Golden State - Bombs (The Ron Paul Song)

YEAH WE HAVE A PEACE CANDIDATE !!! Ron Paul is #1 in the polls!

"It's not impossible, not to late for a miracle, we can END THIS WAR!"

I never thought I'd say this but I need to figure out how to register Republican.

The War of the Machines Is On

"Well the first War of the Machines seems to be drawing to its final inconclusive chapter—leaving, alas, everyone the poorer, many bereaved or maimed and millions dead, and only one thing triumphant: the Machines."
--JRR Tolkien (1945 letter to his son)

I've just read the wikipedia article on Tolkien and discovered that he hated new technology like cars, and he was very outspoken against war and a self-proclaimed anarchist. Nobody can hold the power without being corrupted by it in Lord of the Rings, so it was no surprise to read that he was not a fan of government.
It might seem funny to people to read about an old dude from old-times who hated this new invention: the car, and chose to keep riding his bicycle. But at 25 I'm feeling a lot like that old dude. Things are changing, expanding, faster and faster--and as I watch most people go along with it unquestioningly I feel like shouting, "hey! how is this better?" Needless to say, the f*$%ing wars are too much (How's that hope and change doing 3 years later?....suckers.) the food is getting creepier, our freedom and dignity is being taken away incrementally, and people are being sucked into their computer devices like that little girl was sucked into the television in Poltergeist. I miss the outrage of the Bush years, the silent consent of the Obama years is incredibly frightening. Don't be annoyed by people yelling and screaming about what's going on in the world--THEY are sane, awake, human beings. And THEY are becoming harder and harder to find.
We need to remember what words mean. Peace. Freedom. These are two words that are being distorted right now. Hold onto their meanings like Tolkien held onto his bicycle. Look for proof and evidence, rather than simple televised declarations. "That box is the single most effective propaganda tool ever invented" (Network), it's like a freaking ring of power!---and the "SUPERBADS" (Freeman) have it! So what in the flying f-bomb do you think they're going to do with it? Do you think they're going to use it to tell you the truth so that you can make rational decisions about your life?
People will come along and say, "I'll take the ring of power, I'll use it for good." Impossible. Don't believe them. It's like a baton being passed to the next guy, they're all on the same team and nobody's going to win but the machines.

More About Boobies

The last time I went for a follow up appointment at Oregon Health and Science University (OHSU) I told my family, "This is the last time we will come here, EVER!", hoping that speaking those words aloud would ensure we had no more medical issues. I am now reminded of advice I got from my mother about praying for things: BE SPECIFIC!!! The day before yesterday I had to go to the emergency room of the hospital closest to my house, Adventist Medical Center. So yes, it's not OHSU, but it's a hospital and I had another medical problem! Grrrr.....
This time it was my other breast which had a plugged duct that got infected with the MRSA that I'm told by doctors I may always have, (but which I plan on killing for good with lots of natural remedies) and I got another abcess. At first I was treating it the natural way with lots of hot compresses, massage and good stuff like garlic pills and Happy Ducts tincture and Turmeric and probiotics and Acai berry juice--I was feeling fantastic! I was like, woh I should spend $100 on supplements every month! The redness was totally going away, until I ran out of my Happy Ducts (I could so do an infomercial for that product--it freakin works) and the lump in my breast turned bright red again and started to be the worst pain ever. By the next day I was in the emergency room begging for pain killers, NOW, my pain's a 12. Seriously. They gave me percosets, however you spell that, and they worked. That was the first time I can say I literally had "crippling pain". I felt totally fine otherwise but there was a knife constantly stabbing my breast which made it hard to do anything or even think about what to do. Then they did an ultrasound of my breast and saw that I had an abcess so this nice surgeon came over and "lanced" my breast, yes that's the word he used. That word makes me think of swordplay and not surgeory. He packed the wound with gauze and today I have to get the gauze out which I already know is incredibly painful because they put about a 50 feet of it is there, and they pull it out and it just keeps unraveling and it really really hurts and is grouse.
When I went to the Adventist Medical Center's emergency room they got right down to business, and I was out of there in a few hours. I was so used to OHSU with their team of doctors having meetings to confer with each other and waiting around for days before they decide what to do. So I already had a bag packed and was expecting to have to be there for days, but I got to go home right away!
Ok: This will be the last medical problem my family has for a long, long, long time.

