I took my shot

I took my shot tonight. 2,500 mg of desferal infused subcutaneously over an 8 hour period. Desferal is an iron chelator, it leeches the iron from a person's bloodstream by binding to it and releasing it in urine. It's a pretty handy drug if you have Thallassemia, which in my case requires monthly blood transfusions. I've met patients that have to come in more frequently than that. Lots of blood transfusions leads to excess iron, which unlike other vitamins or minerals, the body will store in your organs, which eventually leads to organ failure....which isn't good, obviously.

I have a lot to be thankful for. When my mom first found out about my condition, I was about 5 years old. What's funny is, not until recently have I ever considered what it could have felt like learning about a medical condition that your kid will have to live with for the rest of his life. I imagine it must have been a mixture of sadness, guilt, anxiety, that sort of thing. What amazes me though is how she dealt with it. Since I was a kid, my prescription was to take the shot 6 nights a week, and no matter where we were, or how tired she must have been raising 3 kids, she never failed to give me my shot. I hated it of course, but I don't remember fighting it. Taking a shot 6 times a week is pretty brutal, especially since you have to leave it in over 8 hours. Nowadays, we have something called a sof-set, which means once the shot penetrates the skin, the needle is removed and just the soft plastic catheter remains in the body overnight. For the first half of my life though, it was a needle about as long as the first joint of a pinky finger about as thin as a mechanical pencil lead, in your thigh for 8 hours. I remember having some pretty nasty bruising on my inner thigh, and some nights I would have to hunt for a while before finding a spot that wasn't already sore to the touch.

It wasn't until I was in college and I actually met other Thalassemia patients in the new hospital I was going to that I realized how much my mom's diligence paid off. You could tell these other kids had something going on. I felt guilty, relieved, guilty for feeling relieved. There have been a few times that a nurse has walked in and assumed I was not her patient. I'm grateful of course, but it's still something I deal with. Looking normal, but leading some double life navigating hospitals, knowing my good veins, taking a shot every night. It doesn't embarrass me to talk about it, but I do wonder what other people think about it. Especially when it comes to dating, but that's a topic for another post.

Finance is a vortex

http://www.sinfest.net/archive_page.php?comicID=2798

I was inspired by this comic, especially so due to recent events.

After having a couple of interviews at Wells Fargo and a thoroughly enticing conversation with my recruiter about their compensation, I'm ready to fall back down again. I'm so weak. I need money. I like to think I'm greater than money. I like to think that I don't need it for my happiness and that it is the rope by which our government binds us. No matter how much I try to convince myself, I can't stop chasing $$$. I think this comic hit the nail right on the head. Once you spurn the devil, he will only double his efforts to get you back into his clutches.

District 3 Board of Supervisors Forum - First Impressions

Yesterday I went to a forum hosted by the University Club of San Francisco.  The forum was intended to give the candidates an opportunity to introduce themselves and answer a handful of policy issues to their district.  My purpose in attending this forum was twofold.  First off, I love going inside buildings in San Francisco.  The University Club has topped my list for some time now.  It looks old, it has flags from dozens of Universities hanging above it, but it isn't a hotel, nor is it an apartment complex.  Could it really just be a clubhouse?  This was what I was hoping for.  Secondly, seeing Wilma Pang's chubby smile and Claudine Cheng's hideous mugshot each day, I wanted to see what it was all about.  So here it is, kick off to the District 3 board of supervisors campaign race.

Joseph Alioto - If the Kennedys are from Maine, then the Aliotos are their West Coast equivalent.  Think of Mayjor Joe Quimby from the Simpsons and you'll have the right idea.  He was the most well dressed.  His posture and manner were the most polished.  He was a natural public speaker.  Just like Mayor Joe Quimby though, you could sense a hidden agenda.  Old school politician from a politically powerful family.

Tony Gantner - This guy was impressive.  His answer to the first question was thought provoking.  When asked which economic system did the candidate subscribbe to capitalism, socialism, or communism?  Gantner answered "I believe in capitalism, if by capitalism you mean free enterprise.  Free enterprise canoot operate without an aid to represent te population."  He answered each question professionally with intricate knowledge of the subject.  

