Getting Frogged

I'm starting to get a little frogged. I have a CD with all my photos, backed up when I salvaged the hard drive from my last computer after it puked, AND I CAN'T FIND THE STUPID THING. It seems to have been misplaced in the recent move of my office from the basement to the upstairs, along with a ton of other stuff, presumably in the mountain of shit I still need to move from there to here... in all my spare time. I did happen across one of my daughter's Spongebob CDs that she lost, though, so all is good in Lululand.

I also can't find the photo editing software CD that came with my camera, and I hadn't gotten around to installing on this new computer. A computer, by the way, that I really do not like; but I needed one fast and cheap, so I got this instead of the one I really wanted. I will remedy THAT soon enough, since the "hobby" I've turned to most recently is gutting and rebuilding computers. That's definitely something I would have imagined impossible even a few weeks ago with little to no use of my dominant right arm and, of course, the loss of vision in my right eye. That's all much better now with gobbling megadoses of vitamins 4 times a day. I'm obviously doing well if I can move most of an office full of shit and not feel worried about moving the rest of the mountain, right?...

Amazing how so much of life is a chain reaction...

Anyhow, this weekend I found an HP PC at a garage sale, $15 for the whole shebang. The OS is fried, which is easily solved, but it also doesn't have an ethernet port and needs a NIC installed (I just happen to have one lying around here). I want to install XP, since I used hubby's PC with Vista, and I can unqualifiedly say I DO NOT LIKE IT. But for now I gotta find those CDs. And the USB cable for my camera, which has also disappeared. And the battery charger, since the camera batteries are dead.

This sucks.

Contrary to how it seems, it's not all bad or even mildly irritating around here by any means. In fact, sometimes some pretty funny shit happens. My 3-year-old is learning his letters and he loves looking at books (gets his smarts from me, heh heh). He's rightly understood that the toilet is in the "library." DH walked in on him the other day, sitting there pooping and reading a book. Just now, I was in there peeing and he barged in on me to sign in his oh-so-cute way "poop." The book he had been "reading" before (mine, The Fifth Profession) wasn't there, so he came back a few minutes later with some new reading material. This time, he brought Webster's Dictionary. I about died laughing, thinking about my son shitting to Webster's.

Hooo-leeee Shi-i-i-i-i-it

I am so sick. No, I'm not sick in the head. Honestly. And I'm not talking about MS "shit" either. Just regular run-of-the-mill sick. One of the pleasures of sending your kids off to school is having a couple of hours of "free time." Another is cleaning up snot and puke when they bring home some nasty little bug that some other kid dragged to school because their parents were too selfish (I'm entitled to my alone-time hours, too!!!) or too stoopid (what do you mean a cold is communicable???) to keep their kids home when they are blowing chunks or snorting up loogies the size of golf balls.

I don't just get the sniffles like everyone else. Whatever malfunction of my immune system that has given me the gift of MS - a gift that just keeps giving - has also given me an uncanny ability to fall prey to monsters that other people would experience as mere common colds.

A couple of weeks ago, my daughter came home from school full of snot. She was out of school for 3 days, since I don't feel the need to shove my kids' germs off on others. DH then got the snot, and I kind of chuckled since - AMAZING!!!! - I didn't get it. I allowed myself to be lulled into a sense of security behind my barrier of 2000 mg of vitamin C a day (part of my MS thing). The other kids all went through their bouts with snot, and I signed in relief, thinking it was over - at least until the next time some dickheaded sends their sick kid to school to infect mine.

I couldn't get that lucky, now, could I? No way. I have been afflicted. Only I didn't get the snots like everyone else, I got walking pneumonia. I can't breathe. I can't smoke, because I can't breathe. I'm in a really pissy mood, because I want a cigarette, and DH is standing outside on the porch thinking I can't see him out there smoking... smoking MY fucking cigarettes.

I hack and bark, bark and hack. My ribs are crackling louder than my lungs, and motherfucker do they hurt. I cough so hard, I nearly black out because I can't catch my breath. I coughed so hard at one point, I fell off my fucking chair and pulled all my equipment down behind me, breaking the stupid little stereo adapter I need on my headset, so now I get to buy a new one - even though I just bought this one two weeks ago.

Why can't people just keep their kids home from school when they're sick? Have they no sympathy, that they torture someone like me who has a rogue immune system? Sadistic punks.

Around and Around We Go

Where it stops, only some grasping-at-straws-while-looting-state-coffers CPS worker will know.

HOW CAN IT BE that, in this great nation of ours, the news is filled with story after story documenting the failures of countless "parents," their stories often wrapped deeply within and, therefore, pointing out the inherent failures of the Child Protective Services system...

All across this country, children are abused and/or die as a result of the actions (or INACTION) of CPS workers, people voluntarily taking on a job that must be performed in an exceptionally UNAMBIGUOUS manner (is there any way to possibly misinterpret "Child Protective Services"?). HOW CAN THIS HAPPEN? Sometimes ignorance, sometimes laziness, sometimes indifference, all leading to the suffering of a child at the hands of the one who claimed to have been protecting them when it was felt their parent(s) could not.

This is not a "black" problem or a "white" problem; these are children of every color. It is not a problem isolated to "the slums" and "welfare recipients"; parents may be poor or working poor or lower-middle-class but are almost exclusively of lower income. Regardless of background, these are children that should have been OUR future but instead had their own futures stolen, in the end depriving us all.

On the other side of the coin are children needlessly ripped from the arms of their parents, lives and families destroyed - emotionally and financially - for no legitimate reason, to serve no legitimate purpose. To anyone who would insist this never happens, that those parents "deserved it," I say "Shame on you." Shame on you for not listening and learning, ignoring the truth. Shame on you for thinking that any child should suffer for someone else's mistake, regardless of who made it. Shame on you, and I hope you count your blessings every day for not having walked a mile in those shoes.

I know there are children who are neglected and abused, beat, tortured, mutilated, molested, raped, and murdered by their so-called "parents." I know there are - OFTEN - times when the system seems to work and a child in need is rescued. I know that there are, in fact, top-notch social workers in HHS/CPS agencies across the map that go above and beyond the details of their job description, for those little lives they have pledged to save, and that there are foster parents committed to the cause.

However... I also know that even the very best social workers can only be as good as the laws under which they must operate, and that far too many (federal and state) laws are inadequate, poorly constructed and misinterpreted, misapplied, subverted, ignored, and unevenly applied in practice. I know that there are times when the most inviolable and sacred rights held dear to us as American citizens, those involving due process, are thrown out like yesterday's trash.

The laws governing the CPS system and those who create them need to change. There IS a problem in this country, swept under the rug in the hopes that it will go away if no one sees it. Unfortunately for those who want it to go away, there ARE people who see it - people like me, who have LIVED it - and demand that the problems be fixed. Our Presidential candidates shout "CHANGE" from every rooftop and every mountaintop, three of whom are part of the legislative body with the power to effect that change - yet they have chosen not to do so.

In my mind, they, too, have failed the children.

What do you do when you are forced to SEE that failure,
~~~~~day after day,
~~~~~week after week,

haunting the eyes of a child destroyed in an effort to "help,"
knowing it will not be fixed,
~~~~~lives saved,
~~~~~perpetrators punished,
~~~~~families preserved,
~~~~~futures ensured?

What do you do if CPS is the agent of fear in a child's life?
What do you do if CPS is the agent of continued abuse of a child, or the abuser in its own right?

Died and Gone To Heaven

I love this new template. It so totally rocks. Yeah, I lost all my gizmos from before, but it's not a big deal to add them back - after I restore my pictures from my old computer to my new computer. They're backed up on a disk floating around here somewhere.... I've moved my office from one room of the house to another, so everything is kind of all over the place right now. For the moment, though, I have most of the important stuff up, including a new blogroll (created from the Blogger gadget thingamabob) but I need to verify because there are some not in my Google Reader but on the Desktop or in Technorati or.... you get the picture.

PS: Those are NEURONS in the header picture, because I'm, like, SMART, ya know?

Raising Awareness: Shriners Hospitals for Children

I recently received and read a newsletter for the Shriners Hospitals for Children, and I was amazed at the strength and courage demonstrated by the child patients' stories portrayed and overwhelmed at the depth of compassion and generosity of child donors' stories.

The Shriners Hospitals for Children are located across the United States, with facilities in Canada, and they help children no matter what their parents' financial status. Treatment is provided for children needing orthopedic care and burn treatment, spinal cord injuries and burn care. Investing in the future of our greatest natural resource - children - The Shriners enshrine an ideal we should all strive toward.

You can visit their website for more information, from applying for treatment to making a donation.

When You're Wrong

You're definitely wrong. But when you're right, you're still just as wrong, MAYBE EVEN MORE SO.

Ummm.... What the fuck? I mean, seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you? (We'll be right back with the answer to that and much more, after this brief message from our sponsor.)

My latest project: American Worker Exposed - Anthology; a collection of stories spanning my working life, milkmaid to bartender, receptionist to small-business owner, and a few other things along the way....

brevity and longevity, a little levity to pass the time....

documenting my metamorphosis from a loud-mouth asshole kid....
....to a more cautious, thoughtful, and tactful adult....
....and eventually to a loud-mouth asshole adult....

and the absurdity of hiring someone who is actually capable of independent thought.

