he wastes no time conniving, planning the best approach, fussing over timing or appropriate ambience.
He's too happy a soul to be manipulative. Something occurs to him, bells chime, his eyes light up, and meow, there he is, request ready. No wasted motion or emotion.
His synapses don't burn up with worry.
He doesn't get pissed off when his desires aren't met. He did his damnedest, he asked, and thems is the breaks, as I used to say. (And apparently still do.)
His requests might be turned aside all day but it never occurs to him that anyone would not give him what he wants out of any kind of spite or wicked intention.
Somehow, this trust that he proffers makes the creatures that he meets all want to try very hard to give him just what he has asked for.
He is good natured and willing to be wholeheartedly a fool. That's pretty much it. I strive to be as good natured and wholeheartedly, unabashedly foolish as my cat, Dobby, seen here at a very young age with his brother, Speckle Belly White Foot, who is apparently trying to commit
Somehow, this trust that he proffers makes the creatures that he meets all want to try very hard to give him just what he has asked for.
He is good natured and willing to be wholeheartedly a fool. That's pretty much it. I strive to be as good natured and wholeheartedly, unabashedly foolish as my cat, Dobby, seen here at a very young age with his brother, Speckle Belly White Foot, who is apparently trying to commit
[c]atricide. Actually, I think that might have been Fuzz Bucket diving for his jugular.
(All his siblings found great homes, by the way.)
As final and further evidence of his "slightly bored nebula" shining star face, here's a group shot. I wish you could experience him. He never fails to make me laugh but can also serve as a soft, warm comfort.
He just brought me his yarn ball, asking to play fetch.
How did he know that's just what I wanted to do?
Did you know that Fred practically birthed this little guy? Dobby was the last kitten to arrive. Marmy Fluffy Butt, not exactly firing on all her Mother cylinders, decided she'd had enough, and just QUIT. Laid her wacky head down for a snooze, leaving Dobby in the precarious position of being not quite delivered!
Already the smallest, he lagged in all the stages of development, behind his confrères by a good 2-3 days. We worried that he was blind and deaf for the longest time.
Then there were the mystifying behaviors -- most notably, he preferred gamely climbing his mother to the joy of nursing, and in this manner missed a lot of meals! But he did get to some imaginary, secret mountaintop. He appeared at the bottom of most piles, was poked, bitten, and smacked with exuberant regularity. Luckily, he came out of it with stupendous smarts and the patience of Job.
This is my favorite picture of Dobby. He has unusual staying power and focus. Fred was at his computer, and offered Dobby a very small box to sit in. Twenty minutes or so went by, and Fred began to feel that feeling of "someone is staring at me." Yes, shock of all shocks, it was our prodigious cat. Doggedly determined to stay in his box until acknowledged by the Alpha, Fred.
(Fred was a psych major and specialized in neuropsychology. He believes that the phenomenon of *feeling* a gaze is not just some fluke or conditioned response. He thinks that there is transfer of energy involved, as well as a sense that we've yet to discover -- we simply lack the ability to render the experience tangible.)
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
I cannot help it, I am full of hope...
One of the numerous feeds to which I subscribe channels news about CRPS -- that's not likely a shock to you!What probably is news is that whenever I prepare to click on the summarizing email, my lungs, my mind, my heart, all fill with hope. Once I see what news awaits, that hope normally fizzles and fades, losing all its precious buoyancy.
I have an appointment with Dr. PainDude in a little under two hours. It has been a long while since I showed up with papers in hand, with hope. I just printed the following article, and almost miss the days of toner smell, mimeograph fumes. Today, the paper gives nothing away.
It blurs my eyes, these words: The team at the Pain Research Institute discovered that a single, low dose infusion of intravenous immunoglobin (IVIG) significantly reduced pain in just under 50 per cent of patients treated, with few adverse effects. The pain relief lasted on average 5 weeks.
O Christ, O God Almighty: Let it be true.
The text in its entirety below. I will do further research this afternoon.
Scientists at the University of Liverpool have discovered that treating the immune system of patients with Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CPRS) leads to a significant reduction in pain.
CRPS is an unexplained chronic pain condition that usually develops after an injury or trauma to a limb, and continues after the injury has healed. CPRS I - formerly called Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy - can arise after any type of injury. CRPS II, previously called causalgia (a term coined in the American Civil War when it was first diagnosed), follows partial damage to a nerve. In some cases the pain can be so severe that patients request amputation, only to find that the pain returns in the stump.
CRPS pain can improve within one year after the injury, but if it is still unchanged after 12 months (longstanding CRPS), then it will often not improve at all. Longstanding CRPS affects about 1 in 5,000 people in the UK.
The team at the Pain Research Institute discovered that a single, low dose infusion of intravenous immunoglobin (IVIG) significantly reduced pain in just under 50 per cent of patients treated, with few adverse effects. The pain relief lasted on average 5 weeks. The results of this study may change the future treatment of patients with CRPS, and have an impact on research in other severe chronic pain areas. Intravenous immunoglobulin treatment for CRPS is currently not available on the NHS.
Although the cause of the syndrome is unknown, precipitating factors include injury or damage to the body's tissue. Changes in the way nerves send messages to the brain about pain may occur at the injury site. These changes may then lead to more changes in the nerves of the spinal chord and brain. All these changes are thought to play a role in causing and prolonging the condition. Conventional pain drugs either don't work, or have considerable side effects.
Dr Goebel, Senior Lecturer in Pain Medicine, explains: "In CRPS, the real effect of this treatment in clinic may turn out to be even greater than what we have already seen, because IVIG can be given in higher doses, and repeated treatment may have additional effects. IVIG is normally repeated every four weeks and we are working to develop ways which would allow patients to administer the treatment in their own home."
"The discovery is expected to have a real impact on the treatment of other unexplained chronic pain conditions; if one pain condition can be effectively treated with an immune drug, then it is possible that other types will also respond."
