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#1
04-22-2007, 11:58 PM
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Grab Your Ankles & Think of Jesus, or, Why I've Switched Dr.s (very long & pointless
Quote:
Whatever the case, it's the normal people I use in stories I tell that I make up. The Albany GA Jesus Freak Dental Hygienist or my lobotomized exhibitionist aunt or my father's supposedly 18" tall friend/neighbor/cousin/fellow cattleman/mechanic Pete (picture- several errors in the text though) (whose wife was looked down upon by my Grandmother because she wasn't worthy of Pete- "she's a Yankee who married a Circus Freak") are real. I really was cornered and monopolized by Ladybird Johnson's Jack Palance clone lesbian cousin (and said lesbian cousin's flamingly gay brother) atmy mom's funeral where my cousin really did talk about beating the brains out of kittens in her eulogy and a retarded Pentecostal was the officiant. I really did used to patronize a cafe where the ancient waitress "Miz Fanny" would sit down at your table to take your order respond to "How are you today Miz Fanny?" with "Oh Lord I just wish I was dead... would you like to try the chicken'n'dressin'?". My grandmother really did send a sympathy card that was actually a Christmas card accusing her senile dead neighbor of being a cat burglar, I really was resident manager of an apartment complex for schizophrenics where I had to stop a fight between a guy who thought he was a CIA operative and a paranoiac who thought the CIA was out to get him while another client set his apartment on fire burning an offering to Paula Abdul and Elvis (long before American Idol I might add). These people and others are real and these events happened. Same with this story. My effective as of Friday ex-doctor isn't quite as freaky as these people, but he's equally real and more frustrating and the only one who's ever put his hand in my ass so far (though that was understandable- it was the conversation that was... well, I digress.) --------------------------------------------------------- A few months after I moved back to Montgomery my prescription refills gave out. Since I hadn't lived here in 10 years and my then doctor has moved I didn't have a primary care physician, so I went with the recommendation of some co-workers. Dr. Jimmy Nothirn (not his real name) was strongly recommended because "You'll always be in and out on time- you never have to wait an hour like you do for most doctor's appointments" and because "he's a real nice guy, one of those weird genius kinds... you'll like him". Sounds fine. So on my first visit to see Dr. Nothirn I had to go in early and fill out the usual insurance paperwork and questionnaire. The paperwork was longer than usual and included a blank family tree that went all the way back to great-grandparents, asking for the age at & cause of death of as many as you know. This was unusual, especially going back a generation further than I’ve ever been asked about on paperwork, but I understood the reason- he’s wanting to see your family medical history to diagnose risks and patterns, makes sense, and while I don’t know all of the answers to my great-grandparents I know some and I know their general ages, so I filled it out. I’ve replicated the answers below. A couple will be relevant, but this part you can skip if you like. I used the following shorthand on the paper: AgAp means “age approximate”- it’s within a couple of years either side- and ECDU means “Excact Cause of Death Unknown to Me (but, I presume it to be natural causes)”. GREAT GRANDPARENTS [Father’s father’s father] 64, Spanish Influenza [Father’s father’s mother] 100, ECDUNC [Father’s mother’s father] 82 AgAp, ECDUNC [Father’s mother’s mother] 70 AgAp, ECDUNC(I know she was morbidly obese) [Mother’s father’s father] 86, ECDUNC [Mother’s father’s mother] 83 ECDUNC [Mother’s mother’s father] 72 AgAp ECDUNC (I know he was an alcoholic) [Mother’s mother’s mother] 72 AgAp, stomach cancer GRANDPARENTS [Father’s father] 64, heart attack [Father’s mother] 92, ECDUNC [Mother’s father] 86, complications from prostate cancer [Mother’s mother] 73, complications from diabetes PARENTS [Father] 55, heart attack [Mother] 71, complications from metastasized lung cancer SIBLINGS Sister, living, 48, good health Brother, living, 46, good general health- is medicated for high cholesterol and moderate hypertension Myself 40, currently take medications X, X, X, and X- high cholesterol, narcolepsy, arthritis (and listed other less relevant things) I’m escorted back, the usual BP & temperature stuff, and told to wait for Dr. Jimmy. True to his rep I don’t have to wait long. Dr. Jimmy comes in, he’s a short man, very mild mannered and soft-spoken fellow, and he looks a lot like a Civil War veteran. Specifically he looks like James Garfield, balding with a thick bushy beard and moustache, and said moustache absolutely drives me nuts because it’s not only bushy but it comes all the way down over his top lip and the top few millimeters of his bottom lip. My hand is almost twitching because it wants to grab those bandage scissors and fix this; I’m not the homo stereotype or a metrosexual but certain things drive me nuts and coffee-catching facial hair is one, but I’ll be the first to admit this is a “me thing” and doesn’t affect Dr. Jimmy’s expertise, it’s just the first thing about him that bothers me (and it’s soooooooooo easy to fix). He studied my information for some while silently, then said “Your father’s father’s father died of Spanish Influenza?” Me: Yes sir. Dr.: I somehow doubt that. Spanish Influenza hasn’t been encountered at all hardly since 1918 and 1919. When did your great-grandfather die? Me: 1918. Dr.: I doubt that, not if he was in his 60s. Unless- were you or your dad one or the other born when you had a really old parent? Me: No. My father and his father and his father weren’t kids, but they were only in their mid-30s or at most around 40 when my direct line was born. Dr.: Well it just seems odd he would have died that long ago… I start to volunteer “Well, I know where he’s buried and the tombstone says 1918. We can dig him up and count the rings if you’d like to make sure”, but I don’t. I just say “I’m positive he died in 1918. And according to his daughters who I knew well it was the Spanish Flu outbreak.” Dr.: If he was 64 in 1918 then he was born in 1854. Damn, I think, not only a man of medicine but a mathematician on par with al-Khowarizmi. Oh Second Pythagoras, how I marvel at thee, but what I say is “That’s correct.” Dr.: Let’s figure this out. How old was he when your grandfather was born? This is one question I’ve never been asked by a doctor, but I know the dates and I do the math. “He would have been… 37. My grandfather was born in 1891. He would have been 37 or thereabouts depending on his birthdate. “And how old was your grandfather when your father was born?’ I do the math again. ’35’. “And how old was your dad when you were born?” He’s actually writing this down on a writing pad! I think to myself ‘Here’s a math problem for you, al-K. I was born in December 1966, as it says right there on these forms. I just told you that my grandfather was born in 1891 and that he was 35 years old when his son, my dad, was born. Let’s see if you can do this… You have thirty minutes to complete this module…’ but instead I just say ‘40’. 