Friday, October 13, 2017

So far we won Battle Ship

Next is Twister, the toughest part.   Someone changed the order.
Stay tuned to Life In the Chemo Resort, overlooking golf, ocean and hang gliders

Tuesday, October 3, 2017

Bill And Ted's Bogus Journey - Reaper Games

Playing Battleship With The Reaper

If you are familiar with the old Bill and Ted's adventure movies, you'll get that reference.   They escaped the Reaper by beating him in Battleship--a game, not tied to electronics of any kind.

So, I don't know where I stand.

I suspect when your blood production is so lame that you are rushed in for a transfusion, perhaps the status quo has changed.  While I was there they stuck something in my hip bone to get a sample of bone marrow to study.  A BMB, bone marrow biopsy.  Now we expect to know result tomorrow.

Never did I think I would have, need, or maybe even accept a blood transfusion.  Seemed like the right thing to do at the time.  My mother would have refused.  So would many religions.  It is probable that deadly results would have occurred by now.

I kept finding I was winded at the slightest activity, sometimes mild little adventures like walking to my car, ten feet outside my door.  Or walking across the room.   It had been going on awhile, but was rapidly getting worse, so I finally called the world of medicine.

I don't get these bureaucratic organizations.  I call, thinking I am getting the office of my primary care lady, whom I rarely see.  I explain the problem and say I want to see what she has to say.  Next thing I know they are making an appointment with a pulmonary specialists I have never seen.  I tell the girl I want the hematologist in this loop as it is likely the blood issue.  Right over her head.  She didn't consult the primary either.  Nuts.

I decide that approach is no good.  So, I go online to the Scripps patient interface and cancel the appointment.  I can't make appointments online but I can message these people.  So, I shoot one to the hematologist office explaining the symptoms, and since I know their psychology, I tell them I am stopping the chemo pill unless I hear otherwise, because I think maybe we are running deficiencies.

They immediately order a lab for me to do asap.  Then late that night I get a call at home urging me in immediately.  He seemed a bit miffed that I was even conscious.  I negotiate to come in the morning. Etc.

More tests and still hgb levels around 6 or 7.  Whites about double what's max good value, and reds about half what's bottom of envelope for OK.    Yikes, they say.  WTF, I say, except I really knew it was coming.  I knew for quite awhile.  Just did.  But beyond that I know nothing.  I have no clue where we go from here, if we even do.

We'll get results of the BMB then what that leaves in the realm of treatment options I do not know.  I am not sure I won't have some tough decisions.  If a person could come here and make my little 400 sf cabin perfect I would pay $2000 or $3000.  Then I'd have peace of mind.

I have taxes to do, but I can handle that once I find the W whatever forms.  I'm a little late on filing.  I still resent the fact that people have allowed themselves to be normalized into being subjects of the state.  It is wrong.  It is not the same thing as being a citizen and asset to the community.

It is what it is.  Now, I wonder if I will see the next birthday.  My number one goal is to get all in order, snatch whatever I have out of grimy government fingers, and not leave work for others.  Not much else I can ask at the moment.

There is a remote possibility this stuff can be sort of contained in ways to keep me going for a decade or more.  The cool part is that I still look healthy.  Better to look good than to be good.

I did three gigs in one weekend after the transfusion.  It was shocking how it feels to have energy.  I had forgotten--so many months trying to fake it when around people or playing music.  So, now I play because I can, and because it clears my mind.  I tell myself to play like there is no tomorrow.  Dark humor I suppose, but who knows?  It may be reality.

I hope I did more good than harm.  I know I have hurt people in long ago times, mostly out of complete ignorance and no grasp of the realities of life.  I cannot stand to see others in pain, and am horrified at the thought of me being the cause of any of it.  With luck I may find that I have done more good.

So, I think they should play this as someone tosses the ashes in the most suitable place--Gulf Stream, Rockies, off my nephew's Seattle boat?  I would go the traditional in a box route but that requires buying real estate and God only knows what fees and regulations come in to play. So forget it.

Monday, October 2, 2017

People Are Nuts. Why?

The half truths that assault us from everywhere, and the refusal to even accept truth if it ruins victim status, has just about pushed me over the edge.  It is unreal.\

You're a racist!!!
 Because you said you're not happy with Mexico dumping their shit in the ocean which is carried north to Imperial beach and beyond.
What, are you serious?   Or are you just unaware of the meaning of the words you use?
So, why do you abuse women?