The research is published in the journal Annals of Internal Medicine.
Notes: [....]
The research was carried out in collaboration with University College London.
Research activities on the role of the immune system in chronic pain are the focus of the newly created 'Centre for Immune Studies in Pain' (CISP) at the University of Liverpool, led by Dr. Goebel. For further details visit www.liv.ac.ukpricisp. Support for these and other research activities aimed at relieving chronic pain comes from the Pain Relief Foundation in Liverpool.
Source:
Sarah Stamper
University of Liverpool
Aha! A better article,* of course, is available at RSDSA.org -- from The Annals of Internal Medicine (cutting to the chase, "results... limitation... conclusion"):
Results: 13 eligible participants were randomly assigned between
November 2005 and May 2008; 12 completed the trial. The average
pain intensity was 1.55 units lower after IVIG treatment than
after saline (95% CI, 1.29 to 1.82; P 0.001). In 3 patients, pain
intensity after IVIG was less than after saline by 50% or more. No
serious adverse reactions were reported.
Limitation: The trial was small, and recruitment bias and chance
variation could have influenced results and their interpretation.
Conclusion: IVIG, 0.5 g/kg, can reduce pain in refractory CRPS.
Studies are required to determine the best immunoglobulin dose,
the duration of effect, and when repeated treatments are needed.
*yes, it is a bit of cold water... damn it.
**************************************************************************************************
later... in an email to my sister-in-law, this brief but exciting episode was summarized thusly:
i got all excited this morning by a news report that i.v. immunoglobulin had been found to "significantly" reduce pain in CRPS. an hour later, i found out that the big study had all of 13 people in it, one of whom dropped out. "just under 50%" of the participants had positive results. let's see. putting on my thinking cap. half of 12, six. okay, "just under" must mean... FIVE. then hank did his "statistics" speech: there must be at least a cohort of 30 to be statistically relevant... sometimes, i wish he would keep all that book learnin' to himself. i should have known that when something sounds too good to be true, it probably is.
**************************************************************************************************
Friday, 5 February 2010:
Further tidbits keep popping up. An editorial accompanied the published research. It sought to temper impulsive enthusiasm as a response to this study, emphasizing caution and the tremendous need for more work. In case you've not kept up with the exciting times in CRPS/RSD research, the authors give a quick gloss at the beginning of their editorial -- and I am resolved to place my hope in that steady progress. It's just that when severe chronic pain and disability roll on unabated for eight years? Well, it can be difficult to be positive. So I tend to grab and latch on to any research that makes sense. I don't mean to mislead anyone by these occasional bursts of unwarranted optimism; Please pardon me if I inadvertently played upon your heartstrings. Also, my case of CRPS is pretty awful and I sometimes forget that most cases are not this bad. I shouldn't be dragging you into my freak show!
Editorial: Intravenous Immunoglobulin to Fight Complex Regional Pain Syndromes: Hopes and Doubts
Frank Birklein, MD, PhD; and Claudia Sommer, MD, PhD
From University of Mainz, Mainz 55131, Germany; and University of Würzburg, Würzburg 97080, Germany.
Chronic pain is multifaceted. It involves changes in somatosensory processing from the primary afferent neurons to the brain; it induces negative emotions, such as fear and depression; and it often entails serious consequences for working ability and personal life. Long-standing complex regional pain syndrome (CRPS) has all of these features and may be associated with substantial reduction of limb function, leading to physical impairment.
In recent years, we have made progress in understanding CRPS. Studies of the acute phase of posttraumatic CRPS show the importance of cytokines and growth factors for pain and hyperalgesia; the involvement of peptides in changes in skin perfusion, edema, and sweating; and the effect of sympathetic neurotransmission on pain in selected patients. We have learned that in long-standing CRPS, cortical reorganization of sensory, motor, and autonomic function might underlie the profound disturbances of the body reference scheme. Although acute CRPS can be challenging to treat, the outcome is often favorable. Treatment of chronic CRPS, when central neuroplastic changes are fully established, is especially difficult.
And so concludes a pretty accurate, if embarrassing, example of my emotional ups-and-downs as I follow the thread of medical news, in real time [as real as it gets at Marlinspike Hall, deep, deep in the Tête de Hergé (très décédé, d'ailleurs)]. Despite my initial over-reaction, all the subsequent information did not cause too much grief -- it simply served as a reminder that this is serious business, for serious people, and that one mustn't let hope get out of hand.
Right?
2/15/2010: I was definitively told, via bullhorn, to "step away from the study... toss your hope on the ground and step away from ridiculous hope." Yes, the Hope Police came down on me like the proverbial ton of bricks. My case is extreme; My case is refractory; My course is "complicated." And then there was this surprise statement from Dr. Go-To Guy: "Bianca, ma belle, this is old news."
As soon as I get my breath back, lobbying will begin for a little offlabel use of immunoglobulin. Shhhhh!
photo credit
Saturday, January 30, 2010
$20, 000
The only update I can find this week in the case of missing 11-year-old Lindsey Baum? The reward for information has doubled to $20,000. Read all associated posts from this blog: here.
FBI ramping up search for missing McCleary girl
By Keith Eldridge & KOMO Staff
McCLEARY, Wash. -- Officials have announced a larger reward for information in the disappearance of a young girl missing since last summer, and investigators are planning a renewed search effort.
Grays Harbor County Undersheriff Rick Scott on Wednesday said a reward of $20,000 is available for anyone who helps find Lindsey Baum, who vanished June 26 after leaving a friend's house to walk home.
"I want to reinforce to the community that we're not going anywhere," Scott said. "This case is a long ways from being at a dead end. We have continued to make this case a priority."
The new money, which ups the reward from the previous offer of $10,000, is being provided by the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Scott said.
Lindsey was 10 years old when she vanished; now she'd be 11, and her family is holding out hope that someone will come forward with information.
