Objects in Motion

We're not in such a great place right now. Okay, a pretty bad place. Husband has lost his job, which means no money, no insurance -- well, you get the idea. Without insurance, my meds alone are 1200 a month. He's diabetic, which means he needs meds too. Which he's ignoring, but I'm used to that.

He COBRA'd my insurance so I'd have it through July, which actually enabled some real progress to finally be made with my last neurologist visit.

Bad News: Add Occipital Neuralgia to my list of Things Wrong With Pooka

Good News: It earned me a trip to (wait for it) ... A PAIN CLINIC!

My appointment at the pain clinic is this Thursday for a nerve block on my occiptal nerve, which -should-, theoretically, take care of the worst of the break-through and OMFGSBJ Can I Die? headaches.

I'm supposed to be there several hours. I already got the phone call, with the "no food after 8:30, clear liquids only" orders. So I know it's not just a background and history visit. People trying to HELP me. Whodda thunk it?

So it's going to be two days late to be a 'real' birthday present for me, but who counts when it's a GOOD present, right?

Pain relief. Better than freakin diamonds, as far as I'm concerned. Oh, who am I kidding, I don't really like diamonds anyway. Better than a new 260 gb hard drive and a 21" flatscreen monitor. Yeah, now THAT works!

Yep. I'm turning 38 tomorrow.

No fretting over aging at this point, I mean, I'm already poking 40 with a short stick, and my body is going about its unnatural business and aging faster than my years spent breathing anyway. Maybe it's a flux in quantum mechanics, or my body is going by "mileage" instead of "years". I suppose that would quantify out why my body is definitely trying to push the 65+ range instead of a nice perfectly normal 38.

So, the List:

--Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy/Complex Regional Pain Syndome (RSD/CRPS)
--Fibromyalgia (which I argue with after the new findings)
--Thoracic Outlet Syndrome (same argument, just symptoms misread)
--Osteoarthritis
--Arnold Chiari Malformation I
--Cervical Spinal Stenosis
--Peripheral Neuropathy
--Occipital Neuralgia


Quite a doozy to look at, huh? And of course, I'm already wearing bifocals, which I knew I needed, but never realized how much till I had them, and suddenly I could read things again without doing the "find the right distance" dance.

The List sort of destroys the whole "aging gracefully" concept. There's very little graceful about me anymore. I stay bruised from stumbling, bouncing into things, and half the time not even feeling the impacts that leave the marks.

About the only part that IS aging gracefully is my face. Which is weird, since that's one of the places that usually shows signs first. But no, you can look at my hands and tell, but I am surprisingly free of most wrinkles and lines on my face. Granted, my face is now so gaunt that there's not much to help make wrinkles visible, but trust me, I've LOOKED for them, and I really don't have the things.

I guess you take what you got, and that has to be good enough.

Bored = Teh Bad?

Oh dear.

When I get bored, I get weird. When I get weird, I get creative. And then things just go downhill.

I did ... things ... to my hair.

Um. "Newly spilt blood" is sort of close to the colour, but doesn't quite cover it. Dark raspberry, maybe?

Hell, I don't know.



Happy?

It's a bit more orange than that, I just couldn't get the lighting to capture the full ... bizarreness of this colour. Odd that now I match my journal, which in some way I find remotely disturbing.

And yes, yes, that nose and those cheekbones CAN cut glass, so shut it.

Maxwell's Silver Hammer

Well ... no surgery for now. The Chiari hasn't changed in size, thus, no surgery. Okay, fine.

It gets better.

C4-C5 disc is ... uncooperative. Bulging, was the word used. Cervical Spinal Stenosis, for accuracy. "Avoid car wrecks and whiplash and you should be fine." Hah.

(Teri's comment was "...and you told them to avoid attempts at humor?")

There are lesions on my brain. I have RSD, which is degerative. I have a cervical disc hating on me. I have Chiari --- AND YET MY @#$#*& NEUROLOGIST CAN'T FIGURE OUT WHY I HAVE HAD A HEADACHE FOR 300 DAYS!

(Teri's addition: "Because your neurologist has never had a headache? and is a borderine moron?" I love her.)

He tells me it's just migraines -- cept, migraine drugs don't help. He tells me the Chiari isn't bad enough for all the symptoms -- cept, every Chiari patient and everyone on my Chiari list says that at ANY point it's enough to SHOW on an MRI, it's enough to be a problem.