And on and on and on.  That is not far off of the dialog I see these days.  The word, "misogynist" is as over used and misused as the word, "racist".  Good God, is it totally necessary to continually create victim classes in order to manipulate people and votes and broker power?  never mind.

The problem is that the word, "misandrist" doesn't roll off the tongue.  I don't think half the people that use it know what the word "misogynist" even means, but the hear and see it and it is usually blasted at Trump and anyone not obsessed with his demise.

The truth really is though, that public schools teach and function on the basis of dogmatic misandry, and they are proud of their efforts over the last forty years to ram this hateful doctrine down our throats.  Object and you are a MISOGYNIST, sexist, homophobe, racist, islamaphobe.  It is required to lump a bunch those together.  Shotgun fired BS passing as intelligent insight.

I admit to being a phobe.  I think groups like CAIR are dishonest, evil, and creepy.  I think their religion is creepy too.  It used to be my right to have dislikes likes, lusts, fears, and even, God forbid, CHOICE!  Most religions bother me.  A huge contingent of the religion of peace creeps me out, I confess.  I base it on personal interactions and conversations and stuff I see here and there on media and the net.  Could be all a trick.

I know of one or two members of the ultra tolerant happy go lucky islamic faith who are great people, honest, trustworthy, bright, and cool to be around.  They probably haven't seen the inside of a mosque in fifty years.

Mostly I don't care about them one way or another, just like every other group who voluntarily shuns others as unclean or whatever.  It is their insistence on special treatment and constant efforts to achieve victimhood and use that to force the rest of the population to their will in some way that makes me dislike them.

That covers many groups whose unifying characteristics have nothing to do with real principles or tolerance, but rather condition of birth, imagined sexual identifications etc.  Nothing to do with principles or how best to live in peace.

You cannot just mind your own business any more.  If you aren't hijacking the angst of who you see as downtrodden, even if you are in no way part of the group you choose to defend (unbidden) then you are part of the problem and it would be OK for you to get shot.  That is the convoluted thinking that prevails.

If you don't jump on a cause you think is BS, and in a manner you consider BS, then you are the whole list of awful things; racist misogynist sexist homophobe meanie to lbgtynqxxx community islamaphobe fascist nazi --all of it.  One big list which may morph into one single very long word.  And it will be what no one wants to get called, because that label puts a target on you. Fair game.  Open season.  Object?  Ha!  That's your privilege talking.  And you don't even have to be white.  Anyone who disagrees, who isn't white is a traitor to their race their people.  Inside they must be white, otherwise they'd be waving the victim banner and wanting to burn down the White House.

We have become a land of racist xenophobes whom have no appreciation of others, and who hate all but their own people--as defined by condition of birth, not character or beliefs.  Hypocrites.  It is as if each lying hateful panderer is trying to outdo the other in dreaming up insane victim scenarios and justifications for preventing any opposition whatsoever.

It is absolutely nuts.  To the point where even I have to call many of these mouthy fools and noisy groups out on their false representation of police, particularly in certain specific cases.  I say even I, because I have long thought most cops to be dimwitted sadistic bullies.  And I have had some unpleasant interchanges with them in years past.  Bullies harass people they can.  It is based on perceived power.  Not race.  Where race would come in is if they generalize thinking some ethnicity or race has no financial political power that can hurt them.  So, they may profile when picking victims.

Playing the indignant martyr in the setting of the NFL, which has mire than it's share of wife beaters, and violent criminals is laughable.  I don't care whether they kneel or all pull out guns and shoot themselves in protest.  They are pandering for peer approval and the media portrays them as people of character who care and feel more than we mortals.  They are dimwits being painted as men of insight and character.  Pretense.  Does anyone really, deep down, believe this nonsense?

No need to answer, the obviously do

Sunday, October 1, 2017

So, This is What it is Like To Have Energy

I guess this is how adding red cells when you aren't used to having any works.  At first I felt OK but not a giant difference.  By this morning I was feeling like a happy person with energy.  Our first gig was at noon, Nate's Garden Grill.  All their food is good, carnivore stuff or not.  It's a cool place with half the tables outside.   The kitchen is located on one side where indoors meets outdoors.  It works well.  Lots of families with babies.