"Our world is standing still," said Lindsey's mom, Melissa Baum. "It's hard to stand here and watch the entire world keep going on when we're just frozen in time waiting for her to come home.
"If there's anybody who knows anything, even if you suspect something, if you would just please call law enforcement."
Investigators have received hundreds of tips, but no substantial leads. Volunteer searches have turned up nothing but frustration.
Over the last six months, Lindsey's mother and the police chief appeared on a national TV programs to urge anyone with information to call investigators, and Lindsey was even featured on the cover of People Magazine.
FBI Assistant Special Agent in Charge Ron Twersky said a new group of investigators has been looking at the case to provide an outside review and offer suggestions on how to re-start the search for Lindsey.
"Because Lindsey's missing, we felt it was right to take a 'fresh eyes' approach and simply look at what's been done," Twersky said.
"The work has been extensive, but we just need that break. We know that break is out there, and so that's what this review and this effort is all about."
Twersky said agents will be going over old ground, searching many of the areas they looked at before and talking with many of the people who have already been interviewed.
The FBI will also be employing several new tactics, Twersky said, but he would not detail what those efforts would entail.
Lindsey's mom, meanwhile, is not giving up.
"Lindsey if you can hear me, I love you and I'm not going to stop looking for you, I swear," she said. "I will bring you home."
---
Anyone with information is asked to call 866-915-8299
FBI ramping up search for missing McCleary girl
By Keith Eldridge & KOMO Staff
McCLEARY, Wash. -- Officials have announced a larger reward for information in the disappearance of a young girl missing since last summer, and investigators are planning a renewed search effort.
Grays Harbor County Undersheriff Rick Scott on Wednesday said a reward of $20,000 is available for anyone who helps find Lindsey Baum, who vanished June 26 after leaving a friend's house to walk home.
"I want to reinforce to the community that we're not going anywhere," Scott said. "This case is a long ways from being at a dead end. We have continued to make this case a priority."
The new money, which ups the reward from the previous offer of $10,000, is being provided by the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Scott said.
Lindsey was 10 years old when she vanished; now she'd be 11, and her family is holding out hope that someone will come forward with information.
"Our world is standing still," said Lindsey's mom, Melissa Baum. "It's hard to stand here and watch the entire world keep going on when we're just frozen in time waiting for her to come home.
"If there's anybody who knows anything, even if you suspect something, if you would just please call law enforcement."
Investigators have received hundreds of tips, but no substantial leads. Volunteer searches have turned up nothing but frustration.
Over the last six months, Lindsey's mother and the police chief appeared on a national TV programs to urge anyone with information to call investigators, and Lindsey was even featured on the cover of People Magazine.
FBI Assistant Special Agent in Charge Ron Twersky said a new group of investigators has been looking at the case to provide an outside review and offer suggestions on how to re-start the search for Lindsey.
"Because Lindsey's missing, we felt it was right to take a 'fresh eyes' approach and simply look at what's been done," Twersky said.
"The work has been extensive, but we just need that break. We know that break is out there, and so that's what this review and this effort is all about."
Twersky said agents will be going over old ground, searching many of the areas they looked at before and talking with many of the people who have already been interviewed.
The FBI will also be employing several new tactics, Twersky said, but he would not detail what those efforts would entail.
Lindsey's mom, meanwhile, is not giving up.
"Lindsey if you can hear me, I love you and I'm not going to stop looking for you, I swear," she said. "I will bring you home."
---
Anyone with information is asked to call 866-915-8299
Brush-evoked allodynia as a predictor of SCS success in CRPS
European Journal of Pain, Volume 14, Issue 2, Pages 164-169 (February 2010)
Brush-evoked allodynia predicts outcome of spinal cord stimulation in Complex Regional Pain Syndrome type 1
Frank van Eijs, Helwin Smits, José W. Geurts, Alfons G.H. Kessels, Marius A. Kemler, Maarten van Kleef, Elbert A.J. Joosten, Catharina G. Faber
ABSTRACT
Background
Spinal cord stimulation (SCS) has proven to be an effective however an invasive and relatively expensive treatment of chronic Complex Regional Pain Syndrome type 1(CRPS-1). Furthermore, in one third of CRPS-1 patients, SCS treatment fails to give significant pain relief and 32–38% of treated patients experience complications. The aim of the current study was to develop effective prognostic factors for prediction of successful outcome of SCS.
Methods and results
The study population consisted of 36 chronic CRPS patients enrolled in a randomized controlled trial of SCS efficacy. We analyzed various prognostic factors in the group of patients treated with SCS and compared baseline values of possible predictors of outcome in the successfully treated and the not successfully treated group. Success was defined as Patient Global Perceived Impression of Change score of at least “much improved” and pain reduction of at least 2.5 on a visual-analogue scale (VAS score 0–10). Univariate analyses showed that patient age, duration of the disease, localization of the disease, intensity of the pain, and the presence of mechanical hypoesthesia did not predict SCS success. The mean and maximum value of brush-evoked allodynia proved to be statistically significant predictors of outcome. Using Receiver-Operating Characteristic (ROC) curve analyses of maximum allodynia values, the diagnostic sensitivity for successful SCS was 0.75 and the specificity 0.81.
Conclusion
Brush-evoked allodynia may be a significant negative prognostic factor of SCS treatment outcome after 1 year in chronic CRPS-1.
Keywords: Spinal cord stimulation (SCS), Complex Regional Pain Syndrome type 1 (CRPS-1), Brush-evoked allodynia, Mechanical hypoesthesia, Prognostic factors
Corresponding author -- Address: Department of Anesthesiology and Pain Management, Maastricht University Medical Centre, Mail Box 5800, 6202 AZ Maastricht, The Netherlands. Tel.: +31 043 3877673.
STUPID QUESTION TIME: Why the insistence on CRPS Type *One* in this study, and most others, too? Is there a possibility that there exist different results for CRPS Type 2?
