.
.
Delicious, long, happy, restful seeming, sleep. If I dreamed I remember nothing of it now, though I suspect I did from nearly waking and thinking then that maybe I had. No bad dreams though, the sheets are dry and my muscles don't hurt. No foul mood and the sun is out today. I would love to be out there, even just tinkering with the rope. The problem is my exhaustion was caused only partly from missing sleep. The other part is, I don't know how to express it, almost spiritual in nature. I can't just do and continue to do and not pay a price of some unknown resource. So, today, I rest. As I said, I am good with that.
I did not get to sleep until early morning so I did not wake in time to call the techs. I can work on bullets though, and will if I get to them. I have primed enough cases to tinker. I also looked up my problem with bullets overall length issues. I realize I made a mistake in my first writing, I am off by hundredths, not thousandths. A few thousandths off is fine. Not so with hundredths. I have looked at the solutions, and will look more. One of my issues, I see right away, is that the bullet plate (the thing that takes the brass around to all the stations) needs to be full. I need to have a case at each station. But with the primer bay out of operation, that is not feasible. Until I can correct the priming station, I can't really work through the overall length situation. Blasphemy!
I have also found more regarding the primer situation. Most people just say "call the tech". I hate that. This should not be so complicated in this one area that they could not have included instructions (or instructions that work). There are instructions, and they are fail. They are both quite vague and I think incomplete. It does give me something to do, something to be unhappy with, and something to look forward to completing I suppose.
It is a good thing the sleep device arrived on Wednesday. The first night did not work out and there has been a day, and another sleep cycle beside, where I am not sure I got the minimum sleep. It is rather odd being tied to a device by my hand, nose, and chest. I thought it would make sleep impossible but it doesn't. I sort of wish I could download the data, just to tinker with it myself. And, with a little ingenuity, I might be able to do so. Without knowing, precisely, what I am doing though, there could be... problems. So, I will leave it to those with the equipment and software.
Sassy is on a begging spree. Having tired of her constant begging, I have elected to bring a manually operated shower around with me. She has to learn to deal with her boredom. And she has to learn to eat what is available. Sometimes I like having her up and in my lap, then she settles down. Other times she merely gets up here, then rips out and cuts me up pretty good. I have learned which is which and will disfavor the disfavorable reasons. *squirt* Brat! Oh, and the next time I am in town I will be getting petroleum jelly. I have heard this works for hairballs, thus vomiting, on cats. And I have learned how to apply it. A dab on the nose will get Sam to lick it off out of frustration. No other means will get her to eat it. A little dab indeed. Here kitteh kitteh kitteh! *evil grins*
Well, on to doing nothing as quickly and well as I am able. Have a great day! Oh, remember to tell those you love that you love them. Even the ones you don't particularly like right at the moment. Probably especially those. Later.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
A few odds and ends.
.
.
With all that has been going on and a repurposing of what efforts I have available, some writing has been sidelined, as have some things on my lists. While I am continuing to hold off medium term and long term plans, I have been doing a few things of personal interest. One of those is reloading bullets.
I must admit, I came into the reloading hobby by way of political and social concern as much as an interest in shooting. I also came into it quite blindly. I have almost no mechanical interface experience, as exhibited in the construction of the bench upon which I have installed the loading press. And, it is obvious. While I am working to make my loads accurate in all ways, I am finding that absolute accuracy is not always feasible. While I can get the powder to perfectly put out 3.9 grains every time over dozens of tests, I cannot get the overall length of the finished bullet to within a few hundredths regularly. The variances can be as high as 5, 7, or more hundredths of an inch. This is, I think, unacceptable. I also have not figured out the primer issue, usually needing to be gone during prime calling times or being too tired to function when I have had them available. The good thing is perhaps when I call, with some experience and problems, the techs will be able to handle both situations rather than having to call back if I had the length problem later.
While in Ogden, last time, I considered buying a manual, stand alone, primer. The cheapest among them was $24, and change. My friend suggested he would sell me his, he no longer uses it. How much? He suggested $10. Then I remembered, I still have a check from him for something, a $14 dollar check. I am terrible about cashing such instruments. He keeps his checkbook, so by giving him the check back, he can see an actual increase in his balance. So it was. I learned how to prime with it, after a bit more of a tussle with new notions. The case I was trying to prime would not take the primer. And, being somewhat twitchy with primers, I was cautious. Setting it all aside, to think somewhere in the back of my mind, I did other things for a day. Coming back to priming, I decided to review the whole operation and find what was wrong. Ah! The cases I had thought all used small primers... were actually mixed! Same brand, same caliber, different primers! No wonder the small would not fit the large primer hole in the case. A bit more work separating them, another go at it, and... primed cases, both large and small. Finally, I put out some bullets. But then I ran into the overall length issue. Bah! But this frustration I enjoy. I am hoping to call Dillon tomorrow, if I wake up early. Being a weekend I might not get through... assuming I wake up.
Oh, women have been on my mind lately as well. I see so many middle aged single women at the few places I go, I am realizing just how dire things are for them. They, generally, have no clue as to why men are abandoning them in droves. Dally, sure. Flirt, of course. Anything more? Not on our lives. Especially obvious career women. Until they become frustrated enough to realize what they are losing, why, and then begin being a part of the solution instead of tools of the problem, they will never win us back. If they go slutty, the lowest among us will feed on them like krill, leaving them as waste for the next lower level of consumers. If they go prude or cold, they will simply be ignored until they become slutty or die.
The chance, with a modern education, to see the problem, by them, is quite small. If one is trained to believe there are no forests, it is difficult to see one past the trees. They have been taught, and often believe intellectually, what is contrary to what they want. And they, like men, natively just want what they want but have nothing to offer in exchange for it. Love? Sex? No, men can get these things outside of marriage and easily. Children? Same thing, and worse. If a man has a child with a woman, she has say as to what involvement he has in their lives. And women are notoriously fickle.
Women will have to change, then force through that change by voting for politicians who are pro-family. Even this is slim, politicians being what they are. As I have always said, the only way a woman can beat me, conquer me, is to surrender whole and complete. Any other game will see her as either an object of desire or, as now, an unclean animal. Not fully her fault, except in her acceptance and advance of feminism through her lifestyle as a career woman, a thing most women simply advantage themselves through without fully understanding. If women want men, husbands, families, they will have to burden themselves with losing their "rights" and forcing political changes either by voting or abdicating their vote until it disappears. As for me, I will not hold my breath on that... when I can catch it that is.
Welp, on to other things.
.
With all that has been going on and a repurposing of what efforts I have available, some writing has been sidelined, as have some things on my lists. While I am continuing to hold off medium term and long term plans, I have been doing a few things of personal interest. One of those is reloading bullets.
I must admit, I came into the reloading hobby by way of political and social concern as much as an interest in shooting. I also came into it quite blindly. I have almost no mechanical interface experience, as exhibited in the construction of the bench upon which I have installed the loading press. And, it is obvious. While I am working to make my loads accurate in all ways, I am finding that absolute accuracy is not always feasible. While I can get the powder to perfectly put out 3.9 grains every time over dozens of tests, I cannot get the overall length of the finished bullet to within a few hundredths regularly. The variances can be as high as 5, 7, or more hundredths of an inch. This is, I think, unacceptable. I also have not figured out the primer issue, usually needing to be gone during prime calling times or being too tired to function when I have had them available. The good thing is perhaps when I call, with some experience and problems, the techs will be able to handle both situations rather than having to call back if I had the length problem later.
While in Ogden, last time, I considered buying a manual, stand alone, primer. The cheapest among them was $24, and change. My friend suggested he would sell me his, he no longer uses it. How much? He suggested $10. Then I remembered, I still have a check from him for something, a $14 dollar check. I am terrible about cashing such instruments. He keeps his checkbook, so by giving him the check back, he can see an actual increase in his balance. So it was. I learned how to prime with it, after a bit more of a tussle with new notions. The case I was trying to prime would not take the primer. And, being somewhat twitchy with primers, I was cautious. Setting it all aside, to think somewhere in the back of my mind, I did other things for a day. Coming back to priming, I decided to review the whole operation and find what was wrong. Ah! The cases I had thought all used small primers... were actually mixed! Same brand, same caliber, different primers! No wonder the small would not fit the large primer hole in the case. A bit more work separating them, another go at it, and... primed cases, both large and small. Finally, I put out some bullets. But then I ran into the overall length issue. Bah! But this frustration I enjoy. I am hoping to call Dillon tomorrow, if I wake up early. Being a weekend I might not get through... assuming I wake up.
Oh, women have been on my mind lately as well. I see so many middle aged single women at the few places I go, I am realizing just how dire things are for them. They, generally, have no clue as to why men are abandoning them in droves. Dally, sure. Flirt, of course. Anything more? Not on our lives. Especially obvious career women. Until they become frustrated enough to realize what they are losing, why, and then begin being a part of the solution instead of tools of the problem, they will never win us back. If they go slutty, the lowest among us will feed on them like krill, leaving them as waste for the next lower level of consumers. If they go prude or cold, they will simply be ignored until they become slutty or die.
The chance, with a modern education, to see the problem, by them, is quite small. If one is trained to believe there are no forests, it is difficult to see one past the trees. They have been taught, and often believe intellectually, what is contrary to what they want. And they, like men, natively just want what they want but have nothing to offer in exchange for it. Love? Sex? No, men can get these things outside of marriage and easily. Children? Same thing, and worse. If a man has a child with a woman, she has say as to what involvement he has in their lives. And women are notoriously fickle.
Women will have to change, then force through that change by voting for politicians who are pro-family. Even this is slim, politicians being what they are. As I have always said, the only way a woman can beat me, conquer me, is to surrender whole and complete. Any other game will see her as either an object of desire or, as now, an unclean animal. Not fully her fault, except in her acceptance and advance of feminism through her lifestyle as a career woman, a thing most women simply advantage themselves through without fully understanding. If women want men, husbands, families, they will have to burden themselves with losing their "rights" and forcing political changes either by voting or abdicating their vote until it disappears. As for me, I will not hold my breath on that... when I can catch it that is.
Welp, on to other things.
I do need this weekend.
.
.
I have been out of the house and taken three road trips this last week. This in spite of my normal exhaustion features. The shortness of breath and added sleep difficulties, plus having to figure out how to wake at specific times, has meant I have been literally jamming it. It may be nothing to most people but these seemingly simple tasks have been akin to an average person figuring out how to run a couple of miles. Stretched, I think, would be the appropriate word.
The visit to the hospital today involved receiving an echo-cardiogram. I finally know two things. One, I actually do have a heart. I don't know if it is black as tar, however. The other, I do not believe I have an enlarged left ventricle. I could be wrong. I was eyeballing it. The tech would neither say nay or yeah, but a little sweet talk and a little misdirection, along with the ability to read people in a non-verbal manner, added to my belief that the heart (barring some minor odd defect it really does take a cardiologist to note) is the picture of health. Pulse was a little high at 110, give or take. But oddly my blood pressure was down at 160/99 or so, the first one. And, I was able to walk/jog the two flights of steps after an eighth of a mile jog from parking to the hospital main as well. I did have to stop and catch my breath, but only a few moments were needed. I hate giving in to my breathing issue without a fight.
I need rest. I need to relax, or do what is my equivalent. This weekend is sorely needed. I was going to write when I returned home, and did actually. But when tired my writing can... ramble. And so it did. I needed sleep so very badly that I crashed. I hooked up the sleep monitor, not sure if I would be sleeping short or long. I got around four hours. In any case, they will get whatever sleep I can give them, recording whatever sleep I can get. I simply never know how long.
I think I was awaken by a bat? The leathery sound of their wings is distinctive. While it is possible I only dreamed that, because the cats were going crazy trying to get into my room I suspect there was a real bat in there. How it got in, or out, is another matter altogether. I do have a sub-attic hatch, the front and back additions to my home having their own attics and my room being in one of those, the windows though screened were open causing air intake to shift the attic panel, so that may be the whole of it. Hmm, but the closet doors were closed, making a quick entrance and exit unlikely. Whatever. Oh, and I dreamed. I remember one of the dreams as being one I have had before. The other was new, at least as I recall. The others I could not remember. Now they are all fading.