40 years, 3 months, and… 27 days if you want the exact count. “Hmm…” he looks at the paperwork. That’s just peculiar. Most people your age don’t have great-grandfathers born before the Civil War.” I tell him the not exactly fascinating truth, which is that “I had one great-grandfather born in 1866, the rest were all born before or during the Civil War. All but two of my great-grandmothers were born during or just after the war. The youngest was born in 1876. Now a couple of my great-great-grandfathers were born in the 18th century, but they were old when their youngest kids were born.” “Hmmm. That is very…very interesting… how unusual” he says looking at his pad, and he’s actually sincere. “I’m almost ten years older than you and and my own-great-grandfather was born almost 30 years after yours was. I remember him well. He lived until 1971.” “That’s odd” I reply. In truth I really don’t think it’s that fascinating at all and couldn’t care much less, but I would kind of like to get my prescriptions renewed. ‘ “Yeah. The Spanish Flu struck Alabama really really hard you know” he continues. “One of my patients had it when she was a child, believe it or not.” Really? “Yes. She’s very old. In her 90s.” ‘Yeah, I would imagine’ I say, suppressing ‘So many people who were children in 1918 are old now. They should do a study on that. About my pills…’ but tact prevails and his moustache is still driving me fucking nuts. “Your father and your grandfather died of heart attacks. Did your father have any brothers?” No sir. “Any sisters?” No sir. “He was an only child?” You could cut a tin can on this guy’s mental powers he’s so sharp. ‘Yes sir.’ “What about your mother?” “She died of lung cancer. Last summer.” “I see that, but I mean did she have any brothers?” “Yes sir. One. He died of brain cancer in his early 80s. Her sister is a diabetic in her 80s but still alive and otherwise healthy.” “Did anybody in your mother’s family die of a heart attack?” “It’s a huge family. My grandfather had 14 brothers and sisters so I’m sure somebody did, but not in my direct line.” “Hmm. Did your mother smoke?” “Yes sir. Heavy smoker for well over 50 years.” “You don’t smoke do you?” ‘Yes sir, unfortunately I do’ I state, a bit irked that I’d just answered the same question truthfully and in some (asked for) detail on the paperwork. One pack per day, Marlboro Ultralights- since 1987, quit from 1998-2001’. “Did your father smoke?” “Cigars.” “Not cigarettes?” “I’ve seen pictures of him from the 40s and 50s where he had cigarettes in his hand, but when I knew him he smoked only cigars.” “Do you realize that your parents’ deaths were both probably accelerated by smoking?” ‘I don’t think there’s any probably to it’ I tell him, politely but irked. ‘My mother especially died from smoking related causes after a long bout with emphysema and several lung problems, my father’s death had probably more to do with stress and alcohol abuse but I’m sure cigars didn’t help.” “Tell me about the cause of your father’s stress.” “She died from smoking last August.” He looks at me as if I’ve misunderstood the question, then says ‘Oh… I get it… a little cryptic way of saying your mother… hah…hah hah hah”. He lets the hilarity settle. “So have you ever tried to quit smoking?” “Yes. I quit for 3 years. 1998 to 2001.” I say. This is one of the reasons that it says on the paperwork he’s reading “I quit for 3 years (1998-2001)”. I add “I really want to quit again and I’ve tried several times but I haven’t been successful.’ And since it’s relevant I add ‘I was wanting to ask your medical opinion on Zyban or one of those inhalers. I’ve tried patches and gum but they just don’t work for me.’ “Well… we’ll talk about that later… I have some suggestions… Zyban and inhalers… no. I’m much opposed to them. This says you’ve been diagnosed with… narcolepsy? Are you sure that’s what they said you have?” Yes, I’m absolutely positive. “Narcolepsy. That usually requires a sleep study. Have you had a sleep study?” Yes sir. Two, actually. “Was it diagnosed by a sleep specialist? Or by a neurologist? They’re the only people who can diagnose narcolepsy with real accuracy.” I fight the urge to respond “No, it was diagnosed by Rhonda Mae down at the Exit 205 Waffle House. She said she wasn’t sure what narcolepsy is exactly, but I sure do look like someone who’d have it, and she’s the shift supervisor so I trust her…” but what I said instead was “Yes. Not only a neurologist and sleep study specialist but one of the best in the nation. He literally wrote the most common textbook used for medical students studying sleep disorders.” “What’s his name?” I give him the name and where he’s located. “I haven’t heard of him.” After a moment of silence I look at him with an “Am I supposed to say something here?” expression and just state “He’s on the Internet. In fact go to PubMed or to e-Campus and you’ll find some of his articles and his textbooks.” He responds with a simple “Well, I trust you.” That’s good. Trust is vital in getting a prescription refilled. I thank him. Unfortunately I’ve no idea whether my neurologist’s great-grandfather could remember the Civil War, but he was a Yankee so his great-granddad just would have remembered it wrong anyway. “Well then… let’s see what I can do… I’ve got a couple of other patients I need to check on and I’ll be back with your scripts…” A few minutes later he returns and he says “You take Adderall. Do you have Adult Attention Deficit Disorder?” I respond truthfully ‘Possibly. I’ve got the symptoms but I haven’t been tested. I take the Adderall for narcolepsy.” “Have you fallen asleep while driving or while walking or at work?” “No, not really, I explain. I’m essentially just always sleepy.” Without my pills. Which I currently don’t have. And which my great-grandfather never lived to see because of the Spanish Flu. Which that old bitch patient of yours probably gave him. “Is Adderall working for you?” Well, I’m a lot less sleepy with it than I am without it, I explain. And it works better than the Provigil and other non-stimulants I’ve tried for it. “So you want to continue taking it?” ‘Yes. Sir. Please.’ “Have you tried anything else for it?” Uh, dude, I think to myself, I just said “better than the Provigil and other non-stimulants I’ve tried for it”, which would imply I have, but I just answer “Yes, I’ve tried Provigil and other non-stimulants. Adderall works better.” “I just don’t like to prescribe amphetamines if I don’t have too…” he says. I agree in general, I tell him, but knowing what it’s like when I do and don’t take it, I want to keep taking it. ‘Well… okay then. You know I can’t give you a standing prescription. You have to fill it one month at a time.’ ‘Yes, I know that.’ “And you’re on _____. That’s an antidepressant. Are you depressed?” ‘Well…’and I remember to diplomatically add ‘…as I’m sure you know… it’s for things besides depression as well. I take it for ‘all of the above’ reasons. It helps.” “Is there anything in particular you’re upset about?” ‘My great-grandfather dying of the Spanish Flu. It was just so unfair’ I think, but say “Well, it’s been an eventful year for certain. But mainly my family has a depressive tendency on both sides.” “Hmmm…” he answers. “Well, for now, we’ll keep going with it then.” He prints out the scripts and signs them, including one for Adderall for now and another for next month that he postdates and signs. “However… how long has it been since you had a check-up with bloodwork and the like?” “Mmmm… a while” I say. “Over a year… probably closer to two years.” “Well, I’ll make these good then for two refills, but before I’ll renew them again I’ll need to see you back for a check-up and bloodwork. Make an appointment with the receptionist for along about a month from now. Quit smoking without assistance if you can before then, but if you can’t… that’s going to be a major topic of conversation about how you should.” Yes sir, thanks. And I make the appointment for a check-up and leave thinking “I’ve seen the weird, maybe second visit is the genius.” TBC |
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#2
04-23-2007, 12:03 AM
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SECOND APPOINTMENT