Though his confusion boggles me after looking at the patient receipt with the ICD-9 codes and diagnoses on it. Compression of the brain. Cervical Spinal Stenosis. RSD. And yet he's confused. Uh huh.

Today, he decided to go for a dual attack -- an anti-depressant that also is used to treat headaches and neurological pain, particularly the peripheral neuropathy I have -bad-. And you know what?

AFTER 300 DAYS OF HEADACHE, DAMN STRAIGHT I'M DEPRESSED!

"Okay. I'm lost, I'm angry ... and I'm armed."

Yeah, I took the drugs.

I wonder what my GP has for rising homicidal mania.

Jude the Obscure

Ren ci de shang di, xing dai wo zou.
Wo xiang mei er, mei xin, biar shi tou.



(Loose English Translation: "Merciful God, please take me away. I will close my ears and my heart and I will be a stone.")

... You can tune a piano ....

So, interesting.

I just heard Jethro Tull's "Bouree" coming from Thing 1's bedroom. Shiny. Good taste, that kid ... wait.

There's no other background music. Just the flute.

And then it hits me.

It's Thing 1.

I check. Sure enough, it's Thing 1, doing a reasonable enough Ian Anderson impression that from this distance, I didn't know it wasn't Tull at first.

She doesn't have the music. She's playing by ear.

Damn.

Oh, my lovely Hobbit lass, I wish you were closer to give her more music lessons.

Brain Drain

My neuro appointment was this morning.

I got the call an hour ago that they had already contacted insurance, and the MRI was approved.

Just got the phone call to set up my appointment.

It's Wednesday. Like, as in the 7th Wednesday.

Efficiency in action -- is this even legal?

Wow.

EDIT: No, it's NOT legal, apparently. You see, AETNA (refer to previous Asshat posts) won't pay for "two area" MRIs in a single day. They'll be doing both brain and cervical to check for SM as well as the Chiari.

So, Wednesday AND Thursday. Two fun days of MRI machines.

At least they managed to work it so we only have a single copay for it, but DAMN.

Is it dead yet?

Well, I sure feel it.

The Chiari is kicking my ass with a vengeance. For a while, the meds the neuro gave me helped, but I can't even walk across the room without stumbling into things. My coordination is just gone. Visual disturbances totally blow goats for quarters, whether it's a sudden lack of depth perception, or halos, or an inability to focus at all. Memory? Forget it, I can't recall even simple things that I've known for years. I get frustrated over feeling so stupid.

And the headaches, oh god, the headaches. I've spent since last Thursday night crying. Drove DG crazy all weekend, because I was just hopeless. When I woke up crying today after only getting about 4 hours sleep, DG had enough.

Saw my GP today, filled her in a little more. Nice happy shot of Toradol to the way too scrawny ass cheek (mercifully, my sobbing at her during moments where I couldn't remember stuff distracted her from my weight -- yes, I've lost MORE weight, but that happens when the drugs stop working), and suddenly, I can move my neck again. It was a start.

Unlike my neuro, my lovely GP believes in pain meds. If you are in pain, you don't rest, you stress, pain gets worse. Some relief, and you can heal, or at least function. I have drugs. Life is improving already, just from the Toradol. Gotta bloody remind myself to just give in and stop being so stubborn and hit the ER for a Toradol and dialudid shot BEFORE it reaches the pain point that it did today.

Of course, as usual, gotta fight with insurance over them not wanting to pay for a med. GIVE ME MY DAMN ZYRTEC, YOU FREAKS. Stupid AETNA. I wanna BREATHE, people. Anyway.

I also see the neuro Friday.

At that point, we'll set up my next MRI, which will -hopefully- indicate the Chiari is bad enough for me to have my skull carved on as a birthday present. Ghoulish me, yes, I know, but frankly, getting the decompression surgery around my birthday WOULD be a present. I might finally see some real relief here.

I'm going to attempt to try to keep up a bit more here, it's just not always easy. Words are no longer my friend, they like taunting me from a distance. I will however, make sure I update when I know about the MRI, and the results, and if they're going to carve on my skull or not.

They damn well better. I can't handle another 6 months of this.

If it weren't for bad luck....

Well ... no surgery -- YET. Yet being the important phrase.

Adult Chiari Malformation, and five scattered lesions. Uncertain if the lesions are helping cause the pain, or are damage FROM the pain.

Adult Arnold Chiari I Malformation Fabulous link, pretty much explains -all- of the problems I've been having. I'm textbook on it.

The bizarre thing is, the Chiari was NOT on my last MRI. So it's growing.

