Thursday, January 3, 2008

[The Wisdom of a Distracted Mind] Almost There....


So, how badly can I totally wonk a picture of myself?

Apparently, if I'm drinking coffee, and using a camera phone, the answer to that would be damn badly, now, wouldn't it?

I mean, that's got to be one of the worst pictures I've ever taken.

Still, there's something I like about this picture, though I don't know what it is exactly. It was early, early morning the other day, the sun wasn't even close to coming up, I was in the dungeon that is my basement, and my hair seems to be doing its own maddening thing.

But, there's motion!

Look! I'm moving, people!

And, I imagine that this is the kind of blurry insanity you'd get if you tried to take a picture of a ninja... No. Check that. A coffee-drinking ninja!

Aside from that, two things at the moment...

First, by the time some of you read this, it will be Friday. That means you are all ordered to go out and have a wonderful weekend. And, if you don't, well... You can just go right ahead and yank yourselves off my Christmas card list. After all, in my world, Baby Jesus don't roll with no lightweights. Plus, you know, it's 2008, so take a freakin' walk and burn that number into your minds so you don't keep writing 2007 on your checks until March.

Second, I finally watched the movie Waitress, and it pretty much gutted the hell out of me. It's funny, it's sad, it's frustrating and absolutely satisfying (and it is only the second movie to date that's ever made me weepy). I am so glad Adrienne Shelly made this amazing film, and I am so pissed off someone took her away from the world.

Anyway, after watching the movie, I came to the quick realization that this town desperately needs a damned Pie Diner. There literally is absolutely no place whatsoever to go for any sort of pie, good or bad, around here. I mean, even bad pie, as if there could ever be such a thing, would be nice in a greasy little diner.

Well, I should wrap this up since it's getting dangerously close to Friday, and well... Soon I will turn into a zombie.

However, if you're awake, do yourselves a favor and check out the Quadrantid meteor shower tonight (or this morning). It'll be peaking at 2 AM Eastern time. So, perhaps I'll putter around the house wishing I had pie before bundling up and heading outside to check them out for a bit. Apparently, you're supposed to make a wish when you see a shooting star, so, think of this as an opportunity to wish in bulk.

-DP


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Posted By Dan to The Wisdom of a Distracted Mind at 1/03/2008 11:20:00 PM

[The Wisdom of a Distracted Mind] Wow... I'm Awake!


"The wages of sin are death, but by the time taxes are taken out, it's just sort of a tired feeling." --Paula Poundstone

I gotta admit. That quote cracks me up, and though I've never really quite dug Miss Poundstone, sometimes, she really can be pretty damn funny.

Anyway, I think I may have tumbled upon a sort of odd cure for these aches and pains: Lack of sleep.

I don't get it either, but I've been awake off and on since one o'clock Wednesday morning, and the strange thing is, stuff isn't hurting all that badly.

I figure sleeping, and the whole not moving thing that pretty much comes along with it keeps a lot of the painful stiffness away. And, so far, it's not all that bad since I managed to avoid all that hassle. Granted, my brain is a lot like the bottom of a pretty dirty fishtank, and this isn't exactly something I'd enjoy doing on a long term basis.

You see, I like sleep. Sleep and I are good pals. In fact, I may actually be willing to go so far as to say that I like sleep so much that I would be willing to sleep with sleep. With cuddling afterwards.

Anyway, in other news, it's brutally freakin' cold here this morning. I mean, it's the kind of cold where I half to expect to open the door to retrieve the morning paper only to find Steve Buscemi being crammed into a woodchipper by some sort of shady thug of unknown European origin.

It's five degrees and falling... That's five. I don't know what it is in Celsius because... Hello? Not much sleep! So, I'll just say is a thousand, billion degrees below zero for all you metric heads and your damn base ten gibberish. Seriously, I like that I can see five degrees and know it's too damn cold to breathe. I mean, what's zero in Celsius?

32 Fahrenheit!

When it's thirty-two in Wisconsin, people are swimming in the lake, it's t-shirt weather and most of my neighbors are firing up their grills complaining about having to mow the lawn if it gets any warmer.

However, when it's zero, we're all counting our stockpiles of Spam and cream of mushroom soup thinking about which family on the block should provide the most sustenance should things get too bad.

Oh what? Like you guys wouldn't turn to a little long pig if the situation arose.