So, back to health. My doctors should be very careful about handing out such dire diagnosis's. Most likely, this one is false. The liver, or kidneys, or whatever else it is, sure it is a problem. Related to blood pressure. But my breathing seems unrelated to heart damage. So, what is causing the breathing problem? My doctor sent hydrochlorothiazide, my old diuretic. Why not the new one I was put on? I also received two inhalers. Huh? They change my diuretic and send something about which we have not had a discussion, all without discussion? And yet I have not received the powder form potassium. Huh? Is it too much to expect some effort, professionalism, and cooperation? Bah! Edema can be fatal, of and by itself, with no attachment to the heart damage or involvement. I do have to stay on this, but... They were, most likely, wrong. As I said, tricks to force me to take what I can't take. Now you are beginning to understand why I so despise Zero care. You will get precisely what I am getting. Bureaucrats for doctors and when those bureaucrats decide something, regardless of evidence, that is what (and only what) you will receive in the way of treatment.
Bah!
If I get nothing done, other than recouping, this weekend I am good with that. I need some rest. If a few dishes become clean, if a load of laundry or two finds itself on the bright side, if some components become bullets... fine. But I am not going to advocate or push. I need a little time for nothingness, or at least to leave that open should it happen. No push, or rush, no shove. Next week it will begin again, until I know why I am not breathing right. I am going to have to push those doctors into finding out the truth or they will simply let me die of it while complaining about very possibly unrelated problems. Bah!!!!! Bah!!!!!
Later or good night.
.
I have been out of the house and taken three road trips this last week. This in spite of my normal exhaustion features. The shortness of breath and added sleep difficulties, plus having to figure out how to wake at specific times, has meant I have been literally jamming it. It may be nothing to most people but these seemingly simple tasks have been akin to an average person figuring out how to run a couple of miles. Stretched, I think, would be the appropriate word.
The visit to the hospital today involved receiving an echo-cardiogram. I finally know two things. One, I actually do have a heart. I don't know if it is black as tar, however. The other, I do not believe I have an enlarged left ventricle. I could be wrong. I was eyeballing it. The tech would neither say nay or yeah, but a little sweet talk and a little misdirection, along with the ability to read people in a non-verbal manner, added to my belief that the heart (barring some minor odd defect it really does take a cardiologist to note) is the picture of health. Pulse was a little high at 110, give or take. But oddly my blood pressure was down at 160/99 or so, the first one. And, I was able to walk/jog the two flights of steps after an eighth of a mile jog from parking to the hospital main as well. I did have to stop and catch my breath, but only a few moments were needed. I hate giving in to my breathing issue without a fight.
I need rest. I need to relax, or do what is my equivalent. This weekend is sorely needed. I was going to write when I returned home, and did actually. But when tired my writing can... ramble. And so it did. I needed sleep so very badly that I crashed. I hooked up the sleep monitor, not sure if I would be sleeping short or long. I got around four hours. In any case, they will get whatever sleep I can give them, recording whatever sleep I can get. I simply never know how long.
I think I was awaken by a bat? The leathery sound of their wings is distinctive. While it is possible I only dreamed that, because the cats were going crazy trying to get into my room I suspect there was a real bat in there. How it got in, or out, is another matter altogether. I do have a sub-attic hatch, the front and back additions to my home having their own attics and my room being in one of those, the windows though screened were open causing air intake to shift the attic panel, so that may be the whole of it. Hmm, but the closet doors were closed, making a quick entrance and exit unlikely. Whatever. Oh, and I dreamed. I remember one of the dreams as being one I have had before. The other was new, at least as I recall. The others I could not remember. Now they are all fading.
So, back to health. My doctors should be very careful about handing out such dire diagnosis's. Most likely, this one is false. The liver, or kidneys, or whatever else it is, sure it is a problem. Related to blood pressure. But my breathing seems unrelated to heart damage. So, what is causing the breathing problem? My doctor sent hydrochlorothiazide, my old diuretic. Why not the new one I was put on? I also received two inhalers. Huh? They change my diuretic and send something about which we have not had a discussion, all without discussion? And yet I have not received the powder form potassium. Huh? Is it too much to expect some effort, professionalism, and cooperation? Bah! Edema can be fatal, of and by itself, with no attachment to the heart damage or involvement. I do have to stay on this, but... They were, most likely, wrong. As I said, tricks to force me to take what I can't take. Now you are beginning to understand why I so despise Zero care. You will get precisely what I am getting. Bureaucrats for doctors and when those bureaucrats decide something, regardless of evidence, that is what (and only what) you will receive in the way of treatment.
Bah!
If I get nothing done, other than recouping, this weekend I am good with that. I need some rest. If a few dishes become clean, if a load of laundry or two finds itself on the bright side, if some components become bullets... fine. But I am not going to advocate or push. I need a little time for nothingness, or at least to leave that open should it happen. No push, or rush, no shove. Next week it will begin again, until I know why I am not breathing right. I am going to have to push those doctors into finding out the truth or they will simply let me die of it while complaining about very possibly unrelated problems. Bah!!!!! Bah!!!!!
Later or good night.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Feeling better.
.
.
Today is better than yesterday and yesterday was better than I have been for a week. Perhaps relief in having a diagnosis, even a bad one potentially, frees me to begin making plans and doing some other things. I woke too late to do much, my sleep still troubling to obtain if it is good when it does come. Though I can't do some things I had hoped to manage today, I can do some other things on the list, mostly related to a bit of cleaning.
I am still looking for possible places for Sam and Sassy. I spoke of my concern with the missionaries who visited today and they will ask around. I keep looking for places using the internet as well. And, I thought as I was going to sleep, of calling veterinary clinics as another possible source of finding the ladies a home or homes. And yet, I need to talk to a doctor to find out what kind of window I have. I am not sure how imminent death is, only that it is almost sure at this point. I would like to minimize the time I will have to be alone.
As for suicide, that is not what this is. If I do anything, I will consider not using the potassium. It would weight the form of death to favor a heart attack. I am still not sure if I will do that though (and haven't to date). Since the pills are upsetting taken without food, which has made it so taking the potassium regularly is not doable, I am being sent a powder form of potassium which, I am told, I can add to whatever I drink without muss or fuss. And, I will do so. Though, from what I have seen, even when I was eating more regularly and taking potassium regularly, my levels remained low. In other words, I may not even need to cheat the system to receive a preferred outcome.
I am out on a limb and all alone. If I make mistakes through ignorance or animal instinct, sue me. I have learned I can't trust the medical field, they obviously either don't trust me or can't help me in any case and as well. Fair is fair. I have taken what I can but I refuse to be subjected to the terror that taking what they offer brings. If you can do it, fine. But don't even compare apples to oranges and ask me why the acidic difference. I do the best I can with what I have and know. So, back it off. If you wish to be angry, be angry at Adam and Eve. For it is they who have killed us all. I think more of Christ, who brought me the chance to live again, and forgive.
Hmm, some aspirin, a little time to get that to work, then a bit of cleaning I think. It is a good day, the sun even came out for a short bit. Tomorrow I plan on taking my friend to Ogden. I would like to find a primer flipper tray and maybe some bullets. I can't remember what he is looking for. I could probably buy locally, but since I am going to be there I will just shop there. Oh, and my sleep study device came today. I will figure that out before I go to sleep, whenever that may be. Ah, right, I was supposed to call them and let them know it had arrived. I will do that first thing.
Later.
.
Today is better than yesterday and yesterday was better than I have been for a week. Perhaps relief in having a diagnosis, even a bad one potentially, frees me to begin making plans and doing some other things. I woke too late to do much, my sleep still troubling to obtain if it is good when it does come. Though I can't do some things I had hoped to manage today, I can do some other things on the list, mostly related to a bit of cleaning.
I am still looking for possible places for Sam and Sassy. I spoke of my concern with the missionaries who visited today and they will ask around. I keep looking for places using the internet as well. And, I thought as I was going to sleep, of calling veterinary clinics as another possible source of finding the ladies a home or homes. And yet, I need to talk to a doctor to find out what kind of window I have. I am not sure how imminent death is, only that it is almost sure at this point. I would like to minimize the time I will have to be alone.
As for suicide, that is not what this is. If I do anything, I will consider not using the potassium. It would weight the form of death to favor a heart attack. I am still not sure if I will do that though (and haven't to date). Since the pills are upsetting taken without food, which has made it so taking the potassium regularly is not doable, I am being sent a powder form of potassium which, I am told, I can add to whatever I drink without muss or fuss. And, I will do so. Though, from what I have seen, even when I was eating more regularly and taking potassium regularly, my levels remained low. In other words, I may not even need to cheat the system to receive a preferred outcome.
I am out on a limb and all alone. If I make mistakes through ignorance or animal instinct, sue me. I have learned I can't trust the medical field, they obviously either don't trust me or can't help me in any case and as well. Fair is fair. I have taken what I can but I refuse to be subjected to the terror that taking what they offer brings. If you can do it, fine. But don't even compare apples to oranges and ask me why the acidic difference. I do the best I can with what I have and know. So, back it off. If you wish to be angry, be angry at Adam and Eve. For it is they who have killed us all. I think more of Christ, who brought me the chance to live again, and forgive.
Hmm, some aspirin, a little time to get that to work, then a bit of cleaning I think. It is a good day, the sun even came out for a short bit. Tomorrow I plan on taking my friend to Ogden. I would like to find a primer flipper tray and maybe some bullets. I can't remember what he is looking for. I could probably buy locally, but since I am going to be there I will just shop there. Oh, and my sleep study device came today. I will figure that out before I go to sleep, whenever that may be. Ah, right, I was supposed to call them and let them know it had arrived. I will do that first thing.
Later.
I am beginning to think they are wrong.
.
.
When frustrated in my search for a place which will take both Sam and Sassy, I have been researching cardiogenic pulmonary edema. That is the diagnosis I have been given. Though they have access to test results which are not here for me to evaluate, I can look at the symptom lists, read about the topic, and read between the lines. What I am finding is that there is a huge flaw in the symptom list I have and the ones offered in the places I have looked. I am suspecting, again, the diagnosis is probably non-cardiogenic pulmonary edema. Further, signs of heart failure they seem to indicate do not match any symptoms I have. No, smoke and mirrors again. Just like with the ear ache and a few other things, they won't treat what ails me, choosing to try and treat me for something that cannot be treated their way. If you remember rightly, the ear ached left of it's own accord.
Some of the problems with the diagnosis? I am not oxygen deprived and should be. I am not coughing up blood and I should be. I am not turning blue or grey and I should be. Though those are only potential issues, they are rather strongly significant ones, at least two of those should be showing. There are other problems as well. I'm being bulloxed. Some reasonable and odd causes for non-cardiogenic are breathing toxic materials from ammonia to CO2, hemodialysis and urinary alkalinization, and the use of hydrochlorothiazide (my last diuretic).
This is all well and good. My problem? They are not treating the right diagnosis. While the new diuretic is prescribed for their given diagnosis, it is not helpful for my suspected diagnosis. It does not, in fact, functionally affect my breathing difficulty. Further, finding what is really the problem is impossible if it is not being researched. Worse yet, untreated non-cardiogenic pulmonary edema can become as bad as if it was the other, if not treated. I am really beginning to hate doctors. And, no, they can't be trusted. They single mindedly want me on high blood pressure medicine, medicine I can't take, and will ignore anything else in this pursuit. If for no other reason, though I have a serious one, I would not take those pills. Damn straight.
I will continue on light duty, with a shorter list of tasks including searching for a place for Sam and Sassy. I must prepare for the possibilities, whatever they may be. If I had the money, I would seek competent medical treatment. Bureaucrats should not be allowed to become doctors! In any case, I have what I have. I am going to begin a search for home remedies for non-cardiogenic pulmonary edema. Hey buddy can you spare a breath of fresh air? Damn academics should be jailed when they try to practice what they theorize, or really, what some other damned fool academic theorized. Idiots.