Brush-evoked allodynia predicts outcome of spinal cord stimulation in Complex Regional Pain Syndrome type 1
Frank van Eijs, Helwin Smits, José W. Geurts, Alfons G.H. Kessels, Marius A. Kemler, Maarten van Kleef, Elbert A.J. Joosten, Catharina G. Faber
ABSTRACT
Background
Spinal cord stimulation (SCS) has proven to be an effective however an invasive and relatively expensive treatment of chronic Complex Regional Pain Syndrome type 1(CRPS-1). Furthermore, in one third of CRPS-1 patients, SCS treatment fails to give significant pain relief and 32–38% of treated patients experience complications. The aim of the current study was to develop effective prognostic factors for prediction of successful outcome of SCS.
Methods and results
The study population consisted of 36 chronic CRPS patients enrolled in a randomized controlled trial of SCS efficacy. We analyzed various prognostic factors in the group of patients treated with SCS and compared baseline values of possible predictors of outcome in the successfully treated and the not successfully treated group. Success was defined as Patient Global Perceived Impression of Change score of at least “much improved” and pain reduction of at least 2.5 on a visual-analogue scale (VAS score 0–10). Univariate analyses showed that patient age, duration of the disease, localization of the disease, intensity of the pain, and the presence of mechanical hypoesthesia did not predict SCS success. The mean and maximum value of brush-evoked allodynia proved to be statistically significant predictors of outcome. Using Receiver-Operating Characteristic (ROC) curve analyses of maximum allodynia values, the diagnostic sensitivity for successful SCS was 0.75 and the specificity 0.81.
Conclusion
Brush-evoked allodynia may be a significant negative prognostic factor of SCS treatment outcome after 1 year in chronic CRPS-1.
Keywords: Spinal cord stimulation (SCS), Complex Regional Pain Syndrome type 1 (CRPS-1), Brush-evoked allodynia, Mechanical hypoesthesia, Prognostic factors
Corresponding author -- Address: Department of Anesthesiology and Pain Management, Maastricht University Medical Centre, Mail Box 5800, 6202 AZ Maastricht, The Netherlands. Tel.: +31 043 3877673.
STUPID QUESTION TIME: Why the insistence on CRPS Type *One* in this study, and most others, too? Is there a possibility that there exist different results for CRPS Type 2?
Sunday, January 24, 2010
The Birthday Gift
Tumbleweed has done it again.
It was pouring rain Friday when the postman plopped the package down on the drawbridge. I thought about letting it sit there and get rained on, thought about how much my gut hurt and how I really wanted to stay curled up, warm, and dry.
And then I thought: "Ah, but what if it is a birthday gift?" I loves my birthday gifties!
However, my Brother-Units had both been sent strict instructions earlier in the week, on January 18. This is the email to Brother Tumbleweed, who goes by "TW":
hullo tw --
i'm in a low, low place, and waving at you from down here, hoping you're much better than "well."
sam-i-am (a cat) is helping me write this. he has become jealous of the keyboard, jealous of the other felines, just downright jealous.
here's the deal: i am still (and will be for a while) sated from your christmas gift... but i DO have a birthday coming up. that would be the 24th, next sunday.
ever following the lead of miss manners, i am writing to tell you that you had better send me a god-damned birthday card/letter. there will be consequences should you fail to do so. timeliness is not an issue, however. indeed, brother bob has been known to mail my b'day cards in july, calling them "early."
should you, however, try to gift me? big trouble, big problems, you're likely to wish you'd never been born. ha!
and so, dear one, in conclusion: always remember -- and never forget -- that a birthday card is de rigueur, oh so de rigueur.
i shall be waiting by the mailbox.
all my love, and hope --
Retired Educator, prof-de-rien
fred would say "hey," but after deftly tossing a huge bowl of popcorn into the air while performing fancy footwork in an effort not to fall and go boom (he tripped over a wire)? he was banished from the bedroom for saying, "fuck you, shut up!" when i attempted to be of assistance. his banishment will end... shortly. he'd probably say nice things -- he likes you, remember -- but you'll just have to do without until the apology-angel lights upon his shoulder, and gives him an everloving clue...
Curious to know the origin of the box sitting out in the rain, I dragged My Sorry Self down this cold, stony corridor and that gilt and glitzy ballroom, through these medieval digs and those renaissance spaces, passing the postmodern but pausing for the romantic, and retrieved the rapidly disintegrating cardboard vessel.
I discovered TW's response to my email only after I opened his gift:
birthday gal-
if my card isn't there on saturday then look for it monday instead. (the 2-3 day delivery estimate straddled sunday)
good luck trying to out-stubborn a left-handed irish taurus.
congratulations one day early and howdies to fred.
--tw
These boxes of his have come to mean the world to me.
What follows is a list of the items contained in the Birthday Gift Box 2010. They are in no particular order:
1. Ken Kesey's Sometimes A Great Notion. I've never read it. The book flops opens to page 134 which happens to contain an explanation of the many personifications of Captain Marvel.
S.H.A.Z.A.M.
On the title page:
Sometimes I live in the country,
Sometimes I live in the town;
Sometimes I get a great notion
To jump into the river...an' drown.
[From the song, Good Night, Irene by Huddie Ledbetter and John Lomax]
2. Kesey's One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest. I am going to go out on a limb and say that Kesey was a major influence for TW, as this is the first literary repetition of the two boxes.
I can already hear the Chief, all chatty in his mind's eye: "They're out there. Black boys in white suits up before me to commit sex acts in the hall and get it mopped up before I can catch them..."
3. Okay, so this one brought tears to my eyes. It also served as the germ of the most fascinating conversation The Fredster and I have had in a good while. What is it? The Portable Medieval Reader: The Astonishing World of the Middle Ages brought to life for the modern reader through a rich variety of writings from four centuries... I tell you, that's a work of influence! I cannot remember when I was NOT familiar with it -- which makes me wonder whether TW showed it to me before he up and ran off...