I started it with an obscure and not very funny joke. The morning of the second appointment I was getting dressed and I realized that there was a hole in my underwear. I wear boxer briefs and the hole was on the hip from the elastic about halfway down that leg. I was behind on my laundry and it was my only clean pair so there wasn’t much I could do about it other than catch up on laundry and toss this pair. I just decided to go there and hope I didn’t have to strip down, though certainly a hip wouldn’t be anything he hadn’t seen before. Besides, a check-up and blood work doesn’t necessarily mean get undressed, so there’s a chance. “Get undressed down to your underwear” says Dr. Jimmy, his moustache if anything longer than it was the last time and driving me absolutely nuts again. I AM SERIOUS- ONE MINUTE OR LESS AND I CAN MAKE THAT LOOK 50 TIMES BETTER! So I get undressed down to my underwear. “Is that the new fashion or are you just a ‘holey’ man?” he asks jokingly. I respond in kind “Yeah… holey underwear- it’s not just for Mormons anymore.” “You’re Mormon?” he asks. “That’s good. Means you don’t smoke or drink coffee or any of that. Mormons have a much longer life expectancy than others. You don’t meet too many in Alabama though.” “Actually there are a good many” I respond, then realize this is irrelevant and add “Just a bad joke. Holes in the underwear. Holy underwear. They wear a ‘temple garment’ that’s a one piece underwear… it’s… called… holy underwear … by distractors…” “Hmmm. I wasn’t aware of that. Is it blessed by a priest or whatever?” “I’m really not sure.” And he begins the checkup. “So has your family been Mormon long?” he asks. “My family’s not Mormon at all” I answer. “It was just a bad joke.” “Hmm. Just odd you would know about their underwear.” “Not really. Fairly common knowledge.” “No. How do you know about Mormon underwear if you’re not Mormon?” I want to respond with “IT WAS A BAD JOKE OKAY! JUST DROP IT!” but I respond more courteously. “I’ve always found religion fascinating in general and Mormons particularly. I’ve read lots and lots about their history, particularly the trek to Utah and all.” “Hmm.” After doing the general stuff he says “Your grandfather died of prostate cancer. Ever had your prostate checked?” “Uh no… am I gonna?” “Well you’re young to worry about it but it’s never a bad idea if you haven’t had it done. Drop your underwear and bend over. This will just take a moment.” And he puts on the glove. This is new, but I comply. “There’s a little card that I’ll use in just a moment… real quick and real accurate… I’ll feel in your colon as well for any unusual growths. Again you’re young, but… with your family history and all.” As he inserts his latexed hand I wince. Without sharing too much about my private life, forget my demographics and what you may think you know about them: this isn’t something I’m used to or consentual towards and his hand is in fact currently The Enterprise going where no man has gone before. And he realizes probably it’s a bit awkward so he makes small talk. “Do you just read about Mormonism or all religions?” “I try to HELLO! Read about most of them…” “Maybe you can answer this for me. It’s something we were talking about at church yesterday and something I’ve often wondered. The Jews are some of the most intelligent people on Earth and the most intelligent people on Earth are often Jews, and yet they never accepted Christ as their Messiah even though he fulfilled every last one of the prophecies. Do you have an opinion on that…” “Well, largely it was HOO-WAH! No actually at the moment I don’t…” Now of course I have many opinions on this starting with the fact the premise is completely wrong. It’s far from accepted that Christ fulfilled all the prophecies and far more probable that he did not and then there’s the whole ‘Jews defined Messiah a whole lot differently than we do in retrospect’ and all that, and this isn’t even touching the fact that it’s a complimentary stereotype it’s probably no more accurate than most stereotypes: I’ve known several Jews and some were truly bright some were truly not, but I don’t think that’s even relevant to the issue of messianic prophecies. And there’s a whole lot else I’d really like to say about the matter of Christian theology versus Jewish theology of antiquity as world religion’s one of my absolute favorite subjects but the twin factors of a hand up my ass and it’s connected by a short arm and neck to a moustache that would make Yosemite Sam get Kyan on the speed dial form a collusion of disturbances that short circuits my usually keen desire to discuss such matters. “I don’t really KNOWWWWW…” I state, and his latexed hand does to my ass what Bush refuses to even consider doing with American troops. I turn and see his glove being smeared onto a card. “It’s just something I find… I don’t know… fascinating. It’s like they’re under a spell… or… well I hate to add the supernatural.” Finished smearing my stalagshites onto the card he points a finger toward the ceiling and says “It’s almost as if God doesn’t want them to, as if it’s serving a divine purpose” and ordinarily I’d argue this premise all day but ordinarily it doesn’t involve a gloved finger containing my fecal matter near the moustache I want to take a weed whacker to. “Yeah…” I say, and whether it’s from The Honourable Don Rectus, Ambassador With Portfolio from the Colonic Colonies and Free Prostate of the Ass Sampiro, whose robes are currently flying behind him as he screams “We demand not only to know what the fuck THAT was about but we demand immediate assurance the withdrawal is permanent!” in the domed chambers of my mental Congress, or just the fact that it would take 6 hours just to work through the most major logical and informational gaps in his whole premise, I just say “Strange… that.” “Yeah, it really is. I can only think it’s got to do with an actual plan. Good news… no cancer or growths. See this card? It would turn blue if there were.” And he shows me the card and I think to myself that one’s not going in with the STAR WARS cards and BEATLES cards in my collection. After some various other unaccustomed to being touched appendages and cavities are gone over he concludes with “I really enjoy religious discussion. You should come to my church sometime. We talk like this all the time.” “Ah-hah…”, I say, having just received assurances Don Rectus is planning a protest demonstration for later in the day. “I think.. yeah.” After my blood is taken and the check-up’s complete he returns with “Well, your cholesterol is a lot higher than I’d like. Especially with all the heart attack in your family. We can change it with medication and diet… I’m upping your medication. Your diet by your own admission isn’t what it should be. Just be thankful you don’t smoke.” “I do” I say. “A pack a day.” “You’re kidding? With your family history?” “There’s no logic to smoking” I concede, though there’s more logic perhaps than there is to his theories of Jesus. “I know I need to quit, I want to quit, I’ve tried to quit, but I just haven’t been able. Which reminds me, I was wanting to ask… a friend of mine had good luck with that prescription nicotine inhaler. Would it be possible to get a prescription for one?” “Not from me. I’m very much against them. Most of the people alive in America today who have quit smoking quit without aid. Most who quit with artificial aid like you did start back. Here’s what you do… buy a pack of cigarettes. How many cigarettes come in a pack these days?” 20, I respond. “Alright. Twenty. The first week, buy a pack of cigarettes every day. Take out exactly two cigarettes, and smoke the other 18. Smoke exactly 18, no more no less. The next week, buy a pack of cigarettes each day and take out 4, crumble them up and smoke 16, no more no less. The next week, take out 6 and smoke 14, and so on and so on. Here’s an important thing though, always buy that pack, never buy a carton, and even when you’re down to 2 per day buy the pack and throw most of them away, because if you don’t and you say ‘I’ll take out 2 to smoke today and save the other 18 to smoke over the next 9 days’ you’re going to remember they’re there and you’ll say 1 extra won’t hurt me… 2 extra won’t hurt me… and you’ll be right back to a pack a day. Now, when you get down to 2, keep smoking those 2 for about 2 or 3 weeks, then throw away one, and smoke 1 per day for a month, then stop that one. “You see what happens is… people buy those boxes of patches or that gum or some other stuff, and it’s $50 for a 2 week supply. One day they go to the store because they’re almost out. They look in their wallet and they say ‘Holy sheez… I only have about $60 to get me through the next week til payday… but you know, if instead of paying $50 for cigarettes I paid $4 for a pack of smokes, I could save