Hmm, I do feel better already. Later.
Update: I am not sure which is worse. Treatment for 'non' involves intensive care lung cleaning through invasive machines. Often with the patient needing to be sedated to unconsciousness. *raises hand* A third still die, if treatment goes forward. The problem here? My blood oxygen levels are running at 110 where normal is 90 to 100. In other words, I am not missing oxygen as I should be for both diagnosis's. Hmm... I simply have a stubborn body I guess.
.
When frustrated in my search for a place which will take both Sam and Sassy, I have been researching cardiogenic pulmonary edema. That is the diagnosis I have been given. Though they have access to test results which are not here for me to evaluate, I can look at the symptom lists, read about the topic, and read between the lines. What I am finding is that there is a huge flaw in the symptom list I have and the ones offered in the places I have looked. I am suspecting, again, the diagnosis is probably non-cardiogenic pulmonary edema. Further, signs of heart failure they seem to indicate do not match any symptoms I have. No, smoke and mirrors again. Just like with the ear ache and a few other things, they won't treat what ails me, choosing to try and treat me for something that cannot be treated their way. If you remember rightly, the ear ached left of it's own accord.
Some of the problems with the diagnosis? I am not oxygen deprived and should be. I am not coughing up blood and I should be. I am not turning blue or grey and I should be. Though those are only potential issues, they are rather strongly significant ones, at least two of those should be showing. There are other problems as well. I'm being bulloxed. Some reasonable and odd causes for non-cardiogenic are breathing toxic materials from ammonia to CO2, hemodialysis and urinary alkalinization, and the use of hydrochlorothiazide (my last diuretic).
This is all well and good. My problem? They are not treating the right diagnosis. While the new diuretic is prescribed for their given diagnosis, it is not helpful for my suspected diagnosis. It does not, in fact, functionally affect my breathing difficulty. Further, finding what is really the problem is impossible if it is not being researched. Worse yet, untreated non-cardiogenic pulmonary edema can become as bad as if it was the other, if not treated. I am really beginning to hate doctors. And, no, they can't be trusted. They single mindedly want me on high blood pressure medicine, medicine I can't take, and will ignore anything else in this pursuit. If for no other reason, though I have a serious one, I would not take those pills. Damn straight.
I will continue on light duty, with a shorter list of tasks including searching for a place for Sam and Sassy. I must prepare for the possibilities, whatever they may be. If I had the money, I would seek competent medical treatment. Bureaucrats should not be allowed to become doctors! In any case, I have what I have. I am going to begin a search for home remedies for non-cardiogenic pulmonary edema. Hey buddy can you spare a breath of fresh air? Damn academics should be jailed when they try to practice what they theorize, or really, what some other damned fool academic theorized. Idiots.
Hmm, I do feel better already. Later.
Update: I am not sure which is worse. Treatment for 'non' involves intensive care lung cleaning through invasive machines. Often with the patient needing to be sedated to unconsciousness. *raises hand* A third still die, if treatment goes forward. The problem here? My blood oxygen levels are running at 110 where normal is 90 to 100. In other words, I am not missing oxygen as I should be for both diagnosis's. Hmm... I simply have a stubborn body I guess.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
I keep looking.
.
.
I am trying to find a place which will take Sam and Sassy. Since they are not strays, they can be put in other places to await adoption. The problem I keep running into is Sam's age. At nearly 8, she is too old for all the places I have seen. I had so hoped to find a place to take them both into a home, difficult as that might be. To not even find a place that will accept Sam for such considerations is very troubling.
I need to speak with a doctor. I need to find out how much time I have, even a rough guess would be helpful. There is so much to do, but without knowing how much time I might have to work with, planning is difficult. Tomorrow I will take stock, place some calls, and figure out some forms. I would also like to see if a doctor would prescribe pain pills for the eventual situation. Living alone and not willing to go in to be mistreated by further medical interventions or experimentation, it might otherwise be quite painful. I believe I have some minor pain medications from some past incidences if that fails.
The hardest part of this whole thing is giving up Sam and Sassy. They have been constant friends and companions. I will miss them bitterly, but I simply do not want them to have to suffer with me. The idea of dying alone really stinks, but I have done this before. The pain, as I have said, also is something that does worry me, if not so much as the concern about making sure Sam and Sassy aren't put down.
I won't say I was finally getting better, but I have been doing more and finding success of late. I will continue with some of it. Getting my home in order was on the list, climbing even a bit was there too, and I would still like to put the roof on the coop and reload bullets. All future type plans, though, are being taken off the list. So much has changed. And yet I will not just stop, feel sorry for myself, or surrender.
.
I am trying to find a place which will take Sam and Sassy. Since they are not strays, they can be put in other places to await adoption. The problem I keep running into is Sam's age. At nearly 8, she is too old for all the places I have seen. I had so hoped to find a place to take them both into a home, difficult as that might be. To not even find a place that will accept Sam for such considerations is very troubling.
I need to speak with a doctor. I need to find out how much time I have, even a rough guess would be helpful. There is so much to do, but without knowing how much time I might have to work with, planning is difficult. Tomorrow I will take stock, place some calls, and figure out some forms. I would also like to see if a doctor would prescribe pain pills for the eventual situation. Living alone and not willing to go in to be mistreated by further medical interventions or experimentation, it might otherwise be quite painful. I believe I have some minor pain medications from some past incidences if that fails.
The hardest part of this whole thing is giving up Sam and Sassy. They have been constant friends and companions. I will miss them bitterly, but I simply do not want them to have to suffer with me. The idea of dying alone really stinks, but I have done this before. The pain, as I have said, also is something that does worry me, if not so much as the concern about making sure Sam and Sassy aren't put down.
I won't say I was finally getting better, but I have been doing more and finding success of late. I will continue with some of it. Getting my home in order was on the list, climbing even a bit was there too, and I would still like to put the roof on the coop and reload bullets. All future type plans, though, are being taken off the list. So much has changed. And yet I will not just stop, feel sorry for myself, or surrender.
It had to come down to this.
.
.
The nurse called as I was getting ready for bed this morning. I had stayed awake finishing a few tasks and then reading the material that came with my washing machine. Instructions which, while literally instructive, lacked detail or depth. Much like a automobile manual with descriptions for various things such as; the steering wheel, a device by which the driver manually inputs directional control to the vehicle. Well, okay, I suppose that is accurate and all. But it really lacks something. Then again I was reading for a simple heads up and stalling off sleep waiting for a phone call.
Finally the call arrived. The nurse suggested my doctor had reviewed the information gathered to date at other appointments and at the emergency room visit. It seems my left ventricle is the problem. That side of my heart has increased in size due to high blood pressure. As well, my liver is failing. I believe my notion that the water pill will do nothing to help with fluid building up in my lungs is probably correct. It was merely being used as a gateway drug to other and additional drugs to lower my blood pressure. The nurse then said the doctor had prescribed lisinopril. I, again, said that I could not take the medicine. I suggested they not send it. Already sent, I am told. Very well, may I bring it back, I ask? She says so long as the package is not opened, on my return visit, I may return it.
She then suggested she would consult with the doctor and call me back. I tried to stay awake longer but simply ran out of time. I just tried to call her back, having waken, and left a message with my particulars and phone number. Hopefully I will know more in a bit. At this time, I think, no medicine will probably help.
Further, I understand the severity of this. Since the blood pressure is seemingly untreatable, seeking medical attention for a heart attack or liver failure would merely prolong a very painful death. I am going to ask, if probably not receive, a pain killer for when it begins. I am not sure how much of a time frame to expect yet. They are scheduling more testing, but perhaps I can get something on that when the nurse calls back.
I have to figure some things out. I need to find a place for Sam and Sassy, I don't want to see them put down or left to the wilds. I need to get on some money issues, some money which is due me. And, yes, I would like to put my home in order. If I can't live orderly, I would at least like to offer a comfortable place to stay for those who show up to deal with this. I don't know how to give this kind of news to my mother.
There are some upsides, mind you. Now I know what is wrong, or probably. I will not be dealing with what the future is about to hold. And, if my single remembered near-death experience was at all accurate, I will be in a far better place. But even more, this life as a cripple (one even many doctors do not seem to believe or understand), humbling, frustrating, painful, and alone, can now be left behind. Odd as it might seem, I would still continue with it if there was a way. If nothing else can be said about me, that I went from not only not wanting to be alive and further attempted suicide in some ridiculous ways, to finally enjoying the simple nature of being alive. Alive without the window dressing of any personal importance, social or economic value, or even the love of a wife and family. That might be worth the pain suffered to get to this point.
I will know more soon. I hope.
.
The nurse called as I was getting ready for bed this morning. I had stayed awake finishing a few tasks and then reading the material that came with my washing machine. Instructions which, while literally instructive, lacked detail or depth. Much like a automobile manual with descriptions for various things such as; the steering wheel, a device by which the driver manually inputs directional control to the vehicle. Well, okay, I suppose that is accurate and all. But it really lacks something. Then again I was reading for a simple heads up and stalling off sleep waiting for a phone call.
Finally the call arrived. The nurse suggested my doctor had reviewed the information gathered to date at other appointments and at the emergency room visit. It seems my left ventricle is the problem. That side of my heart has increased in size due to high blood pressure. As well, my liver is failing. I believe my notion that the water pill will do nothing to help with fluid building up in my lungs is probably correct. It was merely being used as a gateway drug to other and additional drugs to lower my blood pressure. The nurse then said the doctor had prescribed lisinopril. I, again, said that I could not take the medicine. I suggested they not send it. Already sent, I am told. Very well, may I bring it back, I ask? She says so long as the package is not opened, on my return visit, I may return it.
She then suggested she would consult with the doctor and call me back. I tried to stay awake longer but simply ran out of time. I just tried to call her back, having waken, and left a message with my particulars and phone number. Hopefully I will know more in a bit. At this time, I think, no medicine will probably help.
Further, I understand the severity of this. Since the blood pressure is seemingly untreatable, seeking medical attention for a heart attack or liver failure would merely prolong a very painful death. I am going to ask, if probably not receive, a pain killer for when it begins. I am not sure how much of a time frame to expect yet. They are scheduling more testing, but perhaps I can get something on that when the nurse calls back.
I have to figure some things out. I need to find a place for Sam and Sassy, I don't want to see them put down or left to the wilds. I need to get on some money issues, some money which is due me. And, yes, I would like to put my home in order. If I can't live orderly, I would at least like to offer a comfortable place to stay for those who show up to deal with this. I don't know how to give this kind of news to my mother.
There are some upsides, mind you. Now I know what is wrong, or probably. I will not be dealing with what the future is about to hold. And, if my single remembered near-death experience was at all accurate, I will be in a far better place. But even more, this life as a cripple (one even many doctors do not seem to believe or understand), humbling, frustrating, painful, and alone, can now be left behind. Odd as it might seem, I would still continue with it if there was a way. If nothing else can be said about me, that I went from not only not wanting to be alive and further attempted suicide in some ridiculous ways, to finally enjoying the simple nature of being alive. Alive without the window dressing of any personal importance, social or economic value, or even the love of a wife and family. That might be worth the pain suffered to get to this point.
I will know more soon. I hope.
Stuff is getting done.
.
.
Two or three more loads of laundry, depending on whether them being dried is counted or not. As well, I have been tinkering on the reloader. I am still not to a place where I can reload. I have all the dies set, I have the powder set, but the primers are giving me a fit. My "press" (reloader) has an automatic primer feed system. Loading .45 acp bullets, I initially used large primers. The machine was set up for that when it arrived, so there was no problem. The problem came when the particular batch of cases I decided to use needed small primers. I checked about that, and sure enough some .45 acp cases use small pistol primers, just the normal ones (there are also small pistol magnum primers, small rifle primers, and small rifle magnum primers, and a few others actually as well, just so you know).