Someone named Peter S. Rich used to own, and scribble in, this book. However, I know that it was a left-handed irish taurus who laughingly flagged this page: The Character and Customs of the Irish, by Giraldus Cambrensis of the Twelfth century. Shit, that shifty irish boy is probably Giraldus' reincarnation.
"I have considered it not superfluous to give a short account of the condition of this nation, both bodily and mentally; I mean their state of cultivation, both interior and exterior. This people are not tenderly nursed from their birth, as others are; for besides the rude fare they receive from their parents, which is only just sufficient for their sustenance, as to the rest, almost all is left to nature..."
Sometimes a book is like an old friend.
4. One birthday card, as politely requested above. The front of the card is from a painting by R. W. Hedge entitled "Symphony," which you, too, can enjoy: here. The cheery inner message is: Hope everything about your day is absolutely grand! Happy Birthday! And TW says, "here's to another successful trip around the sun..."
5. Paris Journal, Volume Three, 1965-1971 by Janet Flanner (Genêt), edited by William Shawn. This is part of the "Letter from Paris" series from the New Yorker. I am very much looking forward to this and cannot imagine why it wasn't included as part of the reader for that seminar I took on 1968. You remember, the seminar in which I was the only one doing the reading? It's not hard to feel like a Grad Student Rock Star in a situation like that. Eventually, J-J took to speaking only to me. Exciting times, exciting times.
A hell of a year for the human world, 1968. I see that on my birthday that year, she notes: The Seine is at flood level. She also relates the thrill of a half hour spent watching a "special weekend TV program called Un Certain Regard, aimed at careful listeners and at minds with serious curiosities... [that featured] the so-called father of structuralist anthropology -- Professor Claude Lévi-Strauss," then at the Collège de France. [pause while I undergo waves of frissons]
She begins her journaling for 1968 with a piece on M. Ingres, who "has come to fame again." There follows wonderful details about the painterly history of Le Bain Turc. [more frissons]
Ingres, long obsessed by the visual richness of the harem, was 82 when he painted Le Bain Turc.
6. One extra-large cotton teeshirt, red, with skull, crossed knife and fork, and the words: Eat the Rich.
7. The following CDs: Pavarotti in Central Park; Daniel Barenboim, Beethoven Sonaten; J. S. Bach Orchestral Suites 3 & 4, Christopher Hogwood, The Academy of Ancient Music; Vivaldi Concerti for viola d'amore, strings, and continuo; Paris Combo; Horowitz Plays Mozart; Claude Debussy, La Mer, Images, Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra;
8. A guide to hiking the Inner Canyon, Grand Canyon National Park. I can tell from just the feel of it... He loved it. I am going to use it as I travel through TW's photographs over at American Idyll.
9. [And I laugh with relief, as I had almost given this as a gift to him last year!] The Lost Explorer: Finding Mallory on Mount Everest by Conrad Anker and David Roberts. Okay, so I may have to work to find my interest in mountaineering literature...
10. The Portable Dorothy Parker! Beware oncoming wit.
11. CHESS BLUES -- Chicago and Memphis recordings by Leonard and Philip Chez (americanized to Chess) -- singers and artists who performed first, probably, at The Macomba, then made their way to Leonard's Aristocrat Records. This is an incredible collection: John Lee Hooker, Howlin' Wolf, Little Walter, Etta James, Hound Dog Taylor (to whom it is all dedicated).
12. Fred is going to snag this as soon as he sees it -- Sinatra: Vegas. Recordings from The Sands, Caesar's Palace, and The Golden Nugget.
Let me restate that: Fred saw it, Fred grabbed it, Fred has found religion.
13. The Complete In A Silent Way Sessions: Miles Davis
14. Canyons of the Colorado by Joseph Holmes, with text excerpted from The Exploration of the Colorado River and Its Canyons by John Wesley Powell. A book of photography and reflection.
15. The Clifton Chenier Anthology, Zydeco Dynamite
Clifton Chenier was the undisputed King of Zydeco music. By mixing Cajun and French two-steps and waltzes with blues, R&B and rock and roll, he created the infectious sound of modern zydeco. Chenier was famous for his flashy onstage gear of cape and crown (and natty gold tooth), but it was his creation of joyful, exuberant and highly danceable zydeco music that made him a legend.
16. 4 live cassette recordings of The Grateful Dead
It isn't often I feel complete, my gaps become openings and not wounds. Thank you, Tumbleweed.
It was pouring rain Friday when the postman plopped the package down on the drawbridge. I thought about letting it sit there and get rained on, thought about how much my gut hurt and how I really wanted to stay curled up, warm, and dry.
And then I thought: "Ah, but what if it is a birthday gift?" I loves my birthday gifties!
However, my Brother-Units had both been sent strict instructions earlier in the week, on January 18. This is the email to Brother Tumbleweed, who goes by "TW":
hullo tw --
i'm in a low, low place, and waving at you from down here, hoping you're much better than "well."
sam-i-am (a cat) is helping me write this. he has become jealous of the keyboard, jealous of the other felines, just downright jealous.
here's the deal: i am still (and will be for a while) sated from your christmas gift... but i DO have a birthday coming up. that would be the 24th, next sunday.
ever following the lead of miss manners, i am writing to tell you that you had better send me a god-damned birthday card/letter. there will be consequences should you fail to do so. timeliness is not an issue, however. indeed, brother bob has been known to mail my b'day cards in july, calling them "early."
should you, however, try to gift me? big trouble, big problems, you're likely to wish you'd never been born. ha!
and so, dear one, in conclusion: always remember -- and never forget -- that a birthday card is de rigueur, oh so de rigueur.
i shall be waiting by the mailbox.
all my love, and hope --
Retired Educator, prof-de-rien
fred would say "hey," but after deftly tossing a huge bowl of popcorn into the air while performing fancy footwork in an effort not to fall and go boom (he tripped over a wire)? he was banished from the bedroom for saying, "fuck you, shut up!" when i attempted to be of assistance. his banishment will end... shortly. he'd probably say nice things -- he likes you, remember -- but you'll just have to do without until the apology-angel lights upon his shoulder, and gives him an everloving clue...