Highlights include:

• Tales from the Barnyard - Some people are cut out for farm work, and some are not. I am of the latter group. Of all the cows I've dealt with in my life, my "favorite" was a Hereford named "Hamburger." Years after her mission of giving me grief began, she lived up to her name and I.relished.every.bite. Contrary to popular belief, Revenge is a dish best served hot on a bun with cheese.
• Say That Again, Please, I Still Don't Got It - Tutoring and mentoring are rewarding and fulfilling endeavors but can also be trying to your patience, especially when you've just been reduced to drawing the explanation to "Sam and Debbie leave Atlanta at 6 p.m., Sam driving 58 miles per hour and Debbie 55 miles per hour...." on a piece of paper and your pupil still "don't got it" because "It's about caaaars, man, I don't do no caaaars," and not about boards and half pipes and other shit you have no idea what the fuck it is and having nothing to do with algebra anyhow. Talk about exercises in creativity.
  
• If These Speculi Could Talk - Have you ever wondered what REALLY goes on at the OB/GYN office after you've left the building? Or in the operative suite while you're out cold and the surgeon is up to his elbows in your innards? (No names or personally identifiable information will be released--sorry if you were hoping to hear your ex has gonorrhea or something...) Let me give you a glimpse into my world.
  
• Death of a Neat Freak - You can't kill people for touching your shit, but if they can't find it, they can't touch it anymore. I was anal at one time. I would even polish the inside of the car door at the hinges that you could only see when the door was open. I was nuts. Therefore, my workspace, should be inviolable. When I put the phonebook in the drawer and some asshole loots my desk, takes it and then leaves it in the middle of the Na-Ne file drawer, it just pisses me off. I was violated.
  
• How Many Drunks Does It Take.... - Sometimes the funniest motherfuckers to ever stroll through your life are drunk; unfortunately, though, far more often the biggest potlicker assholes to ever trample all over your life are also drunk. And there's an almost surreal number of bodily function malfunctions that occur in the men's room of the local bar in Anytown, USA. Or in the parking lot.
  
• Screw You, and Your Little Kid, Too - Trials and tribulations of a young single mother, desperate to get off the welfare rolls, turned down for a permanent (open) position because "you're too honest."
• And my favorite: Behind Closed Doors - Do your job in the manner in which it is laid out in the formal HR job description, even going above and beyond, and it's just not good enough. What do you do when you hear the death knell for your entire department, knowing there is no way to stop the demise but angry as hell at the SMILEY face shown to you in the front office and the whispers of backstabbing and undermining in the back office?
  

That's actually what the fuck is wrong with me. Two-facedness and placation and sometimes outright lies. Just sick of it. I hate games, and I hate when people play games and use my life as a pawn, especially when they're just not very good managers in the first place.

Totally Ready

I am totally ready for another change to the face I present The Blogosphere, but nothing has tickled my fancy yet. My fancy seems to have vacated the premises, a deduction I'm basing on the complete and utter lack of response I've gotten from it lately. Bitch went on vacation and didn't invite me. I want something funky. Or classy. Or bold and sassy, shiny as the Brass Nuts I proudly display on my mantle, polished to a bright finish. ***I don't really have nuts, brass or otherwise. I don't even have a mantle. But it sounds cool, doesn't it?***

My mind's a little fuzzy, so I need to find new pursuits, I guess. Personal and professional. I've gotten over my infatuation with the medical field, in every way, shape, and form. Modern medicine has failed me over and over, then got me with the Big Nellie, bent me over the exam room table and .... never mind. Anyhow, I've decided I will most definitely not be pursuing a career in the profession, since I could never look my patients in the eye and hand them the load of shit I've been handed for far too long.

In my past life, I used to go bowling and sometimes biking and hiking and I painted and did all kinds of cool shit. With the loss of most of the use of my dominant right arm and little to no fine or even gross motor skills, or much of the use of my legs for that matter, I was stumped as to what hobbies might excite the inner "me," having been deprived of ALL the things I loved to do.... save one. Reading. I have always loved reading above all else, and I was thankful fine and gross motor had nothing to do with it. Until my eyesight decided to take a shit on me, too.

Because I'm so good at reading and it's something I love doing, I've read and read and read some more, (gotta love CTRL++, to make the fonts BIG) and come up with a lot of "what ifs" and done a lot of AH-HA!-ing, in my quest to beat this monster that's been diddling my mind, my body, and my entire life the past 2 years. Diseases like MS were made for people like me. And that's the reason why--I'm not afraid to exercise my "cranial muscle."

A couple of interesting things I've come up with:

1. There is a strong association between MS and viral illnesses, particularly Epstein-Barr, a member of the herpes family. I contracted EPV in high school and was out of commission for months. Years later, crushing fatigue and malaise were written off by my physician as reactivation mono, not digging deeper to find the gold nugget of truth or even broaching the possibility that there could be something far more sinister at work.
   
2. There is a link between MS and vitamin B deficiencies, particularly B12. I was diagnosed with pernicious anemia at age 22 and have been self-injecting cyanocobalamin since 1995. In hindsight, this diagnosis is really quite absurd considering all the factors (young age, white race, NO family history). My doctor stated I was at risk for developing MS and SLE, something the other doctor ignored later while revisiting mono, but I had been advised all those years ago to be tested routinely. Testing doesn't always produce a diagnosis, though. There really is no 100% definitive test for entities classified as autoimmune dysfunction, only an educated guess based on constellation of symptoms and abnormal laboratory tests, and even then criteria must be met before a patient can receive a firm diagnosis (screw the 5% of MSers that have a NORMAL MRI scan or have only ONE lesion, treatment is REFUSED until you have an ABNORMAL scan showing AT LEAST TWO lesions, even if it means loss of vital functions that may have been preserved with treatment. This was my case, but.... I'M.NOT.BITTER.).
3. Pregnancy often induces MS into remission, but the mechanisms behind this are unclear, whether it be hormones (testing is underway with a specific estrogen receptor) or the fact that a woman's immune system is lowered during pregnancy, or ?????. That explains why I felt great for a couple of years, two back-to-back pregnancies, but then it kicked my ass even harder after my son was born. As disgusted as I am with you-know-who, during ovulation I feel an overwhelming urge for him to impregnate me. Killing two birds with one stone. Or three. Kicking the MS for a few months, satisfying my screaming uterus, and having a weewiddleone to cuddle and snuggle and teach and watch grow.... Call me crazy. I love new baby smell. Even poop.

Some weeks back, I got so pissed with Modern Medicine, I stopped my Copaxone injections. I figured "What's the point?" I was having - to date - my worst flare ever, worse than the original symptoms leading me to suspect MS and more disturbing than the optic neuritis-related flare I had last summer. So this shitty medicine that cost $1900 a month and which the manufacturer cannot even explain how it works (if it works) because they don't understand the chemical processes and which DOES NOT CURE the disease but only TRIES to reduce exacerbations does not seem to work for me. Tie into the fact that I believe wholeheartedly my NL has misdiagnosed me as RRMS when I more rightly fit PPMS, and the medication is not for those folks anyhow, so I didn't see where it mattered. And I was tired of the bruises.

I raided the vitamin store, based on what I found when reading. Everything from Omega 3-6-9 to vitamins of every letter of the alphabet, and everything in between. I jumped in with both feet and bought a basket full of goodies, a little worried in the back of my mind about starting so many new things at one time and *gasp* without the advice and recommendation of my physician! but saying FUCK IT out loud. I bought a 7-day pill minder, one of those M/N/E/B sorts. Then I sat down with a sheet of paper (no spreadsheet, har!har!) and devised my own treatment regimen.

DH's eyes about bugged out of his head and I heard him say "motherfucker" as I swallowed a handful of pills in one giant gulp. Four times a day. After a couple of weeks, I started getting some feeling back in my arms and legs. Another week, and I could move my flaccid right arm, even lift it over my head. Another, and the vision in my right eye went from a dark gray curtain shuttering my eyesight to a light gray fog that I could distinguish shapes AND COLORS within, something I have not been able to do for more than a year. Several weeks of intense vitamins, and I can now walk up and down the stairs without crawling, tap my feet to the music, and recently at my nephew's wedding reception even danced with DH when he asked me.

Where will my journey lead me? Who knows, but at least now I feel I will walk there instead of being pushed in a wheelchair.

All Roads Lead to Somewhere

"AH-HA," you say, "Dead-end roads lead nowhere, that's why they're called dead ends." Well, even those roads lead to something, just maybe not what you thought you were looking for in the first place. . . and not all dead-end roads are marked; so if it's not specifically posted as such, is it really? "Well, what about roundabouts? They don't really 'lead' anywhere, either." Ahh. . . but they do! They lead to alternate exits, and they circle back onto themselves, giving you the chance to choose a different route each time you circle around.

Now, my mind isn't really on "roads" other than metaphorically. Negotiating the "roads of life" is never easy and can be often downright treacherous. A map would be nice but, unfortunately, life doesn't come with a map, instruction sheet, owner's manual, or a frigging flow chart. Even if it did, my map was torn to shreds - and after my bold attempt to tape it back together, set on fire and the ashes left to scatter in the wind.