Right now, the risks of surgery are greater than the risks of leaving it alone.

I get another MRI in 6 months or so, to check on the size, and see if surgical correction is required. In the meantime, a whole slew of new meds, including blood pressure (and the Chiari explains why my BP has gotten weird) medication to try to keep the worst of it down, and new anti-inflammatories specifically to help with this sort of thing.

Bleh.

Updates or Something

All right, an update before we head out to hell Houston tomorrow.

Since late August, I've been having debilitating headaches. Puking, passing out, blurred vision, massive pain. Brain spikes on top of the constant 24/7 pain, those are the worst. Gone through so much hydrocodone, I may as well buy stock.

AETNA, the usual asshats, fought and denied against helping me. My neurologist finally got an MRI scheduled, they pissed around, but I finally got the MRI. Say hello to my last several months of life, unable to function or think.

So I call, but the neuro is out of town this week. Perky bright happy chick at the desk knows me well, though, so she checked my chart for me, and said that if the results were normal, she could at least tell me that much.

When she came back, she was nervous and stammering and told me I had to wait for my appointment. That's Tuesday. I called THIS Tuesday. That's me waiting a week for answers.

The MRI found something wrong inside my brain. Part of me is relieved that something was actually found. I know it's not life-threatening, at least not immediately, or I'd already be in the hospital with him out of town.

All but collapsed while Christmas shopping yesterday afternoon as a brain spike hit. Bad one. I'm sprawled in the middle of the store floor, trying not to puke or pass out. It finally fades enough for me to be functional, but of course the regular pain remains.

About midnight last night, the spike returned -- and didn't go away. I don't know how many times I puked, the pain was unbearable, all I did was sit and cry and whimper. DG finally took me to the ER.

NINE FUCKING HOURS in the ER. CT scan, a spinal tap (note: OW), failed IV attempts and a hand all swollen and black. But mercifully, they took the pain seriously. Hellooooo Morphine!

Spinal tap was normal. CT was normal. Whatever is wrong with me only shows up on the MRI.

.... waiting games. I hate them.

So, this is my life right now. Hurry up and wait, while crying from constant pain.

How the hell are you guys doing? *whimper*

Not dead but tryin

So. About two weeks ago, I got stung by a wasp on my foot. I'm allergic. This was PAIN in new ways. I thought I'd been stung by a scorpion at first. Bees don't hurt like this. Fire ants don't hurt like this. The European Paper Wasp is a cast iron BITCH of firey death and destruction. It felt like someone had put a cigarette out on my foot. Luckily, it was a single sting on top of my foot, and I got ice on it and benedryl in me fast, but I was miserable for days.

In the middle of that recovery, with my system already weakened, I went on a rabid cleaning spree of my bedroom, the full dusting/vaccuming/bagging/sorting/washing chaos associated spring cleaning or massive nesting. Without a dust mask. Having four cats.

Cough.

Cue massive sinus infection. I'm still recovering, it's been about a week. Although, it seems as though nature used it to help me make up for the last six months without decent sleep. I've spent the last week in a near-coma, doing little more than sleeping. And of course, the ragweed count has been topping the charts for the last few days, which isn't helping.

Rita is coming.

My parents, who have stayed through every single hurricane since they moved into that house 40 years ago, have bugged out. They got my grandparents out, up to Wylie at my aunt's, which makes perfect sense. They aren't in good shape, and MUST have electricity, and besides, just wussy Allison flooded their place.

But even my baby sister, who hiked across Europe alone, has bugged out. As I said before, Houston is a swamp, and has every intention of returning to that state with even non-hurricane heavy rainfall.

Mercifully, they aren't coming here, or -I- would have bugged out. So we do have some emergency crash space, but no room for pets brought in, considering Zamboni doesn't take strange animals well and tries to eat them, and I don't think our short little gate would keep a dog in the yard. Besides, it's just too damn hot to leave a dog outside right now. We've been breaking heat records this week.

Current projection is that even this far inland, Rita will still be a Cat 1 when she hits us. Not much of a big deal, we desperately need rain, and the only way our position would flood would be if pretty much all of DFW was under about 10 feet of water. The real threat is the potential of tornadoes spawned by the storm.

Freeways are parking lots. There are No Hotel Rooms in TX, period, evacuees are having to head out of state to find places to sit out the storm. I-45 is totally northbound now, the southbound lanes opened up to northbound traffic to speed the evacuation.

Ugh.

