Tuesday, December 28, 2004
sick, part three
THINGS I LEARNED AT THE HOSPITAL
on Christmas Eve with The Boy
(in no particular order)
- "a few minutes" in hospital time = over an hour in regular time; "15 - 20 minutes" in hospital time = at least two hours in regular time.
- Hospitals are horrible places to rest and recover. You are not allowed to rest uninterupted for more than an hour or two, as nurses, therapists, and assistants are constantly coming and going. They are very noisy places. Nurses must have poor eyesight and are hard of hearing, as they are apparently unable to do anything quietly or without turning on the bright lights above the bed. This is particularly true between the hours of midnight and 6:00 am.
- If you shake or pat on The Boy in a gentle repetitive way you can set off every alarm on the vital signs monitor that is connected to him. This causes nurses to come running. This is especially effective and amusing right after a shift change.
- Don't touch the buttons.
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on Christmas Eve with The Boy
(in no particular order)
- "a few minutes" in hospital time = over an hour in regular time; "15 - 20 minutes" in hospital time = at least two hours in regular time.
- Hospitals are horrible places to rest and recover. You are not allowed to rest uninterupted for more than an hour or two, as nurses, therapists, and assistants are constantly coming and going. They are very noisy places. Nurses must have poor eyesight and are hard of hearing, as they are apparently unable to do anything quietly or without turning on the bright lights above the bed. This is particularly true between the hours of midnight and 6:00 am.
- If you shake or pat on The Boy in a gentle repetitive way you can set off every alarm on the vital signs monitor that is connected to him. This causes nurses to come running. This is especially effective and amusing right after a shift change.
- Don't touch the buttons.
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Saturday, December 25, 2004
sick, part two
Please allow me, my dear reader, to preface this by saying that I have had literally about 5 hours of sleep since I woke up Wednesday morning. They tell me it's Saturday night. Eating, sleeping. . . hell, even taking the time to piss, all become secondary and pale in importance when compared to the welfare of your child. You just go, like some sort of parenting auto-pilot just takes over.
So please indulge me any extra ramblings or a more than usual amount of incoherent ranting.
Oh, and Merry Christmas. Or Happy Chrismahanukwanzaakah. Or Happy Festivus, you disappointing piece of crap.
__________
Although he is still a sick little boy, The Boy is home from the hospital.
The doctors never found a definitive cause for his illness or give a definite diagnosis.
Their best guess:
"areas of atelectasis in the right middle and lower left lobes of the lungs caused by a probable viral infection"
Translated into regular guy words:
"a really nasty chest cold"
AAAGGGH! The fucking bastards!
After two days of subjecting The Boy to needles, tubes, wires, and machines that go "ping", after two days of round the clock poking, prodding and examining, after two days of all around hospital bullshit, the best the doctors can do is guess that The Boy has a bad cold!
That is exactly what we told them two fucking days ago when we very reluctantly took him to the emergency room at the advice of the on-call doctor in his pediatrician's office.
Again, I repeat. . . AAAGGGH! The fucking bastards!
They looked at The Boy and saw his symptoms, yes, but the doctors completely 100% disregarded us, the child's parents. They gave little to no credibility to people that have known, loved and cared for The Boy since he was 10 days old, and the knowledge and information we offered to help them accurately diagnose and treat The Boy.
It's inexcusable.
It caused The Boy to be much sicker after a few hours in the ER than he was when we brought him there. It added insult to injury and needlessly induced a tremendous amount of fear, stress, and anxiety in The Boy. It needlessly induced a tremendous amount of fear, stress and anxiety in The Wife, myself, and The Boy's home health nurse slash virtual aunt as we went from wondering what we could do to better treat his cold to literally fearing for his life.
There was a period of time when The Boy's heart rate raced up to between 180 and 190 beats per minute, his respirations were around 80 breathes a minute, and his blood oxygen saturation levels were still down in the 80% range. It became an extremely scary reality that at any moment his heart would literally break from the strain, he would go into cardiac arrest and then well, we didn't think about then, but game over.
It is more a testament to The Boy's strength and tenacity than to the doctor's medical interventions that he is moving nicely down the road to recovery today.
Did I mention it's inexcusable.
