I Am Lazy

A. What I planned on doing over my three day weekend:
Get blood drawn for a final round of blood tests.
Clean out closet.
Make pile of clothes for tailoring
Make pile of clothes for charity.
Iron.
Clear out my study, dust shelves and wash floor.
Clean bathroom.
Clean out spare room.
Bag clothes and other items (that have been sitting in spare room for weeks) for charity.
Laundry.

B. What I accomplished over my three day weekend.
Got blood drawn from a final round of blood tests.
Laundry.

C. What I did instead of the majority of list A:
Spent most of Friday after blood draw sleeping (the nurse took 5 vials of blood).
Took J to Seviche for dinner on Friday night.
Watched Ocean's 11 on Friday night.
Attempted to locate and purchase a enameled dutch oven on Saturday afternoon.
Watched Ocean's 12 on Saturday night.
Breakfast at Eat N' Park in Sunday morning.
Attended Penguins game. Took many photographs of all time favorite player, Martin Straka, during warm ups. Yelled at fans who refused to sit down while puck was in play.

FYI: I don't know why the photographs are blurry. I think I need to get the lens checked.



Some scoreboard text messages from the last two games:

"Chuck Norris wears Malkin pj pants".
"Gary Roberts counted to infinity twice".
"Captain America wears Gary Roberts Underoos".
"the forecast finally says fleury!!"

Small Swift Birds

I've had a lot to write about in the past several weeks. I've had a lot to write about and very little to say. Emotionally I am tired, numb and discovering that there is a limit to the amount of distressing information I can process at one time before I shut down.

I lost a friend to suicide two weeks ago. A second, untimely death in a period of three weeks. I lost my friend and I am having a difficult time mourning his loss. I'm having a difficult time thinking anything good about him, and I know that there was a great deal of good. He loved me like a younger sister and watched over me during the brief time I spent working in South Carolina ten years ago. He loved his adolescent son. He was incredibly literate and had a quick, sharp wit. He was self educated. He embraced J as his own and enthusiastically blessed our relationship.

He was also terribly flawed. At his worst, he was verbally abusive, emotionally intrusive and pushy. He had very little respect for other people's physical and emotional boundaries. He was stubborn, impulsive and self destructive. These flaws cost him his marriage and created a rift between himself and his son.

He tried to seek redemption and make amends. To his ex-wife, to his child, to his friends. It was not enough. The trauma of unemployment, of near homelessness, of debt, of estrangement from his son, of a million other things he never talked about, it wore him down and wore him out.

There has been no explanation for how he died, no invitation to his memorial service. On some level his siblings blame his friends for his death. Because we should have know he was clinically depressed. We should have known he stopped taking his medication in September and ceased meetings with his therapist. His family knew the signs, why didn't we?

We did not. So my friend left, like a small swift bird. One day we looked, and could not find him anywhere.

A Good Easter to be A Penguins Fan

As St. Francis Central Hospital finally comes down:



As Evgeni Malkin tops 100 points in the season.

And the Penguins move into first place in the Atlantic Division by beating the New Jersey Devils 7-1.
Happy Easter.

In Honor of Mister Rogers

Mr. McFeely has requested that we wear our favorite sweater on March 20.

Unfortunately, my favorite sweater is not fit for public consumption. So my second favorite will have to do.

Happy St. Patrick's Day

Thousands are Sailing



Body of an American

An aside: I want this song played at my funeral.

In Pittsburgh, Even the Buildings are Stubborn

After repeated failures to take down St. Francis Central Hospital via controlled collapse, contractors have thrown up their hands and will be imploding the building the morning of March 22.

Filing under "Penguins" as the demolition of the building will enable construction on the new arena to move ahead.

For Bill

Rest in Peace.



-- Ocelot

End of the Saga

I am hoping that this is the last post on the state of my health. I can't seem to find a way of framing what is happening to me in a manner that takes in the broader issues of class and income. It seems petty to whine about the time, the expense, the stupid lectures when there are so many people in the United States without access to decent health insurance and/or reliable doctors.

Except I could not turn off the interior monologue, which became louder when the forms to appeal company X's refusal to approve a chest CT scan arrived in the mail. Seeing the phrase “suspected malignancy” in print is demoralizing. Waiting for information on procedures is demoralizing.

The arguments with Insurance Company X over which procedures are medically necessary, the trips for consults, MRI's and CT scans, the lecture from my mother over refusing contrast, all of this is making me weary. In between I've also had annual visits to the dentist and the optometrist and a consult with a periodontist. I have spent more time in medical offices in the past six weeks then I have in the last ten years.

It is not over quite yet, but it is close. My scans are normal. My blood work is normal. My x-rays are normal. I have orders for physical therapy on my left shoulder, to strengthen the tendon. I have an estimate for two gum grafts, to fix the recession on two of my teeth. And I have a GP who thinks that I have been through enough – and that I am normal.