And, don't get me wrong. I'm not all that anxious to roast my neighbor (though he's got a freakin' ridiculously beautiful wife who, at times, looks like she'd forgive me for gitting her hubby out of the picture), it's just these people owe me. After all, I'm not the one with the damned leaf blower, the annoying dog, or the 3 AM let's sit in the garage and rev our motorcycle while listening to Molly Hatchet issues.

Nope. I'm the quiet guy who keeps to himself. And, no. I'm not a serial killer. I don't have the freakin' attention span to ever be a serial killer.

Oh hey! I just discovered another perk about staying up for 28 hours straight. Coffee tastes better than sex.

Yeah. It does.

You know that big, gooey, near-orgasmic "Ahhh" that rolls out of you when you have that nice first swig of the morning?

After 28 hours, every sip tastes like that --even the little dainty sips the size of which, in all her prim and proper morning antics, The Queen of England takes. Then again, for all I know, she may drink her morning coffee out of one of those massive 64 ounce plastic travel mugs from 7-11 as she wanders through Buckingham Palace scratching her ass before settling down on the thunderbox for a royal morning constitutional.

Sorry, England. I know you folks try very hard, but we all know that The Queen poops. Granted, they may be dipped in gold and coated with diamonds because she's the queen and all, but still, it happens. And, she probably sits there like a fratboy reading the Times and cursing about the scores from the Man-U match.

My god! How in the hell did I get on the Queen of England?

(And, trust me here, if that isn't something which you really don't want to ever find yourself saying at five in the morning, I don't know what would be.)

Anywho... Back here in America, where things are considerably less funny, it would seem everyone's in Iowa for some sort of caucus or another. I just don't really understand a damn bit of it, but considering that it's about as frozen in Iowa as it is here, it'll be fun watching all those clingy, campaign newspeople freeze their giblets off in this cold. I wonder if Romney will be handing out some Mitt-Approved Magic-Mormon Underpants?

Nonetheless, I suppose I need to go and try to, umm, wake up... Or, try to wake up more than I am since I've got to get back on the phone again and deal with people and numbers and math and drugs... It's like freakin' high school all over again.

If I am still awake, I'll try to be back. Today's the day I start my month of Humira, so I'm sure I'll be writing a freakin' dissertation about how I managed to stab the bloody hell out of myself trying to figure out needles and drugs and how to get this medication into my system without resorting to just squirting the stuff into a martini in place of vermouth.

-DP



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Posted By Dan to The Wisdom of a Distracted Mind at 1/03/2008 04:02:00 AM

Wednesday, January 2, 2008

[The Wisdom of a Distracted Mind] Look at Me! I'm Psychic!

Alright... Now, this being Psychic for Jebus stuff is brutally wonky, but I've got to tip my hat to Pat Robertson.
[Monsignor Robertson of Crazytown] also cited information from God when he predicted on a year go that major U.S. cities would be hit by "very serious terrorist attacks" causing "possibly millions" of deaths.

No such catastrophe occurred. "All I can think is that somehow the people of God prayed and God in his mercy spared us," Robertson said on "The 700 Club," a television show he hosts on the Christian Broadcasting Network, based in Virginia Beach.

"So did I miss it? Possibly," he said of his unrealized prediction. "Or, on the other hand, did God avert it? Possibly. But whatever, it didn't happen, so I think we can all rejoice." (full story)

Really, people... I mean, Sylvia Browne, to my knowledge, doesn't have that sort of built in excuse for her failure when her bullshit doesn't quite pan out. Sylvia just scampers off and hides when she's blown reality all to hell.

Now, Pat? He's got an ace in the hole, and that Holey Ace is none other than God himself. Even better, he's got his nutty ass flock of weirdos to also back him up. First, he terrifies them by claiming to hear of all these impending disasters from God, and when they don't pan out, he can say the begging and whimpering of his tedious flock swayed God's opinion.

So, give yourselves a pat on the back you hard-prayin' peeps. Unfortunately, if they actually did come true, oh yeah. I'm blaming you for not doing your jobs.

The thing is, if you folks were actually any good at this prayer nonsense, God wouldn't be threatening to destroy us in the first freakin' place. I mean, let's face it, humanity's future is in your tightly clasped hands and your googly eyeballs that roll into the backs of your heads.