All fine and dandy. I thought changing the feed tube and primer loading tray would be sufficient to see to small primers working. First, when trying to unload the large primers I ended up with 100 small 'splodey' things all over the floor. I tip-toed around that for a day. Being both tired, frazzled, and a little nervous (primers are the most dangerous component a loader deals with), those things sat for a day or so. I picked them up last night, finding all of them in due time. And, I read that this is often what happens, so changing out primer size with a full automatic priming system is not recommended.
In any case, I got the system set up for small primers, as I noted. I picked up a 100 small pistol primers in the pick-up tube. I then put that over the automatic primer system and delivered them to their proper place. I then cycled the press. I found myself with 100 more primers all over hell, the floor, on me, and in various places on my work bench! Damnit! I have only found about 90 of them, after extensive searches on and about my person, the machine, the bench, and another round of serious sweeping.
The manual indicates there might be a bolt to adjust but that doesn't make sense. It looks more like the tube within the automatic system does not properly hold small primers. Then again, I could be wrong. I could just call Dillon, the manufacturer. Not only do they make excellent equipment, my difficulties notwithstanding, they stand behind their equipment with very helpful technicians a mere phone call away. The thing is, I am getting ready to crash. Working up the gumption to call is one of the problems, the other is that I am not sure I could take or follow instructions until after I have some sleep. I hate it when my days and nights get all messed up. A call tomorrow, perhaps.
I think folding the load in the dryer and putting the last washer load in to dry should see me about ready for bed. I did note, while considering a number of things including whether to continue a friendship, that taking some time AND allowing some thought and proper input allow for better results. I am not sure how I made it to this age, as the brashness of youth (mine anyway) was incredible. Aging may be just about slowing down. But wisdom has potential when one chooses to capitalize on aging?
Good night.
.
Two or three more loads of laundry, depending on whether them being dried is counted or not. As well, I have been tinkering on the reloader. I am still not to a place where I can reload. I have all the dies set, I have the powder set, but the primers are giving me a fit. My "press" (reloader) has an automatic primer feed system. Loading .45 acp bullets, I initially used large primers. The machine was set up for that when it arrived, so there was no problem. The problem came when the particular batch of cases I decided to use needed small primers. I checked about that, and sure enough some .45 acp cases use small pistol primers, just the normal ones (there are also small pistol magnum primers, small rifle primers, and small rifle magnum primers, and a few others actually as well, just so you know).
All fine and dandy. I thought changing the feed tube and primer loading tray would be sufficient to see to small primers working. First, when trying to unload the large primers I ended up with 100 small 'splodey' things all over the floor. I tip-toed around that for a day. Being both tired, frazzled, and a little nervous (primers are the most dangerous component a loader deals with), those things sat for a day or so. I picked them up last night, finding all of them in due time. And, I read that this is often what happens, so changing out primer size with a full automatic priming system is not recommended.
In any case, I got the system set up for small primers, as I noted. I picked up a 100 small pistol primers in the pick-up tube. I then put that over the automatic primer system and delivered them to their proper place. I then cycled the press. I found myself with 100 more primers all over hell, the floor, on me, and in various places on my work bench! Damnit! I have only found about 90 of them, after extensive searches on and about my person, the machine, the bench, and another round of serious sweeping.
The manual indicates there might be a bolt to adjust but that doesn't make sense. It looks more like the tube within the automatic system does not properly hold small primers. Then again, I could be wrong. I could just call Dillon, the manufacturer. Not only do they make excellent equipment, my difficulties notwithstanding, they stand behind their equipment with very helpful technicians a mere phone call away. The thing is, I am getting ready to crash. Working up the gumption to call is one of the problems, the other is that I am not sure I could take or follow instructions until after I have some sleep. I hate it when my days and nights get all messed up. A call tomorrow, perhaps.
I think folding the load in the dryer and putting the last washer load in to dry should see me about ready for bed. I did note, while considering a number of things including whether to continue a friendship, that taking some time AND allowing some thought and proper input allow for better results. I am not sure how I made it to this age, as the brashness of youth (mine anyway) was incredible. Aging may be just about slowing down. But wisdom has potential when one chooses to capitalize on aging?
Good night.
What is rot?
.
.
Bane, there is a memory, got me started watching RedEye on FOX. I dither between absolutist prude and free-for-all libertine, a condition brought about by excesses and guilt while growing up and learning in a world that was pretty wide open to me. At one time, and to an extent even now, I know forbidden fruit is simple to pluck and luscious to consume, if there is a price and often many costs. How does one hold one's own nature at bay? The Church of course, and the bible, and the Triune to be sure. But one can't live in the Church, always be reading the bible, or think solely on God. The thing is, is RedEye rot, an observable manifestation of reality seeing both good and bad, or what?
I have considered this. Not just about the show. S. King's books, Shakespeare's plays, and even Tolkien's books have been examined as false or true, good or bad, rot or not. And more, what about manners? Are those societal impositions or a calming factor which lead to civil discourse and social continuity. Are manners a means of separating rich from poor through artificial means or a means of attempting to raise all to the table? No wonder I have no time to wash my bum, I'm thinking, pondering, debating, fighting over so many seemingly insignificant issues that finding time to pull my head out of the ether of "depth" while juggling things in life that I drop the egg to make a save by grabbing the bowling ball, losing potential for food, life, and renewal for some heavy mass of... what? And to what ends?
Still, I have come to a conclusion regarding RedEye. That it took me since several years before Bane's retirement to now to find it is simply a matter of how fast some things take. Usually, regardless of what some try to say, believe, or schedule, it takes as long as it takes. (Bane will never die... not quite... not so long as someone dreads or remembers in love, and then maybe not.) I have decided that RedEye, while flirting with rot, is actually rather good. It takes a human, non-preaching, approach to today's problems and does so with gusto and a grin. Something I need to take notes from, occasionally. It isn't so much that the show has a "good heart" or "good intentions" so much as the focus of the show is on highly variable voices and opinions without the usual political correctness, one side being dominant, or even a clarified position. People simply state their take and state it plainly. Right, wrong, indifferent, irreverent, but straight. So rare these days. The chuckles only help. We don't have a perfect world. We can't have one. Why not have shows which deal with that and the world as it is, honestly and humorously?
I am still a bit burned out. A few pain pills, some salad (finally got some and will probably eat it before it goes bad, but more because I don't have to cook it than anything), and some watching, thinking, and writing, and I might still get some things done. For whatever reason, I sense pressure or pain or something lifting, making me think I might be able to get back to some things on my lists. Maybe yet tonight. I can't sleep, so why not... if I can... just... break... free... Just a little more.
Later or good night.
.
Bane, there is a memory, got me started watching RedEye on FOX. I dither between absolutist prude and free-for-all libertine, a condition brought about by excesses and guilt while growing up and learning in a world that was pretty wide open to me. At one time, and to an extent even now, I know forbidden fruit is simple to pluck and luscious to consume, if there is a price and often many costs. How does one hold one's own nature at bay? The Church of course, and the bible, and the Triune to be sure. But one can't live in the Church, always be reading the bible, or think solely on God. The thing is, is RedEye rot, an observable manifestation of reality seeing both good and bad, or what?
I have considered this. Not just about the show. S. King's books, Shakespeare's plays, and even Tolkien's books have been examined as false or true, good or bad, rot or not. And more, what about manners? Are those societal impositions or a calming factor which lead to civil discourse and social continuity. Are manners a means of separating rich from poor through artificial means or a means of attempting to raise all to the table? No wonder I have no time to wash my bum, I'm thinking, pondering, debating, fighting over so many seemingly insignificant issues that finding time to pull my head out of the ether of "depth" while juggling things in life that I drop the egg to make a save by grabbing the bowling ball, losing potential for food, life, and renewal for some heavy mass of... what? And to what ends?
Still, I have come to a conclusion regarding RedEye. That it took me since several years before Bane's retirement to now to find it is simply a matter of how fast some things take. Usually, regardless of what some try to say, believe, or schedule, it takes as long as it takes. (Bane will never die... not quite... not so long as someone dreads or remembers in love, and then maybe not.) I have decided that RedEye, while flirting with rot, is actually rather good. It takes a human, non-preaching, approach to today's problems and does so with gusto and a grin. Something I need to take notes from, occasionally. It isn't so much that the show has a "good heart" or "good intentions" so much as the focus of the show is on highly variable voices and opinions without the usual political correctness, one side being dominant, or even a clarified position. People simply state their take and state it plainly. Right, wrong, indifferent, irreverent, but straight. So rare these days. The chuckles only help. We don't have a perfect world. We can't have one. Why not have shows which deal with that and the world as it is, honestly and humorously?
I am still a bit burned out. A few pain pills, some salad (finally got some and will probably eat it before it goes bad, but more because I don't have to cook it than anything), and some watching, thinking, and writing, and I might still get some things done. For whatever reason, I sense pressure or pain or something lifting, making me think I might be able to get back to some things on my lists. Maybe yet tonight. I can't sleep, so why not... if I can... just... break... free... Just a little more.
Later or good night.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Life is a peach.
.
.
Rotted and with a worm in it on some days, fresh ripe and ready for cream as soon as the next day as well. Today life was a fresh ripe peach... with a worm in it.
I did, barely, make it to my appointment on time. I recognized the nurse. She's a cutey pie. About my age, give or take. She had a pony tail today, I think I surprised her by noting her hair difference. It has been a year since I saw her last, or more. No, no more than genial flirtation was in mind, mind you, and even that quite of a friendly nature. She is pretty, and married.
My blood pressure was somewhere between 173/133 and 168/127. No antibiotics were offered as the lung problem, while fluid, does not also seem to be fluid of an infected nature. Why they didn't say that at the ER (more clearly) I do not know. I was led to believe, at the ER, that they simply were not sure what was wrong and that infection might still be a diagnosis. I cannot remember what was suggested as the diagnosis, but the water pill was believed to be the answer. And, since I have been taking that regularly, they are thinking of adding to that dose. The nurse I saw today will call tomorrow with results from the blood draw and I will ask for the diagnosis again, with a pen and paper ready. I am pretty sure if the heart was a problem they would have been harping on that everywhere and always trying to beat the drum to take the medicine they know I can't take. It was something like non-pulmonary edema, though that sounds vague, too vague.
I have decided to not cut off my friendship. Why? *shrug* Just as soon as I think I should do something I listen to some monk and he says... something about the gain being greater than the loss. Further, despite my warrior and animal instincts, I know him to be right. Not that I will not watch my stuff a lot more carefully, not that I just accept, but that this is the price of being more than just an animal. Why oh why do I listen to the Catholic channel (when not blasting heavy metal)? Why, because if I don't I won't hear what I need to hear. That's why. So, I will call my friend and explain that I got too late a start today to pick him up (which is also quite true). And then I will offer to take him to Ogden later this week, when his schedule is clear. No sour grapes, no relenting on my craving for justice, merely an understanding of mercy and a realization of gain that far exceeds material loss. Even if I am going to lose my reputation as a rat bastard. *sigh*
Well, on to... something. I slept as soon as I returned home. I slept well and solidly. I needed that sleep, I was choking on exhaustion up and back though I did stop for groceries on my way home. The cats are pleased. A few days without milk and papa is in the dog house! Now, to finish that stupid reloading station and get it working, do some laundry, and finish the dishes. Doh! I forgot bread!
Blessings. And, later or good night.
.
Rotted and with a worm in it on some days, fresh ripe and ready for cream as soon as the next day as well. Today life was a fresh ripe peach... with a worm in it.
I did, barely, make it to my appointment on time. I recognized the nurse. She's a cutey pie. About my age, give or take. She had a pony tail today, I think I surprised her by noting her hair difference. It has been a year since I saw her last, or more. No, no more than genial flirtation was in mind, mind you, and even that quite of a friendly nature. She is pretty, and married.
