Posts Tagged ‘RF lesioning’

The Dude (AKA “Wilson” to my “House” at work) drove me to the doctor’s office yesterday.

There’s paperwork that you fill out every single time you darken their doorway and I wish they would  just print the info that never changes – name, referring doc’s name, DOB, “do you lust after flightless waterfowl”, etc., etc.  They do give you a crayon and let you color on a little picture of a person where it hurts.  I like to fill it all in and say “You’re the doctor, you tell me.”

They took me back and the place looked deserted, with only the distant roar of the surf and a gentle breeze.  In reality it was as if it were one of those puzzle pictures you get as a kid:  “How many indians can you spot?”   You look and you look and after a while you realize that there were really no less than seven thousand and three indians in that picture.

As soon as I was shown to my concrete-and-gravel gurney and I had changed into my neutered thneed which only covers one body part at a time, I started seeing more signs of life.  I stretched out on the C&G gurney and pulled out my project notebook.  Five minutes later they put an IV in my right hand, and so writing was impossible.

As if by cue it was suddenly as noisy as a Thai fish market in there.  One or two beds down in this vast “sick ward” style room was a woman sobbing and every fifteen or twenty seconds would gasp out something like “ooooooooohhhh-HOOOOO-oooo” She was in a lot of pain and not 20 feet away were nurses joking and laughing.  I think someone might have been tending to this lady at the same time but it wasn’t relaxing.

I kept smelling smells.  I don’t want to describe them.

On the other side of me was what sounded like a 372 year old lady who apparently had not one single vein in her body that could be tapped.  What veins were there were described by the doc as being crazy-quilted like broken safety glass.  They brought in people who were good with IV’s – a second floor nurse, the doctor who did my neck, my regular doc’s PA, one of the detoxing heroin junkies, a secretary, and I was even in line to give it a stab when a nurse rode up on her steed,  all decked out in glowing white and a ten gallon hat.  As skillfully as an ancient vampire she tapped that venerable grandmother and rode off to the cheers and adulation of nurses, doctors, and patients alike.

The woman on my right continued to sob but now her sobs had this fluffy happy puppy sound to them.  This probably meant that they had finally waited the minimum 45 minutes “to see if she was faking” and then went and gave her a nice dose of Dilaudid, Demerol, or morphine.

I walked in there with a 5 on the 0-10 pain scale when I moved wrong and it was starting to ping me pretty good while doing nothing after having sat there for over an hour (on that concrete-gravel-chicken-wire bed, mind you).

A nurse came by on the other side of the sheet where Madam Methuselah was and said “Are you a patient woman?”  (‘Yes’, croaked Madam M.)  The nurse sidesteps into my booth, then looks at me and says “Are you a patient man?”  I said “‘Man’ is questionable but I think I’m patient.”  This behavior on the part of the nurse is known as a ‘harbinger’.

Pretty soon they wheel Madam Methuselah out towards her treatment and she’s what, maybe in her mid-50’s.  Rough life or something.  Chronic pain ages you roughly 3 for 1, in my honest opinion so it’s anybody’s guess – she could have been 23 for all I know.

Make note of it – “Are you a patient ______?”  Means “Will you become a total assh*le if this takes another hour?”   All the nurse would say was that there was “an emergency”.

The moaner was now giggling and moaning so I asked the nurse if I could have what she was having.  The nurse gave me The Look and said “Behave.”   Over at the giggler’s booth here was lots of talk about her drinking lots of water and getting an appointment with bark bark-bark bark bark bark and to make sure she asked the specialist about mreow mreowww mreowww. She especially should mooooo-moo  MOO moooooo. Then the nurses cleared the animals out of the staging area but it was too late, I missed all the juicy details.

A full two hours had gone by.  I hadn’t eaten or drunk anything since 7pm the night before and it was now 3pm.  Even so, one’s kidneys don’t shut down – they keep pumping out pee – it is just what they do.  So I ask the nurse if I can hit the head and she unhooks my IV bag and thrusts it in my arms, and says “Go.”

On the way, another nurse says “Where are you going?  You’re next.”  Old Nurse Ratched walks over to us and says “He needs to use the restroom.”

They must trade personalities like a hive consciousness because now the new nurse becomes the New and Improved Nurse Ratched and says “Go.  I don’t want to clean up your mess in there.”   At this point I’m thinking in a petulant tone, “Well, what if I want you to clean it up?”

So they let me go anyway and I hurriedly get rid of two of the last three gallons of liquid in my entire body.  You could have struck a match on my forehead, I was so dry.

I race back… No, I didn’t race… I shuffled back as fast as I could because by now my neck was locking up pretty fast.  I got to walk into the procedure room under my own power with my bag under my arm.  Odd because they don’t usually let you retain your dignity while you’re walking through a common sick room with a theed baring your ass to the world.  But, retain my dignity I did.

