Yes, it’s one of those “the dog ate my homework, that’s why I left a
bag of dogshit on the teacher’s desk” posts, in which I offer some lame
excuse for our plunge in productivity. Well, lame on my part. As some
of you know, s.z. has a chronic and debilitating medical condition,
which waxes and wanes, and at the moment, it’s producing a dull waxy
build-up on her the likes of which has not been seen since Carolyn Jones
in the 1953 House of Wax. I spoke to her last weekend, and
she promised to log on and post an update on her latest be-furred
refugees, but she hasn’t been able to summon the strength to deal with
her balky computer, let alone brave the Kiddie Pool shallows of Fox
News, or Renew America.
For my part, I’m still trying to finish a script, the deadline for which is bearing down on me the way the windshield of a speeding Kenworth approaches an oblivious dragonfly. I’m also dealing with my grandfather’s rapidly deteriorating mind and body, and visiting various Bedlams around town, trying to find the one skilled nursing home that least resembles — in both residents and facilities — the House of Pain in Island of Lost Souls.
Anyway, my apologies for the state of the place. I did promise s.z. that I would hold down the fort. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize until too late that it’s Fort Zinderneuf, and everybody’s dead.
On a more democratic note, please cast your ballot in this thread for the winner of the Doughy Pantload for a Day contest. The winner will be announced on Monday, and will receive a copy of Better Living Through Bad Movies, a Wo’C Mug, or (per Harry Chedder’s suggestion) a guest post on World O’ Crap.
Let the voter fraud commence!
For my part, I’m still trying to finish a script, the deadline for which is bearing down on me the way the windshield of a speeding Kenworth approaches an oblivious dragonfly. I’m also dealing with my grandfather’s rapidly deteriorating mind and body, and visiting various Bedlams around town, trying to find the one skilled nursing home that least resembles — in both residents and facilities — the House of Pain in Island of Lost Souls.
Anyway, my apologies for the state of the place. I did promise s.z. that I would hold down the fort. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize until too late that it’s Fort Zinderneuf, and everybody’s dead.
On a more democratic note, please cast your ballot in this thread for the winner of the Doughy Pantload for a Day contest. The winner will be announced on Monday, and will receive a copy of Better Living Through Bad Movies, a Wo’C Mug, or (per Harry Chedder’s suggestion) a guest post on World O’ Crap.
Let the voter fraud commence!
32 Responses to “Why There Have Been So Few Posts Lately: Karl Rove Deleted Them”
When you do hear from her, please give S.Z. my best wishes for a speedy recovery, or at the very least, a somewhat lengthy abeyance of her symptoms.
(Is “abeyance” the right word? These fuckin’ pink vicodins aren’t worth spit — don’t do shit for the moving-screw-vertebra-blues, and make my head even emptier/more useless than ever. At any rate, maybe I meant “abatement”… I hope that she feels better. Soon and for as long as humanly possible.)
Hey, I feel for s.z. I, myself, have had almost a negative amount of energy since spending a fabulous eight-day vacation
at ye hospital with a nasty bladder infection (see comments toward the
end of the linked thread for the gory details). I’ve been very weak and
tired ever since I got out (a week-and-a-half ago).
Hope you come up with something reasonable for gramps, scott. Strangely enough, i know first hand how unpleasant nursing homes can be, because ten years ago this summer, I wound up spending more than a month in one (my insurance at the time wasn’t willing to pay to keep me in the hospital any longer, and I couldn’t care for myself at home, soooo….). depending on how out-of-it your grandpa is, a lot of the things that bothered me the most (repetitive yelling, the general air of doom, etc.) won’t phase him much. Not to say that “skilled nursing facilities” are pleasant environs–they’re assuredly not. It’s just that some are less enjoyable than others.
Hope you come up with something reasonable for gramps, scott. Strangely enough, i know first hand how unpleasant nursing homes can be, because ten years ago this summer, I wound up spending more than a month in one (my insurance at the time wasn’t willing to pay to keep me in the hospital any longer, and I couldn’t care for myself at home, soooo….). depending on how out-of-it your grandpa is, a lot of the things that bothered me the most (repetitive yelling, the general air of doom, etc.) won’t phase him much. Not to say that “skilled nursing facilities” are pleasant environs–they’re assuredly not. It’s just that some are less enjoyable than others.
Oh, and rather than be my usual contrarian, I’m gonna vote for
Matthew Garth, like so many other people. Hopefully, he’ll take the
guest post.
Thanks for the kind words, Marq. And heartfelt wishes for a speedy recovery.
I’m mostly better right now, but terribly weak. Walking any
distance (like, 100ft.) wracks my neck and back with pain, and i don’t
even have Annti’s pink vicodens–the best I’ve got right now are
tylenol-3s, which are useless.
Just reading the previous posts, I gotta say, this country needs
to develop some more humane “drug” laws. In just about any other
civilized country, you can buy OTC decent painkillers…. here we need to
jump through hoops to prove to our Drs, (so they can prove to the DEA
and the FDA that they aren’t breaking the damnable drug laws.)
But in answer to your question, I loved Goeffrey’s post, he seemed to capture the jejune style of droopypoopypant… but the person above who had like 10,000 cites was also most amusing… so either one of those would be killer ghost writers…
And I gotta tell ya, I am the queen of really bad movies… they are my secret vice. (I just bought a used half price at Blockbuster last weekend ‘Terror Peak’ staring the inestimable Parker Stevenson, and the always lovely and horrific Lynda Carter.
I mostly love really, really, really bad disaster movies; they appeal 10 different ways to my sense of the absurd. And I gotta admit, I need that book!