I'm always surprised that people sit right there in front of us with their kids.  We are not loud, as musical groups go, but still I would not think they would feel good hanging right there with their babies.  It's weird playing to tables and people eating.  I often covet what I see on their plates as I musically babble through the harmonica.

It was so shocking to me today that I not only did not feel winded carrying an amplifier or walking to the car or any of that.  I had no idea that this would make such a difference in my playing.  Not stuff that involves much breath but finesse stuff and nuance.  Everything felt so easy and doable.  I am used to it actually hurting.

I know I will soon turn back into a pumpkin.  My preferred thought is to enjoy this while I can and throw my heart into the playing without being a lunatic or inappropriate, but when there is a cut loose number go out for all I am worth.

Now, I felt like I was really delivering quality backing and playing at Nate's.  I was loving it.  But on our second gig, this evening at Rebecca's, I gave our "John, cut loose!" number everything I could.  I have no idea what I did but people were reacting audibly at several points.  It's almost a polka beat, but not.  I forget what someone called it.  All B minor and only a couple of cords, but pure heaven for me.  Anyway, it's the kind of thing no one else is probably doing.

Maybe this was an important show for that group.  Another group played and then a guy did a short set, and then us.  I looked up and all the people usually doing other stuff while they listen were all watching us, and the baristas were leaning at the end of their counter listening.  It was like all other activity was suspended.

People were saying, "What are you guys doing here?".  I should tell you that the South Park area is rife with lunacy, so as great as those compliments might feel,  it is not something I'd take to the bank.

The whole thing with me was concern that I might be already back to the condition I was in that panicked my hematology guy into topping me off with some high test A negative.  A circumstance I never thought I would face.

I grew up under and around certain people who would have refused a blood transfusion.  I used to wonder if I would have qualms.  I guess not.  I knew the score, and my Dr., and there is no way he would order such a thing if it weren't imperative to the life of the patient to some degree.

I don't think I should continue discussing this now.  It could make me sad.  That is wrong.  Go be sad after you kick.   Despite what people make of it when they think it's all forever, life is a remarkable and beautiful state of affairs.

Probably there will be some difficult days ahead, but I have a shot at getting past it for some time.  Depends what we got going.  I probably already know, but I prefer to let that slide.  I need it all to turn around.  And it may.

In the mean time, I hope I still have energy tomorrow and that it does something good for a person to cross my path or hear us play.  If it does, then I'll probably be having a good time, and they'll throw money.  Right.

It will be outdoors, and should be a decent crowd.  I would have rather had a later time, but people will be out, just not as many as later.  We play at 12.  I hope we do as well as today.  We had some errors, but they really did not matter.  No clash or off key mistakes.  Sande never sings off key. I have never heard her hit an off pitch note.  Some people are not all that into it, but a ton more are.  Especially lately.  Something changed.

We got an encore after the cut loose number.  Never seen that in a coffee house.  They were friggin chanting.  So, Sande graciously agreed to do another "John cut loose" number.  I was kind of paranoid about turning back into a pumpkin.
I was sitting sideways in my car, door open, feet on the ground.  I stood up.  I am so much in the habit of that being a real effort that I groaned without thinking, but I was already up.  I just stood up like i used to do.  I guess I used to.  I honestly do not remember how differently I felt, but I know I did.  This is another ball game.  Priorities and outlook change a lot, but if you notice it, it is scary, so if I am you, the you just block out the things that bring uncertainty and fear.

Because all I really need is what I said before, the cabin to be put in spic and span spiffy primo condition, and to have some other things straightened out.  Then I can face whatever.

It looked like several people were taking video.  I wonder where they'll be.  I hope they youtube them.  What their titles would be, I am not sure.

I made a mistake of looking up treatment for what I thought maybe they'd diagnose when the results of the appropriate tests are back.  I'm doing no more of that.

Until awhile ago, I was really feeling upbeat.  I have to maintain that.  Whether it influences this condition or not, it is a lot more enjoyable being upbeat.  If time may be a little less abundant than I like, all the more reason.  Be upbeat while you can.

One thing for sure, I have not been imagining things.  Some people tend to need that sort of reassurance regarding their sanity.

Oh. This was about energy.  What a great feeling.  I was in one of those "I love everyone" modes.  Even the people I cussed at in traffic.  One of those, "He's as lazy as a dead skunk, bless his heart" sort of things.