Curious to know the origin of the box sitting out in the rain, I dragged My Sorry Self down this cold, stony corridor and that gilt and glitzy ballroom, through these medieval digs and those renaissance spaces, passing the postmodern but pausing for the romantic, and retrieved the rapidly disintegrating cardboard vessel.
I discovered TW's response to my email only after I opened his gift:
birthday gal-
if my card isn't there on saturday then look for it monday instead. (the 2-3 day delivery estimate straddled sunday)
good luck trying to out-stubborn a left-handed irish taurus.
congratulations one day early and howdies to fred.
--tw
These boxes of his have come to mean the world to me.
What follows is a list of the items contained in the Birthday Gift Box 2010. They are in no particular order:
1. Ken Kesey's Sometimes A Great Notion. I've never read it. The book flops opens to page 134 which happens to contain an explanation of the many personifications of Captain Marvel.
S.H.A.Z.A.M.
On the title page:
Sometimes I live in the country,
Sometimes I live in the town;
Sometimes I get a great notion
To jump into the river...an' drown.
[From the song, Good Night, Irene by Huddie Ledbetter and John Lomax]
2. Kesey's One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest. I am going to go out on a limb and say that Kesey was a major influence for TW, as this is the first literary repetition of the two boxes.
I can already hear the Chief, all chatty in his mind's eye: "They're out there. Black boys in white suits up before me to commit sex acts in the hall and get it mopped up before I can catch them..."
3. Okay, so this one brought tears to my eyes. It also served as the germ of the most fascinating conversation The Fredster and I have had in a good while. What is it? The Portable Medieval Reader: The Astonishing World of the Middle Ages brought to life for the modern reader through a rich variety of writings from four centuries... I tell you, that's a work of influence! I cannot remember when I was NOT familiar with it -- which makes me wonder whether TW showed it to me before he up and ran off...
Someone named Peter S. Rich used to own, and scribble in, this book. However, I know that it was a left-handed irish taurus who laughingly flagged this page: The Character and Customs of the Irish, by Giraldus Cambrensis of the Twelfth century. Shit, that shifty irish boy is probably Giraldus' reincarnation.
"I have considered it not superfluous to give a short account of the condition of this nation, both bodily and mentally; I mean their state of cultivation, both interior and exterior. This people are not tenderly nursed from their birth, as others are; for besides the rude fare they receive from their parents, which is only just sufficient for their sustenance, as to the rest, almost all is left to nature..."
Sometimes a book is like an old friend.
4. One birthday card, as politely requested above. The front of the card is from a painting by R. W. Hedge entitled "Symphony," which you, too, can enjoy: here. The cheery inner message is: Hope everything about your day is absolutely grand! Happy Birthday! And TW says, "here's to another successful trip around the sun..."
5. Paris Journal, Volume Three, 1965-1971 by Janet Flanner (Genêt), edited by William Shawn. This is part of the "Letter from Paris" series from the New Yorker. I am very much looking forward to this and cannot imagine why it wasn't included as part of the reader for that seminar I took on 1968. You remember, the seminar in which I was the only one doing the reading? It's not hard to feel like a Grad Student Rock Star in a situation like that. Eventually, J-J took to speaking only to me. Exciting times, exciting times.
A hell of a year for the human world, 1968. I see that on my birthday that year, she notes: The Seine is at flood level. She also relates the thrill of a half hour spent watching a "special weekend TV program called Un Certain Regard, aimed at careful listeners and at minds with serious curiosities... [that featured] the so-called father of structuralist anthropology -- Professor Claude Lévi-Strauss," then at the Collège de France. [pause while I undergo waves of frissons]
She begins her journaling for 1968 with a piece on M. Ingres, who "has come to fame again." There follows wonderful details about the painterly history of Le Bain Turc. [more frissons]
Ingres, long obsessed by the visual richness of the harem, was 82 when he painted Le Bain Turc.
6. One extra-large cotton teeshirt, red, with skull, crossed knife and fork, and the words: Eat the Rich.
7. The following CDs: Pavarotti in Central Park; Daniel Barenboim, Beethoven Sonaten; J. S. Bach Orchestral Suites 3 & 4, Christopher Hogwood, The Academy of Ancient Music; Vivaldi Concerti for viola d'amore, strings, and continuo; Paris Combo; Horowitz Plays Mozart; Claude Debussy, La Mer, Images, Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra;
8. A guide to hiking the Inner Canyon, Grand Canyon National Park. I can tell from just the feel of it... He loved it. I am going to use it as I travel through TW's photographs over at American Idyll.
9. [And I laugh with relief, as I had almost given this as a gift to him last year!] The Lost Explorer: Finding Mallory on Mount Everest by Conrad Anker and David Roberts. Okay, so I may have to work to find my interest in mountaineering literature...
10. The Portable Dorothy Parker! Beware oncoming wit.
11. CHESS BLUES -- Chicago and Memphis recordings by Leonard and Philip Chez (americanized to Chess) -- singers and artists who performed first, probably, at The Macomba, then made their way to Leonard's Aristocrat Records. This is an incredible collection: John Lee Hooker, Howlin' Wolf, Little Walter, Etta James, Hound Dog Taylor (to whom it is all dedicated).
12. Fred is going to snag this as soon as he sees it -- Sinatra: Vegas. Recordings from The Sands, Caesar's Palace, and The Golden Nugget.
Let me restate that: Fred saw it, Fred grabbed it, Fred has found religion.
13. The Complete In A Silent Way Sessions: Miles Davis
14. Canyons of the Colorado by Joseph Holmes, with text excerpted from The Exploration of the Colorado River and Its Canyons by John Wesley Powell. A book of photography and reflection.
