Big Ugly Man Doll

I started this Pneumonia list yesterday and realized I’m taking so many meds that I needed to just leave off and talk about that.  Today, though, is different.  Today I want to leave the world a better place, in case I don’t see tomorrow.  I want to leave a trail of more than breadcrumbs, should you, dear reader, ever have to follow in these unfortunate footsteps – I want to leave a trail of light bulbs, of knowledge, of something that will light your path in the darkness.  Or something like that.  Anyway, I leave you two lists. 

Things you should do when you have pneumonia: 

1. Take your medicine.  All of it.  I think I’ve covered that well enough already.
2. Use your Neti-Pot.  I don’t care if you don’t like it, ya big baby.  Yes, I know it’s like an enema for your nose.  Just stick it in there and squeeze.  Some people snort tear gas and pepper spray for this, all you have to use is salt water.  Quit complaining.
3. Go back to bed.  You can’t walk with all those meds in you anyway.
4. Get up again, since you can’t sleep with all those meds in you either.  Leviquin is like an old girlfriend – knocks me down on the bed and has its way with me for about 20 minutes, then keeps me awake for several hours.  Why am I taking an antibiotic that wants to talk about its feelings? 
5. Stay home and organize your stuff.  Wait, what?  Do you really think you’re going to remember where the hell you put that when these meds wear off?  You’re out of your mind.  This is a bad idea.
6. Read.  Catch up on your backlog of books and New Yorkers.  Maybe then you can declutter around here when you’re well.
7. Write a letter to your grandmother.  She won’t mind that the letter doesn’t make any sense because you’re trying to write while you’re too high to die, you don’t make all that much sense anyway, and she likes hearing from you. 
8. Stay in touch with the office.  But only enough that they remember you’re not there.  The email you don’t read is the only one you need to worry about.
9. Shut up.  No, yeah, stop talking.  First, you sound like crap.  Second, all you’re doing is moaning or whining, no one wants to hear it. 
10. Finish your holiday letter.  Hey, you’re funny when you’re sick!
11. Make a list of all the things you should and shouldn’t do when you have pneumonia.  Gosh, you’re a hoot, aren’t you?  Another shot of Tussionex?  Why yes, don’t mind if I do! 

 Things you should NOT do when you have pneumonia:

1. Two words:  River Dance!
2. Creative writing.  Let loose your personal demons and write that poem you’ve been thinking about.  Really.  See what your friends Leviquin, Tussionex, and Benzonatate have to say, because it’s not like you’re driving the bus right now anyway.
3. Catch up on reading Hyperbole and a Half.  Particularly this one.  No one with respiratory problems should be allowed to look at her website.  It should come with warning labels.  I’ve never needed an inhaler so badly in my life.
4. Go into the office.  These people already have a bad case of Do Not Want, and they sure as hell DNW your diseased, germ-ridden, bacteria-shedding body contaminating the keyboard next to them.  Besides, no one likes to share a cubicle with a guy who talks about antibiotics and the state of his colon.
5. Practice your acceptance speech.  “I’d like to thank the Academy…”
6. Marathon training.  Not the best time to start that new exercise program. 
7. Try out pick up lines on your significant other.  Wheezing is sexy!
8. Go pick up the kids.  Sure.  The school won’t mind if you break quarantine. 
9. Yard work.  Because you know you’re so all about raking in the first place, right?  Let’s be real, you wouldn’t be outside if you were healthy, either. 
10. More Beer.

I sincerely hope you never have occasion to need either list, but if you do, now you know.

Tags: Children // 1 Comment »

This started out as a Short List of Things You Should and Shouldn’t Do When You Have Pneumonia.  I started with things you should do, beginning with “take your medicine,” and I realized I’m taking so many meds that I should just leave off and post this.  Tomorrow, perhaps, a list of Things You Should and Shouldn’t Do When You Have Pneumonia.  Today, a recitation of the things that will make me better, I’m told.  You just be quiet and read now, this won’t hurt a bit.   