Wandering in the Yarden

Remembering

Dateline: September 11, 2001

The first plane hits. DG wakes me up, in time for me to see the second plane strike the WTC.

After some deliberation, and a sheer mental and emotional need to have them with us, DG goes and brings the kids home from school.

Dateline: September 8, 2005

Thing 2: Mama?
Me: Yeah, rabbit?
Thing 2: You remember that day when the bad guys attacked? And you came and got us out of school and brought us home? And I held your hand while you cried?
Me: (quiet hug) Yeah, baby, I remember.

She was in kindergarten. Four years. She still remembers. Not all of the details, of course, but she remembers.

Time passes, but is not forgotten.

(while watching CNN video)

Thing 2: Mama ... is that from the hurricane?
Me: Yes, baby.
Thing 2: Oh. My. God. I HATE hurricane Katrina. (note: I wasn't aware how much she even knew about it.)
(long pause)
Thing 2: Mama? What about all of the little kids down there? What happened to them, and the babies?
Me: (sighs) Some of them managed to get out with their families. But not all were able to. A lot of people died down there, and some of them were kids.
Thing 2: It's not FAIR!

You can only shield them from so much, and even when you do, they are going to find out. And some things shouldn't be forgotten, or glossed over, or ignored.

Insomnia Zombie

It was past 7 am this morning when I finally fell asleep. That was WITH medication assistance. I won't admit to how much I had to take to finally pass out, however, for the paranoid, I know well my own medication limits (and how my body does or doesn't to it, with my effed up brain chemistry), but it hasn't taken that much in a long time.

Out of that, I got less than 7 hours sleep. Probably closer to 6.

Haven't had a cycle quite this bad in a long time. Sure, I go through the phases, but with chronic insomnia, it tends to sneak up on you, and you don't realize just how bad it is until you have nights like last night, or the 48 hour days. I've gone more than 72 hours solid without a single hour of sleep before. And I ACHE from the lack of real sleep. Both brain and body hurt, and I feel like I'm in a fog.

On Insomnia.

There's multiple ways in which insomnia affects people. There's the "can't go to sleep" folks (sleep onset insomnia) that can lay in bed for hours without passing out. I'm one of those. There's the "early wakers" (sleep maintenance insomnia) who go to bed with no problem, then will suddenly snap wide awake well before they've gotten enough sleep. Occasionally I have this problem as well, but I'm lucky enough that if I don't move, usually I can drift back off.

But then there's a third problem, and it's very common to those with fibromyalgia, RSD, and other chronic pain disorders, as well as those suffering from depression. REM disturbance (REM rebound, excessive dreaming, where the body leaps right into REM instead of going through the stages). Or rather, in my case, Too Damn Much REM sleep.

I am a Stage 5 sleeper. I go from Stage 1, which instead lasts at least an hour or longer when I finally start to drift, to Stage 5. Stage 3/4 damn near doesn't exist.

Active sleep. I wake up TIRED, because my brain is active all night.

And I've been doing this for 25 years. Are we having fun yet?

Does a Body Good?

I saw the commercials for the new Quaker Oatmeal Breakfast Squares, and grimaced. I figured the things would be absolutely terrible, as bad with the excess "garbage" as granola bars and other so-called "healthy" portables.

I was actually pleasantly surprised when I looked at the labels. The calories are a bit high, as is the sodium, but for the most part, they really are no worse for ingredients than the instant oatmeal packets. And vitamin-wise, they're surprisingly high in nutrition value. Of course, they don't stack up to Real Oatmeal, IE, the stuff you actually have to cook, but not bad at all.

Let's see, comparatively, against old-fashioned plain oatmeal, unflavoured, nothing added:
--220 calories, versus 150
--Total fat: 4 grams, versus 3.
--Cholesterol: oo, not so great, 15 mg versus 0.
--The killer is the sodium. 230 mg versus 0. Ow.
--Carbs: 44, versus 27. Dietary fiber 3, versus 4.
--Protein: 4 g, versus 5

HOWEVER ... then you get to the vitamins.

--Vitamin A: 20%, versus 0
--Calcium: 20%, versus 0
--Iron: 20%, versus 10%

The rest is the Breakfast Squares only, as the plain oatmeal has none. Vitamin E 10%, Thiamin 20%, Riboflavin 20%, Niacin 20%, Vitamin B6 20%, Folic Acid 20%.

Granted, there are things in them that are not exactly on my diet. But in controlled amounts, and especially as a "sweet" treat, they sure as hell beat out banana bread, or any other form of sweet delivery besides fruit.