15. The Clifton Chenier Anthology, Zydeco Dynamite
Clifton Chenier was the undisputed King of Zydeco music. By mixing Cajun and French two-steps and waltzes with blues, R&B and rock and roll, he created the infectious sound of modern zydeco. Chenier was famous for his flashy onstage gear of cape and crown (and natty gold tooth), but it was his creation of joyful, exuberant and highly danceable zydeco music that made him a legend.
16. 4 live cassette recordings of The Grateful Dead
It isn't often I feel complete, my gaps become openings and not wounds. Thank you, Tumbleweed.
Psyche and Soma, Those Crazy Kids!
Good news!Because I have a really rotten case of first time diverticulitis, and am flirting with a perforated colon, I think I will turn off the boob tube, stop playing bridge, set aside the book... and do some writing. If nothing gets posted, well, at least the pile of drafts will be that much taller. But if nothing EVER gets posted, well, I guess that'll mean I either imploded, or exploded, or both.
This is crazy... Apparently, I had undiagnosed diverticulosis. But I eat beaucoup fiber! Seriously, with my history of small bowel obstructions that have required surgery [4 SBOs, 3 surgeries], you can bet your sweet bippy that I aim for 60 grams of fiber a day, roughly twice the RDA. That's what the last surgeon to unknot my guts recommended, back in 1996, and until last September, I had no problems. For some reason, I developed a partial obstruction that took over a week to resolve. The x-ray studies done then didn't show any diverticulosis... or if they did, it wasn't serious enough to mention.
I finally called Super Doc yesterday afternoon, despite my plans not to bother him until Monday. He started me on antibiotics and made depressing grumbling noises about how steroids thin the intestinal wall, about how much more I am at risk by virtue of being... me.
This is rather painful, this abscessing colon business. It's not the kind of pain one cannot tolerate, though, and I certainly don't need any pain medication to deal with it, as my normal regimen just about covers it... I guess it is more... scary? Is that the word, the attribute? Just knowing that the next sharp pain might be my intestinal wall, caving in?
Psyche, meet Soma.
(Those crazy kids!)
Oh, yes. On this day mumblemumble years ago, my mother demanded some pitocin so that I might be born on her birthday. I was so looking forward to cake but am settling for celebratory broth.
Oh... one more thing. I wasn't gonna say anything, but the topic keeps coming up since Marlinspike Hall, deep, deep in the Tête de Hergé (très décédé, d' ailleurs), is a secret MMA training camp for the Miniature SaraThunderToga ThickNecks of the Third Degree. As a fellow diverticulitis sufferer, I want to distance myself from recent remarks made by Professional Ingrate and Official StupidPerson, Brock Lesnar. Way to alienate half a continent, dood.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Be 18: ThankYouVeryMuch!
There are so many things in the world that may offend you, why worry about one more?
Hey, wait a minute. Whose blog is it, anyway?
I think this is hilarious:
fresca, if you are out there... on my growing list of "stuff to blog about"? another post on the search terms that bring me my beloved readership, a subcategory of which will be "search terms related to wordle challenges." the latest? "prostitutes in vevay switzerland"
Hey, wait a minute. Whose blog is it, anyway?
I think this is hilarious:
fresca, if you are out there... on my growing list of "stuff to blog about"? another post on the search terms that bring me my beloved readership, a subcategory of which will be "search terms related to wordle challenges." the latest? "prostitutes in vevay switzerland"
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Monday, January 18, 2010
Mercedes Sosa y Gracias a la vida de Violeta Parra
Usually, in this mood, I would turn to TW, the Poet/Photographer/Bookie Brother-Unit, and his visions of The River and The Canyon. I would likely call the resultant electronic postcard "when-a-sister-needs-a-brother needs-a-god."
But something there is, tonight, that wants a humming, thrilling, singing woman, La Negra, a strong woman, unrelated.
How did I not know that Mercedes Sosa died last October?
Gracias a la vida que me ha dado tanto
me dio dos luceros que cuando los abro
perfecto distingo lo negro del blanco
y en el alto cielo su fondo estrellado
y en las multitudes el hombre que yo amo
Gracias a la vida que me ha dado tanto
me ha dado el oído que en todo su ancho
graba noche y día grillos y canarios
martirios, turbinas, ladridos, chubascos
y la voz tan tierna de mi bien amado
Gracias a la vida que me ha dado tanto
me ha dado el sonido y el abecedario
con él, las palabras que pienso y declaro
madre, amigo, hermano
y luz alumbrando la ruta del alma del que estoy amando
Gracias a la vida que me ha dado tanto
me ha dado la marcha de mis pies cansados
con ellos anduve ciudades y charcos
playas y desiertos, montañas y llanos
y la casa tuya, tu calle y tu patio
Gracias a la vida que me ha dado tanto
me dio el corazón que agita su marco
cuando miro el fruto del cerebro humano
cuando miro el bueno tan lejos del malo
cuando miro el fondo de tus ojos claros
Gracias a la vida que me ha dado tanto
me ha dado la risa y me ha dado el llanto
así yo distingo dicha de quebranto
los dos materiales que forman mi canto
y el canto de ustedes que es el mismo canto
y el canto de todos que es mi propio canto
Gracias a la vida, gracias a la vida
[violeta parra]
But something there is, tonight, that wants a humming, thrilling, singing woman, La Negra, a strong woman, unrelated.
How did I not know that Mercedes Sosa died last October?
