Most busy working moms of five don’t have time to read books on history and economics and law, I get that. But most read at least ONE magazine or newspaper, right? Most who have gotten elected governor of a state–a state that borders foreign countries–have read a couple of newspapers or magazines, right?
This one has read all of them, apparently…or none, which is more likely. Oh, I’m sorry, was asking her to name magazines or newspapers she reads “gotcha journalism“?
You’ve got me in a quandary. I’m not going to reference what you requested I not reference in this blog. But…gosh, geez…I’m a tad frustrated…
I’ve just spent an hour trying to write something that sums up this unfortunate experience. Everything I have attempted has seemed overly melodramatic or unnecessarily tinged with blame.
I’ll keep it simple.
Upon further review, you were indeed, out of line.
I’ll never have one of those “Coexist” bumper stickers, because there are some beliefs I just do not believe should be allowed to exist. Fort Mill, SC mayor Danny Funderburk has been forwarding around a chain letter claiming that Barack Obama is the antichrist. I’ve been to Fort Mill; I had to do some work there a few years back. There’s not much of note besides fireworks and lottery ticket stores and other crap that visitors to Carowinds might enjoy. It’s like a shitty version South of the Border. Anyway, now Fort Mill can lay claim to having the most shit-for-brains mayor in the continental United States. (Sorry, Alaska, but I now have to assume that you’re the flat-out dumbest state in the nation).
To be fair, Funderburk doesn’t claim to know one way or another of Obama is truly the antichrist. “I’ve got absolutely no way of knowing that.â€
Mayor Funderburk, I think I will send you my own chain email. Did you know my dog is actually Jesus Christ incarnate? I have absolutely no way of knowing for sure, but I think it’s worth examining scripture to see if it’s a possibility.
I don’t know how long I can sit up in bed and type before the pain wins out, so I’ll type fast and not think terribly much about what I’m putting down here. I took a couple of pain pills, and maybe those will help. It may sound strange, but I’ve been having pain all day, and five minutes ago was the first time it occurred to me to take some pain pills. I’m not talking about typical extra-strength Tylenol or Advil or Aleve. I’m talking about the kind of stuff that winds up in medical examiners’ reports when people like Heath Ledger include it in their sleep-aid regimens. So I’m careful. I take these as a last resort.
Anyway…geez, I cannot even get the laptop on my lap, because Aremid has maneuvered his way here. I don’t like to displace him. Leaning over him to get to the keyboard is killing me, though.
I don’t think I’ll be covering any new ground if I just write about how much this hurts and impacts my life. I’ll retread over the same ground anyway. Writing might slightly take the edge off this frustration.
I obvious don’t know what is feels like to be seven or eight or nine-months pregnant. I can imagine, though. I carry around two bulky masses of unknown weight near my belly everyday. I feel bloated. I look bloated. I don’t eat particularly well, and I don’t get much, if any exercise, but this is not a beer gut I have. This is my two massive kidneys giving me this grotesque figure. I know ‘grotesque’ may seem extreme. I do not mean to imply that being overweight is grotesque. (And I certainly am not saying that about pregnancy). I am saying that I cannot stand to see myself in the mirror or see a picture of myself or think about how I am appearing to the world.
I’ve wished I could find clothing that I actually fit well given my circumstances. I picked up a T-shirt yesterday, and I insisted that I need an extra-large even though I’m not one you’d find in the big-and-tall department. I can’t have a large-sized T-shirt hugging my not-a-beer-belly. Other types of shirts present problems, too. I curiously donned a sport-coat look several weeks back. It was a step more formal than the most formal one should be in my workplace. I’d have just gone with a dress shirt, but I think I look terrible in a dress shirt.
I’m not retreading old material now. I’d have to be high on painkillers to write about how my gut looks. (Actually, it’s about 15 minutes later, and the painkillers haven’t done jack yet).
There are certainly a ton of things I can’t stand about myself that I could conceivably change. This distended abdomen isn’t something I can do anything about. I suppose a lot of people might say, “Doesn’t do any good to have so much negative thought over something you can’t change”. Well, perhaps so. A lot of admirable people have something about their physical condition that is unfortunate and unchangeable, and yet they’re happy and not spending a great deal of energy lamenting their misfortune. I suppose I am simply confessing that, at this time, I am not one of these people.