And I'll tell one of the reasons why they did it.
Her. It all goes back to her.
The Boy has been seen and treated by numerous doctors at various clinics in this hospital his entire life. He has had surgery there. He has been hospitalized there on three or four ocassions prior for illnesses. In his three short years, if you combine the hospital records with the doctor's records, The Boy has a case file at this hospital that is really a rather impressive collection of documents to behold. We have a copy. It's six to eight inches tall.
And it's full of shit.
Everytime Ms. von Munchausen took The Boy into the hospital for any reason, she lied, exaggerated, or outright made shit up about The Boy. She made it up. The doctors and nurses wrote it down, and now it is part of his medical history.
So now shift your thinking to that of a doctor. What's the very first thing you do before you say or do anything to a patient? Is it accurately assessing a patient's needs so that the best course of action can be determined? No. We live in a litigious age. The very first thing you must do is ask yourself, "How will this sound in a courtroom?"
With that in mind, what would you have done if you were the ER doctors treating The Boy on Thursday? On what information would you base your decisions? What you were being told by the child's newly adopted parents, or what you read in three years of case history?
Her abuse and neglect of The Boy will haunt him forever.
__________
But the good news is The Boy is home and sleeping comfortably. As is The Wife. As I will be doing very very soon.
And well, The Boy has a bad cold. So we'll spend the next few days to a week or so being the parents of a child with a cold. Treating The Boy is slightly more complicated. We have machines that go ping and buzz. But still, you basically treat the symptoms, make sure that he's comfortable, gets plenty of fluids and lots of rest.
At some future time I will share more of this tale, including details of my turn spending last night in the hospital with The Boy and all the frightening things you hear in the wee hours.
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night"
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So please indulge me any extra ramblings or a more than usual amount of incoherent ranting.
Oh, and Merry Christmas. Or Happy Chrismahanukwanzaakah. Or Happy Festivus, you disappointing piece of crap.
__________
Although he is still a sick little boy, The Boy is home from the hospital.
The doctors never found a definitive cause for his illness or give a definite diagnosis.
Their best guess:
"areas of atelectasis in the right middle and lower left lobes of the lungs caused by a probable viral infection"
Translated into regular guy words:
"a really nasty chest cold"
AAAGGGH! The fucking bastards!
After two days of subjecting The Boy to needles, tubes, wires, and machines that go "ping", after two days of round the clock poking, prodding and examining, after two days of all around hospital bullshit, the best the doctors can do is guess that The Boy has a bad cold!
That is exactly what we told them two fucking days ago when we very reluctantly took him to the emergency room at the advice of the on-call doctor in his pediatrician's office.
Again, I repeat. . . AAAGGGH! The fucking bastards!
They looked at The Boy and saw his symptoms, yes, but the doctors completely 100% disregarded us, the child's parents. They gave little to no credibility to people that have known, loved and cared for The Boy since he was 10 days old, and the knowledge and information we offered to help them accurately diagnose and treat The Boy.
It's inexcusable.
It caused The Boy to be much sicker after a few hours in the ER than he was when we brought him there. It added insult to injury and needlessly induced a tremendous amount of fear, stress, and anxiety in The Boy. It needlessly induced a tremendous amount of fear, stress and anxiety in The Wife, myself, and The Boy's home health nurse slash virtual aunt as we went from wondering what we could do to better treat his cold to literally fearing for his life.
There was a period of time when The Boy's heart rate raced up to between 180 and 190 beats per minute, his respirations were around 80 breathes a minute, and his blood oxygen saturation levels were still down in the 80% range. It became an extremely scary reality that at any moment his heart would literally break from the strain, he would go into cardiac arrest and then well, we didn't think about then, but game over.
It is more a testament to The Boy's strength and tenacity than to the doctor's medical interventions that he is moving nicely down the road to recovery today.
Did I mention it's inexcusable.
And I'll tell one of the reasons why they did it.
Her. It all goes back to her.
The Boy has been seen and treated by numerous doctors at various clinics in this hospital his entire life. He has had surgery there. He has been hospitalized there on three or four ocassions prior for illnesses. In his three short years, if you combine the hospital records with the doctor's records, The Boy has a case file at this hospital that is really a rather impressive collection of documents to behold. We have a copy. It's six to eight inches tall.