Pick me! Pick me!!!
Please.
Hahahahah and please don’t tell anyone about my secret vice.
But in answer to your question, I loved Goeffrey’s post, he seemed to capture the jejune style of droopypoopypant… but the person above who had like 10,000 cites was also most amusing… so either one of those would be killer ghost writers…
And I gotta tell ya, I am the queen of really bad movies… they are my secret vice. (I just bought a used half price at Blockbuster last weekend ‘Terror Peak’ staring the inestimable Parker Stevenson, and the always lovely and horrific Lynda Carter.
I mostly love really, really, really bad disaster movies; they appeal 10 different ways to my sense of the absurd. And I gotta admit, I need that book!
Pick me! Pick me!!!
Please.
Hahahahah and please don’t tell anyone about my secret vice.
Hey, nobody here mocked me for the I-play-webkinz confession, so
you’re probably safe with the watching bad movies thing which in any
event is here more a virtue than a vice. Me, I prefer bad monster
movies, though with a distinct lean towards the at-sea type. I own
nearly every bad shark movie that’s been put out on a region 1 DVD.
Marq, I hope you feel better, and I’m glad you’re home. Hospitals suck.
Good luck with the deadline, Scott. Those suck too.
S.Z., take care of yourself, and remember, we’ll actually believe you if you want to tell us the dog ate your posts.
Marq, I hope you feel better, and I’m glad you’re home. Hospitals suck.
Good luck with the deadline, Scott. Those suck too.
S.Z., take care of yourself, and remember, we’ll actually believe you if you want to tell us the dog ate your posts.
(Delurking like a bad shark in an even worse shark movie…)
Take the time to get better, everybody. We’re all still here, still looking to read whatever you post, being patient and understanding. Rest up and know that your online family is here for you when you need us.
Take the time to get better, everybody. We’re all still here, still looking to read whatever you post, being patient and understanding. Rest up and know that your online family is here for you when you need us.
well, I may have some spare vicodins in a few weeks, depending on
how long it takes me to get over my ACL reconstruction surgery. I got
the allograft (aka corpse parts,) fortunately my insurance is decent,
otherwise I’m guessing they would have handed me a shovel and the latest
obituary column and told me to get digging. recovery is going well so
far and I hope everybody else is back to their usual snark filled selves
soon
Yeah! What Thorlac said.
My favorite Vicodin is ‘Norco’, which has less tylenol, and
therefore, one can take more IF needed. Sigh. But my doctor changed
the prescription to regular vicodin. I don’t know why, the extra
tylenol is no help, just keeps me from taking cold/sinus meds.
wow! my last comment is in ‘moderation’. I feel so complimented.
Is it the word vicodin? or sinus? anyhow! I liked Doghouse Riley’s
Doughy’s book. I liked them all, to the point of thinking “I wish I’D
said that. Such talent!
Preznit, what the hell is an ACL reconstruction?
And is there something in the water at World O’Crap that keeps so many of us (especially S.Z.) in the shitty-end of the affliction bin?
I swear, it’s like a fucking pox.
Granted, in attempting to take some sort of “responsibility” for my nine-year-long on-again-off-again clusterfuckus majoris of spinal afflications/breaks/bad surgeries/destroyed hardware, I’m starting to believe that I did something really really wrong in a past life. At first I had hoped that it was something nearly forgivable, like giving Hitler a handjob under the podium.
But when my second spine surgery went kaflooey (the main screw holding the bones together in the sloppily-attempted L-5/S-1 “fusion” — and the “big bulge of nerve tissue at the root of my spinal chord” that my surgeon, Dr. Smartass “didn’t EXPECT” and had to “improvise” with — anyway, the supposedly surgical-quality screw BROKE and now ratchets in and out of the vertebra every fucking time that I do something adventurous, like, oh, BREATHE or lie down or stand up, etc.), I concluded that I’d done worse than give the Fuhrer a handy.
At this rate, I’m starting to think that I was Hitler in one of my past lives, to “deserve” this shit that I’m getting in this one.
And I’m sorry y’all, but no, I can’t share the big pink Vicodins — I wish that I could, but there’s no telling when Dr. Smartass is going to cut me off when he finds out that I’ve contacted an attorney and am looking for a second-opinion doctor. Medical malpractice cases, since they are RUN by “medical professionals” in these little “council” decisions, and generally engineered to discredit the patient from the word go, usually take at least a YEAR to be resolved, and I don’t hold a lot of hope of it going my way, despite the copious amounts of witnesses that I’ve got to all of my bitching & suffering over the past 9 years.
If I’d ever had the foresight and the physical ability to sell off any of the painkillers that they kept me on for 3 fucking years at Charity while I fought to get my fucking broken spine fixed, I’d have not only have been able to save my house from the maintenance & upkeep that made me sell it, but I’d have had FLOOD INSURANCE for when that neighborhood was obliterated by Katrina. Fuck, I got free deliveries of Oxycontin 20s for A YEAR because of Charity Hospital fucking me around for so long. Which is how I missed the last year of my grandmother’s life, btw.
So all of y’all who wish that you could get better narcs, don’t. What small amount of relief that they might give you from the physical pain is definitely NOT a fair trade-off for what you lose in the process, or the permanent damage that they do to your brain. I used to be kinda smart, believe it or not.