I have, throughout my life, gone from being a shy child bursting into tears upon being addressed to a bold adolescent tired of being whomped on and called "Tits" and learning to stand up for myself to a loud-mouthed young adult having an opinion and not being afraid to express it. As life progressed and I found myself a mother and wife (in that order) and mother yet again, I learned to temper my attitude with some amount of tact, to preserve my credibility so that what I had to say would be listened to and found relevant, even as I listened to and considered other people's positions. Yes, I wanted to hear them, but I wanted to be heard, too! Frequently, however, I was drowned out, dismissed, ignored out of hand. Too often I let it go, failing to stand up for myself and what was inside me - I don't know if it is residual from my early childhood fears or a survival function, telling me to keep my mouth shut to preserve my ability to support my family. Anyhow, I think I am just wandering to see where I end up next and, if it's not the destination I desire, plotting my next course to try to get there.

* * * * * * * * * *

I find myself waxing philosophical more and more now than at any other time in my life. I've always had strong opinions and beliefs and although the "cores" of these essential building blocks in the foundation of my interpersonal construction stand strong and true, I find that what is actually housed inside the buildings of my personality can vacate and be replaced as rapidly as tenant turnover in a shitty apartment complex. (I don't have the strength, mentally or physically, to explain that right now. Sorry. Strangely, I have a mental image of a box of donuts from a gas station convenience store - chocolate, powder, and plain - even after you eat the "good" ones, the plain ones pick up some of the powder from inside the box, so they don't look like it but are really still just plain donuts; I know this makes no sense, so blame it on the drugs.)

Part of me wonders why this change is happening, or whether it's been happening all along and I just never noticed it before. Is it age, mellowing? Is it chemical alterations from the MS and/or the pharmacy I now need to treat (not cure, just TREAT) it? Is it just a natural human reaction to opening my eyes and seeing the plight of my fellow man and an inherent desire to create a better world?

I'm very upset lately, confused and kind of. . . I don't even know the words anymore. I want to blame my disease for that lack of clarity I always had, but now part of me wonders if it's entirely the "cognitive impairments" associated with MS or something else.

Fuck This Fucking Blog

That about sums it up, eh?

It's crazy. I used to love this place and now I just think it sucks. All I do is spew bile and there's no fun in that. There were actually a couple of posts between this one and the last, but I never published them since they were just vile and better left unread by anyone. Including me.

Anyhow. I have a new roof on my house AND garage and a new patio slider door and front door on my house, all told coming to somewhere in the vicinity of $10,000. It was totally worth it, though. Now I can actually heat the house in the winter instead of heating the outdoors and scooping snow off my floor that came in around the door--not THROUGH the door, AROUND the door frame. Yeah. Nice, huh?

My dad built this house in 1979. Nearly everything used in its construction was the cheapest that could be had, including a lot of the lumber coming from an old church (my mom swore the house was haunted with the ghosts of those whose funerals were held in that church, but I look at it that my house has God's own blessing on it). He once told me he built the whole house for about $10,000. The whole house built 30 years ago for what it cost me just for a new fucking roof and some doors. It's not hard to believe, though, considering he used odd-size doors and windows (which of course are no longer manufactured so you can see the problem I have now that I need to replace them????? CAN YOU SAY "SPECIAL ORDER"?????), 3/8" drywall instead of 1/2", and drop-tile ceilings IN EVERY ROOM (STYROFOAM tiles in the basement--I'm not shitting, they really were). He hung cedar siding and stained it this shitty rust-colored brown (it's fucking ugly, trust me) and then never took care of it so it's gone beyond "weathered" to just plain nasty and looks even shittier now sitting under that new roof, so that's my next project when I grow a new arm and leg to saw off in order to pay for it. The biggest relief came in replacing that patio slider, which never had a screen door and no way to install one on the frame and, hence, no way to take advantage of the cool night air unless you want to be eaten by 4,326,782 mosquitoes the size of 747's.

We grow 'em big here in Michigan. Don't let them try to fool you with that "The robin is the state bird" bullshit. Our state bird is the Anopheles quadrimaculatus.

But, again, I digress. After 30 years of Michigan weather with little to no maintenance, my house was in rough shape when I got it after dad built himself a new house (using GOOD shit, of course). And ugly. I hate ugly. I've tried hard to remedy that. That new front door alone set me back close to $1500, BUT IT'S SO PURTY!

The crew that did my roof and doors didn't fuck around. They tore off the old shit, did repairs, and re-shingled the house AND the garage and hung new doors in three days.

Three fucking days. I almost shit my pants.

DH has been "remodeling" the inside of the house for 6-1/2 YEARS and there's not even ONE FUCKING ROOM completely done--and it's not for lack of materials since the garage is so full of shit I've bought for the house that you can't even park the car in the goddamn thing. I don't expect it to ever get done unless I hire those guys to come back and finish it--without FUCKING IT UP and then blaming it on me.

Conquering the Beast - Part II

OK. So here's what happened. Amidst all the grinding and clanking inside my head, bells and whistles started going off. I was in an entirely different type of search mode when I pulled up a new Google window, exercising my mental, mechanical, and "electronical" prowess.

I wanted one I could get my hands on immediately, but the one at Radio Shack looked shitty. Best Buy didn't sell the kind I needed. I finally came across one at Circuit City, exactly what I had in mind, and the Saginaw store is only an hour's drive from here so I ordered it for pickup in the store. I bought a USB external hard drive.

I brought it home and gutted the HDD from my Pavilion (hence, the transplant), installed it in the external drive, and hooked it up to my husband's computer - AND THERE WAS ALL MY SHIT!

I am so amazing, I should be patented or something. I figured that one out all on my own, after the "experts" said "too bad."

Although I ordered a PC last Friday, it won't be ready until Wednesday and I need to work NOW, so I informed DH that I was appropriating his computer in the meantime. Of course, he was pissed (because I'd have access to his "personal" things he hides from me, like chats with his "girlfriend." OH.OH.OH. Aside: Last week he tells her that I am "shorty life," to which she responded, "I'm sorry" {since when does the "girlfriend" of a cheating "husband" feel sorry that his wife is dying???} and he said "I don't need pity," which then prompted her to tell him how brave he was - I'm the one who's fucking dying but HE'S the one who's brave????? What-the-fuck-ever!!!). He was even more pissed when I said I wanted the tower brought down to my office from the upstairs bedroom where he had it, arguing with me about it, even though there's no regular fucking phone line up there for me to hook up my OTHER job's equipment, only the ethernet cable, and I need both.

So he brings it down and - strangely - the NIC won't work, so I can't get internet access to do my fucking work anyhow. And of course, "What did you do to my computer?" even though 'twas not I who unhooked and moved it.

Conquering the Beast

My closest friend of the past 6 years has passed from this realm to the next, leaving me bereft and suffering. We spent so much time together, it was as though we'd become one, inseparable as that piece of duct tape that gets folded over onto itself after you rip it off the roll. I knew my friend inside and out, doing my best to help when a virus struck and dancing with glee with recovery, all the while -naively - expecting the relationship to last. The passing was so sudden, so unexpected, I was left stunned and alternating between tears of grief and rage, finally moved beyond devastation by the transplant gift that had been left behind.

July 24, 2008 - Rest in Peace

HP Pavilion 310n

You were a good computer.

Cause of death? The decision (whether made by Hewlett-Packard or by Microsoft, I know not), to load XP System Recovery software on the hard drive instead of giving you a FUCKING DISK like they used to (you want a disk, you gotta pay for it, even though you technically already paid for it when you bought the computer).

System Recovery and its related shit is stored in a protected partition on the hard drive, and no software CDs of any kind, including the OS, were included when I bought the computer NEW from Best Buy. The files are right there and CDs cost too much and blah blah blah (the bullshit I was fed the first time I used this function a couple of years ago, by some dough-head at HP). Fine in theory, but what happens when your OS becomes corrupted and you cannot access that function, even in Safe Mode?

In April, I was moaning about my computer being slow and locking up all the time, supposedly because I didn't have enough RAM (annoying little pop-up system messages told me so), so I went and got some more RAM: $60 for 2 cards to the PC's maximum capacity of 512 MB. Yes, I spent that much money on a 6-year-old computer. I was so amazed at how much faster it was after that, I could have kicked myself in the head for not having upgraded years ago.

The all-gooey-inside feeling didn't last long, though.

I started getting system pop-ups again, I checked and found that my system was only running 256 instead of 512. I don't know why this happened, but I thought about calling Centon about a replacement (lifetime warranty!!!). Unfortunately, I was working (and it was the middle of the night), so I started up my Sony Digital Voice Editor, but it wouldn't do anything. Task Manager showed it "not responding." This happened once before and I just had to uninstall and reinstall it, so I tried that. It still didn't work. I didn't get too worked up at that point, knowing all was well and good in the weeks prior and I could roll the PC back to a restore point.

Wrong.

System Restore chose not to cooperate, so I tried System Recovery. I've used this function twice since I bought the PC, both times using the Big Daddy and completely reformatting the user partition and starting from scratch. This actually takes a lot of convincing on your part (ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO DO THIS? ALL DATA WILL BE LOST - no shit, Sherlock), but this time I was not having the problems I had before and chose the "nondestructive" recovery, which claimed it would not harm my files and other software. Click. Click. Click. It starts its thing and I twiddle my thumbs for 30 minutes.

Time to reboot. No problem. HP and Windows screens. The famous chimes that cry at startup. Then.... the HP registration screen? Ummm. OK. It's already filled out with the junk from before, so I click "Next" and move on. Finally, up comes the sound card test screen, where you tell the system whether or not you hear sound. I hear no sound, but the little asshole in the sweater doesn't give me any help in figuring out the problem. Instead, he opened his virtual "door" and left my screen. Prick. I'll work it out later, I think, and clicked "Next" one more time.