And it's full of shit.
Everytime Ms. von Munchausen took The Boy into the hospital for any reason, she lied, exaggerated, or outright made shit up about The Boy. She made it up. The doctors and nurses wrote it down, and now it is part of his medical history.
So now shift your thinking to that of a doctor. What's the very first thing you do before you say or do anything to a patient? Is it accurately assessing a patient's needs so that the best course of action can be determined? No. We live in a litigious age. The very first thing you must do is ask yourself, "How will this sound in a courtroom?"
With that in mind, what would you have done if you were the ER doctors treating The Boy on Thursday? On what information would you base your decisions? What you were being told by the child's newly adopted parents, or what you read in three years of case history?
Her abuse and neglect of The Boy will haunt him forever.
__________
But the good news is The Boy is home and sleeping comfortably. As is The Wife. As I will be doing very very soon.
And well, The Boy has a bad cold. So we'll spend the next few days to a week or so being the parents of a child with a cold. Treating The Boy is slightly more complicated. We have machines that go ping and buzz. But still, you basically treat the symptoms, make sure that he's comfortable, gets plenty of fluids and lots of rest.
At some future time I will share more of this tale, including details of my turn spending last night in the hospital with The Boy and all the frightening things you hear in the wee hours.
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night"
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Friday, December 24, 2004
sick, part one
The Boy is sick.
No one in our house slept much last night. Personally, I don't recall glancing at the clock and seeing any time during the hour of 3:00 am, so at most I had about an hour of sleep. Tired? Hell yes, but presently to worked up to consider sleep a viable option at this time.
Last night we spent about 10 hours in a battle to prevent the levels of oxygen in The Boy's blood from slipping down into dangerously low levels.
As that always exists as a possibility with The Boy, amongst the other numerous pieces of fun medical equipment in our home you will find oxygen and other equipment to deal with it. We gotza tools and we gotza mad skillz.
Except it wasn't working out as planned. We spent the night just trying to break even then staying that way, just barely managing to maintain the minimal safe level.
"Low oxygen levels in his blood?" you ask.
This basically means he's not breathing well. There are several reason's for this, one of the most common is the same reason you, my dear reader, or I may have ocassional trouble breathing.
No, I am sorry to say it is not because of the monster hit we just took from the bong.
He's congested. Stuffy nose, coughing, etc. In short, he has a cold. A nasty one that is significantly interfering with his ability to breathe. We are further convinced it is a variation on a cold because his symptoms are nearly identical although exaggerated to my symptoms from last week.
I had a slight cold.
So this morning we call his pediatrician. Right. What are the odds of finding your doctor working two days before Christmas? Not very good apparently. Some other doctor that works at this doctor mall said she didn't want to see The Boy and to take him to the emergency room.
__________
Paraphrasing the end of that telephone conversation:
US: "But doctor, he has all the symptoms of a really bad cold and no symptom of any other illness or infection."
BITCHY DOCTOR (sounding annoyed to be distracted from her holiday plans): "Take him to the ER."
US (hesitantly): "Alright."
__________
So we did. We arrived around noon.
We arrived with a very lethargic child who was having difficulty breathing due to congestion in his upper respiratory system.
"He has a cold."
Debate. Discussion. A doctor who I really dislike kept saying something about The Boy's history of "reactive airway disease", or something like that.
What the fuck is that? How did you come up with that? "No, we think he has a cold."
More debate and discussion. Needles for blood tests. Chest x-ray. Sucking out mucous from his throat and putting it in a little vial.
"He has a bad cold."
Then the doctor I really dislike said something that made me really dislike her, "Well, if you take him home, he might die."
WHAT THE FUCK? HE MIGHT DIE? Who are you? What are you talking about? "He has all the symptoms of a cold."
Test results: blood tests negative for infection or disease with no symptom of any heart problems, throat mucous negative for infection or disease, chest x-ray negative for pneumonia, other infection or disease.
"Right, that's because he has a cold. A cold is caused by a virus that will not show up on your tests because you are not looking for it."
Then another doctor, slightly Apu-ish with a friendly personality, "We don't know what is going on. We think he needs to be admitted to the hospital."