My blood pressure was somewhere between 173/133 and 168/127. No antibiotics were offered as the lung problem, while fluid, does not also seem to be fluid of an infected nature. Why they didn't say that at the ER (more clearly) I do not know. I was led to believe, at the ER, that they simply were not sure what was wrong and that infection might still be a diagnosis. I cannot remember what was suggested as the diagnosis, but the water pill was believed to be the answer. And, since I have been taking that regularly, they are thinking of adding to that dose. The nurse I saw today will call tomorrow with results from the blood draw and I will ask for the diagnosis again, with a pen and paper ready. I am pretty sure if the heart was a problem they would have been harping on that everywhere and always trying to beat the drum to take the medicine they know I can't take. It was something like non-pulmonary edema, though that sounds vague, too vague.
I have decided to not cut off my friendship. Why? *shrug* Just as soon as I think I should do something I listen to some monk and he says... something about the gain being greater than the loss. Further, despite my warrior and animal instincts, I know him to be right. Not that I will not watch my stuff a lot more carefully, not that I just accept, but that this is the price of being more than just an animal. Why oh why do I listen to the Catholic channel (when not blasting heavy metal)? Why, because if I don't I won't hear what I need to hear. That's why. So, I will call my friend and explain that I got too late a start today to pick him up (which is also quite true). And then I will offer to take him to Ogden later this week, when his schedule is clear. No sour grapes, no relenting on my craving for justice, merely an understanding of mercy and a realization of gain that far exceeds material loss. Even if I am going to lose my reputation as a rat bastard. *sigh*
Well, on to... something. I slept as soon as I returned home. I slept well and solidly. I needed that sleep, I was choking on exhaustion up and back though I did stop for groceries on my way home. The cats are pleased. A few days without milk and papa is in the dog house! Now, to finish that stupid reloading station and get it working, do some laundry, and finish the dishes. Doh! I forgot bread!
Blessings. And, later or good night.
Back into the grinder.
.
.
I tried to sleep starting at around 22:00 last night. I simply could not get comfortable. My lungs are filling again. There just doesn't seem to be an end in sight. Like the cold, snow, and now rain with the weather, I seem as stuck in sickness. I am going to be awake to get to my appointment today and may simply ask for another antibiotic treatment. While this one almost seemed like it was going to work, the day after I finished taking the medicine I am back to nearly as bad as I have ever been.
I did a few loads of laundry, the last will be ready for the dryer shortly. I did cook last night as well. A little beef tongue. I probably won't have beef tongue again. It was more expensive than I had thought at a bit over $4 a pound. I bought it, initially, thinking it was an inexpensive meat to try. No, I actually hadn't looked at the price until I checked the package this last time, and then only when I was taking it out to thaw. But more than that, it is not my favorite. I will buy some bread, along with other grocery needs, if I can and can remember on my way back from the appointment. Either tongue or heart made excellent cold cuts. If it is tongue, I may continue to have it rarely. But I think it was beef heart that was so good.
It is going to be a tough day though. No sleep, exhaustion from having to force breathing, and a general ache from lungs that sometimes fill fairly heavily and press on my rib cage to produce a unique pain which vaguely resembles the pain from fights past... the ones that went more than the first round or involved more than one opponent. heh Getting hit in the chest was far superior to being hit in the face, as I remember things. And there were worse places still. Though I have a hard head, I have heard long after fights that people who punched me in the face said it was like punching an engine block. *grins* Ah the days. I hated them, but such are memories. Sweet somehow just for the remembering.
My home is a mess. Between rearranging some things to allow the washing machine delivery, to still fiddling with the reloader, to being sick and in a down swing, I really haven't been able to keep up appearances. As I complete the laundry, put the reloader into action, and maybe improve in breathing before long, I will figure out how to improve my living conditions.
Have a good day.
.
I tried to sleep starting at around 22:00 last night. I simply could not get comfortable. My lungs are filling again. There just doesn't seem to be an end in sight. Like the cold, snow, and now rain with the weather, I seem as stuck in sickness. I am going to be awake to get to my appointment today and may simply ask for another antibiotic treatment. While this one almost seemed like it was going to work, the day after I finished taking the medicine I am back to nearly as bad as I have ever been.
I did a few loads of laundry, the last will be ready for the dryer shortly. I did cook last night as well. A little beef tongue. I probably won't have beef tongue again. It was more expensive than I had thought at a bit over $4 a pound. I bought it, initially, thinking it was an inexpensive meat to try. No, I actually hadn't looked at the price until I checked the package this last time, and then only when I was taking it out to thaw. But more than that, it is not my favorite. I will buy some bread, along with other grocery needs, if I can and can remember on my way back from the appointment. Either tongue or heart made excellent cold cuts. If it is tongue, I may continue to have it rarely. But I think it was beef heart that was so good.
It is going to be a tough day though. No sleep, exhaustion from having to force breathing, and a general ache from lungs that sometimes fill fairly heavily and press on my rib cage to produce a unique pain which vaguely resembles the pain from fights past... the ones that went more than the first round or involved more than one opponent. heh Getting hit in the chest was far superior to being hit in the face, as I remember things. And there were worse places still. Though I have a hard head, I have heard long after fights that people who punched me in the face said it was like punching an engine block. *grins* Ah the days. I hated them, but such are memories. Sweet somehow just for the remembering.
My home is a mess. Between rearranging some things to allow the washing machine delivery, to still fiddling with the reloader, to being sick and in a down swing, I really haven't been able to keep up appearances. As I complete the laundry, put the reloader into action, and maybe improve in breathing before long, I will figure out how to improve my living conditions.
Have a good day.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Wonderful.
.
.
I woke late. My mother had already called. I heard the phone but my graphical interface and geometric structure recognition subroutines were down so the ringing was just a displaced if recognizable noise. When I woke I then found out who had called. Still a bit fuzzy in the gray matter region, I waited to wake a bit. Finally, the call. She just enjoyed the call, and with my brother having called earlier, she knew her cubs are fine and still care. All good.
We talked for a goodly bit. She had a nice meal earlier, if too she cooked it. Of course, she prefers to cook and tend these things, mostly. She was with friends and family there and shared the day. That was good to know. You would know though, that I woke her from a nap. She seemed pleased to hear from me anyway.
Sleep, again. A long deep sleep was had last night, or actually through the morning. Days and nights are messed up again, which will make getting to the appointment tomorrow a bit of a challenge. Two nights of good solid sleep have been super, but I am still a bit behind in the sleep department from weeks of intermittent nap type sleeping. My lungs were a bit fuller this morning than yesterday morning, but still better than they have been for weeks. I took the last antibiotic today. If not better by Wednesday, another treatment will be requested. Sleep is so delicious. I dreamed too, but I don't remember a thing.
I am hoping to have the energy to finally get to laundry and dishes today. It has been tough with a few ongoing projects and when breathing can become complicated by simply getting out of a chair or off the couch. As out of shape as I am, and have been for decades, I have never had a breath problem. Nearly jogging around the V.A. hospital in SLC, going up four flights (I don't use the elevator if I can find the steps and now I know where those are in that place), going up and down flights to different appointments, even walking the half a mile to the diner they have and at my usual double pace, has never caused me so much as a flush or more than a quick pant when I finished my excursion. So this bit about being constantly out of breath is a pain.
I found some cases that I know were mine. I checked them closely. While there are some minor nicks, or scrapes in about a fifth of them, they weren't heavily damage. I also rechecked the cases I was going to toss and found many which I seem to have tossed as much out of frustration and in anger from my initial inspection. I have more cases than what I initially thought from that first run. Still, I am missing... 600 cases (much more actually). In the end, I have about 400 cases, perhaps 250 of those are useful. Without proof of theft, however, I think it is better to just stop answering my friend's calls and disappear. Anything else leaves room for debate and there is no room. That is just the way it goes, I guess. I wonder if anything else is missing though. I am sure I will find out soon enough.
Tomorrow they will be checking potassium and who knows what else. The last time I was in my new doctor at the clinic threatened to stop seeing me if I refused to take his version of high blood pressure medicines. At which point I grabbed my coat and headed for the door. He got a stunned, shocked, look on his face. He then stopped me and... restarted the conversation about the infection. I suppose, after the infection is taken care of, I will have to use the ER for medical care as I will not have a doctor and none will take my case (or for long). Yeah, I didn't tell you that then. Fine, as long as I can breath, I don't really care.
A bit of blog reading, a little goofing, and perhaps I can get busy on some of the things I am hoping to do. It is cool and raining. Turning the furnace up might help a bit. Maybe a shower and some fresh clean clothes too! A month without a washing machine and a stubborn refusal to spend another dime at laundromats has left me with... piles of dirty clothes, towels, and linens of all sorts, and few clean clothes. So nice to have a machine again, and a fine one! On sale, mind you, and with a rebate as well. I ought to get right on that mail-in rebate thing.
Have a great day. Happy Mother's day out there to all you ladies. I hope you have a wonderful one, fine memories, and children who have come to their senses should they have lost them and remehttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifmber to call you and thank you. As mothers, you are what binds young and old. I doubt if you can understand, nor anyone. But... Thank you!
.
I woke late. My mother had already called. I heard the phone but my graphical interface and geometric structure recognition subroutines were down so the ringing was just a displaced if recognizable noise. When I woke I then found out who had called. Still a bit fuzzy in the gray matter region, I waited to wake a bit. Finally, the call. She just enjoyed the call, and with my brother having called earlier, she knew her cubs are fine and still care. All good.
We talked for a goodly bit. She had a nice meal earlier, if too she cooked it. Of course, she prefers to cook and tend these things, mostly. She was with friends and family there and shared the day. That was good to know. You would know though, that I woke her from a nap. She seemed pleased to hear from me anyway.
Sleep, again. A long deep sleep was had last night, or actually through the morning. Days and nights are messed up again, which will make getting to the appointment tomorrow a bit of a challenge. Two nights of good solid sleep have been super, but I am still a bit behind in the sleep department from weeks of intermittent nap type sleeping. My lungs were a bit fuller this morning than yesterday morning, but still better than they have been for weeks. I took the last antibiotic today. If not better by Wednesday, another treatment will be requested. Sleep is so delicious. I dreamed too, but I don't remember a thing.
I am hoping to have the energy to finally get to laundry and dishes today. It has been tough with a few ongoing projects and when breathing can become complicated by simply getting out of a chair or off the couch. As out of shape as I am, and have been for decades, I have never had a breath problem. Nearly jogging around the V.A. hospital in SLC, going up four flights (I don't use the elevator if I can find the steps and now I know where those are in that place), going up and down flights to different appointments, even walking the half a mile to the diner they have and at my usual double pace, has never caused me so much as a flush or more than a quick pant when I finished my excursion. So this bit about being constantly out of breath is a pain.
I found some cases that I know were mine. I checked them closely. While there are some minor nicks, or scrapes in about a fifth of them, they weren't heavily damage. I also rechecked the cases I was going to toss and found many which I seem to have tossed as much out of frustration and in anger from my initial inspection. I have more cases than what I initially thought from that first run. Still, I am missing... 600 cases (much more actually). In the end, I have about 400 cases, perhaps 250 of those are useful. Without proof of theft, however, I think it is better to just stop answering my friend's calls and disappear. Anything else leaves room for debate and there is no room. That is just the way it goes, I guess. I wonder if anything else is missing though. I am sure I will find out soon enough.
Tomorrow they will be checking potassium and who knows what else. The last time I was in my new doctor at the clinic threatened to stop seeing me if I refused to take his version of high blood pressure medicines. At which point I grabbed my coat and headed for the door. He got a stunned, shocked, look on his face. He then stopped me and... restarted the conversation about the infection. I suppose, after the infection is taken care of, I will have to use the ER for medical care as I will not have a doctor and none will take my case (or for long). Yeah, I didn't tell you that then. Fine, as long as I can breath, I don't really care.
A bit of blog reading, a little goofing, and perhaps I can get busy on some of the things I am hoping to do. It is cool and raining. Turning the furnace up might help a bit. Maybe a shower and some fresh clean clothes too! A month without a washing machine and a stubborn refusal to spend another dime at laundromats has left me with... piles of dirty clothes, towels, and linens of all sorts, and few clean clothes. So nice to have a machine again, and a fine one! On sale, mind you, and with a rebate as well. I ought to get right on that mail-in rebate thing.