I almost forgot.  Never mind.  Suffice to say this brief reprieve made possible by modern medicine has been, and is, I hope, a real treat.

Most of all I am missing denial about now.

Friday, September 29, 2017

What an Odd Day

Geez.  I never did get sleep last night.  Probably because phriend Pham indicated that if red blood was currency, I'd be near destitute.

Finally got there by 7 AM.  Traffic is not horrible, but still a slow down.  After having to set some arrogant doctor straight, I got them to speak to my team, as they should have done from the get go.  I will address some of this with Scripps admin.  If I have to deal with stupid medical outfits, they need to correct some of the glaring deficiencies.  Had I not held my ground, this dork would have been taking stool samples and doing other unpleasant and contextually inappropriate procedures.

He finally hid from me the rest of the day.  But his boss will get some fire when I return.

They did the bone marrow biopsy---talk about a pain in the butt.  It had its moments.  Those results come next week.  Looks like the game has changed but no use guessing specifics because I only know the general possibilities and they get treated differently from one another.

I had a friggin blood transfusion.  Takes three hours.  So, if I were strongly tied to certain religions, or if I were my late mother, I would have refused it and shortly run out of reds and platelets and been overrun with white cells.  I did not think the prognosis would be good even in the short run without the fill up.  "High test!", I said, "with Techron."   They complied.  Only the best for me. A negative.

The best thing is, people think I don't look sick or infirm.  Better to look good than to feel good.
It's possible this can be controlled with various high dollar substances like forms of interferon.

When I think how fortunate I am to have access to some top notch doctors and facilities (despite the previously mentioned shortfalls)  I am grateful.  Many people around the world would just have to die.   I'm also glad I made it a point to supplement my commie medicare (joking--but only partly), and I have supplement for prescriptions.  Some stuff is pricey.  So I did that right.

I am not as depressed as I was.  Maybe because I knew this was coming, and maybe because I temporarily have some juice in my veins.  Other than my traditional mix of ice water and lemon juice--no sweetener.

Doctors don't know what to make of me.  Especially me singing the praises of denial as a treatment strategy, and making the guy doing the bone marrow swear he is an artiste in this field.

So odd, it feels like this is all child's play and I am just going along with it.  But I do not feel like one of the afflicted.  More like a research project or something.  That disconnect is likely the denial part, but why get into it in a way that makes one feel bad?

I am still convinced this is going to turn around or work to my ultimate better good.  It will be OK.  Really.

Great gigs this weekend, Nate's Garden Grill---they love us, and are very kind and they have food I not only can eat, but I also like---not always the norm in vegetarian land.  Not like Pine House.  Wonderful place, but no good for my dietary habits.  The tomorrow night, Rebecca's coffee house.  Never know how that will work.  Nice enough place. Half the time I know 80% of the room, but sometimes interesting beings visit.

Then Sunday afternoon the Adam's Avenue Street fair.  Outdoor stage and who knows what kind of crowd, but plenty of people, whatever they be.  It's an artsy sort of place.  I think many crave our leader/singer, Sande, in a KD Lang sort of way, if you get that.  OK by me.  I like KD's version of Hallelua almost as well as a girl from Australia who used to communicate with me on

OK.  So I whined about transfusions and hooplah, and who knows what.  I feel positive in an automatic way; not forced, thought out or contrived.  Just feel OK with everything.  But will be even more OK when we tackle this mess.  Not really that bad.  Just not to my liking or expectation of how one should keep the property of others, as in landlord's pad.

I can only hope that those who reject transfusions no matter what are wrong.  I don't know the alleged consequences, probably varies with individual holy persons and their particular dogma.  That is not to ridicule them.  I am for choice.  Maybe they are right---for them.  I feel protected by something unseen.  I just do.  And I really am.  But I do not know the ins and outs of all that.  I just feel like It will be alright, whatever It turns out to be.

My story is so full of prodigious little rescues and such.  If you were me or real close, you'd get it.   Like lucking into medical services from being fairly poor and totally uninsured four years ago.  And I have dealt with the real cream of the crop, or first stringers, at least.

I a beginning to believe there is something to the idea of having lessons to learn.  But that makes absolutely no sense to me.  Why and who?   Why lessons and who is headmaster, OR HEAD MISTRESS.   [I seriously hate the aggressive ignorance which leads us to reject the notion of universal pronouns because we are too mad at our lives to get it.]