• Mucinex.  This will tear up the mucus in your chest.  It will do the same to your stomach, if you can keep it down.  That’s if you can get it down in the first place – they seem to make these for horses. 
• Cheratussin.  Tastes like cherry-flavored ass and doesn’t do anything for the coughing.  I don’t know why they bother.  “This may cause dizziness.”  Yeah, get used to that phrase.
• Z-Pak antibiotics.  This is the first line of defense against pneumonia.  It’s also, it turns out, a great way to get me ready for the holidays.  I woke up with hives that looked like I’d been strung with bright red, itchy Christmas lights. 
• Zyrtec.  I’m pretty sure the Dr.’s office gets kick-backs from these people – I came in a while ago with a dislocated shoulder and they prescribed Zyrtec.  I don’t have allergies, except to the Z-Pak that’s giving me hives, and the pneumonia.  I’ve decided I’m definitely allergic to pneumonia.  Also, “This may cause drowsiness.”
• Benadryl.  This is great for reducing the hives caused by the Z-Pak antibiotics.  Also, “This may cause dizziness.”
• Benzonatate / Tessalon, for the wheezing that would have sounded so good at a Halloween party.  “This may cause dizziness.”  Ya think?
• Doxycycline antibiotics.  This is the next line of defense against pneumonia, since I’m allergic to the first line.  Stay out of the sun while taking this.  WTF?  Will I look all sparkly? 
• Levaquin antibiotics.  This is the NEXT, next line of defense against pneumonia, since I’m allergic to the first line and the second line didn’t do a damn thing in a week.  Also, “This may cause dizziness.”  Mind you, the instructions aren’t “take this, not that.”  The instructions are “Take this Levaquin and keep taking all the Doxycycline too.”   Let’s note that around 500 different species of bacteria live in your gut, in a symbiotic relationship with you and what you eat.  They perform a host of useful functions, such as fermenting unused energy substrates, training your immune system, regulating aspects of development, and producing vitamins and hormones for you.  My gut, on the other hand, is a dark barren wasteland, an empty shallow dirt trench littered with empty blue and red capsules and the battered corpses of a million million bacteria, most of which never knew what hit them.   SOBUMD has suggested I have some yoghurt, to replace all those “good” intestinal flora.  I think throwing those poor bastards down there just to die like dogs with their predecessors when I take the next dose would be too much like Churchill throwing wave after wave of ANZAC troops onto the jagged deathrocks of Gallipoli.   I will not do it.
• Albuterol, as an inhaler.  “This medicine may make you shake like a leaf about to fall from a tree during an early November windstorm, watching a thousand of your fellows fall to the ground and die under the blades of the ride-along chipper he just bought at Home Depot on Black Friday and is now pulling on the black of his suburban lawn tractor, beer in hand.”  Yes, it really says that.
• Tussionex, also to reduce coughing.  It also reduces those feeling of sobriety and steadiness that were plaguing you.  “This may cause dizziness.”  Yeah, no kidding, the way a pint of vodka may cause dizziness.  This is something like a cross between the 6th glass of Scotch and a near-death experience.  No wonder it’s not over the counter. 
• Advil, because no one will give me valium, and all this stuff together will give you quite a headache.
• Seventy-five pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high-powered blotter acid, a salt shaker half full of cocaine, a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of Budweiser, a pint of raw ether, and two dozen amyls.  Actually I got these from my attorney, not my doctor, but who’s counting.   Besides, the only thing more helpless and irresponsible than a man in the depths of an ether binge is a blogger with pneumonia.

Tags: Children // 7 Comments »

It’s Friday, and that means answer time! For those of you who have commented with questions from previous ManFAQs, thank you. I’m adding yours to the list of questions women have asked about men over the years, and I will answer them all in turn – to continue to demystify the more malodorous gender for those of the gentler.  Actual questions, posed by real women, and answered by a REAL man. What could go wrong?

Question:   Why do most men name their private parts?

Answer:    Actually, there are several reasons for this.  Since the twig and berries are very often the first toy we didn’t break or lose in a few weeks, we become inordinately fond of them, and name them in much the same way you would name a favorite doll.  Like your doll, our toy becomes an extension (pardon me) of ourselves, and so becomes our alter ego.  In extreme cases, we become the alter ego, and the main ego moves a little lower.   And by “extreme” I mean “most of us.”

In those cases, we name them because we don’t want complete strangers making most of our important decisions for us. 

Another reason we name them is preemptive.  If it doesn’t come with a name (pardon me), you’re likely to give it one – after all, once you’ve been introduced to the guy making the decisions, who wouldn’t want to be on a first-name basis?  And so we’d rather ensure it’s a name we can live with, such as Mr. Happy, One-Eyed Jake, Vesuvius, or Big Richard – than worry that he’ll wind up saddled with a more diminutive moniker, like Junior, ‘Lil Buddy, Borat, or Big Softie.  

I wonder what Peter O’Toole calls his?

Now you know. Please, feel free to comment with any questions you’d like answered!

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Well here it is, another Big Ugly Thanksgiving Day, and it does seem like an appropriate, if clichéd, time for a recitation of all the shit for which I am thankful.

We’ll start with a conversation that SOBUMD had with the kids this morning, while I was still sleeping (the fact of which I am also thankful for).  This conversation started yesterday while she was shopping with the Reigning Queen of Pink, when out of the blue she got The Santa Question. 

Now, the RQoP is 8 years old, often going on 6 years old, and we’re not always quite sure how much of the “cute and silly” she affects is an act, and how much is natural – she has the theater in her blood.  So, getting The Santa Question in its barest state (“Mommy, is Santa Claus real?”) took SOBUMD aback a little.  These are the times as a parent, when you get no warning of danger ahead until the river drops and you’re going over this waterfall Right Now, and your answer in the next 2 seconds has the potential to define a part of your child’s life, when you wish you could hit the big Pause button in the sky and think for a minute. 

Luckily, SOBUMD is an expert.  “What do you think?” 

