big foot ham
BORING SIDNEY, VERY BORING
I saw a few more doctors and my innards are still a puzzle, a conundrum, a paradigm that resists heuristic strategies, a model of neodialectic construction that is a self-referential reality, okay I made that last one up. But it would be so cool if medical doctors really talked like that. And still, I feel perfectly fine. I would describe my style of eating right now as “tentative,” since no one knows what causes these twice-a-year Vomit Fests, and I have lost three pounds (not a tragedy), and I have been told to never ever ever take ibuprofen ever again. (I don’t really think I take more ibuprofen than the average person, but apparently if your ileum is thick and strange and inflamed like mine seems to be, any amount is too much.)
Doctors have floated two different scenarios to me: one is that these ulcers flare up, and a portion of my gut collapses like a radio antenna, otherwise known as intussusception (fun to say!) and that causes the pain and barf. To me that doesn’t quite explain why everything gets quickly better as soon as I have the Dilaudid—except for the obvious reason that EVERYTHING gets quickly better as soon as one has Dilaudid.
The other idea from a doctor’s brain was that I have something called cyclic vomiting syndrome, which is the laziest fucking name for a disorder I have ever heard, and a clear disappointment when put up against intussusception. I hope this is not true as it sounds like there is not much to be done. No cool name, no cool treatment.
NO MORE SWEATY GI
For about six months now, Nora has been steadily and rationally building a case for why she no longer wants to take karate. She has been ascending through the dojo ranks for about 5 years, but is just not into it any more. I did the usual parental flip-flop about sticking-with-things vs. knowing-thyself but ultimately decided to let her quit. It is pretty dumb to devote several hours a week to something you don’t care about, plus I can hardly argue she hasn’t given it a fair shake after 5 years. I assume the sport of karate will continue to exist, should she ever change her mind.
The kid likes structure and excitement, though. She’s still got chess team but we’ve been casting around for other things to do. She enthusiastically signed up for a drawing class, is excited about ceramics for the following session, and is currently badgering me to let her start hockey. Well, it’s more like pre-pre-pre-hockey—basically working on your skating skills while wearing pads and a mouthguard—but sheesh. Could you please pick a more expensive, dangerous, crazy-ass sport, my darling daughter? Sure you don’t want me to find you a local buzkashi team? Pee-Wee Buzkashi, ages 8 to 10, bring your own goat torso to the first skills clinic.
—mimi smartypants, rabid fan.