That was the last "Next" my Pavilion ever saw in its life.

The computer froze. Not a component was stirring, not even the mouse. After about 20 minutes of cussing, I killed it at the switch. When restarting, the Windows screen loaded and waited, then went black. After a few minutes, there's a pop-up telling me that I had an LSASS.EXE SYSTEM ERROR, when trying to update the password, the return status indicates that the password is not correct.... then suddenly it shuts down and restarts. Again and again. I hit F8 to get into Safe Mode, but it was the same error, as it was with LNG. It would have looped like this for all of eternity had I let it, but I had mercy enough to pull the plug.

NOW what the fuck do I do? My work's on there. My photos are on there. ALL OF MY SPREADSHEETS are on there.

I got onto another PC, furiously searching the web for an answer. There's 800 million tech forums out there, someone's got to have an answer; I know I'm not the first person this has happened to. I was right, and multiple people had posted on multiple forums about THE EXACT SAME ISSUE: lsass.exe system error, password, blah blah blah, and no CD issued. Those responding on these forums were OH.SO.HELPFUL. Most instantly threw out "Sasser virus" as the answer with a link to get rid of it, obviously not understanding the exact nature of the problem; after all, how are you going to click the link if you can't even boot the system? One wiseguy, seeing that there was no CD and snickering behind his hands, only asked "Who'd you pirate XP from?" without giving any kind of answer. Knowledgeable AND helpful. Another popular one was "XP failure, use your CD and reinstall." How do I fix it if I don't have a startup CD because THEY DID NOT ISSUE ONE WITH THE PC? Answer: Do a System Recovery. Yeah, that's helpful, seeing as how THE OS HAS TO FINISH LOADING TO BE ABLE TO DO THAT and since that's what's not working....

OH.MY.GOD.

I can deal with the fact that my computer died and I have to replace it, but my primary concern was all the stuff I had on there - photos of my kids, the only IRREPLACEABLE things on the computer - that had not been backed up yet and how do I get it off the disk? Again, the forums were oh-so-helpful in answering that question, too. Most just responded with some variation of "Too bad, the computer's screwed and so are you." Others suggested using (and paying through the nose for ) a data recovery service.

I was on my own. As usual. But I had little gears grinding hard inside my head.

I changed tacks, looking at stuff kind of related "around the edges" of my problem. Eventually I came across some information that, in a flash of clarity, made me realize those dudes on the tech forums just talk to hear the sound of their own voices (or to see their avatar proudly displayed as though it conveys some type of authority in the world of silicone and ether), imparting advice upon the desperate and the ignorant, all the while ignoring the single most important lesson ever taught in the history of mankind:

2 + 2 = 4

If the problem is the OPERATING SYSTEM, why is my data "screwed"? These are separate beasts prowling in jungles on separate continents, so to speak. And why do I need to pay for data recovery when the data files should not be corrupted, just because the OS files are? (And why can't Microsoft give you a motherfucking C: prompt when XP is installed on your system so you can fix the problem yourself, those dirty bastards!)

I conquered the beast. I'll tell you how, but next time. This post is too long.

To Flare Or Not To Flare

I love my neurologist dearly. She's one of only about 4 doctors I would (and have) trust with my life. But I think she's dead wrong on two counts:

1. She can't find any quick and SOLID proof that there is something else going on with me than just MS that is slowly but surely eating my life away from the inside out.
2. She's diagnosed me as remitting/relapsing MS even though I have never had any clear-cut "remission" of symptoms nor even any clear-cut "flares" for that matter, other than the bout of optic neuritis last summer.

Until now.

When the shit hit the fan with my body a couple of years ago, it started as a slight weakness in my right arm and leg. It was nothing that affected my life in any way, shape, or form other than being an irritation and a "subjective feeling" of being weak when my examination and testing routinely came back normal, with the exception of the times I've had "reactivation mono," which is essentially - and most people don't know this until they're afflicted - the Epstein-Barr virus you contracted in high school comes back to haunt you. There are markers in your blood that show you've had the virus, and some of those titers will never go away, ever, because you DID have it. Others of these markers go up and down, indicating a reactivation of the virus in your system.

**Quick aside here: It's fascinating to me that EBV has long been considered a culprit in the pathogenesis of MS, that it can reactivate at any time, particularly when ill or stressed, etc. (the exact same factors that can exacerbate an MS flare).

Anyhow, 1 year 11 months ago (dear Lord, has that much of my life been eaten up by this disease already???) I developed SUDDEN onset of PROFOUND weakness on my entire right side, which progressed over the next few days to include my entire left side and then started moving up to begin compromising not only my facial muscles - I developed facial droop highly suspicious for stroke or at least Bell's palsy and could neither eat nor drink for days, yet my doctor couldn't get me in any quicker than 2 weeks and ER doctors had previously dismissed me as a fake - and eventually my muscles of breathing and bowel and bladder function.

I was FUBAR'd for about a week and a half. Of course, by the time I got in to see my primary doctor, most of it had resolved except for the right-sided weakness, which was dismissed as "stress" and would best be treated under the care of a psychiatrist. (Yeah, she went there. And bought property. That's why I don't see their office anymore.) After that, I was pretty consistent until last July when the optic neuritis destroyed the vision in my right eye, eventually leading to my diagnosis of MS. All this time, though, I never had a "remission" as is defined by those who define such measures (usually for insurance billing purposes). After the optic neuritis, though, I started declining - gradually - and never having an acute "flare" (proven by MRI scans that no new active lesions were identified) but continuing to become progressively weaker and more fatigued and confused and depressed and at times maybe even clinically diagnosable as psychotic. But I was still classified as RRMS instead of - what in my opinion should be - secondary progressive MS or perhaps even primary progressive.

MS does not define me as a person, but it's a really big fucking irritation. I've tried to be all "yeah, whatever" about this whole thing, accepting and dealing with it and moving on with my life and all that happy horseshit. I ain't playing that game anymore, though. After only 23 short months, I am ready to take my marbles out of the circle and stop playing - and kick sand over the circle just because I'm pissed off about losing.

I had another of my epiphanies on life, the universe, and everything. It came yesterday, Saturday morning, after my dad came to my house to make sure I was up for work on time and found me on the floor of my office, unconscious and unresponsive. The pisser of it was, he actually walked in on the SECOND episode. I woke up around 7 a.m. with a massive Charley in my left calf that wouldn't let go and got up to put some Ben-Gay on my leg. As I was reaching up to put the tube back on top of my desk so the kids couldn't get it, I passed out and fell on the floor. I came to a little while later to my daughter sitting on the floor next to me, laying on my face and crying because I was someplace she knew I should not be and not responding. But I couldn't getup. Nothing worked right. I've been constantly dizzy (like 100% of the time, even moving my eyes in my head makes me keel over) for about a week now and even when I did finally get my arm and legs to obey in some fashion and tried to get up, the dizziness decided to call in unconsciousness for backup to keep me on the floor. Eventually I was able to speak and tell dad "no" when asked if I wanted an ambulance. He woke DH up, who saw me on the floor and started screaming, which scared my daughter even more, but he picked me - in all my bulk, even though I weigh as much as he does or more - off the floor.

I was fucked for the rest of the day. I'm still fucked. I always knew I was not long meant for this world, but I can say now that I see the end in sight and it really pisses me off. It pisses me off about losing and it pisses me off about giving up.

But maybe now someone (in the medical profession) will listen to me when I tell them something is wrong.

Unhealthy Obsession

I realized just now, at 6:41 a.m. on July 17, 2008, that I have an unhealthy obsession with data in general and the organization of data in particular.

I feel an overwhelming need to put everything in Excel. I think I would die if I didn't have access to it. Well, probably not DIE, but at least have a really big hole in the middle of my entity where Excel belongs.

My budget and bills and many other records are all neatly organized in Excel spreadsheets, each month its own separate sheet within the workbook, columns and rows keeping everything organized, colors and fonts to draw focus where needed, everything in order right down to the last comma and dollar sign.

I created a continuous yearly calendar with a section for notes for the month, each date consisting of two rows and one column, borders and numbering in place. It's easy to copy over to the next year, tweak a couple of formulas, and keep it going to the following year. I fiddled with the fonts and justification to make it aesthetically pleasing, but I didn't use any colors this time. Regardless, it's truly a work of art.

I used to do all of my billing and invoices for my independent contracting business in Word. They were neat and orderly, receiving a face lift now and then with font changes and lines and anything else I could use to make it stand out, distinguish it from the 40,572 other papers sitting on the doctor's desk, so he would remember to pay me. They served me well for more than 10 years, until earlier this year when I just couldn't resist the urge anymore: I was tired of adding lines manually on a calculator billing took forever doing it that way, the more accounts I worked (besides the fact that one of the kids stole my $65 printing calculator left over from my college accounting program days). Why am I torturing myself when Excel will do the work for me!?!? At first, I created billing sheets for each doctor and attached it to the invoice (with a note in the "details" pointing to the Excel data, of course!). Then recently I started sneaking copy-and-paste Excel tables into the invoices, to keep it all on one page and reduce the number of trees I contributed to murdering. Finally, I gave up and generated the entire invoice in Excel. Even that process has morphed recently, each invoice as a separate file now each DOCTOR as a separate "book" with each INVOICE a separate page within. Instead of hundreds of files in dozens of folders and subfolders, I now have 6 files - period.