Admitted the hospital? "He has a cold!"
So around 8:00 pm tonight, we found ourselves admitting The Boy to the hospital.
Yes, my dear reader, you read that correctly, we spent about eight fucking hours hanging out in the emergency room. Eight glorious fun filled hours being scared and bullied by doctors who have never seen The Boy before, intimidated and made to doubt our judgement by doctors who have absolutely zero idea about The Boy and his unique medical conditions and needs.
These strangers somehow managed to convince The Wife and I that they know what is best for our child. We were spoke down to, as though we were children or incompetent. We were lectured and scolded. And we let them because they carry the title "Doctor" in front of their name and we are parents deeply concerned about the health of our son.
I have just returned from the hospital. I took the first part of the night shift. Around midnight The Wife arrived to spend the rest of the night.
The Boy is in the "intermediate care unit" at the hospital.
He has a cold.
Neither the Wife nor myself have ever been this angry at ourselves for letting doubt of our judgement interfere with our ability to assert it.
Damn, this whole parenting business is pretty danged hard.
This story is far from over. More later. . .
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No one in our house slept much last night. Personally, I don't recall glancing at the clock and seeing any time during the hour of 3:00 am, so at most I had about an hour of sleep. Tired? Hell yes, but presently to worked up to consider sleep a viable option at this time.
Last night we spent about 10 hours in a battle to prevent the levels of oxygen in The Boy's blood from slipping down into dangerously low levels.
As that always exists as a possibility with The Boy, amongst the other numerous pieces of fun medical equipment in our home you will find oxygen and other equipment to deal with it. We gotza tools and we gotza mad skillz.
Except it wasn't working out as planned. We spent the night just trying to break even then staying that way, just barely managing to maintain the minimal safe level.
"Low oxygen levels in his blood?" you ask.
This basically means he's not breathing well. There are several reason's for this, one of the most common is the same reason you, my dear reader, or I may have ocassional trouble breathing.
No, I am sorry to say it is not because of the monster hit we just took from the bong.
He's congested. Stuffy nose, coughing, etc. In short, he has a cold. A nasty one that is significantly interfering with his ability to breathe. We are further convinced it is a variation on a cold because his symptoms are nearly identical although exaggerated to my symptoms from last week.
I had a slight cold.
So this morning we call his pediatrician. Right. What are the odds of finding your doctor working two days before Christmas? Not very good apparently. Some other doctor that works at this doctor mall said she didn't want to see The Boy and to take him to the emergency room.
__________
Paraphrasing the end of that telephone conversation:
US: "But doctor, he has all the symptoms of a really bad cold and no symptom of any other illness or infection."
BITCHY DOCTOR (sounding annoyed to be distracted from her holiday plans): "Take him to the ER."
US (hesitantly): "Alright."
__________
So we did. We arrived around noon.
We arrived with a very lethargic child who was having difficulty breathing due to congestion in his upper respiratory system.
"He has a cold."
Debate. Discussion. A doctor who I really dislike kept saying something about The Boy's history of "reactive airway disease", or something like that.
What the fuck is that? How did you come up with that? "No, we think he has a cold."
More debate and discussion. Needles for blood tests. Chest x-ray. Sucking out mucous from his throat and putting it in a little vial.
"He has a bad cold."
Then the doctor I really dislike said something that made me really dislike her, "Well, if you take him home, he might die."
WHAT THE FUCK? HE MIGHT DIE? Who are you? What are you talking about? "He has all the symptoms of a cold."
Test results: blood tests negative for infection or disease with no symptom of any heart problems, throat mucous negative for infection or disease, chest x-ray negative for pneumonia, other infection or disease.
"Right, that's because he has a cold. A cold is caused by a virus that will not show up on your tests because you are not looking for it."
Then another doctor, slightly Apu-ish with a friendly personality, "We don't know what is going on. We think he needs to be admitted to the hospital."
Admitted the hospital? "He has a cold!"
So around 8:00 pm tonight, we found ourselves admitting The Boy to the hospital.