Then They:   Threw me on the table, crammed a cannula up my nose, hung up my bag, tore open my thneed, poured a gallon of icy-cold betadine on my neck and back, slapped a cryogenic cathode on top of my parched and now-dying kidneys, and slammed the door open just in time for the doctor to come prancing in.  This was all done like a NASCAR pit stop.

Mind you, I’m face down on a table and only able to see people’s feet.  D. Marten’s was to my right, Adidas was to my left, and Gucci was up near my head.  This is significant because this was the doc I saw drinking no less than three different huge cups of coffee while I waited.

I said to him “Oh God, you’re Coffee Doc.”  He laughed and shakily said he was still ok to do the work.  I begged him not to pith me by mistake, or at least make sure I was well sedated to dull the fear.  A bit of silence followed.

“Don’t mind me, doc,” I said, “I’m just whining.”

He said, “You wouldn’t believe the whining I hear.  You are not whining.”

“Oh, but I can,” I said, “let me try – I can really plumb my depths.”

He must have heard enough of my bullsh*t because pretty quickly the ice entered my veins.  I had enough time to say to myself “Ok, this time you’re going to stay awake and not let this stuff put you out.”  I think I was sort of aware the whole time but I was ten thousand miles away.

I recall Them saying “roll over” and the doc was gone (who was that amped man?).  I rolled over and yanked the hated oxygen cannula out of my nose.  The New and Improved Nurse Ratched put it back in and said to not touch it, slapping my hands twice to get me to stop.

Time moved in fits/starts.  Suddenly I was clothed.  Suddenly I was lying down again.  Suddenly I had a juice box in my hand.  Suddenly I was walking out.  Suddenly Cruel Wife handed me my Burger King double-whopper with cheese, onion rings, and a large Dr. Pepper.  Apparently I was very emphatic about that.  Events in between the suddenly checkpoints had faded into the mists.  It was fascinating to observe the fleeting nature of a culinary ephemera, even if it was an order from Burger King.

Now here I am again, in my comfy chair and writing for fun because it’s better than whining.

Don’t worry about me… I’ve never felt better.

No, not really.


I think we should stop freaking out about Global Warming and start freaking out about lower O2 supplies in the oceans due to this unprecedented amout of ice in the ocean.


This has got to be the first time it’s ever happened in 4 billion years and I’m sure it’s man-made.  Why else would icebergs collide with glaciers?

Oh yeah, and our oysters and things will be shell-less before long.  I’m sure of it.


Marine biologist Eric Pane had some breathless hyperventilating to do (you try that sometime and see how far you get):

“And at least a third of [the CO2] so far, has actually ended up in our oceans,” Pane says. “(That’s) sort of good and bad news because it has prevented more CO2 from accumulating in the atmosphere but it comes at a price. More CO2 in the ocean leads to it being acidified.”

So THAT’S why we’re not going through Thermogeddon right now!  We’re all going to die some other way.  Probably called “Oysters-Ain’t-Got-No-Shell-ageddon” or some such thing.

You catching this, cbullitt?

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I’m going to paste what I essentially wrote to my boss and a handful of co-workers to inform them that I’m working from home tomorrow:

If the headache/neckache I have right now is any indicator I’m going to be of more value if I don’t overdo it.  I swear they use pieces of corroded conduit hacksawed at an angle instead of needles.

The Dude drove me up to the office since Cruel Wife couldn’t make it down in time   For some reason they just don’t like you driving home after sedation.  Wimps.

Truth be told it is a very smart thing that they keep you from driving because as alert as you think you are, you’re still functioning with scrambled eggs for brains and an IQ of about 45.  You also have the reaction times and finesse of a pithed frog.

Now, I’m going to sign off before my head falls off.


Here’s a picture that will give you the willies.  How many times was it found that such an invention would have saved a life?  How did they discover that such a device should have been used?


Aqua-Velvet has enough interesting stuff I thought I’d also include this link to the interesting life/origins of the game Monopoly.

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It will burrrrrnnnnn.

The trail went from Soylent Green to  Pajamas Media to Watt’s Up With That…

Several errors have been recently uncovered in the 4th Assessment Report (AR4) of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC). These include problems with Himalayan glaciers, African agriculture, Amazon rainforests, Dutch geography, and attribution of damages from extreme weather events. More seem to turn up daily. Most of these errors stem from the IPCC’s reliance on non-peer reviewed sources‘…  – Arctic Sea Ice Underestimated

Holy cow!  You mean they’ve relied on unvetted data?  No!?!  REALLY???

Who saw that coming, huh?


The doc’s assistant saw me this morning, heard where the neck/headaches were at and promptly informed me that in this case it’s too bad I am not an 80-year-old woman.

Plus I’m a fast healer.   Trust me, there are times when you do not want to be a fast healer.

Next thursday they will shove wires into my neck and pass a radiofrequency current through the tip of the wire, nicely cooking the nerve until it is of hard-boiled-egg consistency.


You gotta be pretty stupid to advocate eating cat while on the air.


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The entry titled “Indoctrination Nation, What’s Your Station” will be below this latest Neck-date.