Nonetheless, I think Pat's right about one thing: We can all rejoice. In fact, this weekend, I hope you all get out and rejoice the ever-living-crap out of Pat Robertson's inanity.

I don't think I made any major predictions in 2007 aside from simply saying that George Bush will only continue to grow more and more stupid, and I'm going to say, I was right (although I was a little scared when he said he read Cammus' The Stranger, but those fears were quickly settled when he also said he "read three Shakespeares"). In fact, I'm going to "predict" that 2008 will be a freakin' banner year for Bush-based WTF? moments. The guy's a total Gomer frat-boy, and I really don't think he's done anything but make things worse for the world while he and his robot wife work on keg-stands in the Lincoln Bedroom.

Now, does that make me a psychic?

Of course not.

I mean, it's not like I'm saying that I predict the Bush Administration will be embroiled in, and subsequently cover up, several major scandals in 2008.

-DP

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Posted By Dan to The Wisdom of a Distracted Mind at 1/02/2008 11:19:00 PM

[The Wisdom of a Distracted Mind] I Do Love My Readers...

Seriously. You guys are the best. And, well, I this comment sums up my angst pretty well:
Lakota Princess has left a new comment on your post "Update...":

Grrrrrrr.
Makes me want to hurt someone. Badly. Preferrably someone I can torture to give you what you need.
This is fucking ridiculous, Dan.
Sorry - humorous comment planned has been sucked down the empathetic anger drain.
Excuse me while i go track down a pharmaceutical rep, an insurance rep, and might as well throw in a doctor and kick the crap out of all of them.

Posted by Lakota Princess to The Wisdom of a Distracted Mind at January 2, 2008 9:18 PM

I'm going to say, that's pretty much how Ive felt every day for the past ten years. Unfortunately, dearest Lakota, knocking the empty heads together of those responsible is not really going to do anything. The heads are empty. It's not like they're capable of any grand epiphanies or anything.

Anyway, the thing is, I decided to pay, out of pocket, for one month (two measly injections) of Humira at a cost of about $1,500. I did some juggling, and I realized that I can't afford to let this go untreated since there are a lot of things that need to get done, and the pain has, quite simply, gotten to the point of being far more than I can bear. Plus, the permanent damage of untreated arthritis can be pretty damn crippling. And, while I put my doctor through the veritable wringer tomorrow as a result of this latest snapshot of her dessicated, and slowly failing medical mind, hopefully, I will find myself on some road to some relief. After all, she prescribed the Humira even though I stated, four times, that it wouldn't be covered, but a month of the 25mg Enbrel would (which in my mind would be better than nothing). Her thinking was that since Humira is only two shots and not four, ergo, Humira is cheaper than Enbrel and subsequently would be covered. In her world, it really didn't seem to matter one damn bit that Ihad actually spoken to my insurance folks who told me time and time again that it wasn't.

I believe my Rheumatologist is actually a robot. Either that, or she's one of those pod-people from outer space who took over the body of my doctor and is now finding itself horribly confused about making humans better.

So, I should be okay for a month... maybe. And, during this brief respite, I do plan to find a more affordable alternative (hopefully, it won't involve a gun). My guess is that I will inevitably wind up with the weekly 25mg shots which may or may not be all that effective which should be covered. And, I'm hoping that it takes less than a month to explain it to my doctor.

I may need a chalkboard.
Two shots of Humira a month at $1,500 is greater than four 25mg shots of Enbrel at $700 a month.

Both are effective medications Dan needs.

Now, when Dan leaves a train station in Milwaukee at 4:45 PM, and he's got a limit of $900 a month on medications, which medication should be prescribed to Dan?
Yes. It's rocket science, and it obviously involves some pretty heady math which is apparently beyond the comprehension of a freakin' doctor.

Oy!

-DP

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Posted By Dan to The Wisdom of a Distracted Mind at 1/02/2008 09:23:00 PM

[The Wisdom of a Distracted Mind] Update...

Thanks for the well-wishes guys, and thanks for the sundry bits of advice.

First, to answer Bill's question, yes! A hot tub and spa does feel quite nice, and it does a great job of softening up these aches and pains. However, the relief is very temporary, at best. In fact, usually within about an hour, I'm back to my achy self.

Then again, if I had my own hot tub and an endless supply of margaritas (Reason #101 on why Dan needs a wife), I'd probably spend 24 hours a day in the thing until I was all prune-y.

