BITE OF THE GILA MONSTER
Remember sweet Betsy from Pike, who crossed the wide prairie with her lover Ike; two yoke of oxen, one spotted hog, a tall Shanghai rooster and an old yellow dog?
I've been feeling like that old yellow dog this week. The day after finally publishing a SPY update (Monday), the doctors persuaded me I had to start injecting Byetta, the diabetes control drug synthesized from the protein found in the spit of a gila monster. When first prescribed on October 16, several readers warned Byetta has powerful side effects. Having several events to attend, I opted for an interim solution, doubling Avandia and taking an interim pill. Just didn't work and Avandia can affect your liver. Severe swelling and pain in my legs and feet convinced the doctors I was borderline for the problems John Wilson has experienced -- loss of toes, etc.
So, bright and early on Wednesday morning, I loaded the needle into the Byetta plunger, and with some trepidation, jabbed the needle into my stomach. After years of injecting insulin, there was only a slight psychological problem of stabbing myself in the gut. Like the Sundance Kid hesitating on the edge of the cliff with Butch, knowing he had to jump. I was worried about the side effects.
And, worried with good cause. They buried three people this morning who felt better than I do. Fighting off the nausea and cramps, you know you're not on the slippery slope of life, just hung over, like Ray Milland on his "Lost Weekend." Byetta supposedly helps you lose weight; right -- you're too damned sick to eat. I was too sick to go to one State Dept party, but I thought mischievously of taking that syringe with me and plunging it into the buttocks of one cretin who richly deserves it; would add to his reputation as a pain in the ass.
To take my mind off bodily ills, I have been writing and rewriting two editorials, while also working on SPY's 2008 calendar. All saved in Word. The PC crashed last night. Have to go to Comp USA and get it fixed before the weekend, when the Washington area will be hit by a major snowstorm. If they can't fix the PC, I have redo the work or find some genius who can extract the data from the hard drive in the PC which is deader than so and so's you-know-whats.
At least the plumbers are not coming today. Hired a firm a few months ago to install a new toilet in the master bedroom because water (not sewage) was seeping into the downstairs closet and ruined the walls. After spending a grand on new walls, I paid the plumber to replace all the plumbing in the shower, which they said was the problem. This week, noticed more seepage into that closet. A different plumber who does tile work discovered that the new toilet not only leaked, the water had seeped under the tile, ruining the subfloor. Nothing like having an exploding brain while a workman breaks up a tile floor over your head. A new floor, subfloor and new tile at a Christmas present bargain price of $3,000.
Old Ebenezer probably got that way by living in this house. So cold Wednesday I decided to light a fire in one of the fireplaces. Opened the flue, lit the fire, then opened all the windows and doors and turned on fans to get the smoke out of the house, all the time the smoke detectors shrilling loudly and the dog barking. There are situations which the makers of Aleve and Tylenol never anticipated. Seems there is some kind of blockage up high in the chimney -- which will be removed (expensively) on Monday -- meaning I can't use the fireplace this weekend during the storm.
As Don Rickles says, "If I didn't have bad luck, I wouldn't have any luck at all."
Feeling sorry for myself? Not at all. I am disappointed I haven't published some material in which I invested so much time.
But, as manifested at the NFCA Convention and in the many emails I received while I was making "medical rounds" last week, I have a gazillion friends in the softball community -- and that knowledge sustains me. Medical and housing problems are transitory; friendships are a blessing for life.
RFH