that. And they’re immediately hooked again.” I can honestly say that when I quit smoking before using the patches (and I was in a far lesser financial position then than I am now) this never once happened. I knew I couldn’t smoke once I started or I’d be back at square one. On the other hand… sure… I can totally see myself buying a pack of cigarettes for $3.50, throwing away 14 or 16 or 18 of them, and never once cheating. Yeah…. And then I’ll only eat healthy raw vegetables and occasionally 5 ounces of very lean meat from then on. After running for 2 miles to the bank where I save 20% of every paycheck. And then going home to exercise and not use more than 3 gallons of water per day. Ah-hahhh… “So what about Zyban or one of the other prescription aids?” “I’m against all of them. Do it like I said. It takes away the reinforcement and becomes random and the pattern’s broken altogether…” “Okay… yeah…” “Give it a shot.” “Yeah…” “Come back and see me in 3 months and we’ll draw blood again.” I gave it a shot. Worked until the 2nd week- I really did go down to 16 per day. Throwing away 6 per day was more difficult, especially when I had more requests to bum a cigarette than probably ever before. Then I lost the 5 or so I had left one day when a torrential downpour ruined them on my back porch, so I went to the store. Started to throw away 15 from the new pack but… nah. |
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#3
04-23-2007, 12:15 AM
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THIRD APPOINTMENT
“You really need to stop smoking. I can’t harp on that enough.” “Yes doctor. I know that.” “Now look at your parents…” “I’d rather not. I hate digging.” “Your mom dead from cancer, your dad from heart attack, both of them smokers, you already have high cholesterol. You’re going to be buried right between them in a few years if you don’t stop.” “Well not really because they’re buried 40 miles apart and I’m not that big, but I really can’t do it cold turkey. I’ve tried.” “Here’s what you do. How many cigarettes are in a pack now? Twenty or so? Buy a pack and throw two away, smoke exactly 18, and then…” and he keeps on describing the thing again. I tell him, politely, not sarcastically, that “No disrespect intended, but… if I had the willpower to throw away 2 then 4 then 6 etc. cigarettes from each pack, I’d just stop smoking. I need something to help me with the addiction so that I can work on the habit.” “Well, try this. Do you have any pictures of your mom and dad from their last days?” “Yes.” “Okay, carry those in your wallet. When you want a cigarette, look at them and think of how young they were when they died.” Okay, this is stupid for more reasons than the Hand-up-my-Ass Jah-Jah-Jah-Jesus and the Jews comment. A word of explanation to people who have never smoked, and I think I speak for most if not all smokers: Smoking is a filthy, dirty, disgusting, unhealthy, harmful, and ultimately fatal habit. There is absolutely no good reason to keep smoking. I know this. What's more, ALL LONG TERM SMOKERS KNOW THIS. It comes as absolutely no surprise whatever to us to learn that we will end up hooked-up to machines and clutching our chests and winded from walking from our car to the counter where we buy our cigarettes if we keep smoking. However, it’s not a rational habit. If it were, people wouldn’t smoke. I have never known one single human being who quit smoking successfully because they didn’t know there was something wrong with it until somebody said “Did you know that smoking causes severe health consequences?” It's a completely illogical habit. Don't seek logic or consistency, it's not there. I spent months last year watching my mother die of lung cancer, taking her to radiation every morning for a month, spending hours and hours sitting with her while she went through chemo, etc.. Five years ago my mother spent more than a month in ICU and then a month in regular hospital due to a botched lathryscopy that almost destroyed her already seriously damaged lungs, she went weeks without a cigarette, any addiction was out of her system, and she lit up before she got home with a stoma scar still visible on her throat. Twenty-five years ago I crawled over my father’s dead body during a blizzard to get out of bed (though I repeat that I think there were other factors than smoking which caused his heart attack). I knoooooooooow smoking’s a stupid habit and it kills- it’s no mystery to me. When I was in the hospital with my mother I would go outside to smoke. Know who was invariably there? The nurses from her cancer ward- people who see the effects of smoking every single day. A few years ago a hotel I worked at had a convention of cardiopulmonary specialists. Since they reserved a block of 100 rooms or so we went ahead and did pre-check-ins as was policy. Every room was a non-smoking room. No exag- at least a quarter or so of the CARDIOPULMONARY DOCTORS HAD TO BE MOVED TO SMOKING ROOMS!!! There is NO logic to smoking. Further, I don't think there's any real significant link to smoking and intelligence either. I've known retarded people who smoke, I have known absolutely brilliant people who smoke, most of the people I've known who smoke were neither retarded nor brilliant, and the same goes for ex-smokers. Smokers smoke. Quitting's not easy. For one thing, smoking's incredibly addictive. It’s more addictive now than it was just 7 years ago . It’s a damned hard thing to quit and quitting is seemingly immune to logical persuasion or cause-effect analysis. I honestly think that like most smokers I could wear a pair of plastinated cancerous lungs on my forearms like water wings and have to lick them each time I wanted a cigarette and it really wouldn’t make a dent in the craving- I'd probably just cut a hole in one and use it to store my lighter. There is a part of my mind and the mind of most smokers that overrides the connection between smoking and dying, that says “Mama died of lung cancer hooked up to an oxygen tube and smoking til the end and at times in absolute agony… when she was 71, you’ve got 31 years left. Hell, 31 years ago Ford was president, that’s plenty of time…”. It’s not a rational process. So, I need help. I used patches before. They worked. I’ve used them since I became a smoker again. They didn’t. I don’t know why. I have trouble using the gum due in part to orthodontic problems. I feel that if I could have something take care of the addiction, I could work on the habit which is to me the hardest part to break (it is to all smokers and addicts of all ilks just about- the addiction’s gone in a matter of days, it’s the “I want to smoke a cigarette here” factor that’s the bitch). So anyway, I tell him that the gradual “honor system” weaning doesn’t work for me, I need outside help. He sighs and says “Okay… I don’t usually do this, but…” and he writes something down on his pad. “I’ve given that to a few die hard smokers and all but one have quit successfully since then. It’s expensive, but it works.” Assuming it’s a prescription for something, I thank him and he starts to leave. I look at the piece of paper and it’s not a prescription but a name and address: Dr. Al Sonsreme (also not his real name) 1234 Pseudonymous Blvd. Suite A Montgomery AL 36117 (334) 987-6543 ext. 210 "Is this guy a lung specialist or... what?" I ask. "Oh sorry... I should have mentioned. He's a hypnotist" he says. "Very nearly a 100% success rate." Okay then... as a great man once said in a very NON WORK SAFE AUDIOFILE, I'll think about it. To Be Continued (after a smoke break)... |
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#4
04-23-2007, 01:20 AM
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I weighed it over and I met with Dr. Nosreme. He's a slight man, African American, older (60s probably), very nice. The only thing that bothered me about him is that he bears an extreme resemblance to Al Freeman Jr. as the villainous Elijah Muhammad in MALCOLM X (youtube clip), but talking with him in armchairs he seems extremely sincere and extremely intelligent. He shows me a book of testimonials and some are from people I know (though not well).
