Sometimes Socialized Medicine Looks Like a Good Alternative
Monday, Jun. 18, 2007 at 11:23 a.m.
Hi kids!
Yes, I know I haven�t been around much lately. There are two reasons for that, possibly even three. Maybe even four. Let�s see what I can come up with.
Thanks to thedailywtf, I found a fun website that fulfills my gambling addiction without actually spending any money. Well, except for the $40 I laid out to get the actual membership. I am speaking, of course, of Pogo. Here, I can play slots to my heart�s content, with only the loss of �tokens� to my name. And I can put my name into raffles and prize drawings with said tokens and I can by happily occupied for eight hours a day while at work. The problem is, Pogo isn�t as conducive to knitting or watching movies or . . . updating this diary. Or at least I haven�t worked out all the kinks yet. Still, in my opinion, it�s not anywhere near as bad as Second Life�. Ya hear that, wilberteets?
Also, my mind has been elsewhere, as I have discovered myself now experiencing the Medical Malady of 2007�. If you recall (or if you don�t, please follow the links), the Medical Malady of 2005 was the appearance of my Sarcoidosis in my lungs and lymph nodes, which I am now happy to say is either in some sort of remission or it burned itself out after two years of taking prednisone and gaining 50 pounds. I had the most common form of sarcoid, and I consider myself lucky that I do not have neurosarcoid, as our beautiful friend kungfukitten does.
A good chunk of 2006 was taken up by that year�s Medical Malady, both Part One and Part Two which involved the removal of diseased girly bits and then a small part of the girly bits growing back and causing, as my Obi/Wan called it �discomfort�. Calling it discomfort is like calling falling off the Chrysler Building a �little spill.�
And now in 2007, I have a new Medical Malady, or perhaps it�s a redux of Medical Malady 2006 Part Two, as again a girly bit thought to be removed regenerated itself and built up a huge mass around it, causing much �discomfort� (read: pain causing need of House-Vicodin levels) so the requisite Obi/Wan visit and subsequent trip to the ultrasound place to have an ultrasound wand shoved up my hoo-hoo again. So I get a personal call from the Obi/Wan telling me that he wants to call in a gynecological oncologist, which of course sent me into a blithering panic, which was then intensified as the earliest appointment I could get with one is July 30th. The Obi/Wan assures me that that�s okay, that the chance of this ugly thing being malignant are really really really really really really really low, but tell that to the woman who took a six-month course of medication to get rid of the thing originally to only have it grow back less than 6 months later.
On the other hand, it�s good to know that even though the Obi/Wan is a man in his 40�s, he�s willing to accept when something is a bit beyond him and it�s time to call in the big guns. I�ll bet he asks for directions too.
(cripes, who am I kidding? He�s get On-Star and GPS, I�ll bet)
On the other other hand, it�s not like my brain is leaking out my nose .
Still, I have to say one thing. Just. One. Thing. (scroll down if you are faint of heart.)
FUCK!!
Okay, I�m done now. I have a feeling, though, that the above sentiment was also uttered by the driver of this car. What do you think?
I�ll keep you all updated.
Ta!