Wilma Pang - Oh man, this lady was a joke.  She didn't know the answer to any of the questions, she knew little facts about any of the current issues in the city.  She boasted about her second place running in the 2004 Mayoral campaign against Gavin Newsom.  She even mentioned how she used to be an opera singer.  Ugh, this lady was lame.  

David Chiu - Ah, the Asian wunderchild.  This guy is every Asian mother's dream.  His list of achievements would leave any aunt's ear bleeding with envy.  He is the model by which every asian son is judged against.  His responses gave the feeling of entitlement to his nomination.  He has the endorsement of the current Supervisor of District 3, Aaron Peskin.  He was a bit condescending, but aside from my personal judgements is well qualified for the position.

Lynn Jefferson - This lady was the best in my opinion.  She knew all of the issues intimately.  She didn't have to read from her notes, she knew all of the relevant facts immediately.  She differentiates herself from the other candidates by saying she is the only true independent in this race.  She has absolutely no ties to any political machines.  She is financing her campaign herself.  This woman has devoted years of service to the city.  So far, she's my favorite.

Claudine Cheng - Elect your mother.  This woman was an enigma.  Her command of the english language was exceptional yet her pronunciation was like that of your mother's.  Still, I could understand her and my impression is of a very capable and devoted service woman who genuinely believes in a benevolent sort of way that she knows better than you.  Like your mom who takes over your math homework and just starts doing it for you.  She's like, give it here, just let me do it for you.  

Denise McCarthy - Reluctant candidate.  Having run a non profit that rescues homeless people or protects small businesses or something.  She was familiar with most of the issues and has led a life of civil service.  

Well, that's about all I can remember.  I thought it would be handy for people to know who the candidates actually were instead of random names pasted on hair salons and bus stops.  A handy guide to any district 3 resident.

Willy is gay

Willy, my dog, is gay. Sadly, I have evidence of this. Yesterday I caught him frolicking with a black and white border collie. Willy mounted the dog and looked up at the sky as he humped. The day before that, a pomeranian with a rainbow pattern collar paddled over to Willy and proceeded to lick his wiener. Willy was courteous enough to return the favor.

My problem with Willy's gayness is it puts me in an awkward position. Whenever I pet him, and my hand strays south of the border, I have to be extra careful not to touch or even brush his plumbing. Also, when I pet him in my lap and he burrows his face in my crotch I can't help but wonder whether he's offering his canine services. The worst is when we make eye contact while he licks his balls.

I will sloth around in LA for a bit. After which, I intend on slothing further elsewhere.

# of Days Since Last Employment: 1

So they showed me the door yesterday. Apparently they were concerned that I was bad for morale. Shortly after I resigned, another one of my crew went with me. Yeah, that's how my ppl roll. If his ten key needed an ink cartridge, I was already in the supply room. I knew they'd do the same if it was my adding machine malfunctioning.

They spun it to the rest of the office by telling everybody that I wanted to leave so they decided to let me go home early. I didn't realize until I got home that HR's letter had magically superceded my resignation letter and transformed it into a termination letter! Hey bitch, you didn't dump me, I dumped you! You can't preemptively dump me, I already dumped you. You're living in a delusion.

I've tried reminding myself why I quit in the first place, and of all the benefits I have to gain from escaping the clutches of corporate socialism. I repeat it constantly. It's OCD though. No matter how many times those crazy fuckers count locks or wash their hands, they still don't feel clean or safe.

Tomorrow, I am getting my blood. My last fillup until I find another job that provides health benefits. I'm going to make it something fun. Before everybody got caught up in making money and being wealthy, people used to mean more to each other than dollars and cents. They would do things rather than work or shop.

I wanted to write a blog about this because everytime I hear on tv or radio about somebody who lost or quit their job and had the opportunity to do what they wanted to do. All of those stories had happy endings.