Today is a gray, overcast day in Syracuse. The sky has been weeping off and on for several days. I’ve been out and gotten totally soaked a couple of times. Some of the trees are in early yellow-green as their leaves begin to bud.
The chancellor’s mansion is about on eye-level with me four blocks away. The ex-chancellor moved out in December, then they started renovating the manse while the new chancellor and his wife lived downtown in an apartment in Armory Square. After the renovations, the chance moved into his new home and—to let us know he was in residence—he hung a Syracuse University flag out his back window. Problem is, the flag is orange and orange is just plain ugly.
From my bed I see a span that is about five blocks by three blocks and there is not a single thing in those fifteen square blocks that either is similar or complimentary to the color orange. In a word, the S.U. flag is an eyesore. I’ve thought about pointing out to the chancellor that he is perpetrating ugliness, but he probably wouldn’t take it kindly—or remove his flag—so I’ve kept quiet and just prayed for the leaves to grow.
On my computer, Pandora radio is on “My Shuffle,” currently playing “The Gridiron Club, March for Band” by John Philip Sousa, and previously playing the overture from My Fair Lady, Karen Akers singing “Send In the Clowns,” k. d. lang’s version of “Hallelujah” and Simon & Garfunkel’s “Sounds of Silence.” Hey, did you hear that Simon and his wife got arrested for a shoving match? It’s only their fourth fight in 22 years of marriage. Their problem is inexperience.
Speaking of problems, I recently learned that an old friend is in bad trouble. He kept me afloat when I was detoxing from prescriptive medicine, so I’ve reached out to offer him a hand. A young friend is giddy with new love. Another friend came to visit, gave me a lot of hugs, and moved my cartons and furniture. Most people, when you yell at them, they shut you out of their lives. This guy yells back at me. This is a very good thing.
Today got off to a bad start. My glucose has been steadily rising; today the 14-day average is a flat 500. I can’t take insulin, probably because of the immune aspect of chronic fatigue immune dysfunction syndrome (CFIDS) but nobody really knows. I always thought that the topnotch physicians doing teaching, research and clinical work at Upstate Medical Center would deal with the most serious, complicated and rare diseases. Turned out I was wrong.
Only a coordinated approach might be helpful but the physicians are each little tyrants working in their own field and will not cross the lines to work together. CFIDS is rare and nobody know how to treat it; drug intolerance needs to be addressed by an immunologist, but there are none; uncontrolled diabetes cannot be treated without understanding CFIDS but nobody knows . . . Upstate sucks.
So the homeopaths came and sat in my living room a week ago and asked me if I’d had any exposure to chemicals. I thought ‘asbestos, lead paint, working in a factory’ and said “No.”
Then I said, “Well, I took antidepressants every day for 26 years.”
They gave me a remedy—three itsy-bitsy little pellets of some kind of mercury thing—to take on Monday, which I dutifully did. On Wednesday I received word from Upstate, via MyChart, that I have a really bad bacterial urinary tract infection, so the boss homeopath told me to take ten drops of the remedy last night, which I did, and now I feel horribly worse.
Ah, what the fuck.
I got a home health aide a week ago. She’s young, petite, the single parent of three little girls, certified as a nurse’s aide, an EMT, and a phlebotomist. In September she will start training for her R.N. I am struck dumb with wonder at the remarkable energy and courage that some of these young women have. She came this morning, got me breakfast (darn kid acted as if she’d never heard of a banana and peanut butter sandwich on toast), cleaned up the place, made my bed, and left me to—
My psychologist, who had checked and assured me that I could either go to her office or have her come to my home, no matter. She also told me that Medicaid wouldn’t pay for her visit today because I am earning too much money. See also “For Want of $5.00” https://annecwoodlen.wordpress.com/2014/03/11/for-want-of-5-00/
So I call my Power of Attorney (POA) and he says he sent the county two checks, each for $5.00, one for April and one for May. Then he calls the county and they won’t talk to him because he is not on my account. He now has to take time off from seeing his patients so he can go to the Civic Center and get put on my account as POA and THEN ask the bloody incompetent fools why they didn’t appropriately credit the checks.
I hate the county government so bad that it gives me a headache. Or maybe the headache is from the 500 average blood sugar. It’s really hard to think when your glucose is that high, not to mention nobody should be out wandering the streets in this condition.
So here I am home in bed looking at the chancellor’s ugly orange flag and listening to “Liebestraum (3), Notturnos for Piano (After Songs Lw N18), S. 541, Lw A103,” a little ditty whipped up by Franz Liszt.
It could be worse.