The Breast of the Story

This has obviously been a long, long overdue update. I so wish I could have written an individual blog for each of the adventures I've had since I last updated you, plus extra blogs for the mini adventures, character studies, anecdotes and thoughts on life that have occurred to me over this long hiatus. But it is harder and harder to find the time. Or if I do find it, I'm groggy from sleep dep, oxys and benedril (you'll understand why as you read further) and incapable of typing letters. Since I last wrote here we have moved into an apartment, had a daughter, spent 2 weeks going back and forth from the hospital while she was in the NICU, and finally I have had a severe breast infection and been re-hospitalized and had surgeory, hense the title.
Gypsies know when to roll, and we always roll into an amazing camp without even trying. When we first moved into this apartment we thought we were settling for a roof over our head and no less, a desperate grab for shelter before the baby came. The only apartment manager that would accept our jobless status and trust that we would somehow manage to make the rent each month. We're on the outskirts of town, next to 3 gas stations and a busy street. I made the best of it in my mind by imagining that we were convicts on the run and had to live on the outskirts so that we could avoid detection and get out of town fast if we needed to. However, it turns out that we stumbled onto a hidden gem of a neighborhood whose many amazing sites are found like hunting for easter eggs--but really easy to find easter eggs. We are walking distance from a community farm that we now have a share in--we get a huge box of produce every week for $25, a 40 mile hike and bike trail that leads us to a marsh with ducks and canadian geese among many other things, and which we can use to get to the laundrymat, the great Mexican restaurant, the off-track (which has a huge fenced in kid's play area, so Joe and Siobhán can play while me and Michael bet the ponies) and the Max (Portland's city train) which takes us anywhere we need to go. We are also a stones throw away from the Leach Botanical Gardens which is a huge 14 acre woods with lots of trails, we have a sweet park with an awesome playground, 20 minute walk from a grocery store, a HUGE thrift store, and we'll probably discover more things. When something like this happens it's like God literally just placed a gift in my lap. Here, since you would have been thankful for a shit hole, I give you: a gold hole. I just invented that term, gold hole.
Speaking of gifts from God I will use that to segway into the story of the birth of my daughter, Siobhán. We knew that she was coming early, April 4th was the date of the scheduled C-Section, but she ended up coming even earlier! March 31st I went to the hospital for one of my twice weekly fetal monitorings, which until then was just an excuse to watch a half hour to an hour of television while sitting in an armchair with monitors on my belly. That day the monitors actually picked something up--I was having contractions every 3 minutes! I couldn't even feel them! With my condition going into labor was a no-no. If my water broke me and the baby could die. I hate even writing that, but that's what it was. If I hadn't have been sitting in that chair at the hospital being monitored, and I was back at our apartment, not feeling contractions, my water could have broken and I would have been far from the hospital. So within an hour I was having a C-Section. At first when they told me I FREAKED OUT--I had been scared of C-Sections and wanted to first have a chance to "prepare", maybe bring my ipod so I could not think about how my belly was being cut open with a knife. Also we had Joseph with us and I was afraid Michael wouldn't be able to come into surgeory with me because he would have to look after him. But thankfully Aviva rushed over and watched him for 5 hours--which is an amazing feat! Watching Joseph is literally like being in charge of a wild monkey. The most painful part of getting a C-Section is the numbing stuff they poke you with before they do the epidural. So it's painless, is what I'm saying. Afterward however when my pain meds began to wear off, it was more painful than the 3rd stage of natural labor. But when I got more pain meds, as long as I kept perfectly still it was fine. The problem is you are high on oxycodons and want to laugh or cry, but if you laugh or cry you hurt. I flipped through the T.V. channels to try to find something unfunny and unsad, which is hard. I settled on American Pickers, a show about men searching for antiques to resell. A C-Section, although sometimes necessary to save lives like in me and Siobhán's case, is not ideal. I actually didn't even get to see Siobhán until hours later. She had to be put on a breathing machine in the NICU and I was in the recovery room. The nurse kept asking me what level (between 1 and 10) my pain was at. 11. 