Many think they know the answers but their explanations seem unlikely, wrong, or just wacko to me. That's OK.  I'll just settle for feeling at peace.   Or at least calmly accepting of reality.

Next week will be interesting. The biopsy conclusions.  I expect the verdict to be "Ice Water in Veins".

This Is Really Nuts

When you have occasion to entertain notions of your mortality more than is usual, you think things like, "woops, better wear some pants to sleep, I might kick before I know it."  Don't want any snide comments or other abuse I guess.

Mostly, though, it is the race to get the mess transformed into something nice and pleasant and beneficial to the worthy.  Not saying I am the sole Arbiter of worthy.  I am not that.  Except when I am.

No. Transfusion? Don't even know how I feel

So, I finally get to the lab just before they close.
Whatever was in the system about my tests, these people were flustered.  Odd.  Anyway I know the work was to be done within four hours.
I received a call at about 11PM.  Dr. Pham, my new best Phriend, seemed a lot concerned.  Sounded like he would have had me run to nearest medical facility for bone marrow biopsy and transfusion.  I told him I strongly disapprove of this turn of events.

By the way, since google has taken over all, I can't answer or leave comments on my own posts. So here we are again.

I also told Dr. Pham that denial had worked pretty well up until now, and that I think denial as a medical remedy is highly underrated.  He did not even seem amused, which amused me that much more.

It is possible that things have progressed.  I hope not.  I guess I write just to have it out there.  I don't like the feel sorry for thing.  Of course most people wish others did not have pain or illness.  It happens.  If people really cared about pain and suffering they would likely quit waging war and running jails like torture zoos. But that is another thing.

It seems I have just a few red cells to rub together and not much on platelets, which once bounced off the roof. And whites are up.  Of course.  Racist. Recipe for a disrupted day.

I have 2 gigs Saturday, and 1 on Sunday.  Sunday is Adams Av something fair.  We have a nice outdoor stage and play an hour.  Sande has tried in years past to get this gig. Finally made it this year. I do not want to miss it.

Karen, the viola, is back from Greece.  We had a little rehearsal tonight, sans bass player.  That viola sound is just hard to beat sometimes.

I'm actually killing time.  I did not want to get to the urgent care center before my regular hematologist gets in.  I want his advice before any transfusions.  His philosophy is never volunteer for anything to do with medical procedure unless you have to.  "just like the military", he says.   I agree.

But after my phriend, Pham,  called, I find it tough to want to go to sleep.  Maybe I won't wake up.

At rehearsal, I had no trouble playing.  Better than normal I think.  Probably because Karen is back.   But I did get winded walking from the car to the house, 30 feet away.  So with a new bunch of A neg, I bet I have energy.  What if I take on odd new characteristics?

If I was my mother, and certain religions, I would refuse that, and most probably die.  What a weird state of affairs.  That is true. Not exaggerated.  That is why phriend Pham was so, almost pleading.  

There is that one part that all of a sudden feels a bit worse or thinks I feel worse. In reality, about like last night, but a bit better.  The whole thing will be OK.  Finally, medicare and insurance may start paying back as much as I put in.  Up until now, even with the crony socialist subsidies, I have paid far more in than my adventure in healthcare has cost them.   I like it better when I don't cost them or the public so much.   Imagine though, with unsubsidized insurance, the average person must pay way more in insurance than what their health care costs.  

I picked the right time to be poor but not totally indigent. 

Dag nabbitt!!!  It's like the check engine light is blinking.  I can no longer ignore it.  If I need a transfusion, and I am not bleeding, then I am not producing enough blood.  Is this punishment for all the coldhearted years, running ice water in my veins?

And now, if I were those religions, or my mother, I'd be dying quicker than not.  No, I guess I'll hope it is primo A-.  

When you spend as much of your life in sort of a dream, another dimension, it is not such a big deal feeling like you're skirting the edge and could go either way.  The big deal is not knowing how to gage your fellow humans; who to trust, what to say to whom, how to express what was really in here.

The number one big deal is to manage to get everything spic and span and leave no mess or hassle.  That means cutting the government out when and where you can.  That is so sick.  I hope people quit accepting the bullying of the state, one day, and learn how to discern bullying from proper execution of the job.