The depths of my obsession should have become apparent when I made a "camping checklist" (I ranted about my camping stuff before) before my vacation recently so DH wouldn't forget things, said list proceeding immediately from his fingertips into the trashcan. "I know how to pack, I'm not stupid." Columns dividing gear, clothing, food, etc.

In retrospect, I can see that this isn't a new issue like my memory problems, something I can readily attribute to cognitive or psychiatric consequences of MS. In cleaning up my computer files - the time during which I decided to streamline the doc's accounting processes - I notice that I've been sneaking Excel worksheets into my life for years.

When You-Know-Who started bitching and moaning that I wasn't sending "her" money to her and filed a contempt motion against us for violation of the custody orders, I started a log: Each month I cut her a check for 1/2 of the girls' Social Security benefits received and recorded the date, amount, check number, and any amount she indicated to me (in writing!!!) to deduct, like 1/2 of their school lunch costs. After she cashed each check, I entered the date cleared by my bank.

Some dickweed keeps leaving my DVDs lying around, since putting them away when they're finished with them would be too easy, and many are lost, broken, or deeply scratched; another dickweed borrows them without asking then sells them on eBay. I have a list of all of the DVDs I've bought, separated into genre, with a column for those that are missing. (This was part of a document for my house insurance listing everything I owned, something about it being a cost of replacement policy.)

I didn't have the time or inclination to go buy real blueprint paper, so I made a grid to "blueprint" my staircases, each square representing 1 inch.

With the second FT job I worked a while back, I kept a workbook with each pay period - you guessed it - on a separate sheet with days, times in/out, and lines transcribed. We didn't have a "time clock" to punch, but we had to enter all of that into the time card at the end of the pay period. My time sheet book had formulas to calculate daily hours worked, lines per hour, downtime, and gross earnings. I have another that I made for my current job, when they wanted me to start documenting what I was doing each and every minute of my 8-hour shift every day (a story for another day).

I haven't gotten a notice yet on my 2008-2009 federal student loan interest rate and monthly payment amounts, but I have a spreadsheet to enter them into when I do, tracking the 10-year trend of this information, complete with the change in each from year to year since I went into repayment.

When I was working 2 full-time jobs and 1 part-time job, classically "employed" at 3 different companies, AND self-employed as an independent contractor for between 3 and 6 doctors across 4 different accounts, I made a schedule to plan my time, columns Monday through Sunday, time in 24 rows of 1-hour blocks, midnight to midnight. Each job was color coded, so I knew what I should be doing at any given time, when I could schedule a doctor's appointment and even when I could sleep.

The fuse box in our house had something not quite right going on with it. Although my office had been split across 2 breakers and the kitchen had been split across an additional 2 breakers (high usage areas, to prevent tripping the breaker), every time someone would turn on the microwave in the kitchen at the other end of the house, the whole kitchen and one side of my office would blow. We needed to map out the fuse box to see which breakers controlled each area of the house, since things got kind of buggered during the remodeling, so I made a chart.

There are no depths to which I will not stoop in order to create an Excel worksheet for something, but I can't organize my desk to save my life. Whenever I need an ink pen, I have to sift through a mountain of papers, which curiously are often hard copies documenting my passion for data organization, even though I have filing cabinets. Filing doesn't involve using Excel, so it doesn't interest me.

If There's a Way to Screw You

Some overpaid and otherwise completely useless dickwad in The Michigan Government is gonna find and exploit it, and probably thoroughly enjoy the experience.

Want a job? Too bad, move to another state (or the country to which your last job was outsourced). I've already ranted about the atrocious unemployment rate here in Michigan (highest in the nation and far above the national average since like 2001, I believe), and companies continue to flee. We hear "It's okay, we don't need industry/manufacturing. We have TOURISM." (Support 10 million people on tourism? In someone's overworked imagination that might work, if tourists are only non-residents willing to throw money at us, but there's a bit of a problem when the tourists are RESIDENTS [think trickle-down here]. Does that mean you have no business enjoying your own state since it won't generate external revenues, so FUCK OFF and stay home?) Dandy. Then the other day someone was telling me about new "tourism taxes" going to go into effect (surcharges on motel rooms, etc.). Now that we've driven off industry with the Mighty Upraised Middle Finger, it's time to turn it on tourism, too.

But I digress. Besides taxing us more here on things like gasoline and cigarettes, etc., than our surrounding states' residents pay, the bullshit has now extended to our CELL PHONE SERVICE. Forever, my Alltel bill was about $56 a month. This month it's over $58.

??????????

On the last page of the bill (in itty-bitty letters, of course): ATTENTION MICHIGAN RESIDENTS. A surcharge for E-911 (which I could have sworn I was already paying for, so now I gotta root through a stack of papers dating back to 2004 when I got the stupid thing) is being assessed on our monthly bill, varying by county. Of course, MY county happens to charge the second-highest rate: $2.12 per month.

I don't use my cell phone for 911. I use my REGULAR PHONE, on which I also pay for E-911, so now I get double-poked and for something I don't even use?

They raised our state income taxes, expanded the sales tax, and done other shit I'm not even gonna touch on cuz it would probably give me a brain aneurysm, so I have to ask, WHAT'S NEXT?

On the high side, I did happen to exploit that "tourism" factor a bit last week, in Michigan's Upper Peninsula and in the Lower Peninsula's northern wonderlands. I have TONS of great pictures, as soon as I get off my ass and get them downloaded from my camera. . .

Another Hmmmmm.........

My right arm weakness has progressed and regressed and progressed some more, each time leaving me with less function to the point where now my arm is basically useless. Trying to find some type of support or bracing system that would maintain my arm in a position to still be able to use my fingers (which are as yet unaffected, just the muscles in my shoulder girdle and upper arm) is pretty much impossible. I found one that was meandering down the lines of what I wanted, but of course would not provide me the functional ability I want to be able to sign (speak) to my husband and to work.

Hmmmmmm...... my sparks of creativity are being fanned, and maybe it's time for this dough-head to enter the "inventions" market, designing my own brace.....

OMFG I'm Gonna Leave a Damp Spot

I finally cussed my last at Firefox and banished it to the realm where IE has been for the past couple of years, since I first fell in love with the Fox. I have a new love now, and this one has me all creamy in my dreamy and whatnot- Opera. Not only am I able to quickly and easily download my shit I need to without fucking around with completely asinine "add-ons," I HAVE VOICE CONTROL.

How much better than that can you get? "Opera, Home." Up comes Google. "Opera, Mail." Holyfuckinshit, there's my email. "Opera, Page Down [or Up, Top, or whatever floats your boat]" and the god damn thing navigates around where you tell it to.

WTF was I thinking all this time, bowing down and kissing that dirty brown fox's ass? I am singing the Opera now, baby.

My Love Affair

My love affair with FireFox is over. I'm so pissed at FireFox right now, in fact, that I'm half tempted to remove it and all remnants of it from my computer.

Where things worked exactly like I wanted them to before, now nothing works right and sometimes does not even work at all. The thing that has me MOST pissed off, though, has to be the "Down-Them-All" add-on, which I use for downloading my work files. One click, and it's all done! Now the dirty bastard will NOT start the downloads and I have to click each and every link to start the download manually. I've had to resort to Flash Got, which works but is still a pain in the ass.

Oh, and this motherfucker keeps refreshing my screen every 12.4 seconds while I'm in Blogger, which is driving me up the wall.

I guess it's time to either uninstall and reinstall and if that does not work, uninstall and cut off its balls so it cannot reproduce on my computer.

There's always Opera......

For Better or Worse

I love when someone challenges me, presents me with different sides of an argument or issue and gives me something meaningful to mentally and philosophically grind on, something I did not have before to incorporate into my own beliefs system and/or opinions--especially when that someone happens to be a person whom I admire and deeply respect as I do Shannon.

In one of my recent rants, I went off half-cocked and more than a little pissed and, unfortunately, offended her. I will not apologize for my opinions, since they're mine and mine alone and I don't expect others to embrace them, only to respect them as being mine. However... because I failed to express myself adequately - too much going on all at once in my head and my fingers couldn't get it all out, much like a mush-mouth that can't speak fast enough to keep up with racing thoughts - and the lack of clarity with which I presented my opinion left it open for interpretation as offensive, I do apologize for that. I should have expounded on my statements and explained my feelings.

Shannon left an amazingly thought-provoking comment regarding that post:

As a 34 year old adult, it's easy for me to say that nobody could force or coerce me into anything but I'm not at all certain that confidence of self is easy to find in any 16 year old pregnant girl. Especially a 16 year old unwilling or unable to tell her own parents about the situation with the mother of her boyfriend so married to the idea of aborting that she forged a consent form. That's some pretty powerful persuasion in my opinion; no the mom didn't drive her there but it doesn't sound like she encouraged the girl to explore all of her options. Being able to have sex doesn't imbue with intelligence, obviously, but being 16 means by virtue of limited life experience the people who are advising you should actually have your best interest at heart. This was obviously not the case.

While I'm not sure what having the other mother in jail will solve, at the end of the day if it's all about responsibility then it would seem right that she should do the time for doing the crime.

I won't get into the logistics of what electing McCain could well do to a woman's right to choose, as in yes you're technically correct about his ability to ''pass a law'' but it's
no secret that any ruling effecting choice (or making it an issue of states rights) would come from the Supreme Court and we all know who appoints those judges.

