Final Score: Blogmeister 1, Current Year Influenza Pandemic 0

15 12 2017

Your Blogmeister’s Secret Hideout

And stay out!

Yep, it’s gone now, which means for the first time since Monday before last, I’m wearing something more than boxer briefs and actually seeing what the rest of this house and some of the world that surrounds it looks like.  I damned near forgot in all that time.

Considering how long this lasted, how many days I was in the serious depth of symptoms, my peak temperature, the continuous amount of time I was above a certain temperature, and the severity of my symptoms, this was a really dead serious case, “dead” being apropos, because if this would have hit an infant or toddler, or an elder, or someone with some sort of compromised immune system, it had a good chance of being fatal.

My ego would like me to think that I caught this bug so that some little kid it could have killed didn’t, which means the little kid won’t die now, and will instead grow up, and be the one that cures cancer.

Now, back to my regularly scheduled medical problems.

Also expect a posting storm over the weekend this evening about some interesting news stories and burrs in my saddle that have piled up in my hopper over the last two weeks.


I’m Sick of This Shit

13 12 2017

Your Blogmeister’s Secret Hideout

I’m really, really sick of this shit.

Now that I’m on the sunny side of this fifteen round bout I went with some variant of the influenza virus in the ring, a whole lot of orange juice, vitamin drinks and Tylenol saw me through it, (docs didn’t want to give me Tamiflu because my immune system was fine and I’m not a high risk age or illness group), even though I think it will take another day or two for me to shake the lingering symptoms, my natural impatience is starting to seep through.

I want to get over this flu for good.

Then I want my memory back, all of it.  I’m getting tired of my brain fucking with me, echoing names through my head like Nicholas Stix, or Chiseled Adonis, or Petronius, or Fightology, or Gentle Grizzly, or Chastity Prejean, or William McKinnon, or Cejuan25, or Hondo, or Vincent Law, or Randell Gary, or Lana Lokteff, or many others, and then the same brain will turn around and not let me remember who any of these people are or why they’re supposed to be important to me. All these names going through my head that I don’t inherently remember. Goddamnit.

Then I want my cognitive function back, all of it.  Including my speed of thinking and my reaction time.  I also want all of my logic and reason ability back.  I’m tired of my brain fucking with me, making me think it would be a good idea to pull up on my assailant at the address where I know he lives, coax him out, and then just let loose with the strap, or, failing that, I could always burn down his parents’ house.  First off, I can’t drive, so I couldn’t get there — It would take hell of a long time to get there in a non-motorized wheelchair.  Second, if I ask someone in my immediate corporeal circle to drive me to such and such address in such and such place for the purpose of either murdering someone or burning that house down, they’d be as crazy as I am right now if they agreed to it.  Third, doing any of that won’t make my situation any better off.  I’d still be the same brain damaged semi-gimp after committing one or more major felonies as I was before.

Then I want my physical function back, all of it.  I want to be able to drive a car and play golf again.  I don’t want this wheelchair to be my permanent drinking buddy.

[Outstretched upwards-facing palm]

Give it here. Right now. Not six months from now, not three months from now, not next month, not next week, not tomorrow, not this evening, not later this afternoon, not after lunch, but right the fuck now.

Really, I know that it’s not going to be that easy, or that quick.

I also know what all the experts with all the diplomas have told me over and over again: One day at a time. I have to live one day at a time, fully understanding and accepting my current limitations and handicaps, meaning I have to operate in the sphere of what I’m able to do and try to make the best of it.  You know, the whole “don’t let what you can’t do interfere with what you can do” after school special bromide.  Because it will be at least a handful of months and maybe more than another year until we know how well I’ll recover, and if my plateau is at any state in any way underneath what I was when July 19 started, from there we can go forward adjusting to the new normal.

I guess what I really should be writing here is that I want my whole pre-July 19 life back again. I want to live again, I want to be productive again, I don’t want to be a useless parasite anymore. It’s been so long that I don’t even know anymore what my own house looks like. Hell, it’s been so long since I’ve done any form of, well, that, that I think I’ve forgotten what that is all about, and I might have to be given “the talk” again. I’m wondering if the TBI hasn’t affected that particular functionality, because I haven’t had an ounce of desire to do any hand to gland combat, much less any chance that I’d be able to engage in said activity with any willing women; the lack of such women is understandable considering the circumstances.

And as I sit here today, still in bed, I can’t be certain of getting any one of these things back, or even if what I’ve gotten back in my recovery so far will even stick with me.  As you all know, I can’t even be 100% certain about just plain staying above ground, even though the more time goes on, the slimmer the already slim odds of that happening become.

