San Francisco, Synchronicity, other Miscellanea, and a Proclamation.

San Francisco, Synchronicity, Other Miscellaanea & a Proclamation

I have not posted for awhile. These are some very quick RANDom Thoughts, in buckshot dispersion method. I’m trying to get caught up from the last round of being sick, and I just got back from (almost) a week in San Francisco, where it was sunny, and the weekend that I had free after the conference, the temperature was in the 60s and 70s. It was 11° F when I left Chicago last Tuesday.
The Conference was good. I think the presentation I was a part of went well, and did I mention it was over 70° when I was there, in the Castro? I HEART San Francisco! This Friday (February 6) is my birthday, so the extra days there, post conference was my birthday gift to myself. Good things happened, while at the conference. I have more to write about, and an announcement to make, but not until Friday.
Given my recent bouts of sickness, I geeked up and wore the surgical mask while in the airports and on the plane. When I got back to Chicago, I was waiting for my bag at the carousel and a woman came up to me and said, “I wear masks when I fly too. I have an immune deficiency.”
I replied, “I have CVID.”
“Me too! I knew there was a reason I had to come up and talk to you!” She introduced herself—we did ‘air hand shakes’. Bonnie is her name.
“People tend to avoid me when I mask up”, I replied.
We chatted a few minutes waiting for our bags. She told me about a doc/specialist she went to in NYC, and she has just gone off of the monthly IVIG. We exchanged cards, to discuss further. She was concerned that most all the others’ bags had come. I’m used to being one of the last to get my bag. She then realized she was at the wrong carousel. Synchronicity! You know I’m not a believer in a god. And I have written before about my appreciating for Jungian psychology and his theory or Synchronicity —meaningful coincidences. I love it when shit like this happens. It was the perfect way to end this very interesting trip. My bag comes by finally. Bonnie asks, “Are you coming from NY also?
No, I’m returning home from San Francisco.” Bonnie had gone to the wrong carousel, found me, and we started talking. TOTAL SYNCHRONICITY, with meaningful mistakes. She should not have been waiting for her bags where I was.
I’m making a proclamation that 2009 is going to be the year that does NOT SUCK SHIT! After a bumpy start with the URI, some events have occurred which are going have great impact on me and my future. This I will write about the end of the week for my birthday post on Friday. Please feel free to send lavish gifts.
For those of you wishing to acknowledge the date, to help counteract the universe for me being born on he same day as ronald reagan, (that festering boil on the ass of this nation's history, which ahs now been taken over by the blighted cancer of w & cheney w ho are to true cancers of this nation's history). But I digress Getting gifts and new cloths would easy my pain of sharing a bd with rr,,l rather than Abe Lincoln, my hero.

I did my portion to help the economy of SF by making some clothing purchases. But, My favorite store, “All American Boy” closed down! I was SO bumbed! I arrive last Tuesday at the Marriott, check, and head out the door, to catch the F street car down to the Castro. I have to eat, so hit the little diner I've eaten at before on Castro, just off Market. Receiving my shopper's sustenance, I head a across the street, pass by a dark, empty store with some signage of All American Boy Remaining. I am crestfallen. This is where I bought my ‘Castro 2004, 2003, 2001” annual shirts from when I visite in past years. I must get my “Castro 2009” shirt! I find it back across the street at a new store IN JEAN IOUS. It’s not AAB, but I walk out with some bargains.

Saturday night, on the recommnedation of one of the guys at Parker Guest House B&B, I go to Chow Restaurant at 215 Church st, just off Market. In the Castro, SOMA (South of Market). I ate at this restaurant 3 times in less than 24 hours. If I were doing Dr. Mark’s little survey I’s have a restaurant to add. CHOW is great. Organic food, good, food, and you can tell these people enjoy working there. I like going to a restaurant saying, “I can decide between such and such, and s/he proceeds to tell you details about the dishes you asked about in great detail with the things they like about the particular dish.
I will have more to tell about SF. But I must wait until later in the week for reasons that will become obvious. For now I’m back, tired (but healthy—say something to the Buddha so I stay healthy. More later when I’m vaguegly cogent. ©wtf4/rle

