She's a Panic

Little interlude here before the fifth and final part of the lovely list...today I went for a walk around the block and lasted the entire way. That said, I still felt the panic wanting to overwhelm me. The feeling in my left leg and in my head. Not pain, mind you, just a feeling. An uneasy feeling. I didn't have a panic attack. I haven't had one in over a week, actually. What's funnier, I went 3 miles on my stationary bike today and didn't feel the least bit out of sorts.

The body...odd.

Tamper This

Dear Minnesota Vikings,
Hey, how be it. Longtime fan first-time caller. What is this I hear about you guys wanting to be the team that wins the stroke-Brett-Favres-mammoth-ego-one-more-year sweepstakes? Are you joking?

I understand, the team is full of promise. Bernard Berrian can catch passes, thereby making him better than the undearly-departed Troy Williamson. Adrian Peterson is Purple Jebus. The offensive line is unworldly. And awww, we went to Jared!

What do the Packers keep saying? It's time to move on, to give our young QB a chance to win for us. It's what y'all should be saying too. Give Tavaris Jackson more time. Don't go for the quick fix. 'Cause Favre plus Purple does not equal Lombardi Trophy. Erase that silliness instantly. He's a key interception in the conference championship waiting to happen--AGAIN.

Brett Favre NFL

Not Safe For Breakfast

People really should put NSFB when they send you links like this. Although most likely curiosity will end up besting my common sense and I'll find myself in Good Stuff one day.

First day of intensive outpatient treatment went well. Part of me is grateful to not have to undergo inpatient, but the writer in me can see the benefits both ephemeral and lasting in rooming with a depressed drunk. Ah well.

My New Partner in Crime

After 11 days I can tell some difference, although these medications can take a few weeks to get in your body and impact you to the utmost. The only side effect is drowsiness, which is okay by me really.

Today I Discovered I Am a Loon

Actually, I already knew; the "MD" in the blog name stands for "manic-depressive" as well as being the abbreviation for my home state.

My MRI came back today, with the only notable result being that I, like virtually my entire family, have sinusitis. No multiple sclerosis, no tumors. All the physical symptoms I've been experiencing have been the result of a bipolar/panic disorder I have stubbornly insisted on leaving untreated for extended periods.

I've now been on Symbyax for a week and feel improvement in increments. I'm still getting attacks, but am learning to control them best I can. As soon as I get over thinking I have a heart problem when no evidence of such exists (in fact, two separate EKGs over the past two months have shown no abnormalities), I'll be cool. Gimme a couple days on that one.

That Thing's Goin' Cuckoo Ga-Ga!

An MRI sounds like Einstürzende Neubauten (both the band and the meaning of their name). There are machine guns, power drills and sledgehammers hitting scrap metal.

An MRI feels like preparation for space travel.

An MRI also sounds like the beginning of Metallica's "One", which is an awful damn cheery thought during the exam. Peace to Dalton Trumbo.

I had a panic attack 20 minutes before the scan, while watching Derek Jeter being interviewed on ESPN. See how much negativity the Yankees foster?

The results...tomorrow.

Jesse Helms Has Died

I don't celebrate death. Ever since my father passed, I've become more sensitive to the suffering of others. I used to haphazardly wish death on people I didn't care for (you know, FOD) until someone close to me left my life forever.

So I can't be gleeful even over the passing of a man who held such reprehensible views. A man who seemed to suffer an absolute dearth of redeeming qualities. Surely, I realize, this man had people in his life who knew and considered the man as someone other than a racist, sexist, hateful fucker. Surely he did.

I've decided, instead, to be grateful over the extinguishing of hate.

Jesse Helms

The Ephemeral Nature of Retirement, Pt. 46

Amazing, but not unbelievable. There's no reason to believe that even the most down home cornpone, fart-joke-telling, old-lady-mooning yeehaw knows when enough is enough.

Go back to Green Bay, Brett. They won't be mad.

The last NFL pass he ever threw was a game-blowing interception. That's gotta sting. So he's got to have one more chance. To gunsling. To have fun out there. To make Joe Theismann's career-ending injury look like a sprain.

World Cup
Powerpuff Girls