Yes, my dear reader, you read that correctly, we spent about eight fucking hours hanging out in the emergency room. Eight glorious fun filled hours being scared and bullied by doctors who have never seen The Boy before, intimidated and made to doubt our judgement by doctors who have absolutely zero idea about The Boy and his unique medical conditions and needs.
These strangers somehow managed to convince The Wife and I that they know what is best for our child. We were spoke down to, as though we were children or incompetent. We were lectured and scolded. And we let them because they carry the title "Doctor" in front of their name and we are parents deeply concerned about the health of our son.
I have just returned from the hospital. I took the first part of the night shift. Around midnight The Wife arrived to spend the rest of the night.
The Boy is in the "intermediate care unit" at the hospital.
He has a cold.
Neither the Wife nor myself have ever been this angry at ourselves for letting doubt of our judgement interfere with our ability to assert it.
Damn, this whole parenting business is pretty danged hard.
This story is far from over. More later. . .
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Monday, December 20, 2004
i swear it's true
Okay, so maybe it's because it's the overall giddiness of the holiday season and the twinkling of the lights on the tree combined with the brandy I've been drinking since like Friday is beginning to have some sort of trance inducing hallocinogenic sort of psychotropic effect.
Or maybe not.
Either way, I just saw the BEST VIDEO EVER!
The song: Dead Ringer for Love
The artist: Meat Loaf doing a duet with Cher.
"a man he doesn't live by rock 'n roll and brew alone"
Truer words were never spoken.
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Or maybe not.
Either way, I just saw the BEST VIDEO EVER!
The song: Dead Ringer for Love
The artist: Meat Loaf doing a duet with Cher.
"a man he doesn't live by rock 'n roll and brew alone"
Truer words were never spoken.
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Monday, December 13, 2004
back to the gym
Earlier today, the Good Doctor Noyz was involved in a slightly embarassing incident. Because it has some humor in it I am not ashamed to share it with you, my dear reader.
While talking to a therapist this morning in my classroom, I sneezed.
As I sneezed, I felt a sudden loosness in my pants. I felt them begin to give and move slightly downwards.
As I sneezed, the button popped off my pants.
It landed on the carpet a foot or so in front of me and rolled for several more feet before coming to a rest.
And as I was holding up my pants and walking across my classroom to retrieve my errant button I had a one of those sudden moments of shock and disbelief that occur when your self-image is shattered and forcibly redefined by reality.
I am not an icon of fitness.
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While talking to a therapist this morning in my classroom, I sneezed.
As I sneezed, I felt a sudden loosness in my pants. I felt them begin to give and move slightly downwards.
As I sneezed, the button popped off my pants.
It landed on the carpet a foot or so in front of me and rolled for several more feet before coming to a rest.
And as I was holding up my pants and walking across my classroom to retrieve my errant button I had a one of those sudden moments of shock and disbelief that occur when your self-image is shattered and forcibly redefined by reality.
I am not an icon of fitness.
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Wednesday, December 08, 2004
fuck
Lunch break. The Good Doctor Noyz is irate. Fuck that, beyond irate. Angry, pissed off. Along with that feeling comes a feeling of helplessness, of powerlessness.
It sucks.
A little bit ago I received a call from the assistant district attorney I have been playing phone tag with this week.
She told me the criminal investigations into the conduct of Ms. von Munchausen have been suspended due to a lack of sufficient evidence to file criminal charges.
Fuck.
The bitch hurt The Boy. There is no doubt in my mind. From my conversations with the police, State Child Protection Agency investigators, and other people involved I have learned that there is no doubt in my mind that she hurt my child as well as the other children entrusted to her care.
Apparently, there is not enough evidence to prove that she "acted intentionally" and with the "intended result" to cause a child harm. I serious doubts about the intensity of their efforts to gather the evidence. We know they have not interviewed any witnesses. We have feared since this whole ugly mess began that if anything was going to be done we were going to have to do it ourselves.
Okay. Maybe this is just my anger speaking, but I have a feeling that the DA and the local media may be getting one helluva story wrapped up all nice for Christmas.
Where to begin?
Anyone know any good civil/family lawyer who might be looking for a pro bono case?
Fuck.
All for now. Feeling some better now that I've ranted. Thanks for reading. More later.
All for the love of The Boy.
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It sucks.