And as a point of fact, without involving the Supreme Court, a law was passed banning so-called ''partial birth abortion'' (a medical procedure that doesn't actually exist, by the way) which effects not just a woman's right to choose to continue a pregnancy but effects the right of families to choose life or death for mothers with pregnancies that go horribly, horribly amiss. I cannot fathom anyone reading Cecily's story http://www.uppercasewoman.com/wastedbirthcontrol/losing_my_twins_or_how_i_became_the_internet_poster_girl_for_partial_birth_abortion/index.html) and speaking so easily of women who somehow need to take responsibility or the implied judgment of somehow learning a lesson by continuing an unwanted or worse, deadly, pregnancy.

Obviously, I am pro-choice but I am also apparently one of those you feel need to take responsibility because my first pregnancy was both unplanned and a complete surprise (pill + condom) which ended with my son dying after a month of intensive care. By your math, because in this ''birth control saturated society'', I am no brighter and am, in fact, just as ''stupid'' as the 16 year old. Months later, I was again pregnant after again practicing safe sex to a ridiculous degree KNOWING that any future children would meet the same end as our Jackson. The decision to not continue the pregnancy was taken from me when I mis-carried but there is no way in hell I would have continued that pregnancy knowing the end result would be another infected child, born only to suffer before succumbing as did his brother before him. To know that in your opinion my option had I not had a mis-carriage would be a wire hanger saddens me at a visceral level.

To which I respond, respectfully:

As a 35-year-old adult, I can reflect on myself as a 16-year-old with nearly 20 years of hindsight. At 16, at 18, at 21, and even now at 35, I was and continue to be a strong-willed individual with a solid beliefs system, not rigid and inflexible but resilient enough to be open-minded without fear of being easily swayed into complacency, compliance, and conformity. I equate that to "confidence of self" and it is part of what defines me as an individual. I knew then and continue to know now that the consequences of my silence, as I stated previously, would be far more grave than owning up to the reality of the current situation - not just physically but emotionally and spiritually. Anyone who does NOT know or understand this has been failed by those whose duty it was to teach them this and other invaluable life lessons.

Persuasion or not on the part of the boy's mother, some part of this girl WANTED that abortion, whether she acknowledges it or not - she may not even realize this and is likely having conflicting feelings about the pregnancy, the abortion, and every action and reaction occurring since - or she would not have gone to the lengths she did, seeking the forged consent and then using it. "Persuasion" was probably also a factor in her parents' actions against the other mother and yet one more set of circumstances this girl fell into and allowed herself to be swept away by.

I agree with you 100%, the woman who signed that form failed this girl in every way imaginable, but that was not what had me so pissed off at the time, and I stated as much. Although the girl was not her own daughter, this woman took on a modified role beyond that of "boyfriend's mother" the day her son impregnated the girl--and she had a responsibility not only to the girl but TO HER OWN SON to (as you perfectly worded it) "[encourage them] to explore all of [their] options." I also agree, sexual capabilities and intelligence have absolutely nothing to do with each other. In fact, I've witnessed situations where they were mutually exclusive: While working in an OB/GYN office, I encountered a 19-year-old patient in the midst of her 4th pregnancy who had no clue that sex caused her "condition," and obviously neither did her boyfriend - unless he did and was withholding that information from her, which to me is an act of malice.

No, having this woman in jail will solve nothing in the end. Judging by her actions, she seems the type of person willing to do anything to accomplish her own goals, no matter what the cost, an entirely selfish motivation and desire to manipulate others including her own child and another child under her care, and she will likely never change. She violated the law. She violated the children's trust. She violated the parent-child relationship within another family. She deserves more than just a year in jail, but unfortunately that is what she got. In no way was I defending her actions, because in reality I think she's even more stupid than the girl: She was manipulating people in order to satisfy her own needs and desires (the larger part of me seriously doubts her claim that it was in her son's interest so he could go to college, the case more likely being she wasn't "ready to be a grandma," while the girl was only manipulating people at the behest of her own parents).

As for the McCain discussion, I only pointed it out because of the literal terms it was presented on the message board: "If McCain does pass the law..." Too often I see the failings of the education system in action in general ignorance of how the government actually works. What you say is true about the Supreme Court and appointments of justices and the ramifications of their decisions for all of us--their interpretation of the "law" subjective based on their experiences, education, beliefs, and particularly politics, but that is just the icing on the cake in my argument that the law and lawmakers and lawyers need to be less consumptive of people's decision-making ability and less destructive of people's lives as a result.

I consider myself to be "pro-choice" as well, but I apply a different definition to this term than most do. By MY definition, pro-choice is not strictly tied to the abortion issue but in securing every individual's right to make their own choices, no matter what the topic of discussion. Each of us must make life-changing decisions and WE are the ones who must live with the consequences. Some faceless lawyer or panel of judges should never have the right to dictate those decisions to us, forcing us down a path of consequences we as individuals - not the judge - must live with, without having made that choice for ourselves. If I want to have an abortion or not, choose to vaccinate my children or not, send my children to a public school or not, wear my seat belt or not, smoke cigarettes or not, consume salt and grease and candy and caffeine or not - those decisions are mine to make and I am willing to live with the consequences, but they should not be made for me and I should not be forced to live with the costs when I had no part in choosing. In the ultimate decision-making process, we must each choose for ourselves:

Enter ye in by the narrow gate: for wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many be they that enter in thereby. --Matthew 7:13

No politician or judge can make that decision for me, and this is a driving power guiding me in every decision I must make; I don't need SCOTUS attempting to push me through what I believe is the wide gate, ya know?

Thank you for the link to Cecily's story. I did read through some of her posts and agree with some of her points but would also like to expand upon them with my own, colored with my own "pro-choice" standard, the most profound being this:

So it's easy to read my story and say, oh, yes, in case LIKE YOURS, abortion should be legal. But... when laws are passed that make it difficult for that teenage girl to get to exercise the right to control her own body--hey, I'm looking at you, Ms. Clinton, for not standing up harder against the parental notification laws--or for the professional woman to be able to fill a prescription, quietly, for RU486 at her local pharmacy so she can make her choice as well, or that harried mother to do the same thing--when those laws are passed, it's women like me that die. When you cut corners, you don't save babies lives. You kill women like me.

Let me say that again. When you compromise on abortion--when you sacrifice even the smallest corner of choice--you kill women like me. You create a culture of fear among doctors that puts lives like mine at risk.

There should be no abortion debate. There should be no compromise on abortion. There should be no concessions or sacrifices regarding choices and absolutely NEVER be a manipulation of the doctor-patient relationship by ANY branch of the government - from the legislature to the judicial system. A decision like this should be made strictly by a woman and her partner and her doctor. PERIOD.

While I do not generally agree with the practice of abortion (including "partial-birth abortion," which although is not medically classified as such - there is no CPT code for a procedure by that name - there is, in fact, a late-term abortion procedure to which this is referring, as Cecily stated in her post), I believe there are cases in which it is warranted - those "acceptable" cases, as she describes them. I have found myself exceptionally disgusted, seeing a young woman denied an abortion simply because she was a Medicaid recipient, refused while at their expense, yet the state was willing to provide for prenatal care and delivery and "heroic measures" made in an effort to save a severely deformed infant (who would be the recipient of intensive, aggressive, EXPENSIVE medical care FOR LIFE) as well as the mother, whose life was jeopardized by continuing the pregnancy and carrying to term, let alone trying to deliver - a cost of potentially hundreds of thousands of "taxpayer dollars" versus a couple of hundred and at immense emotional distress to the woman. For what reason? Policy. Dictated by politicians. Enforced by the courts. Consequences of which lived with by the patient. It's not a conversation I take lightly by any means, and the point I was trying to make was not at all about "somehow learning a lesson by continuing an unwanted or worse, deadly, pregnancy."

As for you and your situation, I must mention that I have been reading your blog for a while and am aware of your circumstances only insofar as you have chosen to share them with [us] me. I must at this point, as politely as I can, tell you that you have taken out of context my "responsibility versus birth control" argument and applied it to a completely different situation. Apples and oranges and all that. I stated, "She got knocked up. It happens." It DOES happen, and I think few would argue that point. However, I was not implying her stupidity factor as being related to her failure to use (or lack of efficacy of) birth control methods and her resultant pregnancy, but to her willingness to kowtow first to her boyfriend's mother in having the abortion and subsequent willingness to go along with bringing charges against her, claiming she was "coerced." Maybe she was and maybe she wasn't forced (she was definitely poorly counseled, as you pointed out). I don't know, I wasn't there; but again, a part of this girl must have wanted the abortion or she would not have done it, nor would she have gone to the lengths she did to have it done in the first place, then aggravating the situation by casting blame elsewhere. AGAIN, maybe she didn't understand her feelings and desire to terminate her pregnancy and didn't know how to deal with the emotions that followed. The point is, she is stupid in that she seems to lack ability to think for herself, doing what everyone else tells her to do.

You, Shannon, are nothing like this girl. "By [my] math," you were exercising birth control and got pregnant. It happens. No method of birth control (other than abstinence) is 100% effective. You were being responsible in your actions to try to prevent pregnancy, yet when it happened you stepped up and accepted it, courageously by what I gather, so there is no correlation between you and this girl whatsoever. With your next pregnancy, you continued to act responsibly, prior to, during, and after the fact. You were faced with a decision that I honestly cannot say how I myself would have reacted, but I understand and respect your (as a mother, I will say NEED) need, wanting to spare your baby the same fate as his brother. I applaud your ability to do this in a capacity that seems (to me) compassionate and caring and MOTHERLY. There is no way stupidity would enter into a reckoning of you and your actions - EVER - and nowhere in my reading of what you have posted have I ever gleaned any inkling that you laid the blame for your situation at anyone else's doorstep.