The biggest surprise came when I went ahead and bought a box, figuring I'd try them. The store didn't have the Oatmeal Raisin version, which I will now be hunting down. They did, however, have Banana Bread. Hmm. So I grabbed them.

There are chopped dried banana bits in them. Not bad. *nibble nibble* Moist, but not sticky. Hmm. You know I think I kinda like these. *nibble chew*

Maybe I better eat another to find out. Heated it this time.

Even my picky husband who will not eat a bowl of oatmeal decided they were pretty darn good.

Granted, I still want to try to make Alton Brown's homemade granola and protein power bars, but these will do just fine in the meantime. Alton had an entire show on granola, power bars, he even made "healthy" Rice Kripsie treats that looked most yummy. Granted, they don't have the preservative-laden shelf life of commercial bars, but nutritition, taste, and texture are probably at least 100 times better in his. And the way he worked the recipes, he left a lot of room for maneuvering them into something that works for each person. Lots of substitution options. I don't know if you can check the Food site for a re-run of it (in fact it was again late Tuesday night), because I'm not sure they list the late night episodes. I think last I checked, it was only new ones on the schedule.

HOWEVER ... The Power Trip. Recipes from the show. :D

Oatmeal. It's good for you.

Image Stream: Through the Looking Glass

Through the Looking Glass


Time After Time.
I actually own the dress she's wearing in this one, though you can't see the detail in this small of an image. There's knotwork (mostly triskeles) along the hem, the sleeves, and around the collar.


Mischief, Mayhem, and Manslaughter.
Hail, hail, the gang's all here -- and one's about to be in some serious trouble.

Death by Furby

T2: (grim-faced) Mommy, that does it. I have bad news. The world is going to come to an end.
Me: (concerned) Oh? Now what?
T2: Furbies ... are BACK. That does it. Get the torches and pitchforks. EVIL, I tell you, EVIL!

But wait, there's more.

The far more ominous one with the Daddygod went as follows:

T2: Daddy, Furbys are back!
DG: Back?
T2: Yes, back, but this time they talk, and walk, and...KILL!
DG: They kill?
T2: Yes, they are the embodiment of evil. Now I have...MINIONS!
T2 meanders out the door mumbling to herself: Well, minions unless they rampage, then I'd have to put them down.

Why Parents go Grey

T2: Daddy, do you want a state?
DG: Say what?
T2: Do you want a state?
DG: What kind of state?
T2: When I take over the world. Do you want a state, or would you prefer a country, or a planet?
DG: Well, if you take over the world, that's only one planet, so I can't have one of my own.
T2: Well, I'm not stopping there, I'm planning on taking over the entire Milky Way.

She has a notebook, wherein three full pages are dedicated to who gets what portion of the planet when Little Miss Empress takes it over. She hasn't quite started on the rest of the solar system yet.

T2: Mama, you want a state?
Me: A STATE? That's all I get, a lousy state? You offered DADDY that much.
T2: (snorts, sounding SO like me) You get more than him, cuz you're better, Mama.

I held out for several countries, including joint rule of a few, and collected several states in the process.

---

Found in 8 year-old Thing 2's schoolwork (posted verbatim, spelling and all).

"We are learning about bugs. So Mrs. Wagner (ed. note: her teacher) brot a bee. It was died so we did not worie. It started to rain wene a strok of lightening and the bee was alive. We were scared, so Mrs. Wagner killed the bee so we did not worie aney more."

Apparently zombie thoughts begin early around our house.

So do thoughts of taking over the world and acquiring minions.

"One day a bunny named Mr. Bunbuns lived in a forest he wanted to tak over the world becuse they made Mr. Bunbuns mad so he need some help. So he hoped around to look for help. He sees some friends and they sadly say yes to help take over the world. Mr. Bunbuns made the friends minions to take over the world. And the world came to an end. Becuse he take over the world."

---

Another one during "family time".

DG: (as an aside) Pooks, watch this.
DG: Hey T1, get out of our room now, mommy and daddy want to have sex.
T1: AAAUUUUGGGGHHHHHH! Nasty! That's just gross!
Me: Gee T1, how do you think you were made?
T2: Huh? You mean you guys humped or something to make her?
DG and Me: ::thud, laughing like idiots::

It's Texas, y'all ...

... and even the freakin cats are armed.



Felines are clean beasts, and they even know to keep their hardware cleaned properly as well.