And yes, it’s thoroughly disgusting that we live in a country where scumbags like Rush Limbaugh can pop Oxys like fucking TIC-TACS, but people who are REALLY suffering from REAL pain (usually LONG-TERM or PERMANENT, thanks to those wunnerful doctors) are treated like MED-SEEKING JUNKIES. What’s even more disgusting is that, if you have private insurance, they’ll write you anything that you want in a lot of cases (especially at Dr. Smartass’s yuppiefied ortho partnership), and if you’re a “welfare” case like I am, on disability, Medicare & Medicaid, then you are AUTOMATICALLY ASSUMED TO BE A MED-SEEKING JUNKIE, despite the obvious fact that you HAVE BROKEN BONES IN YOUR FUCKING BACK AND THAT YOUR DISKS ARE EITHER HERNIATED OR COMPLETELY DESTROYED.
If you’re poor and suffering from major fucking pain, then you’re an addict. If you’re rich or “upper-middle-class,” then you are “in need” of “serious pain intervention.” Welcome to the GHWBush Murka where the pharmaceuticals can sell lethal opiates & opioids on the street, but the people who medically NEED THEM are given the lifelong fuck-around.
All my sympathy to all of y’all who are currently trying to manage severe pain with little or no help from the medical industry. If I had my way, we’d rip the FDA down to the studs and rebuild the whole fucking thing, and NO fucking pharmaceutical company would be able to use the Murkin consumers as GIANT GUINEA PIGS, on drugs that haven’t even been PROVEN SAFE, ’cause that way the stockholders make bigger profits — and GHWBush and the entire executive board of Eli Lilly Co. (and every other pharmaceutical corporation) would be the second group up against the wall, awaiting their bullets, right after Dumbya, Dick, Rummy, Condi, Chili Bean, et al.
And is there something in the water at World O’Crap that keeps so many of us (especially S.Z.) in the shitty-end of the affliction bin?
I swear, it’s like a fucking pox.
Granted, in attempting to take some sort of “responsibility” for my nine-year-long on-again-off-again clusterfuckus majoris of spinal afflications/breaks/bad surgeries/destroyed hardware, I’m starting to believe that I did something really really wrong in a past life. At first I had hoped that it was something nearly forgivable, like giving Hitler a handjob under the podium.
But when my second spine surgery went kaflooey (the main screw holding the bones together in the sloppily-attempted L-5/S-1 “fusion” — and the “big bulge of nerve tissue at the root of my spinal chord” that my surgeon, Dr. Smartass “didn’t EXPECT” and had to “improvise” with — anyway, the supposedly surgical-quality screw BROKE and now ratchets in and out of the vertebra every fucking time that I do something adventurous, like, oh, BREATHE or lie down or stand up, etc.), I concluded that I’d done worse than give the Fuhrer a handy.
At this rate, I’m starting to think that I was Hitler in one of my past lives, to “deserve” this shit that I’m getting in this one.
And I’m sorry y’all, but no, I can’t share the big pink Vicodins — I wish that I could, but there’s no telling when Dr. Smartass is going to cut me off when he finds out that I’ve contacted an attorney and am looking for a second-opinion doctor. Medical malpractice cases, since they are RUN by “medical professionals” in these little “council” decisions, and generally engineered to discredit the patient from the word go, usually take at least a YEAR to be resolved, and I don’t hold a lot of hope of it going my way, despite the copious amounts of witnesses that I’ve got to all of my bitching & suffering over the past 9 years.
If I’d ever had the foresight and the physical ability to sell off any of the painkillers that they kept me on for 3 fucking years at Charity while I fought to get my fucking broken spine fixed, I’d have not only have been able to save my house from the maintenance & upkeep that made me sell it, but I’d have had FLOOD INSURANCE for when that neighborhood was obliterated by Katrina. Fuck, I got free deliveries of Oxycontin 20s for A YEAR because of Charity Hospital fucking me around for so long. Which is how I missed the last year of my grandmother’s life, btw.
So all of y’all who wish that you could get better narcs, don’t. What small amount of relief that they might give you from the physical pain is definitely NOT a fair trade-off for what you lose in the process, or the permanent damage that they do to your brain. I used to be kinda smart, believe it or not.
And yes, it’s thoroughly disgusting that we live in a country where scumbags like Rush Limbaugh can pop Oxys like fucking TIC-TACS, but people who are REALLY suffering from REAL pain (usually LONG-TERM or PERMANENT, thanks to those wunnerful doctors) are treated like MED-SEEKING JUNKIES. What’s even more disgusting is that, if you have private insurance, they’ll write you anything that you want in a lot of cases (especially at Dr. Smartass’s yuppiefied ortho partnership), and if you’re a “welfare” case like I am, on disability, Medicare & Medicaid, then you are AUTOMATICALLY ASSUMED TO BE A MED-SEEKING JUNKIE, despite the obvious fact that you HAVE BROKEN BONES IN YOUR FUCKING BACK AND THAT YOUR DISKS ARE EITHER HERNIATED OR COMPLETELY DESTROYED.
If you’re poor and suffering from major fucking pain, then you’re an addict. If you’re rich or “upper-middle-class,” then you are “in need” of “serious pain intervention.” Welcome to the GHWBush Murka where the pharmaceuticals can sell lethal opiates & opioids on the street, but the people who medically NEED THEM are given the lifelong fuck-around.
All my sympathy to all of y’all who are currently trying to manage severe pain with little or no help from the medical industry. If I had my way, we’d rip the FDA down to the studs and rebuild the whole fucking thing, and NO fucking pharmaceutical company would be able to use the Murkin consumers as GIANT GUINEA PIGS, on drugs that haven’t even been PROVEN SAFE, ’cause that way the stockholders make bigger profits — and GHWBush and the entire executive board of Eli Lilly Co. (and every other pharmaceutical corporation) would be the second group up against the wall, awaiting their bullets, right after Dumbya, Dick, Rummy, Condi, Chili Bean, et al.
