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Me Elsewhere...
/.: ShaunC
Fark: Frigax
NANAS: Canned Ham
...cheers!
267918
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| Tue, Jan 26, 11:04 PM |
26 1983 |
A place to stay,
Enough to eat,
Somewhere old heroes shuffle safely down the street,
Where you can speak out loud about your doubts and fears,
And what's more,
No one ever disappears, you never hear their standard issue kicking in your door.
You can relax - on both sides of the tracks -
And maniacs don't blow holes in bandsmen by remote control.
And everyone has recourse to the law.
--Roger Waters |
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Here is the State Department's Foreign Affairs Manual Volume 9, Sec. 40.37, Visas. It describes in detail the procedures for issuing VISAS VIPER (suspected terrorist) cables from CIA and diplomatic posts back to Washington, through which channels they should be routed, and how other agencies may contribute.
I'll leave VISAS DONKEY as an exercise to the reader... Hang on, there's a knock at the door, must be New Year's revelers ;) |
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Mirroring from Cryptome,
The USA Merit Systems Protection Board published an online Opinion and Order which involved a TSA employee. A footnote states:
*The original unexpurgated version of this Opinion and Order contains Sensitive Security Information (SSI) protected by 49 C.F.R. Parts 15 and 1520. Per agreement between the Merit Systems Protection Board and the Transportation Security Administration (TSA), the TSA has redacted all SSI protected by 49 C.F.R. Parts 15 and 1520 from this version so that it can be made available to the public.
The SSI redactions were made in an insecure manner and could be easily removed.
The document with redactions lifted and SSI highlighted: tsa-ssi-02.pdf (80KB) |
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According to Cisco, USA is no longer the biggest emitter of spam, losing that claim to Brazil. However, A quick peek at a mailbox of mine not protected by SpamAssassin reveals otherwise. The majority of the spam I'm getting is for Russians, by Russians, and I don't have a damn clue what they're selling.
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The neighborhood stray cat, Big Orange, just made an appearance for the first time in months. I haven't seen him in a long time, and now he's not exactly Big Orange. He's thinner and smaller. I tried to ask him what his secret was. He just kept rubbing on my legs.
I can't adopt this cat, because my own cat tore me up so badly the last time I tried to introduce them that I ordered a collar and considered putting her outside. And if I try to make him my outside cat, all of the raccoons and possums and skunks come out of the woods to eat the food.
So what do I do? I don't know. This cat very clearly remembers that I used to feed him. We haven't met in months, but he still loves me. And here we come upon a winter, where I don't want to see him outside.
But he survived last winter, so he'll survive this one. I hope. I just can't help him. |
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Tonight I was listening to Memphis Mayor (pro-tem) Myron Lowery, during the replay of his radio appearance this morning with Drake and Zeke. He gave out his email address on the air, so I thought I'd write about a traffic signal issue.
For some time I've thought there should be a left-turn arrow for eastbound traffic on Walnut Grove to turn northbound on Sanga; the traffic here only seems to be getting worse during the evening rush hour. I sent Lowery a brief email at 8:49PM, asking who I should contact about these matters. He replied at 9:01PM, telling me that Wain Gaskins was the man for that, and he CC'd Wain on the message.
Only time will tell whether or not I get a follow-up, and certainly I'm aware that one complaint isn't going to get a new traffic signal installed. But I emailed the mayor of my city at almost 9PM, and had a meaningful response within about 10 minutes. As a resident of Memphis for the last 25 years, allow me to describe the ways this surprises me:
- I emailed the Mayor of Memphis. No big surprise there, I guess.
- The Mayor responded to my email. Whoa! really? And it's not a form letter?
- The Mayor's reply correctly delegated my inquiry to the appropriate city official, and CC'd that official. This wasn't just a token thank-you, he actually read the message and took the time to redirect it to the right person.
- It was almost 9:00PM. I think our previous Mayor would have been getting his swerve on around that time of night.
- The reply only took 11 minutes. Is this for real?
I realize the man's campaigning to keep this job, so he's going above and beyond in order to impress his constituents. That said, consider me impressed. Myron Lowery earned my vote tonight. |
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"How are you?" I'm doing well, how are you?
I must answer this question a dozen times a day or more, passing coworkers in the hall or engaging in idle chat on the elevator to bide the time. The butcher at the grocery store, the cashier at the gas station, the waitress at lunch, the neighbor across the street when I'm opening the mailbox. They all ask the same question, but they rarely mean it. And I almost always give the same answer, because I rarely mean it either. The question (of which I'm just as guilty of asking insincerely), or the answer.
The biggest lies, somehow, are the easiest to tell. And why not? It's only a few words, simple enough to pawn off as fact. Standing and facing someone, not feeling at the present moment as though you're about to faint, it takes surprisingly little effort to tell them that life is good and you're doing just fine.
Truth is, the last time I remember doing just fine was in May.
It's frustrating how a heart problem can manifest itself in so many stealthy ways. You have trouble swallowing, you suspect a cold or perhaps strep throat. You can't breathe, you wonder if it's asthma or - as a smoker - something worse. You get light-headed, you probably just need to eat something, or maybe you didn't sleep quite long enough the night before. Eventually you have all of these symptoms at the same time, and your physician responds with nonchalance and yet another new prescription.
Then comes the day when despite every physical effort and all mental command, your body refuses to obey. You attempt to stand out of your chair, and find that doing so is entirely beyond your capability.
That was me, June 24th, 2009. I couldn't stand up.