Now I'll admit I think of hypnosis as witch doctoring on some level, but by this time I've talked to others and done some research in peer reviewed sources. As for the anecdotal, some claim they have parents who quit smoking due to hypnosis). When I was a teenager I had a teacher who delivered her three children under hypnosis performed by her father (a preacher) and she said "I felt everything but it didn't hurt", and she seemed reliable at the time. As for the more scholarly peer reviewed sources, basically the jury's out on hypnosis- I've found reliable evidence in support of and against it and a lot that says "in some cases". (For a non-scholarly source, Penn & Teller bashed it on Bullshit! but then much of that show is bullshit (very regrettable- it's a great premise but they only give some of the information, but I digress.) In any case, I decided, 'What have I got to lose?" "Three hundred twenty-five dollars is what I usually charge for three sessions" he answered. "About 60% of my patients quit after the first sessions. When that is the case we will use the next session for weight control or organization or something else they wish to work on." "Is there a money-back guarantee?" I ask. "No, but, if you do not successfully quit smoking I will extend it to five sessions for no additional charge. And if you quit successfully after one session then we'll use the second session for something else as I mentioned and I'll refund the price of the last session." "Do you accept insurance?" "Unfortunately I do not. Most insurance companies do not recognize therapeutic hypnotism, which is quite ironic considering how effective and how much cheaper than medicine and certainly how much cheaper than a smoking related illness it is. But the pharmaceutical lobbies in this country are extremely powerful." Remembering something that happened when I worked at a mental health agency and a Fundie counsellor recommended a gay client for hypnosis, I asked if he dealt with sexual orientation. (I have no desire whatever to change my sexual orientation, this was just one of the questions three I used to weigh his legitimacy.) He seemed surprised and a bit offended by the question: "No. Absolutely not. In fact I would like to know who he was sent to so that I could ask about it." (I gave him the name, which I happened to know- it bothered me at the time.) "No... I am not even of the opinion that sexual identity can be changed or should be changed if it is normal- hetero or homo or even transgender. Only if it is physically ambiguous, or if the person truly believes they should be a member of the opposite sex, should any treatment be sought and then that should be by a psychiatrist and the appropriate medical personnel, or if it is a pathology such as pedophilia then psychiatric intervention should be sought, but that is not something I work with and hypnosis... no, that is absolute quackery." I start to make a joke about quackery and clucking like a chicken under hypnosis but decide not to, as on the whole I believe Dr. Nosreme is legit (or at very least sincere) and very intelligent and frankly I like him more than Dr. Jimmy (who, incidentally, he professes "I am not familiar with him... he says he has referred patients to me?"). My first hypnosis section: I think I actually went under. The suggestions he gave me- heavy arms, fingers that would not come apart or go together, I felt all of these. I did not go to sleep (surprising as my eyes were shut and see 'narcolepsy' above) and heard everything, and he gave the suggestions about wanting water rather than nicotine and being absolutely not the least bit drawn to cigarettes. At the end of the session he asked me if I had cigarettes with me, which I did. "Are you confident enough to leave them here?" I did. So the first session was $104. $100 was the session itself, the other $4 the amount I paid for a pack and a lighter a few hours later when the craving was driving me as nutty as Dr. Jimmy's moustache. To this day I haven't craved water. ---------------- Session Two: It involved dark glasses. There was a red light that flashed in the glasses while my eyes were closed, very soothing music, I was supposed to see different colored lights and I did (even though red was the only one that flashed) and enter a state of extreme relaxation, which I did. Almost anesthetized euphoria even- time distortion- it seemed to last for hours while in fact it was 50 minutes. The same suggestions about not wanting cigarettes is repeated onto my hard drive. This time I had smoked my last cigarette prior to coming there so I would have none at the end of the session. I didn't. Nor did I want one when the session was over. Until I was down the road a mile and thought "Damn I'd like a cigarette..." but I put off buying any. Until a few hours later when the craving was driving me as nuts as Dr. Jimmy's moustache. By the third hypnotic session- well, I hadn't even made a dent in the amount I was smoking. I was smoking a pack a day before, I was smoking a pack a day now, I hadn't increased but I sure hadn't quit or cut down and I still didn't want any damned water. Now while it may not sound like it, I wanted to quit and I wanted this to work, but... by the third session I'll admit that I didn't have a helluva lotta faith. Dr. Nosreme was very nice, took more than an hour with me, went through the usual, the soothing music, brought in Loreena McKennitt to personally coo to me and hold my hand and give me an accordion lesson practically while sending me on a canoe with Enya playing harp down the Coosa River, etc., but at the end of the session- I wanted a cigarette. -------------------- I have two more sessions with Dr. Nosreme if I want them. I just honestly can't imagine what good they'd do. I still think he's a nice guy, very interesting even and extremely well read I've learned, but I'm one of the people hypnosis just doesn't seem to work for, at least not where cigarettes are concerned. I did see the pretty colors, but with all respect due to Dr. Nosreme I could have seen pretty colors a variety of places for one hell of a lot less than $325. And I've obsessed over it as I always do over unanticipated expenses. Walking through the mall later: "Man, I love those barrister bookcases and hey--- they're on clearance for $250 down from $450 AND I COULD BUY THEM AND HAVE $75 TO SPEND ON ANYTHING FROM PORN TO PRETTY COLORS TO TAP DANCING LESSONS WITH THE THREE HUNDRED AND TWENTY FUCKING FIVE DOLLARS IS PAID AL FREEMAN JR. AS ELIJAH MUHAMMAD TO STICK HIS HAND UP MY ASS AND MAKE ME CLUCK LIKE A CHICKEN OR WHATEVER AND I'M SO IRRITATED I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE HELL I'M TALKING ABOUT OR WHY I'M HOLDING THIS INDIAN CHILD OVER THE ICE RINK I'LL GO QUIETLY OFFICERS... So, I had a follow-up with Dr. Jimmy this week to get the results of some blood tests. This was to be a right in and right out thing, but while there I decided to share with him the futility of hypnosis. So hep me Og this is what he said: "That's odd. Usually Dr. Nosreme's good at weight loss. Have we tried you on the Weight Watchers plan yet? I mean you're not grossly overweight and Weight Watchers could take off what you need to lose..." "I went to him for smoking." "Do you smoke?" "Yes. Which is kind of the problem. I paid him $325 and I still smoke and never stopped wanting one for a minute. So since I tried that, I was wondering if I could get a prescription for the inhaler which can't work any less and it's covered except for the co-pay by my insurance." "I'm against artificial administered nicotine. Let me tell you what to do... how many cigarettes come in a pack... twenty, twenty-five something like that? Buy a pack and throw two away..." I didn't scream, but I did say "Tried that, doesn't work, don't know one single person who did quit that way- I've known more who quit cold turkey than tapering down..." He thinks for a moment and says "Well... I hesitate to mention it because I'll be honest, you'd be the first that I recommend this for, but... I know an acupuncturist in Birmingham. I'm not sure what insurance he accepts if any, but..." --------------------------------------------------------------- I didn't say "Motherfucking acupucture your fucking Yosemite Sam moustache..." until I was in the waiting room and then I was out of earshot of ladies, but I'm not going back to him. It's not just the refusal to prescribe a stop smoking aid but hte fact he won't listen: that "throw two away... throw sixteen away..." is just not going to work. I've tried cutting down in the past- always go back to twenty per day. I've tried cold turkey- once worked for about a month, but I went back with a vengeance and had to cut back down to twenty. I want something to tackle the addiction while I work on the habit, but... mainly I want my damn $325 back that I paid to see pretty colors or failing that a set of barrister bookshelves and $75 of porn or whatever and I'll keep my Uncle Pete's 18" remains in there (though I don't care what he said, he didn't count his legs and then he still shaved a few inches so he was actuall 22" tall if he was a centimeter, but all this is moot. The point is that I'm switching doctors because I don't want to die of the Spanish Influenza with a hand up my ass talking about Jesus. Or something. And don't do drugs. |