I’m in MODERATION?!??!?!? WHAT. IN. THE. FUCK.?!?!??!?!
Must be my impure and anarchist sentiments towards the cocksuckers who deal the REALLY dangerous drugs in this country.
Must be my impure and anarchist sentiments towards the cocksuckers who deal the REALLY dangerous drugs in this country.
See a pithy tongue-in-cheek visual that skewers Karl Rove and the Bush administration’s disregard for accountability…here:
http://www.thoughttheater.com/2007/04/the_white_house_announces_project_purge.php
http://www.thoughttheater.com/2007/04/the_white_house_announces_project_purge.php
Hope SZ feels better soon.
Annti, I’ve concluded I must have been a really brilliant evil
bastard in a past life, which is why in this one I can barely get past
the headache hazes in order to identify if that’s a five dollar bill in
my wallet or a one. (I did that again today. Pisses me off no end. It
was a five, I thought it was a one, which might almost have made sense
if it’d been a ten. The store clerks around here all think I’m mentally
disabled.)
I’m hoping if I’m not too much of a fuckup in this life, I will be reincarnated as a jellyfish. They don’t have brains, you see. Sign me the hell up!
My major issues are headaches, which of course are easy to fake, so I do everything I can to avoid being tagged as a drug-seeker, but on the other hand, I’ve never met a painkiller that didn’t give me a migraine as it wore off, so that helps. If I were Rush Limbaugh, mind, I might conclude that the solution is to just fucking stay stoned. Since I’m not, I think the solution, quite often, is to write Rush hatemail.
For whatever it’s worth, I’ve noticed that an awful lot of *everybody* I meet online is disabled in some fashion–I assume all the really healthy people are out there having real lives.
As to finding solutions for aging relatives, I dunno. I’m half convinced, after seeing what my grandmother had to deal with, that “long term care” facilities exist to leave everybody with the sense that death might be something of a relief. That’s a really ugly view, I know, and feel free to kick my ass across the internets for saying it out loud.
I’m hoping if I’m not too much of a fuckup in this life, I will be reincarnated as a jellyfish. They don’t have brains, you see. Sign me the hell up!
My major issues are headaches, which of course are easy to fake, so I do everything I can to avoid being tagged as a drug-seeker, but on the other hand, I’ve never met a painkiller that didn’t give me a migraine as it wore off, so that helps. If I were Rush Limbaugh, mind, I might conclude that the solution is to just fucking stay stoned. Since I’m not, I think the solution, quite often, is to write Rush hatemail.
For whatever it’s worth, I’ve noticed that an awful lot of *everybody* I meet online is disabled in some fashion–I assume all the really healthy people are out there having real lives.
As to finding solutions for aging relatives, I dunno. I’m half convinced, after seeing what my grandmother had to deal with, that “long term care” facilities exist to leave everybody with the sense that death might be something of a relief. That’s a really ugly view, I know, and feel free to kick my ass across the internets for saying it out loud.
As to finding solutions for aging relatives, I dunno. I’m half
convinced, after seeing what my grandmother had to deal with, that “long
term care” facilities exist to leave everybody with the sense that
death might be something of a relief. That’s a really ugly view, I know,
and feel free to kick my ass across the internets for saying it out
loud.
Actually, I’m relieved to hear my own thoughts ratified, or at least echoed. It either means I’m not insane; or if I am, I’m not alone.
Actually, I’m relieved to hear my own thoughts ratified, or at least echoed. It either means I’m not insane; or if I am, I’m not alone.
The better ‘rest homes’ or whatever they are called, seem to be
run by religious organizations. When looking in to the sitch for my
mother (who died in her sleep at home, thank goodness), the
Catholic-sponsored places looked best to me. I am told Salvation Army
(Methodist) are good, too.
If I ever reach the point in life where somebody tries to incarcerate me in ANY religiously-affiliated “home”
(not too far away from L’Hotel du Fucktards where I currently reside —
subsidized/disabled housing in this country is a windfall for the
fraudulent cocksuckers who run them, and the bottom of the food chain
for those of us who occupy them) — if anybody EVER tries to put me
into any cult-owned/operated death’s-waiting-room, I will not only try
to take them WITH ME when I die, but I’ll also haunt them and all of
their relatives until they commit suicide.
Sure, most old people start fearing death and then cleave to the pseudo-”comfort” of having constant shoving-of-white-Jeebus-and-all-affiliated-mythologies down their throats. But I wouldn’t wish that sort of “life” on anybody, if you can call it that. I’d sure as hell rather be treated like a thinking human being with my own mind and experiences than just another barely-warm body to be shoved into a Jeebus-wrapped cubicle.
Sure, most old people start fearing death and then cleave to the pseudo-”comfort” of having constant shoving-of-white-Jeebus-and-all-affiliated-mythologies down their throats. But I wouldn’t wish that sort of “life” on anybody, if you can call it that. I’d sure as hell rather be treated like a thinking human being with my own mind and experiences than just another barely-warm body to be shoved into a Jeebus-wrapped cubicle.
Are you people blind?! Can’t you see?! It’s the animals, they’re leeching the life right out of her!!!!
Somebody call Billy Crystal!!!!!
Somebody call Billy Crystal!!!!!
Annti:
An ACL reconstruction is when they harvest part of some other tendon (usually the patellar), repair that tendon, and then graft the harvested tendon bit in place of your ACL.
It’s not a fun procedure. I had it done in high school after tearing my ACL playing tennis.
And I *do* have some spare painkillers at the moment (from another knee surgery which I had in January). They’re not horrendously strong, which I found unfortunate, and according to the internet they’re very habit forming.
