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It is I, he said, though not a Harvard man

Like so many others, I have ported over to Dreamwidth, still as [personal profile] drpaisley. Everything has transferred over, the lj version will soon be scattered, smothered, and covered, and I look forward to maybe even posting some. Where have oui* heard that before?

Anyways, here I is. Where's the party?

*Editorial frog ftw!


I Heard the News Today

Return with me now to those turgid days of yesteryear, August 1, 2005, to be exact. Rohanna, Dragonet and I, along with a couple of friends had travelled to the UK for the Worldcon, which was held in Glasgow that year. We had spent a wonderful week in London and Dublin, but it was time to head north, to Glasgow, and Gloryyyyyyyy! Or something like it.

We had reserved two black cabs to take us and all the bid crap (and my clothes) to the train station. I was riding in the front seat with our driver, checking out the sights, when the radio came on, telling another driver to proceed to "Number 3, Abbey Road," which got my attention. That was one of the places I wanted to see(1) whilst in London, but time and life and other commitments(2) kept that from happening.

We continuted along, and were just entering a roundabout(3) when the radio crackled again. The voice queried the other driver, "You don't know who Sir George Martin is? I thought you were an educated man!"

Our driver and I locked eyes, then proceeded to laugh our asses off. I suppose I should have been concerned that he was howling away whilst negotiationg a morning rush hour, but it all worked out.

And now, Sir George Martin is dead at 90. He was, though I didn't know it at the time, one of the most important influences on my childhood self. He was instrumental (both figuratively, and occasionally, actually, literally) in the musical development and growth of the Beatles, and thus to mine as well. I had the good fortune to come to musical awareness right at the beginning of the first British Invasion, and the Beatles took over my brain, followed by so many others.

So thank you, Sir George. You helped change the world, for the better.

(1) For values of "see" that included recreating the cover to *Abbey Road* in multiple exposures, including McCartney flat on the ground, with tire tracks up and down his back, because Paul Is Dead.

(2) But the trip to Oxford that Friday was *totally* worth it

(3) Yes!

It was 26 years ago today

A brand new record, for 1990...

And the world was never the same again.

I have been remiss

So here are the two greatest Chirstmas songs ever.

And the best, always. This year with the Miracle of Teeth!

Happy MacGowanmas to all, and to all, a good night.

Did you think I'd forget?

Neighbor, please!

End of the Doom™

On Saturday, NPulsifer hosted a wake for the Toe of Doom 2™. Beth, Barry, and Tanya came up with a wonderful menu (taquitoes, potatoe chips, proscuittoe, pigs in blankets, etc) and much fun was had.

Yesterday was The Toe's date with destiny, or something that smelled like it, at least.

I live-tweeted the procedure, and the saga is collected here.

There are pictures, but nothing graphic.

As of this morning, the half-toe is feeling fine. No particular pain so far.

Doomy Friday

After three days of infusing, Toe of Doom™ II: This Time It's Tarsal looks much, much better. Better than it has in quite a while. It feels better than James Brown. How do you feel? I am still assuming that the Toecapitation will happen, but that 5% chance of it not being done the podiatrist gave me is still in play.

As for work, I talked to the boss about the holiday schedule, and barring a sudden influx of work, my last day will the the 24th, leaving four days to obsess about this and post crap here, there, and everywhere about it. This is far less of an issue than the triple bypass, but for that I had very little time to think about it (and I think they were slipping me some happy juice while I was in CICU all weekend). So this is how I deal with it, by overloading you, my tens of followers, with my thoughts, such as they are.

But it is the holiday season, and to kick off the countdown of the greatest songs of the Xmahannukwanzule, here is a classic.

Today in Doom

The PICC line has been inserted, and antibioticals have been infused into my body. I didn't get the once a day pressurized bulb from last time, because it's much more expensive. Instead I have to run a syringe of saline through the line, then a syringe of antibiotics (Ancef, the label says), which has to be slowly injected over a five minute period (much better than the 15-20 minute requirement which has only recently been changed, according to my infusion nurse), then another saline, then heparin, three times a day, at least 7 hours apart.

I left the facility with a big bag o' drugs, and after some failed attempts at Xmas shopping, I got home, and went to put everything into the fridge, when I discovered I had been given a double set of heparin, but no saline. I have a call in to the nurse. I expect it will be dealt with tomorrow.

And then Dragonet texts me to say our insurance co has been trying to get a hold of me, and gives me a number and a PIN. I call, full of trepidation, to discover it's a fucking survey. Good timing, after you've spent several days telling me I can't have the treatment my doctor says I need.

So, off to bed, and work in the morning. Toe of Doom™ II is doing pretty well, though not undergoing a miracle cure. Yet.
And the rollercoaster ride continues. I was all ready to get the PICC line installed this morning, but yesterday at 4.30p my contact for that called to say the insurance drones (yo, actual death panels, motherfuckers!) had denied it. No reason, but the one that immediately sprang to mind was that I had blown out my deductibles already this year, and they wanted their tithe.

So this morning I called my podiatrist's office to have them re-up the amoxycillin scrip, so I had something fighting the (not Scott) Staph infection until the Toecapitation. Then, about 2p, I got a call from my contact saying that the UnHumanans had decided I could have the PICC line after all. But not the preferred antibiotic to go in it, which is dispensed once a day. Noooooo, I have to do this three times a day, which means one infusion at work for this week and next.

In any event, I will be heading out to Lee's Summit tomorrow to get a tube run up my arm so liquid antibiotics can be dumped directly in my bloodstream on a thrice-daily basis. I do love the future. Insurance companies can die in a fire. Onward.

Well Of Course

So that PICC line I was supposed to get tomorrow? Not happening. Denied by the insurance company. No reason given, just "uh-uh, nope, no way." I will spend most of my pre-work morning trying to get the info so I can appeal, but I have little hope of that doing any good.

Next step is to get an MRI approved, to make sure the infection is only in the first joint of Toe of Doom™ II. Who knows if that will fly. Also going to make sure the podiatrist has gotten clearance for the Toecapitation.

As far as I can tell, this is happening because I blew through all my deductibles already this year, and they want this put off until after the 1st so they can get some cash out of me. Well, joke's on them, I won't have any cash!

On the plus side, I did see the podiatrist today, and he said TOD II looks much better than it did a week ago, but he's still planning on surgery. Who the fuck knows what will happe, and when?

I really should have had this blow up in Toronto; at least it would have been dealt with without all the bullshit.


siegfried attacks!

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