Still... Hot tubs are nice.... very, very nice.


Cinzano? I spent a lot of time on hold. Some phones were still playing Christmas music. Others were playing the sort of bland wallpaper music that you'd find in a hotel lounge in Peoria.

I swear, if I ever have a company that puts people's phone calls on hold, I'm going to play an alternating sequence of speed metal and Bob Marley.


Anyway, the medication I need, as prescribed is 50mg of Enbrel twice a week. Unfortunately, the stuff comes in a box of four pre-measured injections, and the price ranges from $1,300 to $1,400. So, every two weeks, that's what I'd be paying --a minimum of $2,600 a month.

Now, that's freakin' insane!

And, even the girl I spoke to at Enbrel had the audacity to apologize to me about the price when I brought up that they have actually priced it out of reach of most Americans, and considering that cost, most insurance providers would drop a patient like a hot potato considering that this is a chronic, incurable disease which could lead one hell of a tab over the course of one's lifetime with this ick. So, in other words, they are actually doing more harm than good.

Still... At least she apologized, I guess.

On the other hand (and this seems to be the potential way I will inevitably wind up going), they offer a box of four 25mg injections for the paltry, bargain-basement price of $650 to $700.

Now, this could lead to potential insanity since my insurance seems to have stated to me that they are willing to pay $900 per month; however, they told the folks at Enbrel that they are willing to pay $900 per week.

If what they said to me is true, I'm fucked like a slow moving sheep in a town full of hillfolk.

However, if what they said to them is true, well... I'll be making weekly trips to the pharmacy, and sticking myself like some sort of Haitian voodoo doll, but at least I'll have the stuff I need to keep me from French kissing a speeding locomotive just to stop the pain for a while.

So, nonetheless, I'm waiting for calls to be returned. I find this is where most troubles are started since most people are like me. I'm terrible at returning calls. But, hopefully, I've racked up enough Karma points over the past 39 years to maybe find myself dealing with people who are not like myself.

Aside from that, though, I was reading the news this morning, and I came across this:
White patents receive better pain management than blacks and Hispanics

CHICAGO - Black and Hispanic patients in acute pain are likely to receive less potent pain killers when they visit emergency departments in hospitals as compared to their white counterparts, a large US study has revealed. (Full story)
I must be the exception to that sort of ridiculously unfair form of medical racism. I think people, all people should be treated equally regardless of the race, and if this study holds up to scrutiny, this is yet another solid testimonial for the dire need of health care reform in America.

It's frustrating, isn't it?

I mean, here we are in the 21st Century, and it's clear America has regressed far more than it's progressed, and it's as though we're living in those shitty days of the 1950's where women were nothing more than appliances, religion had a solid grasp upon society --contrary to the instructions of the Constitution, and the threat of Communism made people comically paranoid and terrified.

We've gone backwards as a result of these so-called "Conservative values" which have utterly crippled this nation with morals built more upon individual greed and corruption, than what is in the best interests of our nation and her citizens.

Even today, in 2008, there are whimpers and cries for women to return to their "traditional" roles, and we now have immigrants who are treated more like pernicious foreign invaders than people simply looking for a better opportunity to have a good life in a nation which once promised such opportunities.


Well, just found out from my insurance gits, and apparently, what they told me was true, and what they told the folks at Enbrel was, well... proof of their on stupidity.

Fortunately, I didn't bother to get my hopes up since I learned long ago that is a very bad idea if one is battling this disease and looking for treatment. Either your insurance company will dump you like a bad habit once they realize you've got a chronic, incurable and wildly expensive disease, or the medication is priced so far out of control that it's unattainable. So, holding onto hope is a liability.

So, I suppose my options at the moment are to try and see if the 25mg shots once a week are enough to actually make some bit of difference (yeah. I doubt it too, but who knows?). Or, perhaps I can get my doctors to give me a shitload of narcotics and anti-depressants until either this hopelessly fucked American health-care system is fixed or the price of Enbrel comes down to a more sensible amount. Both seem pretty far off to me, I guess.