Strangely the entire left side of my neck is as numb as if I just iced it yet I’m experiencing a truly exquisite amount of pain.

The doctor’s office didn’t forward instructions for pain meds for my family doc to review (like they said they would a week ago) so I only have just one teensy more pill for the pain between now and roughly tomorrow afternoon.  I’m a bit upset.

But… that is the way life goes, eh?  It should be character building.  I suppose I could go to an ER but I’d rather be in agony than even once be thought of being there just for pills.  That’s not what I’m about.

Time may give me reason to reconsider, but we’ll see.

Other than that, life is peachy.  Nyarlathotep and Yog-Sothoth are now dead.  Cthulhu is still dying, which is part of my problem on the right side of my neck.

Update: Took my second to last dose three hours ago.  Already wearing off.  This promises to be long night of trying to sleep on the couch with an ice-pack.  Maybe I’ll curl up with The Whisperer in Darkness. Perhaps my favorites – either The Nameless City or The Colour Out of Space (I put the links from the Gutenberg Project in case you wanted to explore some of HP Lovecraft’s works).

The new nerves will be called:   Hastur (He Who is Not to be Named),  Cthugha (The Burning One),  and Nyogtha (The Thing Which Should Not Be).


Indoctrination Nation, What’s Your Station?

Leo Alberti, if you are ever in Michigan I'll buy you a beer.  Nice graphic, dude.

Leo Alberti, if you are ever in Michigan I'll buy you a beer. Nice graphic, dude.

Been talking with cbullitt about an individual that scares us…  His Great High Exalted Most Grand Holiness teh Obamessaiah and the Indoctrination of the Chilluns on Tuesday of next week, in particular.

cubullitt tipped me on to a chilling link.

Michelle Malkin has a hall pass for your children if they start getting indoctrinated (which is almost as bad as being molested in my book, for all that the kids understand what some sick adult is trying to do).


I went to meet my daughter’s new teacher tonight.  Checked her out top-to-bottom while she was standing in front of me.  The conversation went like this:

Me: “Got piercings?  Tongue?  Navel?  Elsewhere?”

Her: “No.”

Me: “Do you worship roosters or practice animal husbandry?”

Her: “No.”

Me: “Do you plan on showing this indoctrination video of our president whose job is not to encourage my children to stay in school but in reality it is mine and yours?  His job is to run the country as it’s political figurehead, you know.”

Her: “That’s next Tuesday?  We’ll be too busy with everything else we have to do.”

Me: “Ok, we’re good.  You pass my sniff test.  Have a great evening.”

Do I believe her?  After all, she’s part of a teacher’s union.  Yes, I do.  Why?  Because she’s been there 30 years.  She’s old enough to not quite buy into this crap and if she did she’d have said so.  I don’t peg her for being one of these passive-aggressive fart-sniffing duck-squeezing slackster in-a-haze flannel-wearing coffee-house misanthropes.

If she lied to me?  She’s going to have me come and sit in her classroom one day a week all day – on random days.  Just to be sure that (1) she follows her lesson plan and (2) I know what is on her lesson plan.

Honestly she had a good personality.  Strong backbone, sense of humor… I think we’ll get along.  I’m still going to call the principal tomorrow.


“I think it’s really unfortunate that politics has been brought into this,” White House deputy policy director Heather Higginbottom said in an interview with The Associated Press.

Yeah, it really is too bad your boss had the appalling judgment to even think that this was a good idea.  As soon as he brought it up, politics was involved.

And once again the White House chooses to be insulting to those who don’t just roll over for their agendas:

“I think we’ve reached a little bit of the silly season when the president of the United States can’t tell kids in school to study hard and stay in school,” presidential spokesman Robert Gibbs told reporters. “I think both political parties agree that the dropout rate is something that threatens our long-term economic success.”

Yeah, that always gains my approval when someone says snide mocking things about me when I voice my opinions and concerns.  Keep it up guys, you’re only heaping coals on your own heads.

Update 2:

But some parents won’t be allowed to “opt-out” their kids everywhere. At least one school district, Tempe Elementary School District No. 3 in Arizona, is not permitting parents to pull their children out of class during Obama’s speech.

“I have directed principals to have students and teachers view the president’s message on Tuesday,” Superintendent of Schools Dr. Arthur Tate Jr. said in a statement Thursday. “In some cases, where technology will not permit access to the White House Web site, DVDs will be provided to classes on subsequent days. I am not permitting parents to opt out students from viewing the president’s message, since this is a purely educational event.”

Update 3An Alternate Lesson Plan?

Question 2:  Why is it important that the president and other elected officials, like the mayor, senators, members of Congress, or the governor listen to what citizens say, whether in town hall meetings or in any other form of citizen communication? Why is what citizens say important to these elected officials?


If you feel like geeking out … evolution, randomness, and a lot of big interesting words.  I’m not endorsing either viewpoint other than to say I believe in God, at this point in my life I think He has an awfully cruel sense of humor at times, and I think evolution plays a part in the world.  But the link came from a blog called In Theory, which I think I’m going to like.

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