A little bit ago I received a call from the assistant district attorney I have been playing phone tag with this week.
She told me the criminal investigations into the conduct of Ms. von Munchausen have been suspended due to a lack of sufficient evidence to file criminal charges.
Fuck.
The bitch hurt The Boy. There is no doubt in my mind. From my conversations with the police, State Child Protection Agency investigators, and other people involved I have learned that there is no doubt in my mind that she hurt my child as well as the other children entrusted to her care.
Apparently, there is not enough evidence to prove that she "acted intentionally" and with the "intended result" to cause a child harm. I serious doubts about the intensity of their efforts to gather the evidence. We know they have not interviewed any witnesses. We have feared since this whole ugly mess began that if anything was going to be done we were going to have to do it ourselves.
Okay. Maybe this is just my anger speaking, but I have a feeling that the DA and the local media may be getting one helluva story wrapped up all nice for Christmas.
Where to begin?
Anyone know any good civil/family lawyer who might be looking for a pro bono case?
Fuck.
All for now. Feeling some better now that I've ranted. Thanks for reading. More later.
All for the love of The Boy.
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Tuesday, December 07, 2004
resume the ranting
Domestic tranquility aside. . .
While I remain impressed with their abilities to convince the masses that 2 + 2 = 5, the sheer hubris, audacity and just plain balls of the current regime never cease to amaze me.
Today's example:
". . . free people will never choose their own enslavement"
- said the Kettle to the Pot.
Not to sound like Lil' John, but "What?"
Now don'go worryin' your pretty lil' head none 'bout things like Patriot I and Patriot II or the FCC.
So, just when I was all about worked up into quite the tizzy at the arrogant deceitful hypocritical self-serving egostistical bastards who believe a two percent margin of victory in an election amounts to some huge mandate from the masses to continue the downward slide towards the so-called "right". . . Fuck them!
I unexpectedly paused and had a moment of quiet clarity.
And in the moment of zen-like calm, that moment of an almost transcendent sense of simaltaneous nothingness and everything, a single thought broke the silence like a chime suddenly stirring on the slight breeze of a steamy and still summer afternoon. . .
"It's the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man."
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While I remain impressed with their abilities to convince the masses that 2 + 2 = 5, the sheer hubris, audacity and just plain balls of the current regime never cease to amaze me.
Today's example:
". . . free people will never choose their own enslavement"
- said the Kettle to the Pot.
Not to sound like Lil' John, but "What?"
Now don'go worryin' your pretty lil' head none 'bout things like Patriot I and Patriot II or the FCC.
So, just when I was all about worked up into quite the tizzy at the arrogant deceitful hypocritical self-serving egostistical bastards who believe a two percent margin of victory in an election amounts to some huge mandate from the masses to continue the downward slide towards the so-called "right". . . Fuck them!
I unexpectedly paused and had a moment of quiet clarity.
And in the moment of zen-like calm, that moment of an almost transcendent sense of simaltaneous nothingness and everything, a single thought broke the silence like a chime suddenly stirring on the slight breeze of a steamy and still summer afternoon. . .
"It's the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man."
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nothing happened
Well, my dear reader, if you are beginning to feel as though The Good Doctor Noyz has become remiss in his duties, let me reassure you that is simply not the case.
I have not posted in a week, because quite frankly, I have nothing to post about.
To some extent I have become a victim of domestic bliss. Two weeks after finalizing the adoption of The Boy the realization is beginning to sink in that, well, I now have a child. It is a happy and relaxing sensation. The Wife and I spent the better part of the past year and a half of our lives working towards the goal of adopting The Boy.
Check. What's next?
The issue of bringing Ms. von Munchausen to justice and holding her accountable for her crimes remains. A letter to the DA was answered with a phone call from one assistant DA and has lead to phone tag with another assistant DA. When there are new developments, have faith my dear reader that you will be duly informed.
For now, I am more than content to spend my afternoons and evenings simply enjoying time with my family. This has understandably left me with less time for late night slightly (or mostly) inebriated internet journaling.
As far as ranting about politic and world affairs?
Well, no news is good news. Literally. The news just gets more depressing. I am glad to live in the blue beating heart of the reddest of states, a small blue island slowly sinking into a sea of red. While I take great pride in being an American, I take no pride in the behavior of those who act in my name.