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#5
04-23-2007, 10:30 AM
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PS- Dr. Nosreme's office sent me an email this morning to ask if I would like to write a testimonial and to offer $25 for anybody I refer to them. I wonder if this is why he had so many testimonials in the book- "I still smoke but I at least pick up $300 bucks a year out of referrals."
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#7
04-23-2007, 11:07 AM
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I'm just popping in to get subscribed, so when I get time, I can read all this.
And, I never started smoking, so stopping is a non-starter. So to speak. |
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#8
04-23-2007, 11:16 AM
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Seriously though, as a relapsed ex-smoker (quiting smoking is easy, I've done it a 100 times!), I have had good luck in the past with Zyban. It doesn't (for me, anyway) eliminate the cravings, but it really subdues them and makes them much more managable. I don't know if you know this, but Zyban is a brand name for Wellbutrin (sp?), which is an antidepressent. So, if you want to give Dr. Walrusface Asspoker one more shot, ask for Wellbutrin (not in the context of smoking). The other nice thing about it is that it is availible as a generic, so you can save so money to buy those bookcases to house your porn. Oh, and great story as always, Sampiro! |
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#9
04-23-2007, 11:19 AM
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I'm just having fun reading the thread, but no, I've never had hypnosis. I would surely be open to it if it would help me stop smoking. It might be the only thing to help me quit smoking. Crushing up cigarettes is just not productive.
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#10
04-23-2007, 11:28 AM
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Just sayin'. |
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#11
04-23-2007, 11:31 AM
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My dad tried acupuncture for smoking cessation. He said that for about a month, cigarettes tasted absolutely rank to him. But he persevered through it, and at the end of the month, they tasted just fine again.
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#12
04-23-2007, 11:53 AM
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I paid $700 +/- for a hynotist - they only thing it did was help me pick a new paint color for my living room 'cause they had it in one of the rooms.
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#13
04-23-2007, 12:00 PM
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#14
04-23-2007, 12:09 PM
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I tried the gum and the patch and had no success whatsoever, then went cold turkey one day. I didn't feel a twinge of desire to have another one and I haven't touched one since. I wouldn't attribute it to willpower or anything else, it was more like I picked the right nanosecond to stop. Like you say, it makes no sense.
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#15
04-23-2007, 12:19 PM
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No hypnosis for me. Just Wellbutrin. I quit February 7, 2000 after 17 years. Good luck to you, and stay away from Dr. Walrusface Asspoking Jew-Hater.
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#16
04-23-2007, 12:40 PM
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I did hypnosis for smoking back in college. Worked temporarily. I think I made it about 1 month before going back.
I tried Zyban about 10 years ago and used the patch for the first couple of days just to get through. Haven't smoked since. I was also a 3-pack-a-day of 100s smoker when I quit. I'm sorry to say there is no easy way. It sucks, big time. And for me, the cravings diminished, but never fully left. I just know that that way lies madness, so I don't do it. |
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#17
04-23-2007, 01:00 PM
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My mom quit smoking for about a year with hypnosis. Then one day me, her, and a goat on a leash got caught in a rainstorm, and she had to carry first me, then the goat across a gooey rutted muddy unpaved ungravelled parking lot to the station wagon. Made a beeline to the closest store, bought a pack of Virginia Slims, and never looked back.
I quit for 6 months with the patches, and for about a month with Carr's book, The Easy Way to Stop Smoking. I probably could have stopped permanently then, except it wasn't my idea to quit smoking, it was my husband's, and he kept bugging me about it, so I was sneaking smokes and thinking, "I'll show him!" Yeah, you're right. We're not logical. |
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#18
04-23-2007, 01:09 PM
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IANAD, or a pharmacist, but I do work in the field. There is a new prescription available called Chantix that I have heard great things about. I have no first hand experience with it, and I do not know how many other medications it may interact with, but it would be worth running it by a new doctor.
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#19
04-23-2007, 01:41 PM
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I think you should go back for the last two free hypnosis sessions just for the relaxation of it. Good relaxation is a valuable thing, you know. (And yes, your doctor, soon to be former, is a tool.)
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#20
04-23-2007, 01:46 PM
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First of all, Sampiro, this is one of the funniest posts I have ever read. I have had doctors like that. It's one of the reasons I love my current PCP so much. He is the kinda-weird-genius type, but a super-sweet guy who knows all his patients by name.
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My husband was put on Wellbutrin for something else, but it actually did decrease his desire to smoke. It just didn't help the something else, so he stopped taking it and went back to his normal smoking. The inhaler and the patches just makes him want to smoke more. There is a new script out there called Chantix (sp?) that is supposedly a miracle drug. Several of my husband's National Guard buddies have quit smoking within a month of starting this stuff, and I have about 6 cow-orkers who have quit in the last few weeks using it. It costs about $125 but from what I understand, 9/10 of people stop smoking within the first month. You might try it. Hubby has a script, but we haven't filled it yet -- I will let you know when we do. |
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#21
04-23-2007, 02:51 PM
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That was an amazing story. Are you sure Dr. Assprobe isn't simply impersonating a doctor? Have you checked his credentials with ... oh, whoever it is one checks these things with ... the AMA or somebody?