Finally, as to the wire hanger, I feel you have misconstrued (due to my lack of clarification) my objection to the original comment in this regard. First, I was appalled that someone would believe that women would need to "resort" to anything, particularly something as vile as a coat-hanger abortion (as a result of a decision forced upon them by bureaucrats who have no one's welfare in mind besides their own) when there ARE other options available, even in the event that abortion were illegal, if one is resourceful enough to seek them out. With that in mind, if a woman is ignorant enough to "resort" (I hate the context in which that was used, and I generally just don't like that word anyhow, it implies weakness) to just lying down and accepting mandates from the dictators, without seeking other alternatives or just standing up for her right to be a cognizant human being, then she gets what she deserves. I know it's harsh, it's cynical, it's probably even an ugly way to think, but if we don't stand up for our own rights, who will do it for us? Where we have allowed ourselves to be led as a society saddens ME on a visceral level.

Thank you, Shannon, for inspiring me to think deeper on this subject, for your comment, and above all for your willingness to challenge my opinions and thereby giving me a chance to grow in my beliefs.

Oh, Look - Another Buzzard Circling

Some of the stories in the news lately have had me craning my head toward the sky, seeking the source of the shadow swooping 'round and 'round over the carcass of the once-great late United States of America.

More often than not, the base depravity of the so-called "human beings" occupying the cozy chunk of real estate on the third rock from the sun is made even more glaringly obvious by those whose actions are invoked in hundreds of news articles circulated around the globe. Reflection on what they have done to warrant their 2-inch column (or equivalent) in the multitude of news services, coupled with acknowledgment that these. . . piles of walking, talking feces. . . biologically spring from the same genetic material as me, curdles my soul and makes me wish I were a cockroach rather than a human. They make me realize that we, as a society, are little better than termites burrowing into the unprotected foundations of our own "humanity."

It's only a matter of time before the exterminator shows up.

Man Shot Dead While Stomping Toddler to Death
This human stain deserved not a quick death via bullet to the brain but a mad and frenzied stomping into a mass of flesh incapable of being identified visually - by the very police officers and the crowd forced to witness the brutal slaying of a baby that certainly did not ask to be born to such a pile of shit. He deserved to get back exactly what he gave out. On one hand, I applaud the officer who had the courage to end this monstrosity's rampage and snub out any future attempts he might have made on subverting civilization, knowing that had he gone to trial he would have claimed "mental illness" and gotten off with a slap on the wrist. On the other hand, though, part of me wishes the crowd had done exactly that right back to him, said officer looking the other way and whistling as someone hosed his brains off the concrete the next day.

Mother and Girlfriend Torture 5-year-old Boy
This is yet another FINE example of the walking, talking piles of feces walking the planet, a true piece of shit who chose to spread her legs and breed without consideration of what kind of responsibilities parenting might entail - besides cruising to the bank to cash the welfare check. This bitch needs to be burned with cigarettes all over her body, including her genitals, and have her hands held onto a hot stove until her fingers curl into useless lumps of flesh and then be suspended from a doorway, leaving her there to ultimately suffocate much like those crucified in Biblical times.

Trip Chaperone Sued in Student's Death
This one just pisses me off on general principal. We're that fucking sue-happy in this country, that the parents of an 18-YEAR-OLD GIRL sue and WIN a nearly $700,000 judgment against another parent because their daughter - their 18-YEAR-OLD ADULT-AGE DAUGHTER (who gives a shit she was still in high school, she was NOT a minor, not a child, and therefore under the law responsible for her own actions) - whom they obviously did not teach proper life lessons to, including PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY AND ACCOUNTABILITY - became drunk and fell off a balcony to her death? I'm sad that the girl died, but I'm SICKENED by the fact that her parents successfully sued someone who took their child in good faith to a function at which the "child" refused to abide by the rules, and who gets punished? Not the perpetrator. Not the parents whose parenting skills are dubious at best.

No, it doesn't work that way in America, does it? We're not responsible for our own actions, someone else is responsible for them. Only thing is, how long until the other shoe drops and we have to suck it up (or take a backhoe through the sphincter) when the tables are turned?

Stupid People and Abortion

I can't help myself from going over to the ABC News website and particularly the comments sections of controversial articles, even after the last bout of stupidity shown by some of the members (not to mention the moderator or whoever it is that manipulates.... I mean, MANAGES these posts).

Not long ago I felt guilty, of what I'm not exactly sure, but kind of like I was rubbernecking at a fatal car wreck. Now I realize that I am witnessing not an automobile collision but bona fide train wreck: The United States of America. More on that later.

So, I'm reading this article about a woman who forged a consent form for his son's 16-year-old girlfriend to get an abortion and was sentenced to a year, but what she did in and of itself is not what got me on my soapbox tonight. I could really give a shit less that she did something so ignorant (I do think it took one HUGE set of balls - if there's one lesson we should have learned from so many of our Congressional and Presidential leaders over the past few decades, it would have to be NEVER PUT IT IN WRITING!) or even that she violated the parent-child relationship of another family.

No, what bothers me is this:

• The woman did NOT accompany the girl to the clinic to have the abortion, merely (illegally) signed a statement that she was the girl's mother and knew the girl was having it done. Interestingly, though, she has been accused of "coercing" the girl into having the abortion done against her will. Mysteriously, I find no mention of her forcibly dragging the girl to the clinic and, in fact, was proven by evidence at trial not to have even been present.
  
• The girl is being presented as terribly aggrieved, coerced into doing something she did not want to do. If she didn't want the abortion, why did she go, especially considering the fact that the one "coercing" her was not even there to make sure it was done? If she didn't want the abortion, why did she go so far as to obtain an illegal consent from her boyfriend's mother? If she didn't want the abortion, why didn't she tell her parents she was pregnant and being forced to do something that is just OBVIOUSLY so against her moral fiber BEFORE having it done, when it could have made a difference, instead of waiting to tell them a month after the fact?

Then, of course, we get to my favorite part: The comments board. I think I find it so fascinating because where else in the world will you find such blatant stupidity intermixed with interesting little nuggets of wisdom. Part of me, though, still finds it shocking that this stupidity is so proudly offered up in black and white, for the entire world to see. This one in particular, though, was by far my favorite:

I do not know how the mother of the daughter played a role in this, but there are many daughters who feel they cannot speak to their own parents especially on situations like this. I believe if a girl is old enough to have sex she is old enough to make her own decisions. All teenagers make mistakes so I am 100% pro-choice, and the girl would not have had a great oppurtinity to really explore her life. Teenager mothers are more likely to drop out of high school and not complete college. The settlers came to America for freedom so why should our government oppress women like this. If McCain does pass the law where abortion is illegial women will resort back to using clothes hangers and could more then likely bleed to death. I am proud of this mother for doing this, and she has given the young girl a chance to live her life.

She got knocked up. It happens. It's not like our society's not SATURATED with information about birth control (argued on the message boards because it's not 100% effective, even though they persist in "forgetting" that there is, in fact, one form of birth control that is 100% effective: Abstinence. Don't spread your legs, don't stick your member where it doesn't need to be, and you won't get pregnant - 100 PERCENT OF THE TIME. Just like the premise "ignorance of the law is no excuse," ignorance and/or failing to educate yourself (or your children) about the consequences of their actions is no excuse. Have sex = Get pregnant (or diseased, again, a story for another time). My position: This girl is just plain stupid, and she tried to cover her stupidity (proof she's a politician-in-waiting) with more stupidity and assigning the blame to someone else.

As for not wanting to talk to her parents, if *I* were being forced into doing something like this and I didn't want it, short of hog-tying and gagging me, throwing me in a lake with a cement block attached to my leg, you can bet your ass I'd be crowing from every rooftop, knowing the consequences for my silence would be far worse than those of what got me there in the first place.

How can someone be 100% Pro-Choice just because "all teenagers make mistakes"? What the FUCK does that have to do with not accepting responsibility for your actions and dealing with your guilt in a manner that does little more than punish a third party for your choices? This woman sitting in jail will NOT alleviate the girl's guilt feelings and now, by her own and her parent's actions, she has probably lost the support of her boyfriend - the father of the baby - who will have his own grief issues at the loss of his child, compounded by the betrayal by his girlfriend. Allowing teenagers to have an abortion because they "made a mistake" does not instill in them a sense of responsibility. It only opens the door to a lifelong commitment to lack of personal responsibility. "I fucked up, I want a do-over." Since when does "REAL" life allow do-overs?

"The settlers came to America for freedom so why should our government oppress women like this." Where the hell did that come from? How is the government oppressing women like "this"? Like what? Why should the Nazifems oppress MEN like this, "this" being stripping from the man, without whom that child and hence the woman's "right" to choose would never have existed, any "right" to have a say in what happens to HIS child?