Saline--It's just like beer

I have often said, "I don't buy beer, I rent it", as it runs right through me. I have come to the conclusion that saline is just the same. Today was my IVIG infusion day. The day each month I just want to be over. Travis came and got me to hook up my IV. I don't have a problem nor get freaked out by needles (good thing!) But I just don't like to watch it go in, so I always look away after he does the alcohol swab. All of a sudden, he's moving to get the tape to tape the catheter in. I didn't even feel it going this time. "Damn, you're good Travis!" I tell him this often. It's beneficial to keep the people who jam needles in your body on your good side. He hooks up the the first bottle of IgG, and they always hook up a bag of saline to drip along with the IgG. I have a small bladder to begin with. By the time the first (bigger 200 ml or 20g) bottle of IgG is done. My bladder is feeling it. The second bottle always seems to drip slower than the first. By the time it's finally done, I usually have to piss like a field horse. I always see the Dr. sometime during the infusion. He was running behind today, so when the second bottle had emptied, he still had not been to the room. So, I disconnected the line where it hooks into the catheter, and went to relieve myself.
My medical question is, why are IV fluids kept at room temperature and not body temperature? Aside from having to piss out a liter of urine, I'm corpse cold by the time the infusion is over. Last month, when the nurse went to get me a blanket, I found out they've gone high tech. No more big fluffy cotton blankets. It's the space age disposable blanket, that's the thickness of a paper table cloth or napkin. It's sort of like a large version of the bibs the dentist put on you. But surprisingly, very effective in the warming factor.
When I first learned I was going to start this lifetime of monthly rides, I decided I wanted to try and make these monthly contstitutionals as zen as possible. I was at my previous employer, out in the burbs, so it meant I would end up taking the whole day off. I did this for a few reasons: 1) It was not really worth the while to drive for over an hour, to work for 4 hours and then come back; 2) I loathed that job and place, so the anticipated monthly day away was as much a mental health break as anything; 3) In the event I had an infusion reaction, I didn't have to worry about work. (I've had reactions a few times.)
I'd schedule the appointments for late morning or early afternoon so I could sleep in. I'd take a book, and read while the drip ran. This can end up being problematic, as I have to get my arm in just the right position for the drip to go. Slight movements can stop it. The positions are never really comfortable, especially if the catheter is in the crook of your arm.
Now, since I work in the city, I can schedule my appointments for the end of the day, leave work early, be home by 7:00 pm. I'm usually pretty wiped. Instead of reading, now I try to just zone out, clear my head, and if the nurse/tech/ and/or doc are delayed in their frequency of checking in on me, I sometimes nod off. While not feeding my brain, I think it's good, because it's a forced rest. It's two hours + every month that I have to stop and just be, not do. I don't even put my MP3 ear buds in. A forced rest is not really such a bad thing. We should all 'schedule' that for ourselves. But it should really be more than 2 hours a month. It shouldn't require an IV and bag of saline to make me stop and just be. But sometimes it does. I just wish it didn't make me have to piss so much.

Dreaded Day of the Month

Tomorrow (Thursday) is my monthly ‘dread day’. It’s my monthly IV IgG infusion. I dread this day every month. It’s not the infusion I dread. It, in and of itself is not bad. It’s mild discomfort at the most (usually). What I hate is getting started. The gods, in their sick and twisted humor, gave me a disorder that requires monthly IVs, while giving me tiny rolly veins. Very few medical professionals have ever been able to get an IV or syringe for a blood draw on the first try. It’s usually twice, the record being 4 the last time I had surgery at a hospital I had not been to before. The medical practice I go to now, has 1 med tech (Travis) who has an almost perfect record with me. There’s one nurse (O), who is pretty good. When I first started the infusions a few years ago, the head nurse (H) who was determined he was going to tap my vein or die trying. It took three tries. The next month, I said, “You get one chance. He blew it. It took about four months, and me finally insisting on Travis. THere have been a few new nurses or techs in the intervening months. ONe time after 2 people, 3 stabs, I finally insisted they find Travis. He said, "Ask for me." I said, "I do! THey won't get you until after they've all tried. Since then, I pretty much get him. A few months back, he came in and, said, "we were all fighting for you in the back. I won." That made me so happy. One, that he considered getting stuck with me as 'winning'. And, to be totally superficial, he's so damned hot. He could multiply stick me, and I wouldn't be pissed like I am with the others. We have a good banter back and forth. He has a sense of humor. One time he was inserting the needle. I never watch the needle go in. I don't freak out by it. I just don't like to see it go in. Once in, I can look down, and help tape it down and secure it. Anyway, He said, "I'm done." I replied, "Wow, I didn't even feel it go in. YOu're good! His retort, "Tell that to ALL the men!" Travis could 'stick' me and I wouldn't protest.
So, here's hoping I get Travis tomorrow. He makes the infusions less sucky.