10. 9. 7. 5. 4. as the drugs kicked in. Finally she whispered: "if you say 3 you can go downstairs to see your baby" and I was like, "WHAT? I would have said 3 a long time ago!" It is not good to be separated from the baby you just had, it is very unnatural and cruel, but if it weren't for the C-Section she wouldn't be here so I just had to keep that in mind. When she was born I heard her crying which was a huge relief but I couldn't see her because of the sheet that was up. However, the doctor DID wheel over my placenta to show me. (How considerate, doctors are strange.) She told me my placenta was "impressive". It was an anomaly, large and in 2 parts with a vein running in between. They took pictures of it and it may end up in a medical textbook.
The next few days I kept waiting for Siobhán to leave the NICU and come up to be in my room---I had no idea she was going to be there for 2 weeks. After 4 days I had to check out of the hospital and she had to stay. That meant I still was at the hospital all the time visiting her in the NICU, just without the comforts of my own little room to retreat to for naps. Making me exhausted. In the NICU I found beautiful displays of the goodness of human nature. There are tiny 1 pound babies in plastic boxes that are being cared for and although they are too delicate to hold all of the time, their mothers sit next to them for the entire day caressing them through the hole in the box and talking and singing to them. They will probably have to do this for 6 months. There is also a harp player who volunteers her time to play music for these little cuties, wheeling her harp from room to room. Although Siobhán was technically "premature" at 36 weeks and 4 days, she was a giant compared with most other babies in the NICU. At a dinner held for the families of NICU babies, me and Michael snuck out as soon as people started to tell the stories about their babies. Would these people want to hear about our daughter's jaundice and initial feeding difficulties when their baby was born with its intestines on the outside of its body or born at 25 weeks weighing 1 pound 1 ounce? Our story was incredibly unhelpful to them, I did not want to tell it. And although we were having a hard time with her being there, I tried as hard as I could to hold back my tears. How could I cry for my situation? Look at the baby next to Siobhán--he's connected to so many wires, has a bandage on his head and I overheard that he is receiving intravenous morphine.
So after 2 weeks she made it out of there safe and sound, but she brought me a little present: MRSA. I'm just guessing that I contracted MRSA from her since I've read that it's rampant in NICU's and gets passed to the mother while breastfeeding. I got a serious breast infection a couple weeks after Siobhán's release. My breast was a hard, red painful mass and I was sent back to the hospital to have it drained of this super-bug called MRSA which requires super-antibiotics. I had to have surgeory and was left with 2 huge open wounds in my breast with a plastic drain attached. The wounds had to be packed with gauze twice a day and I still had to pump that breast of its milk. If that wasn't painful enough, when I got home I began to get an allergic reaction to the antibiotics which caused an itchy rash to develop all over my entire body, well actually it spread from my chest downwards onto my belly and upwards onto my face but it was stopped by getting off the antibiotics and taking benedril just in the nick of time if you know what I mean (think: where are the worst places you could get a rash? Thank you benedril!!!)
Let this be a warning to all: GET AN ULTRASOUND! If I didn't we would have DIED! I have had this revelation about my thoughts on medicine, since I think hospitals and western medicine do so much harm, but at the same time mine and my baby's lives were saved by them. During crisis situations western medicine is great, it's just not great for our everyday preventative health. Like, I'll go to the hospital if I break arm, but I will use natural medicine for my regular day to day health. For instance had I been using preventative medicine I may not have gotten this infection in the first place, I could have taken garlic extract the whole time I was spending in the hospital and perhaps nipped that MRSA in the bud before I even knew I had it. However it got serious and I needed surgeory. Now, since my immune system has been ravaged by antibiotics, I'm taking probiotic pills and Doreen's Immune Tonic. Maybe I'm preventing a further hospital stay from some disease I would have caught now that my immunities are weakened. Anyway, it's good to be alive and healthy.