Finally, my favoritest part of all, "If McCain does pass the law where abortion is illegial women will resort back to using clothes hangers and could more then likely bleed to death." First of all, McCain can't "pass" any law without it having first been approved by the Congress and presented to him to pass it. Why are so many people SO FUCKING STUPID when it comes to the workings of the government? Why are so people SO FUCKING STUPID that they need to start looking for a scapegoat before there's anything concrete to hang on the goat's head before sending him off into the wilderness? Why are people SO FUCKING STUPID that they feel they can't accept responsibility for their choices and actions that they will have to "resort" to anything?

If women can't accept responsibility for their actions and decisions and use good judgement, I say LET them "resort back to using clothes hangers." Let them bleed to death. It's just one less stupid, useless person consuming valuable oxygen.

I Always Knew..... (Part II)

One of my spewings on another journal:

When I grow up, I'm going to be a doctor, and I'm going to take only cases of people written off as hypochondriacs, nutcases, or malingerers. I'm going to stir vigorously to see if that's really fruit lurking at the bottom of the yogurt cup. . . or a rat turd in disguise. I'll start by taking every minute detail of their histories, right down to the last sniffle, cough and wheeze, when and where and how and with whom they've inserted their various appendages or vice versa, and every medication (or miscellaneous object) ever stuffed into an orifice (or other route of entry). Then I'm going to think. . . . A lot. . . . I might even draw a flow chart, since I think they're cool. On a dry-erase board. With a lot of colored markers. I'll get to the root of the issue and find out if they really are whack jobs, hacks, or - GOOD GRIEF, HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN??? - someone who is actually sick but no one listens to because they're too busy looking at the hand extended for copayment.

I have a few theories about certain aspects of "modern medicine":

1. Many people in the profession don't have the balls to find and then present proof that someone is malingering, for fear of being sued. I, on the other hand, have HUGE balls, (metaphorically speaking). They are brass and I polish them regularly. I say, "Bring it on," knowing I will eventually drop their house of cards. Yes, it's a lot of work, but worth it in the end because it gives credence to and protects those who truly do suffer from whatever malady these boneheads have cooked up and pretend to have. Malingering is near the top of my list of evils perpetrated against society.

2. (This one makes a lot of people furious, but I can't help it, it's my opinion and mine alone and I don't ask you to share it, just respect me enough to listen to it, for mine eyes have seen WAY too much.) It is my position that 97% of so-called "mental illness" isn't illness at all and should NOT be treated as such. If it ain't organic (i.e., structural damage caused by defect or trauma, measurable biochemical response, etc.), then it ain't mental illness. There's an epidemic of "mental illness" in this country, with >25% of the adult US population diagnosed as mentally ill. People need to quit popping the psychocandy into their faces because all they're doing is altering their brains and intentionally creating that "biochemical response." The difference between illicit drugs (LSD, Ecstasy, meth) and legal psychiatric meds (including those shoveled into kids by the wheelbarrow for ADHD) is the method of production/packaging and who's pockets are being lined. They elicit virtually identical chemical responses in the brain, but Big Pharma's not getting their cut when dealers sell it cheaper.

3. Each person knows his or her own body better than anyone else ever could. After all, they're inside it every day and the best the rest of us can do is LOOK at it, maybe touch it. If it's not something obvious like a 12-inch gaping laceration or a gangrenous toe, we could miss it. If a person truly believes something is wrong, they're worth listening to.

This is the history of my favorite "hypothetical patient" (me) and analysis by my favorite "hypothetical medical practitioner" (also me, sans license and all) along with (paraphrased) responses from "actual hypothetical doctors."

1988: Epstein-Barr infection.

1990: "Idiopathic seizure disorder," petit mal seizures disappearing after a few months.

1992: Broadside auto accident with "minor trauma" to C-spine cord.

1994: Rollover auto accident with "minor trauma" to C-spine cord.

1995: Pernicious anemia after 5+ years of fatigue and sleeping spells diagnosed as everything from narcolepsy to CFS to stress of parenthood, begun on vitamin B12 injections (gradually going from working on a farm to being confined to a desk due to weakness and fatigue).

2002: "Idiopathic seizure disorder" revisited, grand mal seizures with alarming frequency and resistant to treatment but subsiding about a year later and not returning.

2003: Minor right arm and leg weakness pretty much ignored by everyone (myself included), felt related to C-spine.

2004: Progressively worsening but mostly irritating rather than havoc-wreaking right arm and leg weakness, MRI of the neck showing herniated disk and syringomyelia.

After that, it's all downhill. . .

August 2006: Sudden profound right arm and bilateral leg weakness, migrating to respiratory and facial muscles with lethargy, slurred speech, dysphagia, difficulty breathing, incontinence, spasticity, and immobility. Internist: "It's all in your head. You work too much, you have too much stress, and this job is giving you medical school-itis. Here's the name of a psychiatrist." "Are you listening? I want a neurologist, not a psychiatrist." "There's no indication for that." "That's nice, make the appointment anyhow."

November 2006: Neurologist: "Your brain MRI is clear. It's probably the syrinx. Here's the name of a neurosurgeon. Maybe it needs to be drained."

January 2007: Neurosurgeon: "You're faking. I can't help you. Go back to your doctor."

March 2007: "Look, I know there's something serious going on here and I need answers. I'm getting worse by the day and my kids feel like they're watching me die. I KNOW it's MS and I feel like I'm running in circles." Neurologist: "I doubt it's MS, since your MRI was clear. It could be muscular dystrophy or fibromyalgia. We'll do an EMG and send you to Cleveland Clinic."

June 2007: C.C. Specialist: "It's not muscular dystrophy. I suspect myasthenia gravis. Let's run some blood work and I want another MRI of your head and neck, and then you can follow up with your regular neurologist. She'll send you back here if needed."

July 2007: Sudden complete loss of vision in right eye. "It's optic neuritis. I've been telling doctor after doctor for months and months I believe it's MS but no one listens, and this is a cardinal sign." ER doctor: "Your CAT scan doesn't show anything acute and I don't see a reason on physical exam for your visual loss." "CT, especially without contrast, is not sensitive enough to pick up an MS plaque unless it's pretty damned BIG, so I don't know why you wasted my time doing it when you should have done an MRI. You're an asshole." "I'm sorry you feel that way, but as you know, I'm not a neurologist OR an ophthalmologist." Neurologist: "We'll get another MRI." "Fine, but I've also scheduled an appointment with an ophthalmologist on my own." "Good. Ask him to send me a report, and I'll give him a call." Ophthalmologist: "I see blurred disk margins on the right, which fits optic neuritis, and your latest MRI does show plaques consistent with demyelination, so you're probably right about the MS."

August 2007: Neurologist: "Yes, your MRI now shows plaques and when we compare your current study with the prior one, we can make out where some of these larger lesions were just beginning, but we need to run additional studies to confirm, visual evoked potentials and a lumbar puncture, before we can start you on medications."

November 2007: Neurologist: "Your lumbar puncture and VEP results were consistent with MS, so we can begin treatment."

My ON occurred in July with positive MRI findings but I was not given a "formal" diagnosis until November. I was denied any form of treatment those 5 months including for the acute episode and my symptoms continued to progress, relentlessly and more rapidly. I had no "remission." I had no "plateau." I had no "reversion to normal or near-normal function." I now live with permanent visual loss and hemiplegia. Had I been treated with a preventive such as Copaxone when I first suspected MS 16 months earlier, might some of my function and quality of life have been preserved? I believe it to be so. It seems wrong to force a patient to suffer "x" number of episodes or exhibit "x" number of lesions before allowing treatment. What about the 5% with MS who have a normal MRI scan? Do they just suck it up and live with the knowledge that they face possible permanent loss of function before they can get the treatment they need to try to slow their disease?

This is one of the things that turned me into an asshole: Knowing I had MS, told I was faking, written off as a psych case, ignored by those sworn to "first do no harm" yet led me to worsened disability by inaction. My nightmare is in the fact that it has happened before, diagnosed with pernicious anemia with critical levels but initially denied the therapy that ultimately saved my life because "we need to do more tests," leaving me with permanent CNS damage including neuropathy, possibly the seizure disorder, potentially even the MS that has claimed a portion of my life.

Over the course of 16 months, I deteriorated from an active mother of 6 working 120 hours a week to a bedridden lump. Other stressors heaped upon me during this time in a deliberate attempt to put me in a hole covered with 6 feet of dirt, by someone wanting to step into and take over the life I'd built for myself and my family, had me on the brink of emotional, spiritual, and physical collapse. Higher forces reached out and brought me back from the edge of that abyss, but I was drained and struggled through the next several months before finally being placed on Provigil, which has breathed new life into me and given me the strength to fight and win the battle against evil trying to destroy me. Again, why did I have to wait so long to get the medication I so desperately needed many months before? I have aspirations of becoming a physician assistant, and I will do everything I can to advocate for the best interests of my patients.

In the meantime, I read. Diseases like this were made for people like me, because we don't just lie down and accept it. I read everything I can and I think. I think about whether there is a correlation between some other event in my history, things that could have predisposed me to or triggered my eventual slide into MS. I've seen information about possible links between EBV and MS; for years my symptoms were routinely dismissed as "reactivation mono" when they could have, in fact, been early progression into MS. I've read about MS'ers often suffering from vitamin B deficiencies and wonder if mine is a factor (besides B12, I have B6 recently discovered). Could the trauma to my spinal cord that led to my syrinx also have triggered the development of lesions, spurring my immune system to attack?

I wonder.

I wonder.

I wonder.

I am seeking the answer, and I know that someday I will find it.