Have a great day. Happy Mother's day out there to all you ladies. I hope you have a wonderful one, fine memories, and children who have come to their senses should they have lost them and remehttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifmber to call you and thank you. As mothers, you are what binds young and old. I doubt if you can understand, nor anyone. But... Thank you!
A funny thing.
.
.
I have read, for perhaps the 5th time in the last few days, about how to "get mom wired", or "what tech gadgets mom would love", or other such things. Oh, sure, my mom has a laptop and cellphone. But she would be as interested in a tech gadget or another way to communicate as much as Sam likes baths. To clarify, Sam is darned near dangerous when her, water, and me all get within about seven feet of the water. She becomes increasingly dangerous to the point where I no longer try to make that unholy threesome work the closer we get to water. No, nothing high tech. The highest tech she would appreciate is a phone call or a card. Mostly what she wants is even lower tech, back to man's roots.
I am sure there are many women out there who want the next I-Pad, "smart" phone, or tech service. Assuming, usually, that someone else sets it up. Oh, I am sure too, there are a few women who have been shown enough times that they can almost set devices up, at least enough to do what they want and disregarding security, not including dealing with tech troubles, or assuming they have an engineering degree (even then I have doubts). But do these women want tech gadgets over cards, candy, jewelry, and money? Who knows, perhaps I have lost track of all this. If it is true, it is a sad time to live.
If my mother has her problems, it is nice to know she is just a woman in this regard. The card, as usual, will be late. I have known far enough ahead to buy a card but I have been too ill to get to all that I wanted done (it was on time last year, I think). A little money will go as well. Late as well, of course. Then again, is money ever late if it is only a week off and a surprise gift? A phone call, too, will be issued, but on time. And statements of familial gratitude and soft mushy stuff I haven't liked since third grade will be spewed, like the poetry I was required to memorize and spew in front of class. Even if I liked, or loved, the teacher, this was and remains a test of my nerves. Still, that it bothers me to do and that I do it anyway beats any other thing I could give or say. No card says it as well because of the clumsiness of my spewing. No money is as good as a near grovel toward duty, so indirectly to her. Nope, being a foolish man/boy for the sake of her ego gets it every time. Plus, it saves me $300 to $700 on some laptop or something. hahaha
Now good night.
.
I have read, for perhaps the 5th time in the last few days, about how to "get mom wired", or "what tech gadgets mom would love", or other such things. Oh, sure, my mom has a laptop and cellphone. But she would be as interested in a tech gadget or another way to communicate as much as Sam likes baths. To clarify, Sam is darned near dangerous when her, water, and me all get within about seven feet of the water. She becomes increasingly dangerous to the point where I no longer try to make that unholy threesome work the closer we get to water. No, nothing high tech. The highest tech she would appreciate is a phone call or a card. Mostly what she wants is even lower tech, back to man's roots.
I am sure there are many women out there who want the next I-Pad, "smart" phone, or tech service. Assuming, usually, that someone else sets it up. Oh, I am sure too, there are a few women who have been shown enough times that they can almost set devices up, at least enough to do what they want and disregarding security, not including dealing with tech troubles, or assuming they have an engineering degree (even then I have doubts). But do these women want tech gadgets over cards, candy, jewelry, and money? Who knows, perhaps I have lost track of all this. If it is true, it is a sad time to live.
If my mother has her problems, it is nice to know she is just a woman in this regard. The card, as usual, will be late. I have known far enough ahead to buy a card but I have been too ill to get to all that I wanted done (it was on time last year, I think). A little money will go as well. Late as well, of course. Then again, is money ever late if it is only a week off and a surprise gift? A phone call, too, will be issued, but on time. And statements of familial gratitude and soft mushy stuff I haven't liked since third grade will be spewed, like the poetry I was required to memorize and spew in front of class. Even if I liked, or loved, the teacher, this was and remains a test of my nerves. Still, that it bothers me to do and that I do it anyway beats any other thing I could give or say. No card says it as well because of the clumsiness of my spewing. No money is as good as a near grovel toward duty, so indirectly to her. Nope, being a foolish man/boy for the sake of her ego gets it every time. Plus, it saves me $300 to $700 on some laptop or something. hahaha
Now good night.
Mad as can be.
.
.
I am going shooting tomorrow before deciding on what to do next. Of the 150 cases I put through the tumbler less than 20 are useful. The rest have medium to severe cuts on the side, enough to make me question the integrity of the case. I am 99% sure my pistol does not do that. The only way I can know is to go out and put a box of new brass through my pistol and pick up the rounds. Even before cleaning them, I will know. I know his pistol has lots of problems. He has tinkered with it until it bites the end of a third of the cases his gun ejects, and I am now guessing it bites lower down on most of the rest. These aren't little dings, these are horizontal cuts that go a fifth the way through the case and are often dented a similar depth and several milometers surrounding the cut in a circular pattern.
If I find that my pistol doesn't ding the cases, I will end my friendship. Sure, 1,000 cases at $23 per hundred minimally is some serious cash, especially now, for me at least (though there is a lot more brass than that missing, but for argument sake...). But that is not the issue, or the main issue. If I cannot trust a man I shoot with not to change the case collection bags, what else can't I trust him regarding? I have been his wheels, I have given him Christmas gifts, I have paid for his dinners from time to time, and I have asked for nothing in return. Simply, I knew he didn't have as much cash to spend. Seriously, I hope $230 to $500 in once-used cases was worth it.
It could be that my pistol is nicking the round when ejecting. I doubt it. The only way to know, however, is to get out and find out. If my pistol doesn't, the next thing I will have to do is change the locks and add some locks in a few places. He has a checkered past, one which I thought he was through with. If not, then he is someone not to be trusted to a reactive level. He knows what I have, and if he is stealing, ending our friendship will make him angry. As with most liberals who think it's everyone else's fault that they get in trouble for doing bad things, he will hold a grudge. If it is my pistol, the next thing will be to get it to a shop. It's would have to be in bad shape.
If it turns out that he was stealing, I will call him and tell him he isn't going to Ogden with me, and I won't be visiting anymore. I will suggest he not call or wave on the street. If he starts rumors I will put out why we are no longer friends and ask him who he thinks people will believe. I almost hope my pistol puts a ding on the cases. But I don't think it will. Yeah, I'm hot.
I have another load going through the tumbler, a group that looks better. Sometimes the way I put my cases into the vehicle, he couldn't reach over and exchange them or didn't get the opportunity. Hmm, I might have to consider installing cameras with a local and remote record hookup. Really, if he is still what he was, he needs to be checked, or in jail.
Good night.
.
I am going shooting tomorrow before deciding on what to do next. Of the 150 cases I put through the tumbler less than 20 are useful. The rest have medium to severe cuts on the side, enough to make me question the integrity of the case. I am 99% sure my pistol does not do that. The only way I can know is to go out and put a box of new brass through my pistol and pick up the rounds. Even before cleaning them, I will know. I know his pistol has lots of problems. He has tinkered with it until it bites the end of a third of the cases his gun ejects, and I am now guessing it bites lower down on most of the rest. These aren't little dings, these are horizontal cuts that go a fifth the way through the case and are often dented a similar depth and several milometers surrounding the cut in a circular pattern.
If I find that my pistol doesn't ding the cases, I will end my friendship. Sure, 1,000 cases at $23 per hundred minimally is some serious cash, especially now, for me at least (though there is a lot more brass than that missing, but for argument sake...). But that is not the issue, or the main issue. If I cannot trust a man I shoot with not to change the case collection bags, what else can't I trust him regarding? I have been his wheels, I have given him Christmas gifts, I have paid for his dinners from time to time, and I have asked for nothing in return. Simply, I knew he didn't have as much cash to spend. Seriously, I hope $230 to $500 in once-used cases was worth it.
It could be that my pistol is nicking the round when ejecting. I doubt it. The only way to know, however, is to get out and find out. If my pistol doesn't, the next thing I will have to do is change the locks and add some locks in a few places. He has a checkered past, one which I thought he was through with. If not, then he is someone not to be trusted to a reactive level. He knows what I have, and if he is stealing, ending our friendship will make him angry. As with most liberals who think it's everyone else's fault that they get in trouble for doing bad things, he will hold a grudge. If it is my pistol, the next thing will be to get it to a shop. It's would have to be in bad shape.
If it turns out that he was stealing, I will call him and tell him he isn't going to Ogden with me, and I won't be visiting anymore. I will suggest he not call or wave on the street. If he starts rumors I will put out why we are no longer friends and ask him who he thinks people will believe. I almost hope my pistol puts a ding on the cases. But I don't think it will. Yeah, I'm hot.
I have another load going through the tumbler, a group that looks better. Sometimes the way I put my cases into the vehicle, he couldn't reach over and exchange them or didn't get the opportunity. Hmm, I might have to consider installing cameras with a local and remote record hookup. Really, if he is still what he was, he needs to be checked, or in jail.
Good night.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Not bad.
.
.
Breathing has improved to what it was about a week ago. I still run out of breath with little effort but I am not needing to force breathing and my breath is not as shallow. The sleep I was able to get and waking up without my lungs full to my throat seemingly, was also a good sign. Plus, being able to sleep flat was extremely good. I don't know if it helped, but since I had a headache I took a dose of Tylenol before bed last night. I am not sure how it could have helped, actually. Then again, how anything really works is probably not something that can be thought out. Not even doctors know why this or that works or doesn't, or even how as with my reactions to functional blood pressure medicine. Though that really isn't their job. Their job is to come up with some sort of diagnosis, run testing to admit or deny a diagnosis, while treating the most common disease(s) which might cause the symptoms, hoping as much as anything that the symptoms will go away on their own.
I did get out shooting today. It had become partly cloudy, and sprinkled on the way to the range. When I arrived, however, the sky water quit. I also took my friend along. On the way back I showed him my reloader. He was able to help set up a couple of the dies more surely. I fitted a couple more parts together, things I saw on the DVD. If I had not mentioned, the DVD ended up being a visual instruction guide for my specific reloader.
I also mentioned to my friend that much of my "brass" (spent casings) were missing. What I found when searching for my "brass" were very few cases and most of them old casings. While I only used and kept fresh brass from new ammunition, and a thousand or more. No one would have broken into my house and stolen brass while leaving guns, other gear tools and equipment, among other things. There is only one who knows or has access. I will have to keep a much closer eye on things and watch other stuff. If I catch who steals, there will be trouble. That is all I am saying on that. There are also a few other things missing, as I am setting things up. Things I know I had when I moved in. Trouble indeed.
Dinner out and then back home. I took potassium since I was still full and another dose of antibiotic. A few more days of that junk and I will be done. If it isn't working by Wednesday, a few days after I have finished this, I will call in for another type of antibiotic. I simply can't afford to goof with this. Even if it is knocked down some more, if it remains in part, I have to hit it again. And again, and again, and again if need be.
I have decided, as soon as my lungs clear up a bit, I am going to set up my weight lifting bench and see what I can do. That along with working on climbing when the weather allows it will see me to better shape. Perhaps by the time the water at the pond warms up enough to swim, I can begin that too. Who knows, but that is what I have been thinking.
I am going to get my scales working and set the powder charger in the press to begin making bullets. The cases in the tumbler need more work. I will use the walnut medium this time, which is for heavier work. Two hours in corncob medium did a little to bring the luster back but not enough. I am hoping, having had some work though, that an hour in the tumbler with a stronger medium will shine the brass. If so, I might be able to load a box or two tonight. Damn I hate thieves though. I really do.
Later or good night.
.