Now, back to a more reality-based situation at hand, the doctors were spot on when they predicted that during the low points of my battle with the flu that I’d have occasions when the scant few times I would feel well enough just to get out of bed and use the pot would be times when my lingering TBI problems would mean I wouldn’t have full and proper motor control of my legs. The people who helped me in those situations, well, they’re saints, if only because they had to see things that they could never un-see.  Further complicating things is that several flu symptoms are fatigue, vomiting, headaches and general body aches.  Of course I had those and all the other common flu symptoms since the infection really set in, but the problem is that those I listed are also lingering TBI symptoms for me, so I couldn’t tell if they were coming from the flu, the TBI or a little of both at the same time.

For the record, I had this year’s flu shot, so I am told, in late October.  Turns out it was no help at all, and I see that that’s probably going to be a very common story this winter.  This is also my second flu tour of duty, my first when I was 18 years old, and in that year, the flu set in immediately after I got the flu shot, which means the flu shot caused it, the “inert” virus in that shot turned out to have been still alive.

To net it out, I’m tired of operating on just half a brain and half a body.

Did I mention that I’m sick of this shit?

Chicken Soup for the Brain Damaged Flu Ridden Soul

7 12 2017

Your Blogmeister’s Secret Hideout

This flu seems to have eased up on me, for now.  I don’t think it’s done with me, quite yet.

I need some encouragement from my peanut gallery.  Yes, I’m asking people, most of whom I still don’t inherently remember, for this.  Alluding to my more chronic medical problem.

I really do have a lot of nerve, don’t I?

Anyway, get in the comment box.

A Day Good For Exactly Two Things

2 12 2017

Your Blogmeister’s Secret Hideout

Nothing, and shit.

I must have caught something from someone, because I’ve been blah all day long.

The only bright side is that I’ve been able to be blah sitting outside most of the day in just about the best weather wise day you could ask for from St. Louis in early December, my peace and quiet was only interrupted for awhile by the head of household of my secret hideout grilling some ‘dogs and burgers.

On second thought, if you’ve got to be sick on top of brain damaged on top of wheelchair semi-bound, this is the way to to do it.

Lucky Dominoes

30 11 2017

Your Blogmeister’s Secret Hideout

Why didn’t it kill me?

I’m sure some of you have been wanting me to answer that question.

And I’m ready to answer.

It was just several dime thin marginal lucky factors that daisy chained together in the fortuitous direction, fortuitous for my sake:

(1) He wasn’t driving that fast even when he was approaching me and what would become the “accident” scene.  Limit for the street is 25, and he was going noticeably slower even at his fastest pace in approach.  His slowness and his distraction were related; Had he not been fiddling around with his phone, he would have been going faster, but by the same token, he would have seen what was ahead of him and not hit me.

(2) He looked up from his phone just in time to see what was in front of him, and hit the brakes.  While it wasn’t enough to prevent his car from meeting my white body, it did mean that his car’s rate at the time and point of impact was even slower.

(3) One my former blog slogans, I’d rather be judged by twelve than carried by fourteen.  Meaning I’m nobody’s definition of svelte.  Especially on that day.  Now, I’ve lost quite a bit of what is ordinarily otherwise considered to be useless weight.  But on that day, it wasn’t useless.  Since he hit (on that day) just short of 250 pounds of me rather than the 170 or so I should be, that extra weight marginally absorbed some of the force of the impact, and sent me down to the ground at a slower rate than otherwise.

(4) The mechanics and direction of the fall from the point of car impacting me to the point of my head impacting pavement meant that the way my head was hit was just about the least bad way to get hit in the head in that way if getting hit is unavoidable.

So, line those four factors in a row, and they combined to make the difference.

Of course, there may well still be a long term cost.  Something tells me that when this all shakes out, I’m going to wind up some measure of cognitively and/or physically less well off than I was on the start of July 19.  Like I wrote earlier today, no real clue on that until a year after the fact.

Eventually, I will explain my mensis horribilis of most of October.

As I Pursue My Ph.D. in Powerology

30 11 2017

Your Blogmeister’s Secret Hideout

As a continuation of my post of a few minutes ago about the fourth full month of recovery, I can already discern how my brain is rewiring itself, which in turn means how my cognitive sensibilities are already different now than they were before July 19.

Cut to the chase:  I’m less interested in the kind of day to day events that interested me before July 19, and more interested in big consequential profundities.  To allude to the old trope that great minds ponder ideas, average minds think about events, and small minds gossip about people.

Which means that you probably won’t be reading many posts in this space going forward along the lines of “zomg dindu murked other dindu on ghetto street corner lol” and instead posts about how cognitive stratification is ruining civilization.  Less New Nation News, more Social Matter, por favor.

That said, I can give you a preview of coming attractions, knowing where my rewiring brain seems to be taking me.