Nothing like a nice long catnap after a day huntin them damn dawgs! Them Maine Coons don't tolerate none of them strays a'trespassin on their turf.

Katrina responses

This is me avoiding any political commentary on the situation. Frankly, there's enough of that shit already, and it's not helping anybody. Might buy some of the louder complainers their Fifteen Minutes, but it's not getting anything constructive done. Foamy the Squirrel sez it all for me on that, really. I'm just sayin.

Having grown up in Houston, I 'grok' the hurricane. All too well. I've lived through several of them, some major, some minor, a few tornadoes, and generic floods to boot. Face it, Houston started life as a swamp, and has every intention of trying to return to that state when water comes in hard and fast.

Houston is one of the cities getting refugees, and so is the area I'm living in now. So, I'm trying to keep things in a proper human perspective.

Among all the AP Wire photos of destruction and chaos and insanity, there are dozens of Human pictures. Pictures of people remembering to care for something other than themselves, pictures of people rescuing abandoned pets, pictures of parents trying to soothe their children, pictures of groups sitting around doing Basic Normal Human Things like fixing their hair.

And sometimes, it's the little things that make you remember you're human.

People not in the middle of a disaster area tend to forget it's the little things that can help us hang on, little things that make us feel human again. Something as simple as fixing your hair, or having a baby wipe to do the PTA bath -- Pits, Tits, and Ass for the uniformed, and yes, tits can get seriously funky, especially if you're over-endowed. The sweat funk can be seriously unpleasant. Your skin is screaming for all sorts of fun rashes to appear. Wear an underwire? Ooo, go ahead, get a blister in that sweat funk, and wait for infection. Sweat build-up in confined territory can get nasty fast. Now add in panic sweat, crowded conditions, the lack of ability to get any sort of shower (or even turn a hose on yourself), funk from fouled water ... Ick -- can go a long way as a restorative.

I mean hell, donating a few cases of simple deoderant might be seen as offensive by some, but damn, those in need appreciate every little bit. And Not Feeling Funky in unpleasant conditions is definitely something to appreciate.

Saw a whole lot of little kids that might have a few less nightmares if a few surprises were tossed in. If you're sending CARE packages to the refugees, and have it, toss in a few dozen yards of hair ribbons, ponytail holders, lip gloss (the protective stuff, chapped lips from lack of water are miserable), combs and brushes, small and easy to clean toys for the kids (stuffed animals in Funk conditions get gross fast).

May seem frivolous, but if you're sending anyway (and if you can, please donate resources, they're almost better than money, since you can drop them off at your local shelter/church organization/designated drop-off, and know that they won't have to wait a week or more to decide where it goes, unlike cash), send the stuff that will not only help the body survive, but the heart as well.

Suggestions of Things to Donate:
-- Clothing (come on, don't you have a box stuffed somewhere of clothing that doesn't fit anymore? Either yours, or your children's. Just buy new underwear if you're sending it, some things shouldn't be shared. Really. Ever.)
-- Cartons of cigarettes, lighters, ashtrays (Never dealt with nicotene withdrawal? Yikes.)
-- Toilet paper
-- Toothpaste, toothbrushes
-- Diapers, diaper wipes
-- Tampons, pads
-- Formula, bottles
-- Deoderant
-- Razors, shaving cream, soap
-- Hair brushes, combs
-- Shoes (Shut up, Imelda, just put them in the damn box) and socks. LOTS of socks.
-- Nail clippers, nail files (Okay, paranoid, just get the soft emery boards)
-- Bottled water, canned food, can openers.
-- Antibacterial creams, antacids, bandages, vitamins (adult and chewable), pain relievers (Keep it legal. Though I'm sure the addicts would love you forever for your stash of prescription meds, they won't get there anyway.)
-- Bedding. Blankets, sheets (stick with flat), pillows and cases.
-- Pet food


... and don't fucking spam me with stupid promos for your get-rich-quick scheme crap. Don't spam me with nothing but promos for completely irrelevant bullshit. Don't spam me with Idiot Links to hijackers and viruses and trojans, because Stupid, I am not.

Just. Don't. Spam. Me. Seriously. It makes a Pooka cranky.

AETNA Asshats Revisited

"I reject your reality, and substitute my own."

And right now, I'd really like to substitute my own reality, thank you very much.

I'm supposed to have an MRI tomorrow. I'm not. Why?

Oh, come on. You KNOW the answer.

Insurance turned it down.

Because, you know, a neurologist and medical tests are not enough.

Asshats.

I am actually speechless this time.