Gracias a la vida que me ha dado tanto
me dio dos luceros que cuando los abro
perfecto distingo lo negro del blanco
y en el alto cielo su fondo estrellado
y en las multitudes el hombre que yo amo
Gracias a la vida que me ha dado tanto
me ha dado el oído que en todo su ancho
graba noche y día grillos y canarios
martirios, turbinas, ladridos, chubascos
y la voz tan tierna de mi bien amado
Gracias a la vida que me ha dado tanto
me ha dado el sonido y el abecedario
con él, las palabras que pienso y declaro
madre, amigo, hermano
y luz alumbrando la ruta del alma del que estoy amando
Gracias a la vida que me ha dado tanto
me ha dado la marcha de mis pies cansados
con ellos anduve ciudades y charcos
playas y desiertos, montañas y llanos
y la casa tuya, tu calle y tu patio
Gracias a la vida que me ha dado tanto
me dio el corazón que agita su marco
cuando miro el fruto del cerebro humano
cuando miro el bueno tan lejos del malo
cuando miro el fondo de tus ojos claros
Gracias a la vida que me ha dado tanto
me ha dado la risa y me ha dado el llanto
así yo distingo dicha de quebranto
los dos materiales que forman mi canto
y el canto de ustedes que es el mismo canto
y el canto de todos que es mi propio canto
Gracias a la vida, gracias a la vida
[violeta parra]
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Education Sentimentale
From the Urban Dictionary, submitted by Demon Phoenix 1347 on April 10, 2005:
Definition of TEABAG:
1) To insert one's nuts into the mouth of another (of either gender), usually while they are sleeping. Can either be a situation of laughter or of excruciating pain, depending on whether the victim is a biter. (verb)
EXAMPLE: Devon teabagged his girlfriend Veronica, then for shits and giggles he teabagged his friend Barton. And Barton bit Devon's left testicle off and beat the shit out of him.
2) When after being brutally killed in Halo 2, your opponent squats repeatedly on you, imitating the act of dipping his balls on you. Rather humiliating, especially when there's more than one of them doing it. (verb)
EXAMPLE: After I sniped five guys on a Multi-Flag CTF in Coagulation (including two in a Warthog) for a Kill Frenzy, two of them killed me with SMG fire and then simultaneously teabagged me.
3) A small bag of dried herbs, that magically makes tea when you add water and give it some time to steep. (noun)
EXAMPLE: I placed the teabag in the boiling water and gently stirred, five minutes later I had hot peppermint tea.
4) The scrotum of a man who has had his testicles removed. (noun)
EXAMPLE: Jenna broked up with her boyfriend Jacob because when she saw his equipment, she noticed he had a teabag.
Definition of TEABAG:
1) To insert one's nuts into the mouth of another (of either gender), usually while they are sleeping. Can either be a situation of laughter or of excruciating pain, depending on whether the victim is a biter. (verb)
EXAMPLE: Devon teabagged his girlfriend Veronica, then for shits and giggles he teabagged his friend Barton. And Barton bit Devon's left testicle off and beat the shit out of him.
2) When after being brutally killed in Halo 2, your opponent squats repeatedly on you, imitating the act of dipping his balls on you. Rather humiliating, especially when there's more than one of them doing it. (verb)
EXAMPLE: After I sniped five guys on a Multi-Flag CTF in Coagulation (including two in a Warthog) for a Kill Frenzy, two of them killed me with SMG fire and then simultaneously teabagged me.
3) A small bag of dried herbs, that magically makes tea when you add water and give it some time to steep. (noun)
EXAMPLE: I placed the teabag in the boiling water and gently stirred, five minutes later I had hot peppermint tea.
4) The scrotum of a man who has had his testicles removed. (noun)
EXAMPLE: Jenna broked up with her boyfriend Jacob because when she saw his equipment, she noticed he had a teabag.
*** * *** * *** * *** * *** * *** * *** * *** * *** * *** * *** * *** * *** * *** * *** * *** * *** * *** * *** * *** * *** *
From the Twitter account of Andy Borowitz, "Comedian and Writer, New Yorker humorist, Creator of BorowitzReport.com," January 15, 2010:
"The Teabaggers just found out what teabag means & freaked out. They're now calling themselves the Dirty Sanchezes."
*** * *** * *** * *** * *** * *** * *** * *** * *** * *** * *** * *** * *** * *** * *** * *** * *** * *** * *** * *** * *** *
From the Wikipedia entry for Teabagging;
In 2009, Tea Party protests were formed to protest against United States government tax and spending policies. The use of the term "Tea Bagger" to describe these protesters has been used by several journalists, including Rachel Maddow, Keith Olbermann, Chris Matthews, and Anderson Cooper. Cooper later apologized, calling the term "silly" and stating that his use of it detracted from his serious reporting. The term's growth in the political arena earned attention by the Oxford American Dictionary, and the word "teabagger" achieved finalist status for the OAD Word of the Year.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Scott Reuben, Come on down! Let's Make a Deal!
Newsflash -- courtesy of WSJ Health Blog:
It looks like Scott Reuben, the Massachusetts anesthesiologist said to have used phony research data in 21 published papers, has reached a plea deal with
the feds.
Federal prosecutors accused Reuben of health-care fraud for allegedly
faking data that suggested after-surgery benefits from painkillers including
Merck’s Vioxx and Pfizer’s Bextra and Celebrex, the Justice Department said yesterday. The Justice announcement said he faces as much as a 10-year sentence and a $250,000 fine.
But the Associated Press said Reuben, the former chief of acute pain at Baystate Medical Center in Springfield, has agreed to plead guilty in exchange for prosecutors recommending a more lenient sentence. The sentence
would also reportedly include forfeiting assets of at least $50,000 that Reuben
received for the allegedly phony research. The Republican, a Springfield newspaper, said Reuben has signed a plea agreement under which he must pay $420,000 in restitution to pharmaceutical companies.
Reuben is accused with taking pharma money for doing research, then fabricating results and getting studies published in anesthesiology journals.The tale began to unravel last year as Baystate said it found Reuben had faked data and the Boston U.S. attorney began looking into the case. (For refreshers, see our posts here and here.)
Reuben’s attorney has said in the past his client cooperated with the hospital review and expressed regret. The lawyer didn’t immediately return a call for comment after Thursday’s federal complaint, the AP said.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)