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#22
04-23-2007, 03:57 PM
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Hypnosis has not been demonstrated as an effective method for smoking cessation. There was a recent summary in the N.Y. Times science section about this.
"Good news… no cancer or growths. See this card? It would turn blue if there were.” If Dr. Genius actually said this about your stool occult blood test, he is an idiot. This test is not very sensitive (it'll miss a lot of cancers) and is non-specific (there are numerous other causes of rectal bleeding, including such things as hemorrhoids). I would have abandoned this bozo after the first visit, but hey, he's giving you lots of good SDMB material... |
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#23
04-23-2007, 04:19 PM
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Good JESUS, what a quack.
FWIW, the doctor I transcribe for has been having a lot of success with presription Chantix for smoke cessation. Hell, my husband just got a script for it from a Doc-in-a-box. My favorite was the family history. One PA I type for is so freaking stupid she'll include STEP siblings and parents in the family history. Um, who the hell cares if her STEP mother had breast cancer? How does that make her more likely to have it? IDIOT! |
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#24
04-23-2007, 04:29 PM
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You can't shake the notion you're raised with that in order to be a doctor somebody has to be very intelligent and perceptive and have great observational skills. It's always a real oddity to me when I find this isn't always the case. I guess some just test well but are of only "eh" intelligence. |
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#25
04-23-2007, 04:44 PM
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On a completely unrelated note but underserving of its own thread, another oddity of this week: my "new friend".
I never visit my mother's grave, haven't been in months, but I've been thinking that I really need to just... because that's what people do. So I finally went out to the cemetery late afternoon/early evening to "pimp" her grave a bit with some seashells and pennies (a family tradition) and some roses from the bushes she planted (Rasputin bushes at that- I haven't managed to kill them). For reasons that made sense at the time I took Mardi, her morbidly obese but very sweet Rat Terrier who's now my 'still fat but not anything remotely like he used to be' still very sweet Rat Terrier with me. (He absolutely, I kid you not, went through a mourning cycle for my mother.) I took him out of the car and he made a beeline to our mother's grave just like he knew where he was going and had been there twenty times (he's never been there at all). I'd like to think it was some kind of unspoken bond of love, but the fact that the second he got there he peed on her headstone kind of takes away from that notion. For that matter if there's anybody in Montgomery who died in the last 2 years who hasn't been peed on it's because they're not in that cemetery; the doctor did one helluva job curing his Urinary Tract Infection a few months ago because since then the dog's been making up for lost time. (I tried walking him in the non-planted side of the cemetery where's it's just grass and wildflowers but nope, he didn't have to do a thing- until we get back to the graves whereupon it's rainin' men all over again.) Anyway, I'm standing by (or on) my mother's grave talking to her (which I know is stupid and inconsistent and meaningless- I don't even believe in an afterlife- but as mentioned with smoking above consistency is not a defining trait). As I'm doing this a pick-up pulls up and this redneck who weighs more than the truck gets out in a pair of suitpants and an undershirt and I can smell the beer on him because of course he comes up to where I'm standing. He doesn't say a word at first even though Mardi's standing between my feet and snarling at him then he finally goes "That your Mama there?" Yessir. "Sorry to hear it. My Daddy died Thursday night. In his house. In his bedroom. Back of the house." I'm wondering "Y'all got him out yet?" but all I say is "I'm sorry to hear that". "That's him over yonder..." and he points to a new grave that still has flowers all over it. "Yep. He was 74. Now he's dead." I think of saying "I wonder if he's met Mama yet" but just give another "sorry to hear that". Then he starts crying. Now I have an appauling confession to make: I HATE IT WHEN GROWN MEN CRY. I don't mean this as in "I hate seeing animals suffer" or "I hate it when you hear about tragedies such as that". I mean this as in "I hate it when homeless people lick me on the chin" or "I hate it when I kids fart at the table and their parents laugh instead of locking them in a closet". It's one of my herd of non-domesticated peeves. I know it sounds terrible, I try to be a compassionate person, but I just can't stand it. It's not that I disrespect them or think they're being a sissy or weak or anything, it's just awkward as all hell and I hate being in awkward situations. So I hate when grown men cry. I hate when almost anybody, male or females, cry around me. I particularly hate it when strangers cry around me, and drunk strangers even worse, and this was a male drunk stranger crying right there next to me. These are the type of people who ruin otherwise perfectly enjoyable funerals. I never know what to do or say in such occasions because my gut reaction of slapping them really hard while saying "STOP IT!" seems rude and insensitive. Instead I reached out and sorta pat his (fat flabby drunk) arm with my hand and he responds by grabbing me in a bear hug and keeps crying. Now it was really damned awkward. Here's me stiff as a statue but trying to be consoling, this blubbering 50 year old enormously fat drunk guy with his arms around me, and Mardi absolutely going nuclear because he doesn't like this one bit- he's barking and jumping up on the guy and Mama's still there and dead somewhere underneath. Early the next spring it seems the guy lets go and says "Thanks buddy... I needed that...God bless ya... that helped a lot" and I think 'I'm glad... I really am... please leave' and I say 'you bet... ' and he gets back in his truck. (He never even visited his dad's grave.) As soon as he leaves I walk over to his dad's grave, say hi, keep Mardi from peeing on it, take a few of the roses from the many many arrangements there because I figure he won't mind and they'll look nice on my mother's grave (I need to get a nice silk arrangement) and I proceed talking to Mama again. I'm in mid sentence when another car pulls up and two women, both heavy but one of them even fatter than the guy who just left, both get out. They're both already crying and they're heading straight towards me (which isn't me so much as I'm between them and their daddy's grave), so I had to stop in mid-sentence and say "Catch ya later Mama... you hang in there, we'll do lunch. C'mon Mardi... yeah, pee again, good boy... no no no you've already peed on Mrs. Hufnagel... well, a little more won't hurt her... good boy", then I pick his little fat butt up so I'll have something in my arms because I'm not being part of a group hug with these two women. I spoke to them and one of 'em said "Hey there...how you?" and bursts out bawling even more so I smiled what I hope looked like consolation, shoved Mardi in the car and hauled ass. Point: I like to think of myself as compassionate and caring and affectionate. But then I also like to think of myself as the culmination of all history and a doppelganger for Orlando Bloom. And what I really like even more than either of those is well seasoned slow roasted pork butt. |
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#26
04-23-2007, 06:23 PM
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I've done this on more than one occassion. Walgreens (both here and in Chicago when I lived there) was by far the most expensive. Then Target. In Chicago, the cheapest prescriptions I found were at a small, independent one-off pharmacy. Here in Omaha, Hy-Vee has the cheapest drugs. I saved over 30% calling around. BTW, I got Chantix for $99.21. |
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#27
04-24-2007, 09:23 AM
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I was so in the mood for some Southern fried Sampiro stories. Thanks!