I couldn't fucking stand up.
Since that day, I've received infinitely better medical care. I owe a great deal of thanks to Dr. Michael Pruett, Mid-South Internal Medicine; and Dr. Ray Allen, Cardiology Specialists of Memphis. Were it not for your time and your help, would I be able to write this today?
Over those same months, I've watched my quality of life decline rapidly, only to rebound but not yet to normalcy. I haven't driven on the interstate in more than a month, because driving at that speed makes me feel as though I'm going to pass out (I'm fine as a passenger, it's something to do with the stress of driving). I have to watch precisely what I eat, how much, and when - sodium is to be avoided, and if I get too full, I can't breathe. After mowing the lawn on a hot day, downing a great big glass of iced tea like I would have done last year is out of the question; cold beverages make my chest hurt and the rest of my body pulse with discomfort.
Yes, we're talking angina. And cardiomegaly. And mitral regurgitation with tricuspid regurgitation. And let's not forget reduced left ventricular systolic function, because what kind of party would it be without that one?
Why do I mention all of this, and why now? Because tomorrow, Tuesday, will be the scariest day I've ever faced. I'm scheduled for a coronary angiography, more commonly known as a heart catheterization. A three-foot-long tube will be inserted through a punctured artery in my groin, wound around through that artery into my heart, and poked here and there amongst the heart's chambers to determine what's the haps. It's a routine diagnostic procedure, they say. Only 1 in 1000 patients die during their cath, and only 1 in 250 have complications. Like heart attack, or stroke. Hey, I'm a gambler.
This is supposed to be an exciting week in my life. I turn 30 on Friday. But on this birthday, I won't be celebrating the milestone as most do. No party, no fun, no getting drunk or going out on the town. No, this Friday - this Friday it's going to be exciting for an entirely different reason.
For a new lease on life, I hope.
Catch y'all on the flip side. |
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At my internist today, the nurse got a BP of 130/90, and that was after I'd made the hike from the Baptist parking garage to Medical Plaza 2. Once I'd been sitting around waiting for the doctor, with plenty of time to relax, he got a 128/80. That's the best I've seen in a doctor's office since I was diagnosed with hypertension.
Doc wasn't too happy to hear that the cardiologist couldn't see me until September (and that, even with his office's cajoling). I might get a nice bump in that schedule. For now, more of the same: no changes in medication. |
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Thanks to an old friend and one-time coworker, I was motivated to post here again with the latest news.
I visited my internist again on July 8th, just before my annual vacation to Heber Springs. The blood pressure readings were down slightly, and more so after I'd had time to relax in the examination room. They still weren't (and aren't) where they need to be.
I was able to make the four hour drive to Heber, evaluating my new Magellan GPS, without too many issues. Once I got to the hotel, I had to spend several hours on a critical work-related function. The chest tightness and breathing issues surfaced. I wonder if perhaps stress is the ultimate trigger.
Since then, there's been a definite up-and-down pattern, though I've yet to identify the evil catalyst. I can repeat the following routine with identical precision two days in a row ...
1) Wake up, down my amlodipine(5)/benazepril(10) with some Gatorade.
2) Shower and dress.
3) Eat a packet of oatmeal for breakfast.
4) Get in the car and begin driving to work.
Yet between the two days, even though I've followed precisely the same routine, I have terribly different experiences. On day one I'll have chest tightness, trouble breathing, and trouble swallowing on the way in to work, before I even touch a cigarette, and that will last throughout the day. On day two I'll make the entire workday symptom free. I've taken to holding the seatbelt in my right hand, with plenty of slack, while I drive. The light compression it exerts across my chest is just too much.
I'm back to my internist next week. I was supposed to see a cardiologist in the interim, but when I called to make an appointment, I was told that the earliest available slot was late August (I think it was the 26th). I mentioned that my internist probably expected me to see the cardio before I next saw him, and the nurse suggested that I have my doctor's office call instead, as they'd likely be able to get a better time slot. That backfired: I see the cardiologist on September 8th.
I return to my internist next week. Perhaps future updates will be warranted then. |
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My Comcast internet is actually working for a few moments, so I thought I'd provide an update on the prior post.
Last Wednesday, June 24th, I left work and found my way to Baptist Hospital due to severe problems breathing and swallowing, with light-headedness to the point where I had trouble getting out of my chair. 3 chest X-rays and one EKG later, the verdict was in: the lungs are spotless, but I have an enlarged heart. Yeah, the same thing that just killed Billy Mays.
The hypertension, which was first diagnosed in April, apparently was exacerbated by the pill-of-the-week treatment that a certain doctor's office was giving me. The peaks and valleys in blood pressure that resulted from switching between so many medications so quickly stressed my heart to the point where it weakened, and couldn't provide enough blood to the rest of my organs. When my lungs didn't get enough blood to breathe properly, there wasn't sufficient oxygen getting into my blood, resulting in a vicious cycle. It's no goddamned wonder I kept thinking I was going to pass out.
The good news is that I've had more tests in the past week than in the past ten years; I feel that I've been properly diagnosed, and properly medicated as well. I'm able to drive without trouble, and without having to pull into a gas station every 10 minutes to get up and walk around. And I've found a comfortable spot at work where - for the time being - I don't have any trouble with breathing, swallowing, or staying conscious.
I had an echocardiogram this morning, but I doubt I'll hear the results until I return to the internist next Wednesday. More as I understand it. For now: I'm alive, I'm better, and I value life more than ever before. |
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