“I believe happiness is a choice…”
- Lots of people
I’ve heard that from a lot of people. Unfortunately, I hear that, and that tends to be the last thing I want to hear, since I fundamentally disagree and suspect these people will look upon me with disdain if they attempt to get to know me and realize I am not Mr. Happiness.
Again, I admire people who woke up one day and decided, “Henceforth, I choose to be happy”.
This being said, I would be delighted to get on some path to enlightenment, some way of breaking down my negative, pessimistic belief system. If “Buddhism for Dummies” showed up on my doorstep, I might give it a read.
Where did that come from? I am trying to say that I can see conditions under which I would be able to have a different attitude, but I do not see myself suddenly having a different attitude. Furthermore, I can’t see myself becoming a Buddhist. But I can see myself reading a book or taking a yoga class or learning to meditate.
And I’m sorta thinking aloud at this point. I am completely in the state of private journaling that just so happens to be public.
The painkillers are kicking in. Back to my original topic, I cannot tell you what an amazing difference it makes to have a couple of painkillers working. I suppose I just did. I can actually sit up now and not have it be an excruciating ordeal.
So, again, back to my original topic, these cannonballs in my gut (my polycystic kidneys–I don’t know why shy away from mentioning the PKD directly) are normally quite uncomfortable. But when there’s a cyst rupture or an infection or a stone or just some sudden pressure on other organs (the pain could be from any number of things, and it’s likely it will go away at some point without me knowing what it was), it’s…really #*($*#($ aggravating. My best chance to get over whatever this is will be to drink a lot of water and to get plenty of rest.
Governor Palin takes a break from her class trip to the U.N. to talk to Katie Couric. It’s easy to see why John McCain wants to push back his debate with Barack Obama to October 2 and bump the VP debate to some unknown time and place.
Do you politely ask your neighbors to stop allowing their kids to blow whistles, or do you just roll your eyes and be grateful that they put the brakes on the fun game of gravel-tossing?
Palin and Karzai Bond Over Children | 1 p.m. When Gov. Sarah Palin sat down with President Hamid Karzai of Afghanistan on Tuesday afternoon, the polite preliminaries to their conversation centered around children, as Mr. Karzai spoke of the birth of his first child last year.
Gov. Sarah Palin met with Afghan President Hamid Karzai on Tuesday in New York.
“What is his name?†Ms. Palin was heard to ask, as she met with Mr. Karzai in the suite of a midtown hotel, according to a pool report.
“Mirwais,†Mr. Karzai replied. “Mirwais, which means, ‘The Light of the House.’â€
“Oh nice,†Palin responded. “Our latest is called Trig. That’s short for trigger, which is what you pull when you hunt wolves from a helicopter”.
“Ah, yes, and people think my country is backwards,” Karzai quipped.
I made up some of that.
Seriously, check out the source article. The pictures are like something out of a Forrest Gump sequel.
I don’t just have writer’s block when it comes to this blog. I am having trouble composing emails, both at work and of a personal nature. I do not know if I actually suffering from some sort of cognitive difficulty as a result of kidney disease or if my mind is short-circuiting as a result of an overflow of thoughts.
I had not read of impaired kidney function impacting cognitive ability until recently, perhaps the last couple of years. Still, I have never even figured out what this means.
In US adults, lower levels of kidney function are associated with an increased prevalence of cognitive impairment. The prevalence of impairment appears to increase early in the course of kidney disease; therefore, screening for impairment should be considered in all adults with CKD.
- American Journey of Kidney Diseases (August 2008)
If I take this statement at face-value, it means my cognitive decline has been going on for some time. That makes sense.
I am probably dealing with two different phenomenons right now. I just know it has been very frustrating of late to have begun all sorts of writings only to delete them, convinced my thoughts are incoherent.
One might think I should consult a physician. What physician? I have not had great experiences with my nephrologists, psychiatrists, and internists. I don’t know of anyone who is capable of taking all of my issues as a whole and treating them collectively. I have head of integrative medicine where the goal is to treat your own person and not your individual diagnoses, but in the end, I don’t trust that this would do much good either. So many different types of treatments have been wastes of time and money. My trust in health care is minimal. Then again, my trust in the human race is minimal. And, it goes without saying, my trust in myself in virtually non-existent.