(And I hope you can stop smoking soon!) |
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#29
04-24-2007, 10:06 AM
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When I read the theoproctological part of the story, I started laughing- then had to fake a coughing fit, go to the water cooler to cover for the coughing and drink some really disgusting water to give myself time to stop laughing. Thanks a lot, Sampiro.
Anyway, Doctor Jimmy must be one of those people who is assumed to be a genius by people who can't comprehend how such an idiot got to such a station in life. Last edited by Marley23; 04-24-2007 at 10:06 AM. |
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#30
04-24-2007, 11:36 AM
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#31
04-24-2007, 11:51 AM
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I love whackjob doctors.
One time, while on vacation, I took my wife to the ER in Knoxville TN for edema so bad that the skin on her lower legs was splitting. The attending physician treated that very quickly, but then went off on a tangent about her underlying lupus, and how all diseases were a result of poor nutrition. Poor nutrition was the cause of the edema for sure, because she was eating three bags of pretzels a day on that trip, but I called bullshit on poor nutrition causing the lupus. I asked him to his face, "If you're such a nutritional genius, why the fuck are you working in an ER?" He left us in an 8 cylinder huff. 
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#32
04-24-2007, 12:11 PM
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#33
04-24-2007, 01:48 PM
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#34
04-24-2007, 01:51 PM
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#35
04-24-2007, 02:09 PM
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My ex and I tried hypnosis back in the late 70s. It didn't work for either of us.
My current husband had a major heart attack two years ago (100% blockage of the right coronary artery). He hasn't had a cigarette since that day. As soon as he was out of the heart cath surgery and ensconced in recovery, I raced for the nearest smoking area. I did, however, quit a couple of days later using the patch. I haven't had a cigarette since. I had wanted to quit and the patch dealt with the physical addiction. That's the easy part. Overcoming the mental addiction is much tougher. But it's wonderful to go to a movie, eat out, or even take a plane somewhere and not be wondering how soon I can have a cig. Good riddance! Great story, Sampiro, as always. I've also heard good things about Chantix. Check it out. |
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#37
04-24-2007, 03:25 PM
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#38
04-24-2007, 09:44 PM
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I think I've learned more about the psychology of smoking (and quitting) from this story than from all the schooling I've ever had, or all the anti-smoking commercials I've ever seen, or all the patch and gum commercials I've ever seen ...
.. combined. Thank you, Sampiro. |
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#39
04-24-2007, 09:56 PM
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I'd say that no more anal apologetics by itself should increase your life expectancy. Or at least the quality thereof. In any case, a smashing thread, sir 
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#40
04-25-2007, 01:22 PM
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Sadly, the actual story is pretty mundane. I was a member of 4H in my youth, and I brought the goat to one of our get-togethers one Saturday; it started pouring down rain and we had to struggle across a field full of boot-eating mud to get to the parking area. I was no lightweight and neither was the goat (goats are awkward to carry at the best of times) and I guess the two of us together were the straws that broke my mother's back, so to speak. The goat's name was Billy the Kid and I'd raised him on a bottle 'cause his mother rejected him. Besides walking on a leash, he would ride in the rowboat (standing in the bow like George Washington), drink beer, and chew tobacco. I still miss that goat. |
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#41
04-25-2007, 01:40 PM
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One of the things I feel guiltiest about to this day was that one of her kids went missing when it was a few days old and already doing very poorly. They weren't responding to the bottle feeding and Bell wouldn't nurse unless you made her and even then she didn't seem to produce enough milk. I went looking for the kid, knowing that one of the dogs had to have gotten it, and when I found it our Siberian Huskie had it. It was dead and I assumed she'd "kid"napped it to eat it and I yelled at her, slapped her, and was just determined to put the fear of God and or Michael Landon into her for killing the poor little thing. She was a sweet and gentle dog but also a great hunter- always tracking rabbits and small game- and I wanted to let her know "THESE AREN'T FOR YOU!" Later I went into the shed where the other baby goat was to give it a feeding. There was Ashley (the Huskie) lying on her side trying to nudge the baby goat to her nipple. That's when I realized she hadn't intentionally killed the other baby goat if she'd killed it at all- she had stolen it in an attempt to feed it. (Ashley had pups that had just been weaned so she still had milk.) Ah... never felt so bad for yelling at an animal. (Animals will kidnap and nurse other animal's babies- I've seen dogs let kittens suckle, and my aunts had a senile old cat who was notorious for stealing kittens from much younger mothers and trying to nurse them even though she hadn't had a litter or produced milk in years.) The other baby goat died as well. Later Bel had a litter of four kids (as rare as twins for a human) and was the perfect mother and they all grew up sound and healthy and played with the dogs who never messed with them like they did other livestock. The dogs hated Bel's "husband", Brigham, and her sister-wife Cuckoo, both of whom would butt hell out of them [Brig had horns, Cuckoo just had nubs but was the worse butt-er] if they came anywhere near him, but then Bel hated Brigham and Cuckoo too, though she would go get her freak on with him voluntarily when she was in season and in the mood. I named the billy Brigham not because of his wives but because of his beard and because of one of my favorite stories about Brigham Young: once a two-faced Federal official wrote a letter praising Young's efforts in Utah to Young but wrote another referring to Young as a "greedy and priapistic old billy goat" to his superiors in D.C.. Unfortunately he put them in the wrong envelopes so that Young got the latter letter- he forwarded it back to the official with a handwritten note "Dear Sir, I fear this was intended for your superiors. I thank you for the kind words you undoubtedly sent them about me. Sincerely yours, the old billy goat." Sorry, that was a seriously long hijack, but the point is don't name a goat Brigham if you expect domestic harmony and no trouble with the authorities. Last edited by Sampiro; 04-25-2007 at 01:44 PM. |
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#42
04-25-2007, 02:06 PM
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__________________
"Then one day me, her, and a goat on a leash got caught in a rainstorm..." (sig courtesy of Marlitharn) |
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#43
04-25-2007, 04:33 PM
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Thank you. In all my years on the Dope, you're the first person to ever quote me in a sig!
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#45
04-29-2007, 08:12 AM
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you, my friend, are living in a Walker Percy novel! Last edited by FriarTed; 04-29-2007 at 08:13 AM. |
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#46
04-29-2007, 08:15 AM
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#47
03-05-2009, 08:07 AM
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Sampiro When in the hell are you going to submit your work for publishing?
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Brilliant! |
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#48
03-05-2009, 08:39 AM
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It didn't work for my dad, though, he quit a few months after my mom did (and after he went to the hypnotist with her) because he promised her that if she did, he would too. |
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#49
03-05-2009, 08:57 AM
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Then he switched to chewing tobacco. 
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I want a goat!
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