One of my near-lifelong serial ideological interests has been in the concept of power.  The nature of power, the essence of power, the acquisition of power, the use of power, the abuse of power, the mechanics of power, the loss of power, the deceitful manipulation of power, the transmission of power, the disguise of power, the gamesmanship of power, power competing with power, power clashing with power.  I started having this interest at the age of thirteen, which means you all can deduce the wherefore of the biological imperative.  The trigger was that I was on the school bus and saw that some cop had some driver pulled over, and I started wondering if there was some answer other than the practical one to why the driver pulled over.

It took me a quarter century, but I was finally able to boil everything about power down to the hard rock bottom of the matter.  At a base and individual level, I have power over you if you somehow have decided that you are better off than you otherwise would be if you allow me to make some of the decisions about your existence that you would otherwise make for yourself.  Scale that kind of thing up to the collective level, and a person or institution has power over a society if on a base level the people most skilled at wielding weapons, munitions and ordnance think that they personally and the society they live in are better off than they otherwise would be with said person or institution making important decisions, and secondarily but just about as importantly, if the cognitive elite of the society have come to the same conclusion.

“You got all that from some cop pulling someone over back in 1990?”

You betcha.  And isn’t this so typical me that I’d see something that most people, much less most 13-year olds, would just disregard, and turn that into a quarter century intellectual crusade to come to the same conclusion that some second-rate Athenian Golden Age philosopher probably already came to around 2,500 years ago?

Back to the point, it has probably been the case that I was headed in that direction in terms of my posting interests in recent years, and I’m guessing that many of you can attest to that, but my being so rudely interrupted in July and the resetting my brain is doing because of it only ices the metamorphosis.  So much so that I actually worry that the concept of power will for me transition from a mere serial interest to a dangerous and pathological obsession.

That said, I have an admission:

I want the pen and the phone and the nuclear football, and I know just what I have to do to get them.  It’s just that the odds are extremely long against me.

Fourth Month of Recovery

30 11 2017

Your Blogmeister’s Secret Hideout

Another full month of recovery is now in the hard drive.

But for the first time during this process, I can provide the update on my own condition and either progress or regress during a given month, rather than relying on some toy dog to do it.

Just for that fact is an obvious clue that November has resulted in a big improvement in my cognitive function.  Though I should use this opportunity to say again that I’m not doing as well cognitively as it would seem from just reading my writing both here and in AR comments since my return in the middle of this about to expire month, because political writing for me hasn’t often been a cognitively taxing activity.  (I will admit that I couldn’t author a post like this one as of right now.)  However, good chunks of my past academic life and my more recent professional life require every bit of cognitive function I can muster; It is my competitive advantage.  A Bugatti Chiron and a 2019 Corvette ZR1 can both easily do 120 on straight flat open road, analogous to almost all of my political writing.  But my previous academic and recent professional life is more like a non-stop hypercar race at Talladega, and if you show up to that shindig in a mere Corvette ZR1, you’re quickly going to fall behind.

Apropos of the extreme performance automotive analogy, one thing I know hasn’t even really started recovering yet in my cognitive portfolio is my speed of thinking, especially off the cuff.  Yeah, I can write good enough blog posts, but I’m dead meat in a fast moving internet chat room.

If I don’t ever get my pre-accident full cognitive functionality back, I’m kinda screwed.

One more note on the cognitive end:  My problems when it comes to remembering people who I haven’t known or known of for much of a long time continue, (which includes almost all of you in these comment boxes and most everyone on AR), and both to my estimation and that of my doctors, have not improved even as other matters cognitive obviously have.  That kind of thing will probably be very slow to improve, (provided I remain on something of a general upward trajectory, which is not a given), so I need all of you to be patient with me.

My physical condition over the month has been a little bit up and down, but overall not that good.  It trended upward in the first half of the month but downward in the second half.  Still with the once every few days vomiting and vertigo, still with the on again off again thinking causes me physical pain, still with the frequent pains from could be anywhere else, still with the ambulatory instability, at most, I can only stay upright on two feet for one hour.  On top of all that, the entire set of circumstances both cognitively and physically, teams up to make me some sort of tired all the time, even when I’m wide awake, and these days, I usually call it a day by 10, and 11 is a late night for me.  Because I’ve been able to condition my brain to disregard the nightmare flashbacks during my sleep, I almost always sleep through for my full 7.5 to 8 hours and sometimes more.  Yet and still, that doesn’t prevent me from being tired during waking hours.

Long and short, this wheelchair is going to be my best friend for quite some time to come.  At least I’m not wheelchair-bound, I only need it intermittently even if frequently.

In all reality, it won’t be until at least July 19 of next current year, a year after the fact, that we’ll have some sort of line on my stabilized condition will be both cognitively and physically.