You can only bang your head against the wall so many times before realizing that it hurts to do so. Maybe ignorance really is bliss.
Ah, who am I kidding? I've just been to busy being happy with my family to get good and pissed off at the idiots running the nation. I have no doubt that will change.
Soon.
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I have not posted in a week, because quite frankly, I have nothing to post about.
To some extent I have become a victim of domestic bliss. Two weeks after finalizing the adoption of The Boy the realization is beginning to sink in that, well, I now have a child. It is a happy and relaxing sensation. The Wife and I spent the better part of the past year and a half of our lives working towards the goal of adopting The Boy.
Check. What's next?
The issue of bringing Ms. von Munchausen to justice and holding her accountable for her crimes remains. A letter to the DA was answered with a phone call from one assistant DA and has lead to phone tag with another assistant DA. When there are new developments, have faith my dear reader that you will be duly informed.
For now, I am more than content to spend my afternoons and evenings simply enjoying time with my family. This has understandably left me with less time for late night slightly (or mostly) inebriated internet journaling.
As far as ranting about politic and world affairs?
Well, no news is good news. Literally. The news just gets more depressing. I am glad to live in the blue beating heart of the reddest of states, a small blue island slowly sinking into a sea of red. While I take great pride in being an American, I take no pride in the behavior of those who act in my name.
You can only bang your head against the wall so many times before realizing that it hurts to do so. Maybe ignorance really is bliss.
Ah, who am I kidding? I've just been to busy being happy with my family to get good and pissed off at the idiots running the nation. I have no doubt that will change.
Soon.
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Thursday, December 02, 2004
'tis the season. . .
. . . or so they say.
My dear reader, please understand the you are loved and valued by The Good Doctor Noyz, who remains continually amazed that anybody anywhere actually takes the time to read this stuff.
Thanks!
Please understand that I greatly value our relationship, and am grateful that I am not typing these words simply for my own cathartic amusement. I do not take it lightly, and would ask nothing of you that I will not do, am not currently doing, or have not already done.
Keeping that in mind, I ask, my dear reader, that like me, you join me in supporting the most worthy of organizations.
There is a wonderful place. It is designed to care for children like The Boy when they are very young and new to the world. In addition to providing excellent care for children like The Boy, they also provide a resource, support, and inspiration for their families.
The Wife and I first loved and then volunteered to take The Boy. Well, okay, we didn't exactly volunteer, it almost seems more like a destiny type of thing. But nonetheless, we knew exactly what we were getting into when we brought a child with significant multiple disabilities into our home.
Imagine you didn't volunteer. Imagine the doctor coming into the hospital room hours or minutes after your child is born and saying something medically equivalent to "Houston, we have a problem."
And unlike the movie, you can't fix it with duct tape.
After days or weeks or months they send you home with your new baby. Beautiful yes, because all babies are, but not perfect. Your baby is sick, or has disabilities. Your baby might be connected to machines to breath or to eat or to make sure your baby's heart keeps working.
What do you do? Who can help you?
These people can.
They are good people. They do good things.
Please keep them in mind this holiday season.
They have earned, need, and deserve our help.
Trust me, I'm The Good Doctor Noyz.
And tell them, The Boy sent ya.
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My dear reader, please understand the you are loved and valued by The Good Doctor Noyz, who remains continually amazed that anybody anywhere actually takes the time to read this stuff.
Thanks!
Please understand that I greatly value our relationship, and am grateful that I am not typing these words simply for my own cathartic amusement. I do not take it lightly, and would ask nothing of you that I will not do, am not currently doing, or have not already done.
Keeping that in mind, I ask, my dear reader, that like me, you join me in supporting the most worthy of organizations.
There is a wonderful place. It is designed to care for children like The Boy when they are very young and new to the world. In addition to providing excellent care for children like The Boy, they also provide a resource, support, and inspiration for their families.
The Wife and I first loved and then volunteered to take The Boy. Well, okay, we didn't exactly volunteer, it almost seems more like a destiny type of thing. But nonetheless, we knew exactly what we were getting into when we brought a child with significant multiple disabilities into our home.