Would I be feeling weak and woozy if not for Pham's call?  I think not in the same way.  I have taken on Pham's fear.  I get it.  The numbers are bad.  But, usually, I can get by on worse numbers than most.  I don't feel as bad as I could.

You're lucky we aren't married.  If we were you'd be dealing with this babbling first hand.  But the rest of them would be saved.  I would not put this out there.

I just hope I can figure how to get the detritus of my life, whether physical or bureaucratic, cleaned up.  That is my biggest worry.  I guess when I get through this I will hire a crew of independent cleaners and pay them a ton.  Then I can go on without that bugging me.  It is only right, anyway.

I almost wish nothing of this nature had come up so that people could say, with authority, that I was just weak and making up stuff.  But I haven't exaggerated things whenever I tried to confide.  Of course, what are they supposed to do?  Seeking to be understood makes for nitwittery.  I forget how stupid that is.  Seeking to understand has better results.  Not to say there aren't times to understand later, eliminate the threat or aberrant being now.

Let's hope the situation levels out how it should.  I think there is a chance it could.  

Clean place, little pocket change to the righteous, a finger to state, ashes in Gulf Stream or other such locale.  Better be good.
That's all I ask.  Maybe they do this then leave you alone for a few weeks.

Funny.  This bizarre few days, culminating in meeting, by phone, Dr. Pham of the Scripps clinic Phams, and if I had to describe how I feel in a word, the stupid, dangerous word, "love" is all that comes.   Beats a lot of alternatives.

I think I will hang awhile and probably go in way early. The urgent place is 24/7.  Whole thing is a big complex in the lovely La Jolla/Torrey Pines neighborhood.

Clearly, this event is a game changer.  No avoiding the bone marrow biopsy now, unless my Dr tells me something I want to hear.  Lots of people get them regularly.  I do not care to do any more than is absolutely necessary.

This is the craziest turn ever.  Now I no longer want to quit playing music.  I'd much rather do that than not, right now.

Thursday, September 28, 2017

Trying To Fake It; we're dropping like flies

Probably due to the power link boondoggle in East County, and no telling what madness in Miami, ...
never mind.  I decided to not follow that tack.

I wonder if the people I play music with have any idea that it is actually painful much of the time lately.  I've done a lot of faking and finessing.   I think what happened is certain blood things are too low or weird.

Trying to be a good citizen I attempted to call my primary care physician.  The lady I talked to, some kind of tech or nurse, immediately books a pulmonary specialist.  All this is Scripps.  I wonder out loud if it would be a better idea to get the hematologist in on the act, or at least my general purpose doctor.  I don't think the tech even knew who she was.

That seemed dumb.  They have a pretty good website for keeping track of tests and appointments. so I went that route.  Sure beats the odd phone process.  After replaying the hone call in my mind, I canceled the pulmonary appointment Who was that chick and why was she avoiding my regular doctors?).  , and sent Dr. House a message saying I was going to cut down on the med if I didn't hear otherwise because the shortness of breath thing is way out of hand.

I call him Dr. House because he is about as openly sympathetic and understanding as that TV Dr.  And I liked House.  I like this guy but it has taken 3 years to figure out how to keep him in line.  This is the most concern ever for symptoms.  Glad he's in the loop.  I don't necessarily think it is pulmonary.  I think we got our this and that levels to off.  Anemia and if I took iron supplements the world ends.  Maybe. He says don't take the iron.  OK.

I can't believe I was slated to go help my friend who was to have an autologous bone marrow stem cell transplant.  They find enough of your own stuff to rebuild the bone marrow.  He has multiple myeloma.

Soon enough I was shown the error of my thinking.  I am in no position to help even for a week.  The whole thing snowballed the week I was feeling better than I have in at least 3 or 4 years, on my recent Texas trip.

I heard of his plight and wondered if it would be possible to visit while he was in Houston.  Next thing is I am asked if my offer to help was still good.  It just went on from there.  It's crazy. I have MPN issue, another long time friend has some thing to be removed from a lung,; not benign but encapsulated.

Everyone looking at the exit.  Nuts.   I have to get the place cleaned up and put other stuff right so the government doesn't make life hell for relatives.  By the way, there is a big difference between democracy and liberty.  We do not have, and the sane among us do not want a democracy.  Those are the lovely folk who do things like charge money for you to exit.  Annoy the survivors.