If I’m going to be on very habit forming painkillers, damnit, I want them to be the best bloody painkillers I’ve ever had.
if anybody EVER tries to put me into any cult-owned/operated death’s-waiting-room, I will not only try to take them WITH ME when I die, but I’ll also haunt them and all of their relatives until they commit suicide.
I would expect nothing else from you, Annti.
Scott, I hope everything works out well…I haven’t had the experience of having to put relatives in homes yet, and I’m not looking forward to the day when (and more hopefully, if) I do.
And definitely give my best to s.z. if you talk to her soon.
An ACL reconstruction is when they harvest part of some other tendon (usually the patellar), repair that tendon, and then graft the harvested tendon bit in place of your ACL.
It’s not a fun procedure. I had it done in high school after tearing my ACL playing tennis.
And I *do* have some spare painkillers at the moment (from another knee surgery which I had in January). They’re not horrendously strong, which I found unfortunate, and according to the internet they’re very habit forming.
If I’m going to be on very habit forming painkillers, damnit, I want them to be the best bloody painkillers I’ve ever had.
if anybody EVER tries to put me into any cult-owned/operated death’s-waiting-room, I will not only try to take them WITH ME when I die, but I’ll also haunt them and all of their relatives until they commit suicide.
I would expect nothing else from you, Annti.
Scott, I hope everything works out well…I haven’t had the experience of having to put relatives in homes yet, and I’m not looking forward to the day when (and more hopefully, if) I do.
And definitely give my best to s.z. if you talk to her soon.
hmmm! I admit I decided I was an Athiest when I was 14. Since
then I’ve pretty much ignored religion, which is why I was surprized at
how nice the ‘religious’ conv. homes were, as compared to a
non-religious, where the pitiful old folks were just… sitting…in the
hallways. (It was heart-breaking). I hated the idea of my Mom in any of
those places, and I was actually relieved when she died in her sleep. I
miss her like anything. I’d give anything to hear her ask me “Are you
loosing weight?” Annti, I apologise if I offended you; I wish there was
something I could do to help you. My doctor put me on steriods last
week, which completely totally eradicated (sp?) my pain, but the
side-effects were so AWFUL, I don’t want to take any more (I dropped the
last dose in the toilet). What can one do?
Kathy, you didn’t offend me.
(Get up, you weren’t supposed to faint on that line.)
I just live in a dump that is GOVERNMENT-SUBSIDIZED, and yet the pentecostal white-trash who own/operate it still use it as a pulpit to shove Jeebus down the throats of all residents, whether they’re young, old, fucktarded, physically disabled, or whatever. It pisses me off on a daily basis, and it’s just one step away from a nursing home.
If Katrina hadn’t given the republicunts an easy excuse to destroy most of the public and subsidized housing in this state (can’t let those po’ mofos come home, no SUH! can’t give ‘em anyplace to live, certainly!), I’d have gotten the hell out of this place 2 years ago. If I’d had more than a WEEK after my disability case finally went through to FIND A PLACE TO LIVE, I’d never have moved in here in the first place, but I was living with my alleged “parents” at the time, so there ya go.
Steroids are horrible, and I feel yer pain on that one. I did prednisone for three months, gained 50 pounds, and damned near lost what little mind that I had left at the time. Sarcoidosis does respond to steroid therapy, but the benefits aren’t SHIT compared to the side effects. Has your doctor tried you on N-saids, anti-inflammatories, anything besides steroids? Some people tell me that the prednisone did wonders for them, but I’ll never forget the nightmares that it gave me.
While I’ll never forgive The Fallen Uterus (my alleged “mother”) for sentencing my Nannie to certain death by taking her to a local JOKE of a fucking “hospital” with an utterly unqualified HACK of a surgeon (NOT an oncologist of any sort, nor a specialist in ANYTHING) to cut her to shreds, fuck that up, and then cut her up AGAIN (that’s what killed her, not the colon cancer), I am at least grateful that Nannie never was sent to a nursing home of any affiliation, especially those few remaining ones run by the state. And I’m especially grateful that Nannie never suffered from Alzheimer’s or dementia or ongoing physical illnesses that would have rendered her bedridden. I just wish to hell that I had kidnapped her from that piece-of-shit “hospital” when I had the chance, and taken her to a REAL hospital. If you know anybody in Louisiana, NEVER EVER *EVER* let them fall prey to Lane Memorial Hospital in Zachary, because that hellhole got my Nannie AND my great-Aunt Thelma. I call it the Roach Motel For Old Ladies — Old ladies check in, but they don’t check out.
And Vivek, hon, you have all my sympathy for having such a hellacious procedure, as does Preznit. I’ve had a couple of knee scopes, and Dr.Smartass (the one about whom I’m going to see a malpractice lawyer tomorrow, since his brilliant fusion of the L-5/S-1 is already falling apart, what with broken screws, etc.) is already trying to sell me on ANOTHER one (I have the cartilage-free knees of a 65-year-old), but I don’t think that I’ll be trusting him with a scalpel again. Do narc painkillers even work when it comes to major tendon pain/surgery? When I had my scopes, they helped with the muscle/bone pain, but bupkis for the ligaments/tendons. At any rate, I hope that you feel better soon, Preznit, and Vivek, I hope that yours holds up well and permanently, too.
(Get up, you weren’t supposed to faint on that line.)
I just live in a dump that is GOVERNMENT-SUBSIDIZED, and yet the pentecostal white-trash who own/operate it still use it as a pulpit to shove Jeebus down the throats of all residents, whether they’re young, old, fucktarded, physically disabled, or whatever. It pisses me off on a daily basis, and it’s just one step away from a nursing home.