Imagine you didn't volunteer. Imagine the doctor coming into the hospital room hours or minutes after your child is born and saying something medically equivalent to "Houston, we have a problem."
And unlike the movie, you can't fix it with duct tape.
After days or weeks or months they send you home with your new baby. Beautiful yes, because all babies are, but not perfect. Your baby is sick, or has disabilities. Your baby might be connected to machines to breath or to eat or to make sure your baby's heart keeps working.
What do you do? Who can help you?
These people can.
They are good people. They do good things.
Please keep them in mind this holiday season.
They have earned, need, and deserve our help.
Trust me, I'm The Good Doctor Noyz.
And tell them, The Boy sent ya.
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Wednesday, December 01, 2004
drunken dialing
"I have this disease late at night sometimes, involving alcohol and the telephone." - Kurt Vonnegut
So do I. Or at least I used to.
The Wife and The Boy seem to have cured me. Although I can't say that I haven't had an ocassional relapse. Or that it hasn't progressed into a disease involving alcohol and the internet.
Well, my dear reader, if you also suffer from such a malady, help is available, at least for our Aussie friends:
You're Drunk...who You Gonna Call?
CANBERRA (Reuters) - An Australian phone company is offering customers the chance to blacklist numbers before heading out for a night on the town so they can reduce the risk of making any embarrassing, incoherent late-night calls.
A survey of 409 people by Virgin Mobile, a joint venture of The Virgin Group and Optus, found 95 percent made drunk calls.
Of those calls, 30 percent were to ex-partners, 19 percent to current partners, and 36 percent to other people, including their bosses.
The company also found that 55 percent of those polled would grab for their phone first the next morning to check who they had drunkenly dialed, compared with just eight percent who went for the headache pills first.
If only this service were available ten or so years ago. Several former college girlfriends would have been most grateful.
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So do I. Or at least I used to.
The Wife and The Boy seem to have cured me. Although I can't say that I haven't had an ocassional relapse. Or that it hasn't progressed into a disease involving alcohol and the internet.
Well, my dear reader, if you also suffer from such a malady, help is available, at least for our Aussie friends:
You're Drunk...who You Gonna Call?
CANBERRA (Reuters) - An Australian phone company is offering customers the chance to blacklist numbers before heading out for a night on the town so they can reduce the risk of making any embarrassing, incoherent late-night calls.
A survey of 409 people by Virgin Mobile, a joint venture of The Virgin Group and Optus, found 95 percent made drunk calls.
Of those calls, 30 percent were to ex-partners, 19 percent to current partners, and 36 percent to other people, including their bosses.
The company also found that 55 percent of those polled would grab for their phone first the next morning to check who they had drunkenly dialed, compared with just eight percent who went for the headache pills first.
If only this service were available ten or so years ago. Several former college girlfriends would have been most grateful.
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bad joke of the day
So, um. . . Happy World AIDS Day?
Yes! The day when all good people across the globe pin a small piece of red ribbon to their clothes to show just how compassionate and caring they are.
Once again, I feel this amounts to little more than feel good symbolic crap and while doing nothing to actually solve the problem.
That being said. . .
I use the following article about World AIDS Day to set up the joke:
India plans all-out fight against AIDS
"But giving notice of a new approach, Health Minister Anbumani Ramadoss told parliament that 1.5 billion condoms would be distributed countrywide accompanied by an intensive media campaign."
And now, the punchline:
1.5 billion condoms? Is that for another country or for the Best of Both Worlds Tour Bus.
Ba dum pah ching!
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Yes! The day when all good people across the globe pin a small piece of red ribbon to their clothes to show just how compassionate and caring they are.
Once again, I feel this amounts to little more than feel good symbolic crap and while doing nothing to actually solve the problem.
That being said. . .
I use the following article about World AIDS Day to set up the joke:
India plans all-out fight against AIDS
"But giving notice of a new approach, Health Minister Anbumani Ramadoss told parliament that 1.5 billion condoms would be distributed countrywide accompanied by an intensive media campaign."
And now, the punchline:
1.5 billion condoms? Is that for another country or for the Best of Both Worlds Tour Bus.
Ba dum pah ching!
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