Then again, I could write to my Senator, hire a lawyer, and see if I have a case. The way I see it, I'm being forced in the exact opposite direction I need to be going, and it's also contrary to what the health care industry should be doing. My life is literally being made unlivable, and, well... perhaps it's time I take steps to start treating this as a need to protect myself. And, what the hell? If I can sue the hospital, pharmaceutical companies, and the insurance provider to the point where I wind up with enough cash in my pocket to afford this medication, I'll be happy. After all, it is not a fucking luxury item like a new pair of tits for Pam Anderson. It's a god damned need.

Oh well... I guess I'll just keep muddling along.

-DP

Ah well... the quest continues. But, right now, I am baked on a hell of a lot of meds right now just to make this typing thing possible. But, I wanted to keep those of you who have offered helpful suggestions in the proverbial loop. It means a lot that you care, and thank you all for that.

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Posted By Dan to The Wisdom of a Distracted Mind at 1/02/2008 11:24:00 AM

[The Wisdom of a Distracted Mind] Yes. I Am Still Whining.

Yowza!

This chronic pain nonsense is getting pretty freakin' old pretty damn fast.

I mean, would it have been so rough to decline my Remicade in a better season... like June? I'd imagine this collapse wouldn't have been so bloody swift in a warmer climate. As it stands now, though, pretty much every one of my moving parts has some element of arthritis blazing unchecked and out of control. It's pretty much head-to-toe inflammation at this point, and I'd be a fool to think that this omnipresent collection of aches and pains wouldn't twist my overall mood.

Now, I don't need the hugs or anything. This is just me using my blog to vent and rage and pound painfully upon these little keys to just get this overwhelming angst and rage out of my head.

Nor is this me feeling sorry for myself.

What it is, is me trying to figure out some avenue down which I can travel so as to find some solution to this maddening situation. I'll probably be on the phone all day trying to sort out stuff, but to say I'm confident that this will all be resolved soon is a lie. My greatest fear is that by the time the folks at Enbrel get around to coming through for me, the permanent damage done as a result of allowing this stuff to run rampant will be severe enough to the point that no amount of medication or treatment will really make a difference.

Anyway, I don't know how things will be on this blog over the coming weeks. It may be slow here. Normally, I could wake up, wrestle myself out of bed, cram some pain killers into my head and spend some semi-lucid time typing. Unfortunately, the pain has gotten to the point where the pills I take do almost nothing. And, to make matters worse, it's impossible getting my doctor to prescribe anything stronger.

Don't worry, though. I've still got some hope that this will get figured out before too long. Right now, it's time to start my day of dialing.

Have a great day, everyone.

-DP

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Posted By Dan to The Wisdom of a Distracted Mind at 1/02/2008 05:39:00 AM

Tuesday, January 1, 2008

[The Wisdom of a Distracted Mind] Starting 2008!

Ouch!

Today is a "not-so-good" day since pretty much every inch of my body feels as though I was out partying like a frat-boy last night; however, I stayed in, put my feet up, watched TV and had what was perhaps the most low-key New Year's Eve in the 39 year history of Dan.

I didn't mind, though. After all, the last few weeks haven't exactly been the most conducive for partying like a lunatic, and, I hate to say it, I am sort of enjoying settling into this life of sloth since the alternative is one of maddening pain.

Laziness?

Or aches?

Tough choice that...

Unfortunately, DogCat wanted to play this morning. So, that was pretty much a freakin' bloodbath. Although, it was kind of funny watching him try to sneak up on me. First, he started beneath the dining room table, and I tried to stifle my giggles as he nudged the chairs all over the place trying to "sneak around" and find a good spot from which to pounce upon me. There was a lot of groaning on his part as he tends to do that whenever he gets excited or frustrated.

Then, when his cover beneath the table was compromised, he scampered to try to hide himself behind a few piles of books which inevitably found their way to the floor.

I think there are moments when he seriously underestimates his size because, once all the books were knocked over as a result of his clumsiness, he tried to hide himself beneath the couch and promptly got stuck with his hind claws carving up the hardwood floor. So, obviously, I took advantage of that by giving him a good rough scratching with an occasional tug of his tail until he was driven completely insane, and when I dragged him out from his "hiding" spot, he immediately curled himself around my arm with his claws sticking out just enough to keep me from yanking my arm away.

From there, it was pretty much just a big, wet mess of cat slobber and teeth and an occasional scream of pain from me.

It was fun. But, still, I wish there were times where he'd play with his other cat toys.

-DP

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Posted By Dan to The Wisdom of a Distracted Mind at 1/01/2008 10:22:00 AM