If Katrina hadn’t given the republicunts an easy excuse to destroy most of the public and subsidized housing in this state (can’t let those po’ mofos come home, no SUH! can’t give ‘em anyplace to live, certainly!), I’d have gotten the hell out of this place 2 years ago. If I’d had more than a WEEK after my disability case finally went through to FIND A PLACE TO LIVE, I’d never have moved in here in the first place, but I was living with my alleged “parents” at the time, so there ya go.
Steroids are horrible, and I feel yer pain on that one. I did prednisone for three months, gained 50 pounds, and damned near lost what little mind that I had left at the time. Sarcoidosis does respond to steroid therapy, but the benefits aren’t SHIT compared to the side effects. Has your doctor tried you on N-saids, anti-inflammatories, anything besides steroids? Some people tell me that the prednisone did wonders for them, but I’ll never forget the nightmares that it gave me.
While I’ll never forgive The Fallen Uterus (my alleged “mother”) for sentencing my Nannie to certain death by taking her to a local JOKE of a fucking “hospital” with an utterly unqualified HACK of a surgeon (NOT an oncologist of any sort, nor a specialist in ANYTHING) to cut her to shreds, fuck that up, and then cut her up AGAIN (that’s what killed her, not the colon cancer), I am at least grateful that Nannie never was sent to a nursing home of any affiliation, especially those few remaining ones run by the state. And I’m especially grateful that Nannie never suffered from Alzheimer’s or dementia or ongoing physical illnesses that would have rendered her bedridden. I just wish to hell that I had kidnapped her from that piece-of-shit “hospital” when I had the chance, and taken her to a REAL hospital. If you know anybody in Louisiana, NEVER EVER *EVER* let them fall prey to Lane Memorial Hospital in Zachary, because that hellhole got my Nannie AND my great-Aunt Thelma. I call it the Roach Motel For Old Ladies — Old ladies check in, but they don’t check out.
And Vivek, hon, you have all my sympathy for having such a hellacious procedure, as does Preznit. I’ve had a couple of knee scopes, and Dr.Smartass (the one about whom I’m going to see a malpractice lawyer tomorrow, since his brilliant fusion of the L-5/S-1 is already falling apart, what with broken screws, etc.) is already trying to sell me on ANOTHER one (I have the cartilage-free knees of a 65-year-old), but I don’t think that I’ll be trusting him with a scalpel again. Do narc painkillers even work when it comes to major tendon pain/surgery? When I had my scopes, they helped with the muscle/bone pain, but bupkis for the ligaments/tendons. At any rate, I hope that you feel better soon, Preznit, and Vivek, I hope that yours holds up well and permanently, too.
IN MODERATION AGAIN, SCOTT.
Please and thank you to make it stop?
Please and thank you to make it stop?
I was going to leave some light hearted comments about how a
dialog line from “Island of Lost Souls” inspired a song by a famous
midwestern punk band, and how a better cinematic inspiration for nursing
home selection might come from the Adam Sandler farce “Happy Gilmore”
but you people are so depressing with like real problems and stuff…
Doctors who manage chronic pain walk a tightrope between the DEA looking askance at what scrips they write on one side, and the med industry on the other beckoning them to sell their souls for golf outings and Carribean vacations. A good acupuncturist can work wonders, but sometimes it’s tough to get the primary care doc to make a referral.
Annti, if you can finish a med malpractice case in a year, your lawyer is working at warp speed. While you’re waiting, I suggest you rent the following documentary that explains how the tort system works: “The Fortune Cookie” (1966) with Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau.
Doctors who manage chronic pain walk a tightrope between the DEA looking askance at what scrips they write on one side, and the med industry on the other beckoning them to sell their souls for golf outings and Carribean vacations. A good acupuncturist can work wonders, but sometimes it’s tough to get the primary care doc to make a referral.
Annti, if you can finish a med malpractice case in a year, your lawyer is working at warp speed. While you’re waiting, I suggest you rent the following documentary that explains how the tort system works: “The Fortune Cookie” (1966) with Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau.
My mother lived in a Catholic affiliated assisted living facility
for a few years. They were by far the best institution we could find.
She was Catholic, but had long since stopped attending Mass, and was
never pressured in any way that I saw.
When her condition required more care than they could provide, my sisters located a great place. It was a large modern house with no whiff of an institution about it, run by an extended family who lived next door. There were only half a dozen or so residents and they were given a great deal of individual care and always treated with respect as far as I could tell. I have read that this is a coming trend in the care of the elderly and infirm, small facilities licensed by the state and staffed by couples or families, and if so I applaud it.
When her condition required more care than they could provide, my sisters located a great place. It was a large modern house with no whiff of an institution about it, run by an extended family who lived next door. There were only half a dozen or so residents and they were given a great deal of individual care and always treated with respect as far as I could tell. I have read that this is a coming trend in the care of the elderly and infirm, small facilities licensed by the state and staffed by couples or families, and if so I applaud it.
My new neurologist, who’s had me for eight months and is getting
ready to pass me along, has suggested acupuncture several times. I
continue to refuse, not so much because I’m afraid of needles though I
am, but because I’ve never seen any studies that indicate that it
actually works. The ones I’ve seen say it’s pretty much
indistinguishable from placebo.
I’m somewhat used to this sort of thing from neurologists, who have each tried all the sensible stuff and are now grasping at straws, not limited to magnetic therapy, aromatherapy, Botox, and homeopathic medicine. I tend to characterize all of these as the “So, have you tried a quack yet” period of the relationship.
