Archive for June, 2010

Vacation Time

Posted in general weirdness, holy crap on June 22, 2010 by Nada

I’ll be gone for a few days. I’m going back east for some family stuff, food, beach time, swimming, wedding, etc. I stayed up late last night trying to cut my hair. The Big Guy came in the bathroom after a half hour, looked at my hair and said, “Put the scissors down. Step away from the sink.” But, did I? No. The cowlick took the brunt of the “haircut” because I wanted it to look…well…less cowlick-ish. I succeeded. That spot is now a bit bald, with a tiny touch of a crop circle. Crap.


Varmints – 2 legged and 4

Posted in animal, health on June 19, 2010 by Nada

The new doc tried to transfer me back to Dr. Asshole because “he’s the expert.” On what? Making patients feel like homicide is a viable treatment plan? I told Dr. New-guy I wasn’t going back to Dr. Asshole – not in this life or the next ‘cause I’m pretty sure Dr. Asshole has made a pact with the devil and I have not post mortem. I planted my feet in New-guy’s examining room, like I can do – my big ole size 8 shoes right on his bad carpet there by the relief map of the brain that had some really scary looking drawings of arms and legs attached to the frontal lobes. So, Dr. New-guy then baited me with things the medical profession can bait me with – migraine relief. I have an appointment in a month to see him again. He thinks he’s going to get my telemetry records from UCSF. I laughed. My telemetry records are “wandering the system” at UCSF which is code for lost, and that’s not as in the T.V. series Lost where everyone was in purgatory (or is it?). Dr. Asshole tried to retrieve my telemetry records from UCSF and he wasn’t able AND he used to work there AND he trained half the staff. Of course, he’s Dr. Asshole so they may have been taunting him with denial, as would be the natural inclination.

In other news, we had something – I say “something” because no one has seen it but the dogs – come through the dog door again. Whatever it is, it’s persistent and stinks. My juvenile mind immediately thinks, “fart,” but no, it smells much worse than that. The Thing got all the way back to the bedroom, maybe on the bed. It aroused Dinky from her deaf slumber, and then, it was hell to pay for a few minutes. I saw three furry backs galloping through the dark toward the dog door. That’s one too many, since we only have two dogs.

Last night, the Thing come back. This time we were all standing in the kitchen. It wasn’t even dark and I didn’t see it again this time either. I saw the dog door fly up high in the sky. I screamed. The Big Dog ran in place on the tile floor a split second and then boom – she was out the dog door after it. Either my scream or the Big Dog scared the poo out of the Thing. There was mess all over the porch.

Another one…

Posted in health, holy crap, hospital, whatevah on June 17, 2010 by Nada

Tomorrow, I have yet another appointment with yet another neurologist. This one is my fault because I fired the neurologist that was treating my epilepsy. The epilepsy docs I lost before him were not my fault. My HMO kicked them out of my plan.

This last neurologist got fired because of a personality conflict, which is code for he’s an asshole. Anyway, I had a migraine yesterday and the start of one all day today. I have some Dilaudid in my medicine chest I am seriously thinking about ingesting. I’ve already tried Aleve and 800mgs of Ibuprofen to no avail. The Dilaudid seems kind of seamy, in a back alley LSD trippy way to knock a headache on its ass with a crocket mallet. As Dr. Asshole said, “I never treat migraines with narcotics. It makes them worse.” Maybe, and then again maybe it stops the pain. His other statement, which is my personal favorite, “I don’t think just because you have migraines and partial complex seizures you shouldn’t be at work.” I’d love to know what company I could work for that would let me take hundreds of sick days a year, blank out on the job, and have pitfalls in my memory. Forklift driver comes to mind almost immediately.

That statement was the final separation of Dr. Asshole and me. That, and the fact I had been in his employment program to get an f’in job for two years and got kicked out because they couldn’t find me a job with my uncontrolled seizures. Maybe he should read his own files once in a while, the jerk, butthead, freak, useless lanyard, expired bus pass.

And no, I would not call myself a difficult patient, a name calling one perhaps, but even so, his mouth is far worse than mine because as he said, “You know I’m involved in a lot of research. That’s why you’ve been unable to reach me.” Geez, that cost my insurance two trips to the ER, total of $12 grand. But research is important, so I’m wondering why he doesn’t do just that and leave the doctoring to someone else who has the time. It’s a win-win-win situation. He uses his mouth on research assistants who could give a shit less. I get to see his associate and my insurance company saves money.

At this point, I think the Dilaudid sounds pretty good.

Late Nights

Posted in animal on June 13, 2010 by Nada

I hope you can see this. I opted not to lighten this photo so you can get the full effect of what I’m dealing with late at night. The Big Dog has been creeping up on me, silently, stealthily, and scaring the Be-Jesus out of me. When I turn around, she’s standing there staring. I have no idea what she’s doing or what she wants. It’s disconcerting.