Going Back Home (less)

Since I've been released from the hospital early I haven't had much time to write in this blog. We're living in a hostel-type situation with a group full of single older men who have lots and lots of time on their hands to ruminate about the meaning of life, and one younger man who does the same but also stresses about canceled dijaredoo performances and his cats getting influenza. We're on the apartment search which is difficult to do when neither of us have a job--and time is not on our side since the baby is coming very soon. Oh yeah and I'm supposed to be on bed rest still. We'll probably end up living on the outskirts of town in no-man's land, because those apartments will take jobless desperados like us. It's actually kind of fun because we are like outlaws on the run getting a place on the edge of town for a moment. Actually we are like this book I read to Joseph called "The Christmas Story" about Mary and other Joseph going from Inn to Inn and nobody will take them, and finally settling on a barn with a patch of hay to have their baby (Jesus).
Of course if we had have known I would only be in the hospital for two weeks we could have kept our apartment in the Rogue Valley and been all set, instead of winding up broke and apartment-less here. According to my doctors there's no way I could have known--this condition rarely corrects itself. Which is amazing. The way we are looking at it is that although we loved the Valley of the Rogue, it was not on the ocean, and therefore could never have been our final destination. Now although we are not on the ocean still at least there are seagulls in Portland--like God's telling us "follow the seagulls and you'll find your way home!"

The Joys of Delivery

Staying indoors all day seems very unnatural. I'm starting to feel like a crazy cat lady or something. The more visitors I have the more normal it feels (hint, hint) but there is this strange time in the evening in between checks of my vitals when I don't even see a nurse for like 3 hours and I start to have a real hamster-in-cage feeling. Ordering meals is very exciting, kind of like how it used to feel to order dresses from catalogs on Lopez Island. Maybe it's because I grew up there that I have a special appreciation for anything delivered. Especially food. Because food delivery on Lopez Island does not exist. Right before we left Medford an amazing discovery was made--Natalee Thai--a delicious Thai food restaurant that delivers! Although I've lived in multiple big cities I still find myself with moments of small town ignorance--"but I thought Pizza was the only thing that got delivered!" Oh no...I was thinking that what might make delivery so fun is that it is "supernatural". It's so unlike anything our ancestors experienced gathering nuts and berries in the forest and hunting and fishing. The idea of just thinking about what you want and having it brought to you at your own home is magical and superhuman. No wonder we are impressed by it. If anyone ever wants to dine on the OHSU room service menu I'll tell you exactly what's good and what's not (at least for the vegetarian fair). And I'll tell you how precise you need to be in ordering (they will not assume any condiments unless you specify).
I was watching a program called "Heavy" last night on television. It's similar to The Biggest Loser except it's not a competition. And I was having scary thoughts that I may have to be on that show when I get out of here...due to this medically enforced lethargy. The funny thing is I was doing so good with weight gain on this pregnancy, just gaining steadily but nothing outrageous. I thought for sure this time I'll be in the "+25 club"! Not the "doctor telling me to lay off the ice cream club". Then bed-rest happened, and I have absolutely no idea what's happening with the weight (they have not weighed me since I've been here...), but it can't be good. Don't get me wrong, that is such a minor detail compared to the more important things. But the point is don't take for granted your ability to walk, and your lack of room service! Doctors are forcing me to sit on my ass right and when I get out of here I'm going to have to make up for it! So don't just walk, run! And make your own food! On a limited budget! And be thankful!

I'll Have My Bread and Circuses This Year

Last year Michael and I hosted a very special radio program in which we promoted "boycotting the Superbowl", a noble effort to wake up the distracted masses. This year, however, it will be the complete opposite, I will be very interested in watching the entire Superbowl--as I am stuck in a room not able to go outside!!! Can anybody else say they have a better excuse than that for lapping up the "bread and circuses"?! Another thing getting me interested in the big game is that we have the possibility of winning money each quarter since Michael's dad generously bought us a "Superbowl Square"! Each quarter if the scores end in our numbers we could win $600! So I will be ordering extra room service food, and glued to the game, although I'm still unclear on the rules. However, you don't need to know the rules of play to read what the score is at the end of each quarter and check if you won money. When Michael Sr. bought us that "square" he had no idea the events that would soon unfold, that I would be stuck in a hospital room in great need of distraction. And now, fate would have it that the Superbowl is going to bring some excitement into this Bed Rester's life!