The fascinating thing is, the new neurologist was damping on my suggestion that a chiropractor might be worth a try. (I’ve tried all of the above except Botox and acupuncture. And yes, I know they’re scams. Hey, I’d settle for a workable placebo. I’d just like to avoid pain while doing it.)
If you can point me to a study on acupuncture, trashfire, I’d be much obliged. I don’t necessarily want to frustrate this one into ditching me since, while she hates me for unspecified reasons, she also has hit upon a weird combination of beta blockers, anti-seizure meds, and antihistamines that actually seems to prevent many of the non-trigger, non-PMS migraines (while causing me hallucinations). I have high hopes that given enough encouragement she can string together a series of anticoagulents, antifungals, and cholinergics that will give me blue skin and incidentally reduce the clusters.
Ah, doctors. So glad I’m not one. Then I’d have to deal with people like me.
I’m somewhat used to this sort of thing from neurologists, who have each tried all the sensible stuff and are now grasping at straws, not limited to magnetic therapy, aromatherapy, Botox, and homeopathic medicine. I tend to characterize all of these as the “So, have you tried a quack yet” period of the relationship.
The fascinating thing is, the new neurologist was damping on my suggestion that a chiropractor might be worth a try. (I’ve tried all of the above except Botox and acupuncture. And yes, I know they’re scams. Hey, I’d settle for a workable placebo. I’d just like to avoid pain while doing it.)
If you can point me to a study on acupuncture, trashfire, I’d be much obliged. I don’t necessarily want to frustrate this one into ditching me since, while she hates me for unspecified reasons, she also has hit upon a weird combination of beta blockers, anti-seizure meds, and antihistamines that actually seems to prevent many of the non-trigger, non-PMS migraines (while causing me hallucinations). I have high hopes that given enough encouragement she can string together a series of anticoagulents, antifungals, and cholinergics that will give me blue skin and incidentally reduce the clusters.
Ah, doctors. So glad I’m not one. Then I’d have to deal with people like me.
Just one more piece of advice from my reams of nightmares in
medical treatment, D: Whether with a chiropractor or an acupuncturist,
WATCH YER ASS AND DEMAND DOCUMENTATION OF EVERYTHING ESPECIALLY CLEAR
AND LEGIBLE X-RAYS.
If the ambulance-chaser (MORRIS BART IS THE ORIGINAL FUCKING ANTICHRIST AND *NOT* IN A GOOD WAY) hadn’t sent me to a CHIROPRACTOR instead of an ORTHOPEDIC SURGEON, I would’ve gotten my shit done properly 9 years ago and avoided 3+ years at Charity Hospital, then shit that broke down after five years, now THIS shit that didn’t happen right to begin with, and busted after SIX MONTHS.
Chiropractors are NOT doctors, I don’t give a fuck WHAT they call themselves, they did NOT go to medical school, they did not serve residencies, and they have never been legally enabled to perform surgery, most of ‘em can’t even write prescriptions. I don’t have any experience with the needle-pokers (unless you count tattoo artists), and while I’ve gotten many an adrenaline/euphoria/horniness fits as a direct result of being tattooed, I can’t promise you the same thing from an acupuncturist. Just make damned sure that you see the health department certification and the autoclave where they clean their equipment and make damned sure that their needles are new, from clean, sterilized, NEW packaging that has never been opened.
Hepatitis ain’t no joke, kid. And don’t let anybody bullshit or bully you into doing anything that you don’t feel safe or comfortable doing, and as you well know, those female “medical assistants” (chiropractors never hire real R.N.s) can bully/coerce with the best con-artists in the bidness.
Have you thought about serious neck massage/heat treatments? Scalp treatments/massage? If you can find a nice, quiet indoor pool at a local university, floating therapy, just being at one with the water, not exercising, just floating, can do a LOT to relax the neck muscles, as well as those microwavable buckwheat pillows.
Holler if there’s anything else that I might be able to help with, k?
XOXOXO
J
If the ambulance-chaser (MORRIS BART IS THE ORIGINAL FUCKING ANTICHRIST AND *NOT* IN A GOOD WAY) hadn’t sent me to a CHIROPRACTOR instead of an ORTHOPEDIC SURGEON, I would’ve gotten my shit done properly 9 years ago and avoided 3+ years at Charity Hospital, then shit that broke down after five years, now THIS shit that didn’t happen right to begin with, and busted after SIX MONTHS.
Chiropractors are NOT doctors, I don’t give a fuck WHAT they call themselves, they did NOT go to medical school, they did not serve residencies, and they have never been legally enabled to perform surgery, most of ‘em can’t even write prescriptions. I don’t have any experience with the needle-pokers (unless you count tattoo artists), and while I’ve gotten many an adrenaline/euphoria/horniness fits as a direct result of being tattooed, I can’t promise you the same thing from an acupuncturist. Just make damned sure that you see the health department certification and the autoclave where they clean their equipment and make damned sure that their needles are new, from clean, sterilized, NEW packaging that has never been opened.
Hepatitis ain’t no joke, kid. And don’t let anybody bullshit or bully you into doing anything that you don’t feel safe or comfortable doing, and as you well know, those female “medical assistants” (chiropractors never hire real R.N.s) can bully/coerce with the best con-artists in the bidness.
Have you thought about serious neck massage/heat treatments? Scalp treatments/massage? If you can find a nice, quiet indoor pool at a local university, floating therapy, just being at one with the water, not exercising, just floating, can do a LOT to relax the neck muscles, as well as those microwavable buckwheat pillows.
Holler if there’s anything else that I might be able to help with, k?