More of the same…

Posted in animal, Oakland, plants on June 13, 2010 by Nada

It hot here, miserably hot. 93 degrees yesterday and expecting more of the same today but without the breeze. At least yesterday we had a breeze, and also a neighborhood water fight. It was a large one too. I went outside to watch but then I was mistaken for a participant so I ran back inside.

The heat ripened our first two tomatoes from our garden. Unfortunately, even though they were cherry tomatoes they were mealy. I hope we don’t have another year of mealy and tasteless tomatoes like we did year before last. It was a disappointment. No clue why one year is tasty and the next year, not so much.

Our tomato Topsy Turvey was doing so well on our porch, we bought a pepper Topsy Turvey. They Topsy Turveys like our porch even though neither has put forth anything we can eat yet.I hope this is not one of these deals where we grow a huge plant with a thick stem and no vegetable.

And then there’s this. You might wonder what it is. First, it’s a concrete block we put in a spot in the yard where the little dog kept eating dirt. Easy enough to fix. The dog stopped eating dirt too, pretty much. I caught her noshing some dirt on the other side of the patio and I yelled at her, not out of anger, but because she’s a bit deaf. She heard me though, and I scared her. She jumped in the air. Yesterday I found this – poo on the concrete block. I think the little dog is trying to tell me something – like bugger off.

Some sad/good news. The slug who has been living under my bird bath for months, shriveled up on one end. I didn’t know if it was his head or his ass going bad, and I tried to save him with extra water but to no avail. After that, I couldn’t look for a while. He had been huge, wonderful, and majestic. This week I finally decided I had to clean the birdbath, and when I picked it up, I found babies. Turns out, slugs are hermaphroditic. Good for him/her.

WordPress and Fried Pies

Posted in food, general weirdness on June 11, 2010 by Nada

I was working on a post yesterday but WordPress went down. The dog ate my homework, but no – WordPress ate my blog. The intraweb reports WordPress came back up in an hour, but my blog didn’t, kind of like my little chicken is dead. I was afraid my blog was going to be permanently dead, but someone at WordPress stuck the defibrillators on it, screamed, “Clear”, and it jumped up like it had never been unconscious. Should be a segment on Grey’s Anatomy, except women in scrubs have to cry and hook up with one of the doctors in some room that you can’t identify but looks like a dorm or a closet.

I had to look up the word “defibrillator” on google because I couldn’t spell it. Did you know you can purchase a home defibrillator? If you follow the link, you’ll see the home defibrillator site with a photo of a happy couple in their living room. She’s sitting on their beige sofa working on her laptop. He’s sitting on the floor cross-legged reading the newspaper. Both are smiling because either she just shocked the shit out of him with the home defibrillator or she’s thinking about it. They’ve been chasing the dog with it too.

I was posting this blog entry when I noticed I have a couple of comments in my spam queue. There’s a referback from the “The Diet for Sexually Active People” left on the blog entry, “Useless Crap and Fried Pies.” Fried pies are a diet for sexually active people? Live and learn. Makes me even more fond of them.

Tomales Bay and the Fat

Posted in food, health, travel on June 1, 2010 by Nada

First off, there was no stinking at Tomales Bay. Secondly, I had NO IDEA that is the place where the oyster farms are. The Big Guy had been talking about eating oysters at Tomales Bay, but frankly, I didn’t put 2 and 2 together as I often don’t. I didn’t know this was where the oysters were grown. We ate oysters at every meal except breakfast and that was because we ate blueberry muffins then.

This is a photo of the bay.

It’s the picturesque one the big guy took right before we went in this place – Tony’s Seafood in Marshall and had the best barbequed oysters.

It wasn’t very crowded, and we sat on large wooden spools. I found out later from the intraweb, people were boycotting the place because last year the owner was charged and convicted of gillnetting fish right there at the back of his restaurant. Kind of weird crime. Not sure if I would have boycotted the place had I known about it. I’m not much for boycotts, particularly after someone has admitted guilt, paid the fine and served the time. Besides, the little voice in my head says, “Barbequed oysters,” and that messes with my reason, almost as much as fried pies.

Speaking of fried pies, Little Mary, across the street, who is probably all of 4’ 6” and 70 pounds soaking wet, looked at me the other day and said, “You are fat.” I was kind of shocked. Leave it to a tiny old Filipino lady to tell you the truth when no one else will. When I didn’t say anything she went on, “You have gotten fat. What are you doing?”

“Eating fried pies,” I said.

“Stop,” she said, turned and went back to cutting roses in her yard.