Breathing has improved to what it was about a week ago. I still run out of breath with little effort but I am not needing to force breathing and my breath is not as shallow. The sleep I was able to get and waking up without my lungs full to my throat seemingly, was also a good sign. Plus, being able to sleep flat was extremely good. I don't know if it helped, but since I had a headache I took a dose of Tylenol before bed last night. I am not sure how it could have helped, actually. Then again, how anything really works is probably not something that can be thought out. Not even doctors know why this or that works or doesn't, or even how as with my reactions to functional blood pressure medicine. Though that really isn't their job. Their job is to come up with some sort of diagnosis, run testing to admit or deny a diagnosis, while treating the most common disease(s) which might cause the symptoms, hoping as much as anything that the symptoms will go away on their own.
I did get out shooting today. It had become partly cloudy, and sprinkled on the way to the range. When I arrived, however, the sky water quit. I also took my friend along. On the way back I showed him my reloader. He was able to help set up a couple of the dies more surely. I fitted a couple more parts together, things I saw on the DVD. If I had not mentioned, the DVD ended up being a visual instruction guide for my specific reloader.
I also mentioned to my friend that much of my "brass" (spent casings) were missing. What I found when searching for my "brass" were very few cases and most of them old casings. While I only used and kept fresh brass from new ammunition, and a thousand or more. No one would have broken into my house and stolen brass while leaving guns, other gear tools and equipment, among other things. There is only one who knows or has access. I will have to keep a much closer eye on things and watch other stuff. If I catch who steals, there will be trouble. That is all I am saying on that. There are also a few other things missing, as I am setting things up. Things I know I had when I moved in. Trouble indeed.
Dinner out and then back home. I took potassium since I was still full and another dose of antibiotic. A few more days of that junk and I will be done. If it isn't working by Wednesday, a few days after I have finished this, I will call in for another type of antibiotic. I simply can't afford to goof with this. Even if it is knocked down some more, if it remains in part, I have to hit it again. And again, and again, and again if need be.
I have decided, as soon as my lungs clear up a bit, I am going to set up my weight lifting bench and see what I can do. That along with working on climbing when the weather allows it will see me to better shape. Perhaps by the time the water at the pond warms up enough to swim, I can begin that too. Who knows, but that is what I have been thinking.
I am going to get my scales working and set the powder charger in the press to begin making bullets. The cases in the tumbler need more work. I will use the walnut medium this time, which is for heavier work. Two hours in corncob medium did a little to bring the luster back but not enough. I am hoping, having had some work though, that an hour in the tumbler with a stronger medium will shine the brass. If so, I might be able to load a box or two tonight. Damn I hate thieves though. I really do.
Later or good night.
Sleep!
.
.
I was exhausted, not really having gotten sleep, solid long deep sleep, for some time. The chair and reclining on cushions before that were not cutting it. And yet flatter sleeping was often painful to impossible. This morning, however, whether because I was simply too tired to be fussy or because I am getting better, I was able to sleep long and deep and flat (on my side, but without cushions or the chair)! I did not wake choking for breath. My ribs are not sore. If not fully refreshed, I know the sleep was good and my only problem is that I have days of poor sleep and possibly effects of illness making me a bit groggy.
I am about to shower and go shooting. Then work on my reloader. I need some real food today, and eating out is the only way. Nothing fancy. A large meal at McDonald costs well under a ten spot and is filling. Not having eaten in the last two days, as well, I need the high calories and fat. Another night of sleep like this and I think I will be able to get to the laundry and dishes and other things that are vexing me.
Keep your chin up! (I may need to sucker punch you.) Good day.
.
I was exhausted, not really having gotten sleep, solid long deep sleep, for some time. The chair and reclining on cushions before that were not cutting it. And yet flatter sleeping was often painful to impossible. This morning, however, whether because I was simply too tired to be fussy or because I am getting better, I was able to sleep long and deep and flat (on my side, but without cushions or the chair)! I did not wake choking for breath. My ribs are not sore. If not fully refreshed, I know the sleep was good and my only problem is that I have days of poor sleep and possibly effects of illness making me a bit groggy.
I am about to shower and go shooting. Then work on my reloader. I need some real food today, and eating out is the only way. Nothing fancy. A large meal at McDonald costs well under a ten spot and is filling. Not having eaten in the last two days, as well, I need the high calories and fat. Another night of sleep like this and I think I will be able to get to the laundry and dishes and other things that are vexing me.
Keep your chin up! (I may need to sucker punch you.) Good day.
Rest.
.
.
The chair helps. It allowed me to rest for many hours and I needed what I got. It does not allow for sleep. Reclining and covering over with a footstool for my legs provides a split between discomfort and sleep versus comfort but instability and so only light resting. I doubt if anything will be done today, tonight really. Simply put, between not sleeping properly and not breathing well, my concentration and will are simply too weak.
If I do not learn how to sleep in the chair, I will have to call the sleep center. The requirement is a minimum of four to six hours of uninterrupted sleep and three days in a row. I doubt if I can pull off two hours of sleep as is. Over a twelve hour period I am "waking" completely unfit, sleeping only three to four hours over that whole period, an hour or so at a time. Perhaps by the time the test equipment arrives I will have learned how to sleep in the chair or the antibiotic will have relieved some of the difficulty.
Even though I seem to be getting plenty of oxygen into my system, according to several different types of tests, my lungs often burn, I have to force breathing, and my chest hurts and is full. I actually have excellent lung capacity, thankfully. So even when they are half filled with fluid I can still get plenty of oxygen. But breathing enough to get that, on top of the fluid and normal mass in there, is pushing on my ribs I think. More so when I lay down or recline in the chair. I sure hope they figure this out soon. I shouldn't have waited a couple of months to go in. At least I didn't wait a year like an old friend. Usually this stuff clears up on it's own and I am not always in a state of mind to realize I might be in more serious trouble healthwise. Oh well.
A bit of goofing, maybe some dishes, perhaps tinkering on the reloader, but no promises. Whatever I can focus on will get my attention. Whatever doesn't make breathing more difficult too. A few more hours doing something and then I will try to rest, sleep if I can, until I try and get something going tomorrow. I can't believe this illness. Then again, as I get older, our nation is overwhelmed by illegal aliens carrying sicknesses we had removed, and people who do not take their full doses of antibiotics, this is what we get. Antibiotics are the only medicine I absolutely take. It does weird things to the body, by the way. A burning loose bm the least favorite so far. Anyway, on to... something. Barring an ability to connect with something I will turn in.
Good night.
.
The chair helps. It allowed me to rest for many hours and I needed what I got. It does not allow for sleep. Reclining and covering over with a footstool for my legs provides a split between discomfort and sleep versus comfort but instability and so only light resting. I doubt if anything will be done today, tonight really. Simply put, between not sleeping properly and not breathing well, my concentration and will are simply too weak.
If I do not learn how to sleep in the chair, I will have to call the sleep center. The requirement is a minimum of four to six hours of uninterrupted sleep and three days in a row. I doubt if I can pull off two hours of sleep as is. Over a twelve hour period I am "waking" completely unfit, sleeping only three to four hours over that whole period, an hour or so at a time. Perhaps by the time the test equipment arrives I will have learned how to sleep in the chair or the antibiotic will have relieved some of the difficulty.
Even though I seem to be getting plenty of oxygen into my system, according to several different types of tests, my lungs often burn, I have to force breathing, and my chest hurts and is full. I actually have excellent lung capacity, thankfully. So even when they are half filled with fluid I can still get plenty of oxygen. But breathing enough to get that, on top of the fluid and normal mass in there, is pushing on my ribs I think. More so when I lay down or recline in the chair. I sure hope they figure this out soon. I shouldn't have waited a couple of months to go in. At least I didn't wait a year like an old friend. Usually this stuff clears up on it's own and I am not always in a state of mind to realize I might be in more serious trouble healthwise. Oh well.
A bit of goofing, maybe some dishes, perhaps tinkering on the reloader, but no promises. Whatever I can focus on will get my attention. Whatever doesn't make breathing more difficult too. A few more hours doing something and then I will try to rest, sleep if I can, until I try and get something going tomorrow. I can't believe this illness. Then again, as I get older, our nation is overwhelmed by illegal aliens carrying sicknesses we had removed, and people who do not take their full doses of antibiotics, this is what we get. Antibiotics are the only medicine I absolutely take. It does weird things to the body, by the way. A burning loose bm the least favorite so far. Anyway, on to... something. Barring an ability to connect with something I will turn in.
Good night.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Too much!
.
.
I struggled to sleep, as I usually do. I tried to use bigger couch pillows and my regular pillows to create an incline upon which to sleep. While it did allow me to breath easier, it was difficult to keep the support correct as I am a roller. I suppose weighing in at 270 doesn't help. Sleep has become more like catnaps between readjustments. Further, after finally settling in, the washing machine delivery people came at 7:30 or so, after having been up late opening access to the wash area and setting up the reloader. I tried to sleep after that, but with no more real success than before. Tonight I am going to try and sleep on a reclining chair with a footstool brought up for comfort.
I received dozens of calls all through the day to boot, it seemed. I tried to answer once, but did not reach the phone in time. Half asleep, half awake, in significant discomfort, trying to maintain balance on a raised sleeping platform, trying in all those states and ways to suck in enough air, I let the rest of the calls go to the answering service the time or two I thought I might have had a chance at answering. But that constant ringing simply made trying to sleep even more miserable. It seemed like the phone was constantly ringing, some in truth, some in dream-like echoes. Retched.
The V.A. called at least three times, and another call from their Vocational Rehabilitation. The other calls I am not sure about. Checking messages found other calls, some of which were merely baffling. I am in no condition to do any follow up. I did actually get a call from them, after I was finally awake. I will be doing a three day in-home sleep test starting next Wednesday. I hope I have found a way to sleep better by then, as the requirement is four to six hours of sleep for the test to be valid. At this point I am doing good to get a few hours in before something goes wrong or I have to fight my way awake to get air.
I did a first load of laundry in the machine today. Before I tried to go back to sleep, I wanted to do that. This washer will require a bit more care. I will have to leave the hatch open after washes and have a dish towel there to dry everything off after I complete my washing cycles in order to keep mold and such from causing a stench in the machine and on the clothes. On the good side, there is no water knock while using the machine. That will save me $20 to $40 on components. I am glad I did not order those or find them in stock anywhere. Foolish luck? Maybe.
I had planned to take my friend shooting today. Obviously or not, I did not make that appointment. He did call, though as I said answering calls was beyond my capacity. A bit ago I called and we are scheduled to go shooting tomorrow. Since I did remember to reset my planned appointment for today to Monday, I suggested he would be welcome to go. He has wanted to go to Ogden. That will be early though, the appointment is in the morning. He is on board though. After shooting we will come back and look at my reloader. He might be able to help me make a few final adjustments. He has a different system, but many things are universal. He has been loading for five to ten years now, so... He, unlike myself, has a clue.
Lungs are still rough. If I sleep where I can breath, then I cannot move. If I move, I lose the capacity to breath and when that happens my chest ends up hurting, which wakes me and has me shift to where I can breath again. At least the cushions have made it so that I am not quite as sore of chest in the "morning" upon waking. Though that neither helps nor hurts perceived wakefulness. I guess it is a step up. After D.C. suggested that the anti-biotic I was on was usually a five day program, I reread the instructions. I had, and rightly, read that I was to take one pill a day. What I had failed to read, then understand, was that in spite of having six pills it was typed that it was indeed a five day program. They had not indicated to take two pills on the first day. Late but on track now, I took those two pills today. NOW I am on a five day program. hehe
I need to get to laundry, maybe tinker with the reloader a bit more, do some dishes, and figure some things out. But really, I could use a nap. It might be a good time to try and set that reclining chair up and see if it will allow me better rest. Yeah, I write a lot sometimes. I find it amazing how much goes on in the world involving even me and while I am mostly out of it. Huh? Yeah. That's what I thought too. Huh... *shrug*
Have a great day. May your lungs find all the air they need and your head be rested and ready. Or at least find something good to gnaw on. Later.
.