RQoP:  “I think it’s parents.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, SOBUMD agreed with her, and moved the conversation to how we can all be Santa for our friends and family, and for strangers in need.  This conversation continued this morning with Number One Son, describing how the RQoP and Number One Son and the Human Tape Recorder could all be Santa Claus to one another, being loving and friendly to each other, along with the giving of gifts. 

Number One Son, looking up from his breakfast, told them, “Yes, it’s called inclusive altruism.”

SOBUMD had to look it up, and I had to think about it a minute myself. 

As the day progressed and I awoke from the drug induced slumber I’d been in for the previous 11 hours, I entered the kitchen to find coffee, chocolate croissants, bacon, and more meds to deal with the pneumonia I’m getting over. 

We moved on to more standard Thanksgiving traditions, watching the Macy’s parade and playing Christmas tunes as soon as Santa came down 34th Street in Manhattan.  SOBUMD prepped the turkey with a good rub on the outside and homemade bread and sausage stuffing on the inside.  (It’s called stuffing because you stuff it in the bird, damnit – I don’t care what the FDA says.) 

We would have been in West By God Virginia celebrating the day with the Very Clever Grandparents, some of their friends, and my sister, but between my highly medicated coughing and itching, the RQoP’s fever, and SOBUMD still gimping on her post-surgery knee, we concluded that discretion would have to be the better part of thanks this year.  For the first time I can remember – certainly in more than 30 years – we have Thanksgiving with only us.  Relaxing, yet strangely quiet. 

And now, with a bottle of Georges Dubeuf’s Beaujolais Nouveau given by a good neighbor, dishes being cleaned in a dishwasher given by a good neighbor, a small turkey in a working oven, more medication on board than anyone without HIV should be taking, sweet potatoes baking in the side oven, a pumpkin pie made from scratch baked with a pumpkin grown in my own backyard, children reading and playing quietly, and Christmas music rolling through the house, I submit to you a few of the things for which I am Thankful.

I am thankful for good neighbors, past and present.  SOBUMD and I made three toasts with the aforementioned wine:  First, to the health of our generous neighbors.  Second, to my Uncle George, for whom Georges Dubeuf’s Beaujolais Nouveau was the Thanksgiving wine of choice every year – it was just fantastic.  And last to our love, always, and for all these things I am thankful.

I am thankful for the family and pharmaceuticals that let me sleep in this morning.  Better living, and sometimes just living at all, through chemistry. 

I am thankful for recipes that still start with “grow a pumpkin”, “shoot a deer”, or “kill a bird.”  Some things shouldn’t come from a can.

I am thankful to be living in a land of plenty, in a time of plenty.  We Americans talk about the recession and the economy, and there are too many of us who don’t have enough to get by, but we are better off than much of the rest of the world, and around the world people are better off now, on average, than humans have ever been before.  I am thankful for the things I have. 

I am thankful to have children who are smarter than I am.  The constant state of wonder and amazement in which I spend my days stems in no small part from watching them and wondering what they’ll do and say next.  Even if they don’t always practice inclusive altruism. 

I am thankful for all my family, those by blood and those by bonds of friendship.

And certainly not least:

I am thankful for you, dear friend, fond relation, and Gentle Reader.  Without your readership as an excuse for my ramblings, they’d have locked me up long ago and I’d just be talking to myself. 

Happy Thanksgiving to all!

Tags: Children // 1 Comment »

I feel like a joke.  There’s an old one about a ditsy girl who wakes up in bed the next morning with a strange guy.  She sits up, looks at him, and says, “Um, did we…  You know?” 

“Yeah,” he says, “we did.  You don’t remember?” 
“No, sorry, must have had too much to drink.  Um, you don’t have HIV or syphilis, do you?”
“What?  No, of course not!”
“Oh thank goodness.  I’d sure hate to get those again.”

I know just how she feels – you hate to always be coming down with the same old stuff.  That’s why I’m so excited to finally have pneumonia! 

This started out as a sore throat and slight fever more than a week ago.  I stayed home and drank lots of water, and I still felt like I’d been hit by a truck.  When a week went by and I was getting worse instead of better, and the sore throat had turned into a cough, and the cough had started including a nice raspy wheezing sound that would have been great at Halloween parties, I went to the doctor. 

This was yesterday.  He prescribed an antibiotic, which I started right away.  I went to bed with cough medicine, antibiotics, and medicine for my wheezing chest, expecting to wake up feeling good, refreshed, and ready for a new start on the week, if not on life. 

Instead, I woke up with a full-body rash from an apparent allergy to the damn antibiotic.  I itch all over, plus I’m still coughing. 

Number One Son, all of 10 years old, offered some heartfelt sentiments this morning. 

Number One Son:  “You have pneumonia , Daddy?” 
BUMD:  “Yes son, I do, that’s why the Dr. gave me antibiotics.  The only problem is that the medicine is giving me hives.”
NOS:  “You have hives, Daddy?” 
BUMD:  “Yes, all over.” 
NOS:  “Daddy, if you die, I’ll probably go on anti-depressants.”

That may be the nicest thing he’s said to me in a long time.  I’ll take it. 

Sure beats getting syphilis again.

Tags: Children // 4 Comments »