OK.  Anyway, it could work out that I take less in the way of stuff to retard cell production.    I just hope no itch/pruritus returns and this feeling like muscles aren't getting any O2 goes away.

We have three gigs in two days this weekend.  Sat midday, Sat evening, and Sunday afternoon.  Sunday is the big deal.  The local newspaper in that neck of the woods wrote a big article about us.  Very nice.

But when you get winded walking out the front door, down three steps to a car 8 feet away to retrieve your phone, or my phone, in this case, something is off.  Does not feel like the winded I would get from smoking or congestion.

I still say the best approach to medical issues, when you have the option, is to ignore and deny and wait for the malady or annoyance to fade away.  9 times out of 10 that works.  It does for me.   If it won't go away, drop all your preconceived rules and notions.   Finagle insurance or treatment one way or another.  It may take some hard to find out of pocket, but if they are concerned they will help.

But you cannot get there if you only sit there imagining every reason why you can't get it done.  You are trying to demonstrate your intelligence in an "I'm a hopeless victim" sort of way to play dumb, .  All your objections are no doubt real.  You have to play dumb; be ignorant.   Much involves shutting up at right time, and letting them know you are strapped at the right time.

I was very lucky because Dr. Lopez invited me to be the subject of study for about ten physicians overall.   This was back when slight sweating or being splashed with water set off a horrible dynamic itching which showed no welts and scratching didn't quite get.  Like ants running all over your arms and torso and legs, but different.  They directed me to the hematologist after numerous blood tests and observation of symptoms.  Twice they had me in for their conference.  They hold it after normal work at a private practice.  Often it is for people who can't otherwise afford treatment, and for weirdo cases.   Imagine the equivalent of 20 exams for free.  And by the best in town.

They would examine, make notes, send the patients home then discuss the cases and arrive at a general theory.  I spent out of pocket for office visits and blood work.  The I asked an insurance broker how the whole buy-or-die ACA deal worked.  I was on highly subsidized insurance for a time. I faked earning enough that I could pay 125/mo and have tons of choice.  Had I gone the free stuff for those making less than that amount, they wouldn't allow me to copay, and wouldn't allow me on the plan that gives choice.

I believe the free stuff is a trap.  You go their HMO style routine and you will most like die if you have a progressive chronic disease that can get really bad quick.  I bet they'd still be trying to feed me steroids and allergy meds.  It pays to pull that couple hundred form somewhere if you have to.  The hotshot I went to, referred by the well-to-do,  cut it to $100/ visit.  The conference stuff was free.  The blood lob charged extremely low rates for what I expected.  Not everyone hates poor people;  just those who claim to be the saviors of the financially challenged.  Those people are not your friends.

Anyway, I realize this could either blow up unpleasantly, or it could smooth out as it has done on and off through this journey.  Even winded I can do much I could not do a few years ago.

All I care about s not leaving a bunch of junk and work when I kick.   On days like today I think I better hurry up, just in case forever is nearer that it appears.

Saturday, September 23, 2017

Double Check Prior to Outrage

I watch posts on FB designed to incite anger.  They cover extremes of left and right political jingoism.  I just saw one claiming Megyn Kelly banned Trump from her show.  The article said nothing of the sort, and she just recently said she would not deny a sitting president's request to be on her show.  Ellen said she would deny Trump because...every tired litany of false or half false characterizations.  And I don't like the guy.  I just have no need or desire to experience that cheap thrill of piling on for no reason.

But all the racist stuff is pretty lame and many things have been highly twisted to the point of total fabrication.  The lies have been repeated like a mantra over and over.  It has been effective.  That does not make it right. That does not make those who piled on out of desperate need for peer acceptance anything remotely associated with courageous or principled.

So, I knew the headline was false.  I read the article which did not mention Trump.  The comments reflected knee-jerk outrage.  That glee that comes when you feel it OK to be as hostile as you like at someone you don't know.

They let loose on Megyn like crazy.  Obviously they did not even read the article.  And they never double checked the headline claim.  It would have been a downer to them if they knew there was no reason for outrage.  It is the thing that brings right and left together, that love of self righteous nitwittery, self righteous anger.  The more remote the subject of their ire, the better.  But we can take it out on everyone in our path right here.

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Ballistic Mountain, CA, United States
Like spring on a summer's day


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