I struggled to sleep, as I usually do. I tried to use bigger couch pillows and my regular pillows to create an incline upon which to sleep. While it did allow me to breath easier, it was difficult to keep the support correct as I am a roller. I suppose weighing in at 270 doesn't help. Sleep has become more like catnaps between readjustments. Further, after finally settling in, the washing machine delivery people came at 7:30 or so, after having been up late opening access to the wash area and setting up the reloader. I tried to sleep after that, but with no more real success than before. Tonight I am going to try and sleep on a reclining chair with a footstool brought up for comfort.
I received dozens of calls all through the day to boot, it seemed. I tried to answer once, but did not reach the phone in time. Half asleep, half awake, in significant discomfort, trying to maintain balance on a raised sleeping platform, trying in all those states and ways to suck in enough air, I let the rest of the calls go to the answering service the time or two I thought I might have had a chance at answering. But that constant ringing simply made trying to sleep even more miserable. It seemed like the phone was constantly ringing, some in truth, some in dream-like echoes. Retched.
The V.A. called at least three times, and another call from their Vocational Rehabilitation. The other calls I am not sure about. Checking messages found other calls, some of which were merely baffling. I am in no condition to do any follow up. I did actually get a call from them, after I was finally awake. I will be doing a three day in-home sleep test starting next Wednesday. I hope I have found a way to sleep better by then, as the requirement is four to six hours of sleep for the test to be valid. At this point I am doing good to get a few hours in before something goes wrong or I have to fight my way awake to get air.
I did a first load of laundry in the machine today. Before I tried to go back to sleep, I wanted to do that. This washer will require a bit more care. I will have to leave the hatch open after washes and have a dish towel there to dry everything off after I complete my washing cycles in order to keep mold and such from causing a stench in the machine and on the clothes. On the good side, there is no water knock while using the machine. That will save me $20 to $40 on components. I am glad I did not order those or find them in stock anywhere. Foolish luck? Maybe.
I had planned to take my friend shooting today. Obviously or not, I did not make that appointment. He did call, though as I said answering calls was beyond my capacity. A bit ago I called and we are scheduled to go shooting tomorrow. Since I did remember to reset my planned appointment for today to Monday, I suggested he would be welcome to go. He has wanted to go to Ogden. That will be early though, the appointment is in the morning. He is on board though. After shooting we will come back and look at my reloader. He might be able to help me make a few final adjustments. He has a different system, but many things are universal. He has been loading for five to ten years now, so... He, unlike myself, has a clue.
Lungs are still rough. If I sleep where I can breath, then I cannot move. If I move, I lose the capacity to breath and when that happens my chest ends up hurting, which wakes me and has me shift to where I can breath again. At least the cushions have made it so that I am not quite as sore of chest in the "morning" upon waking. Though that neither helps nor hurts perceived wakefulness. I guess it is a step up. After D.C. suggested that the anti-biotic I was on was usually a five day program, I reread the instructions. I had, and rightly, read that I was to take one pill a day. What I had failed to read, then understand, was that in spite of having six pills it was typed that it was indeed a five day program. They had not indicated to take two pills on the first day. Late but on track now, I took those two pills today. NOW I am on a five day program. hehe
I need to get to laundry, maybe tinker with the reloader a bit more, do some dishes, and figure some things out. But really, I could use a nap. It might be a good time to try and set that reclining chair up and see if it will allow me better rest. Yeah, I write a lot sometimes. I find it amazing how much goes on in the world involving even me and while I am mostly out of it. Huh? Yeah. That's what I thought too. Huh... *shrug*
Have a great day. May your lungs find all the air they need and your head be rested and ready. Or at least find something good to gnaw on. Later.
I did get some of it.
.
.
The back room area has been opened up, my tools have been sorted and stored in the entry hall, the press is on the power stand and the power stand is attached to the workbench. I am tinkering with a few bits but needed to check the internet for setup instructions, some bits I found last time I browsed the topic. I have also set the dishes in the sink to a fresh soak if I don't think I will get to those tonight I might have a chance in the morning.
I have had to take about five breaks. Simply put, moving boxes, sorting and storing tools, and carrying parts for the reloader around is enough to set off a panting attack. Oddly, for having been nearly singularly stationary for the last twenty years, I still have decent lungs and decent stamina (not athletic, but better most any other couch potato). So this is frustrating. As soon as I recovered though, I was right back at it. Mistakes have been made, all recoverable so far. I am pretty much down to actually setting up the machine for .45 acp bullets. I am rather surprised I got this far or did this much but I will take it.
Both the beasts went out for a stroll earlier. Sam is back in. Sassy is nowhere to be found. She is like that more so than Sam anymore. Sam goes out, kills some stuff, perhaps visits a tom, then wants right back in. Quick, clean, and courteous. Sassy, for whatever reason, has started simply disappearing when I let her out, if too she only goes out a few times a week. I worry about her the most, too. She is still an absolute airhead, if I love her for that trait. She has no common sense whatsoever and has probably still not had to deal with a car or a dog. She must learn though, that is her lot as a farmstead cat. I still worry.
Well, a bit of review and perhaps I will have the reloader working enough to do a preliminary check before I go to bed. I will want to check everything again tomorrow, in any case. I had hoped to get a couple hundred cases polished but I simply lost track. The tasks I am doing were often splintered or complicated so that other tasks simply got lost in the shuffle. Hmm, what has it been, two maybe three years since I bought the machine? Ah well, all things in there time and it is this things time.
Good night.
.
The back room area has been opened up, my tools have been sorted and stored in the entry hall, the press is on the power stand and the power stand is attached to the workbench. I am tinkering with a few bits but needed to check the internet for setup instructions, some bits I found last time I browsed the topic. I have also set the dishes in the sink to a fresh soak if I don't think I will get to those tonight I might have a chance in the morning.
I have had to take about five breaks. Simply put, moving boxes, sorting and storing tools, and carrying parts for the reloader around is enough to set off a panting attack. Oddly, for having been nearly singularly stationary for the last twenty years, I still have decent lungs and decent stamina (not athletic, but better most any other couch potato). So this is frustrating. As soon as I recovered though, I was right back at it. Mistakes have been made, all recoverable so far. I am pretty much down to actually setting up the machine for .45 acp bullets. I am rather surprised I got this far or did this much but I will take it.
Both the beasts went out for a stroll earlier. Sam is back in. Sassy is nowhere to be found. She is like that more so than Sam anymore. Sam goes out, kills some stuff, perhaps visits a tom, then wants right back in. Quick, clean, and courteous. Sassy, for whatever reason, has started simply disappearing when I let her out, if too she only goes out a few times a week. I worry about her the most, too. She is still an absolute airhead, if I love her for that trait. She has no common sense whatsoever and has probably still not had to deal with a car or a dog. She must learn though, that is her lot as a farmstead cat. I still worry.
Well, a bit of review and perhaps I will have the reloader working enough to do a preliminary check before I go to bed. I will want to check everything again tomorrow, in any case. I had hoped to get a couple hundred cases polished but I simply lost track. The tasks I am doing were often splintered or complicated so that other tasks simply got lost in the shuffle. Hmm, what has it been, two maybe three years since I bought the machine? Ah well, all things in there time and it is this things time.
Good night.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Nothing fancy.
.
.
But I did get to town. If nothing else, I did not want to just sit around mumbling about health issues. I could not get a list going. No matter, I will have to be in town again anyway. I can't quite push to stop at every place I want or need to stop in one visit. I simply have to do things piecemeal.
I stopped at the tobacco outlet and took care of my needs. I wanted to do that on my return from SLC but the ER visit saw me back in town too late. I then picked up medium for my case cleaner, both varieties were to be had so I should be good there. I stopped at Lowe's and Home Depot looking for a water hammer arrester, neither store carried what I need. I was so sure those could be found locally that I did not bother to order those. With the washer arriving tomorrow, I will see if that is needed or not I guess. I simply hate not being sure. I wanted to stop at a few more places but I was simply done. A meal to go, so I could take my potassium at least for today, and then back home.
I called my friend on my way into town but he did not answer. He called shortly after I returned home. Because I do not know when the washer will be arriving, other than sometime between 8:00 and 12:00, I will have to reschedule tomorrow's appointment in Ogden to Monday. So, I went ahead and asked if he wanted to go shooting tomorrow afternoon. It seems like that is the plan for now. I will check a couple of the local hardware stores for the water hammer arresters on my way out of the house, if they are called for.
Now, I need to clear some of my tools from the entrance and then boxes in the back room so that the path for the washer is easy. I am also hoping to set up the reloader tonight. One of those jobs is a must, the other is a want. I would also like to clean up the kitchen but I think that is pushing things. I will be lucky to get the first of those things done, and it will be a miracle to get the loader put together. The dishes are... well... they will be there always. Christ mentioned that the poor will always be with us, he never mentioned that the dishes will be also. Fie!
I tried to get more sleep this morning by using couch cushions and my pillows. That did not work out well. My chest was already sore from fighting for breath or something and my lungs had filled with fluid by that time. I am going to try to sleep elevated all night tonight and see if that helps at all. I have had the windows open most of the afternoon. While I wondered if air quality in the house was a problem, being that getting out into fresh air for hours doesn't help lends to the notion that it is not the air. Still, it is always good to have fresh air in the place. Yes indeed.
In spite of what I am doing, I have to admit, I feel much more like sleeping. Every hour up and moving is a challenge, more so than usual. It has always baffled me, but I seem to work better when sick or wounded. It is like I am trying to prove that being sick or wounded won't keep me down in spite of being disabled to begin with? Don't ask, I don't understand myself. Hmm, maybe I should find something that would make me sick all of the time? No, that would eventually just be another permanent lead filled saddle bag added to the others.
Anyway, later or good night.
.
But I did get to town. If nothing else, I did not want to just sit around mumbling about health issues. I could not get a list going. No matter, I will have to be in town again anyway. I can't quite push to stop at every place I want or need to stop in one visit. I simply have to do things piecemeal.
I stopped at the tobacco outlet and took care of my needs. I wanted to do that on my return from SLC but the ER visit saw me back in town too late. I then picked up medium for my case cleaner, both varieties were to be had so I should be good there. I stopped at Lowe's and Home Depot looking for a water hammer arrester, neither store carried what I need. I was so sure those could be found locally that I did not bother to order those. With the washer arriving tomorrow, I will see if that is needed or not I guess. I simply hate not being sure. I wanted to stop at a few more places but I was simply done. A meal to go, so I could take my potassium at least for today, and then back home.
I called my friend on my way into town but he did not answer. He called shortly after I returned home. Because I do not know when the washer will be arriving, other than sometime between 8:00 and 12:00, I will have to reschedule tomorrow's appointment in Ogden to Monday. So, I went ahead and asked if he wanted to go shooting tomorrow afternoon. It seems like that is the plan for now. I will check a couple of the local hardware stores for the water hammer arresters on my way out of the house, if they are called for.
Now, I need to clear some of my tools from the entrance and then boxes in the back room so that the path for the washer is easy. I am also hoping to set up the reloader tonight. One of those jobs is a must, the other is a want. I would also like to clean up the kitchen but I think that is pushing things. I will be lucky to get the first of those things done, and it will be a miracle to get the loader put together. The dishes are... well... they will be there always. Christ mentioned that the poor will always be with us, he never mentioned that the dishes will be also. Fie!
I tried to get more sleep this morning by using couch cushions and my pillows. That did not work out well. My chest was already sore from fighting for breath or something and my lungs had filled with fluid by that time. I am going to try to sleep elevated all night tonight and see if that helps at all. I have had the windows open most of the afternoon. While I wondered if air quality in the house was a problem, being that getting out into fresh air for hours doesn't help lends to the notion that it is not the air. Still, it is always good to have fresh air in the place. Yes indeed.
In spite of what I am doing, I have to admit, I feel much more like sleeping. Every hour up and moving is a challenge, more so than usual. It has always baffled me, but I seem to work better when sick or wounded. It is like I am trying to prove that being sick or wounded won't keep me down in spite of being disabled to begin with? Don't ask, I don't understand myself. Hmm, maybe I should find something that would make me sick all of the time? No, that would eventually just be another permanent lead filled saddle bag added to the others.
Anyway, later or good night.
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