XOXOXO
J
D. Sidhe, as far as I know, all those things you mention are,
indeed, placebos-with the possible exception of botox, but for *pain
relief*?! And, I’m sorry, but homeopathic “medicine”? How fucking
retarded a concept is that? The more you fucking dilute a medicinal substance, the more effective it becomes? In what G.W.Bushiverse does that actually work in? Pfah–only placebos can
work that way. Anyone who has tried “extending” a packet of drink mix
by adding twice the recommended amount of water knows that this
technique doesn’t work out too well, though some wind up drinking the
K00L-41D anyway.
Oh, believe me, I know. Well, Botox allegedly paralyzes the nerves
that convey the migraine to you, or something like that. Since the
migraines are currently the least of my problems, I’m not likely to
agree to injecting toxins into my head. Although there’s a kind of link
between botox and homeopathy, if you ask me. If it was supposed to do
anything for the clusters, which kind of make me wish I was dead
sometimes, or the headache I’ve had since 1990, which sometimes makes me
feel like I’m already there, I might give it a shot.
Still, even magnets aren’t the stupidest thing I’ve tried. Ever hear of Bach Flower Remedies? Even dumber than homeopathy.
Someday I’ll make a list of everything and use it to beat the next telemarketer who advises me to turn the ringer off (believe it or not, I can’t with the eighty dollar phone I have, why don’t you assholes just stop fucking calling instead?) and take an aspirin, or the next neurologist who leads off with “Have you tried taking two Tylenol every day?”
Still, even magnets aren’t the stupidest thing I’ve tried. Ever hear of Bach Flower Remedies? Even dumber than homeopathy.
Someday I’ll make a list of everything and use it to beat the next telemarketer who advises me to turn the ringer off (believe it or not, I can’t with the eighty dollar phone I have, why don’t you assholes just stop fucking calling instead?) and take an aspirin, or the next neurologist who leads off with “Have you tried taking two Tylenol every day?”
If a neurologist is stupid enough to ask somebody with a 17-year
headache if she’s ever tried TYLENOL, then methinks that he got his
degree from the Medical School Of The Falkland Islands, with undergrad
at the University of Margaritaville.
And for fuck’s sake, AVOID THE DEPAKOTE!!!
When I had migraines, that shit did BUPKIS, except make me slurry-tongued and even dumber than I am in real life. Depakote is evil, dangerous, and during the ’90s, given out WAYYYYY too fucking often for everything from rashes to schizophrenia to PMS.
Some homeopathic stuff has worked for me, like dandelion root tea (with rose hips, licorice wood, and hibiscus flowers — I’d recommend certain seeds, but they ain’t exactly legal for the herbal tea, and if you don’t crack ‘em before you pour the hot water, they explode and fuck up your teapot), St. John’s Wort before it was debunked for the bad drug interactions, and fish/flax/borage oil capsules. All of the above have helped me, at various times, manage depression and anxiety. Unfortunately, you can develop a resistance to them really quickly, so they aren’t lifelong cures.
If there’s a nearby botanica with a half-way sane santeria running the joint, they might be able to point you towards some pain-relief herbs. I just started taking these capsules of Serrapeptase for my arthritis/fibromyalgia/other sarcoid symptoms, and since it’s only been a few days, I can’t recommend or warn away yet, but I figured that it was worth a shot. Beats the hell out of doing another 3 years on narcotics for my fucked-up back, y’know? No, it won’t go in and fix everything that Dr. Smartass fucked-up, or the screw that was NEVER supposed to break (space-age materials, my fat, unhappy, tattooed ass!), but it may help me get up and walk without looking like I’m 114 and feeling even worse.
So hey, try everything, you never know what may work. Just don’t invest the family jewels in anything TOO out-there, ’cause the less logical that it seems, the less effective it generally is, at least in my limited experience.
I just hope to hell that you find the right doctor and the right medicine, like YESTERDAY, and feel better soon.
And for fuck’s sake, AVOID THE DEPAKOTE!!!
When I had migraines, that shit did BUPKIS, except make me slurry-tongued and even dumber than I am in real life. Depakote is evil, dangerous, and during the ’90s, given out WAYYYYY too fucking often for everything from rashes to schizophrenia to PMS.
Some homeopathic stuff has worked for me, like dandelion root tea (with rose hips, licorice wood, and hibiscus flowers — I’d recommend certain seeds, but they ain’t exactly legal for the herbal tea, and if you don’t crack ‘em before you pour the hot water, they explode and fuck up your teapot), St. John’s Wort before it was debunked for the bad drug interactions, and fish/flax/borage oil capsules. All of the above have helped me, at various times, manage depression and anxiety. Unfortunately, you can develop a resistance to them really quickly, so they aren’t lifelong cures.
If there’s a nearby botanica with a half-way sane santeria running the joint, they might be able to point you towards some pain-relief herbs. I just started taking these capsules of Serrapeptase for my arthritis/fibromyalgia/other sarcoid symptoms, and since it’s only been a few days, I can’t recommend or warn away yet, but I figured that it was worth a shot. Beats the hell out of doing another 3 years on narcotics for my fucked-up back, y’know? No, it won’t go in and fix everything that Dr. Smartass fucked-up, or the screw that was NEVER supposed to break (space-age materials, my fat, unhappy, tattooed ass!), but it may help me get up and walk without looking like I’m 114 and feeling even worse.
So hey, try everything, you never know what may work. Just don’t invest the family jewels in anything TOO out-there, ’cause the less logical that it seems, the less effective it generally is, at least in my limited experience.
I just hope to hell that you find the right doctor and the right medicine, like YESTERDAY, and feel better soon.
No comments:
Post a Comment