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Dr. Bob is Robert Hsiung, MD,
bob@dr-bob.orgShown: posts 1 to 19 of 19. This is the beginning of the thread.
Posted by Jai Narayan on January 1, 2005, at 13:54:19
if you have a moment to send a message to Atticus I think he would appreciate the kindness.
love ya Atticus!
Ja*
Posted by alexandra_k on January 1, 2005, at 14:56:59
In reply to Atticus is very sick...., posted by Jai Narayan on January 1, 2005, at 13:54:19
Ask him to turn babblemail on. Then I will send him a message. Tell him that I hope he feels better soon :-(
Posted by cubic_me on January 1, 2005, at 16:55:32
In reply to Re: Atticus is very sick...., posted by alexandra_k on January 1, 2005, at 14:56:59
I was thinking of Atticus not long ago and wondering how he was. Here's my biggest wishes Atticus, although I haven't spoken to you much I'm missing you, I hope things are getting better for you.
cubic
Posted by anastasia56 on January 1, 2005, at 23:18:45
In reply to Atticus is very sick...., posted by Jai Narayan on January 1, 2005, at 13:54:19
Posted by B2Chica on January 2, 2005, at 17:15:06
In reply to Atticus is very sick...., posted by Jai Narayan on January 1, 2005, at 13:54:19
Please get better soon. i miss your wit already!
B2c.
Posted by partlycloudy on January 3, 2005, at 8:46:29
In reply to Atticus is very sick...., posted by Jai Narayan on January 1, 2005, at 13:54:19
Sending healing thoughts your way.
Posted by gardenergirl on January 3, 2005, at 11:18:02
In reply to Atticus, sorry you're not well., posted by partlycloudy on January 3, 2005, at 8:46:29
Posted by gardenergirl on January 3, 2005, at 11:19:08
In reply to Hope you are feeling a bit better, Atticus (nm) » partlycloudy, posted by gardenergirl on January 3, 2005, at 11:18:02
Posted by Gabbix2 on January 4, 2005, at 19:18:12
In reply to above for atticus, hope you are well, too PC ;) (nm), posted by gardenergirl on January 3, 2005, at 11:19:08
Or I will have to chase you down and play my accordian while frantically dancing for you in my shoes of doom until you give in and say you will grace us with your presence again.
Gx2
Who does not really own an accordian..
Posted by Atticus on January 4, 2005, at 21:34:56
In reply to Re: Atticus is very sick...., posted by alexandra_k on January 1, 2005, at 14:56:59
I'm more than a little disoriented right now, so I hope my attempt at a Babble-Mail test was successful. Please let me know. (Where would your return message appear, by the way?) Thanks, alex. The ever-mechanically-inept Atticus
Posted by Atticus on January 4, 2005, at 22:34:05
In reply to Please Get Better Atticus, posted by Gabbix2 on January 4, 2005, at 19:18:12
Hullo Jai, cubic_me, alex, anastasia, B2Chica, partlycloudy, gardenergirl, Gabbi, and everyone else who was kind enough to drop me a line. Alex, I tried to send you a Babblemail, but being a charter member of the Home for Mechanically Inept Poets (and Their Equally Mechanically Inept Pets), I’ve no idea if the bloody thing went through or even where to check to see if you sent a response. Sorry.
At any rate, here’s what happened: About a week ago, I developed pleurisy (extremely painful build-up of fluid on the lining of the lungs – in this case my left lung), which tends to be the calling card of a nasty case of pneumonia. So my PCP gave me a three meds: an antibiotic (to fight the pneumonia), and two kinds of powerful, concentrated forms of the opiate morphine to fight the pain (which is analogous to expanding a lung onto red-hot steak knives). Thing is, even though I asked my PCP doc, an internist, if something as strong as concentrated opiates might interact with all the powerful psychotropic meds I’ve been taking for bipolar disorder with rapid cycling, I was told, “No worries, lad. Off you go.”
As it turns out, concentrated morphine does NOT play well with others (especially lithium, Effexor, Klonopin, and trazodone). And I began a weeklong series of hallucinations worthy of a major acid trip. Thank God I live in a city and don’t drive, although it’s amazing I didn’t find my way onto the third raid on the No. 6 line at some point.
Essentially, I imagined that I was one of Sir John Tenniell’s (sp?) original black-and-white, intricate Victorian-style illustrations of the Cheshire Cat from a first edition of Lewis Carroll’s “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland” and that I was sending dispatches from aboard the original animated version of the Beatles’ Yellow Submarine (complete with animated Beatles – got on well with John, but Paul was a bit of a wanker – kind of full of himself) about some kind of rescue mission, which I think was related to the tsunami somehow. It’s all a bit muddled now.
This may sound like smashing good fun, but after 72 consecutive hours the glamour tends to wear off. Also, trying to type when I looked down and saw four-fingered fuzzy paws where my hands used to be proved to be a real nuisance. It was all very trippy, but frankly, as crushedout noted to me, once you’ve hit the 30 mark, you’ve not the stamina for this kind of down-the-rabbit-hole sh*t anymore. When my mother came into the city yesterday, concerned about the rubbery sound to my voice, and I asked her how soon ’til New Year’s, she got a little (alright, a LOT) wigged out and got the docs on the phone. I was pretty much useless and exceptionally irritated that no one had thought to wake me for New Year’s Eve. The docs said I needed to just let the morphine ride itself out.
Unfortunately, that’s a little easier said than done. Sans morphine, it hurts like the devil to breathe. With morphine, I can breathe without pain – I just can’t do it in this dimension and retain my faculties (granted, they’re a little dinged up already, but not this far gone). Without it, the pain kind of overtakes everything else. AND I’m supposed to return to work this week from a two-month disability leave. Lovely. I’ve decided to wing it as a loon and muffle the pain. I’m taking as little of the liquid morphine as possible, but to be perfectly honest, I’m still pretty f*cked up. It feels like that scene from Mary Poppins where Uncle Albert is floating up by the ceiling, and trying to get Mary and Bert and the kids to join him for a weightless tea party. Honestly, I don’t know how Dr. Bob bounces back from this sort of thing as easily as he seems to. Everything seems to have that Dali-esque wobbly “Persistence of Memory” (the painting with the melted pocket watches) feel to it.
I think I need to crash (not literally, I hope – this is the only serving kettle I have). But if one of your docs suggests opiates for a non-psychological illness and you’re already flying above the clouds in full psychotropic formation, break off and try to bring yourself down. I’m so tired of having everything look like it’s made of honey swirling in tea.
Thanks again for your kind concern and support. It really IS appreciated when something like this snatches away an entire week of your life. Ta. And I hope I passed the audition, Mr. Epstein. ;-) Chris
Posted by alexandra_k on January 5, 2005, at 0:19:16
In reply to Re: Please Get Better Atticus, posted by Atticus on January 4, 2005, at 22:34:05
Ah. Morphene eh? I really think that they should warn you about the hallucinations. I never knew you hallucinated on morphene but the cockroaches in the hospital kept getting bigger and bigger and after a while I figured it out. Got your babblemail did you get my response? It should go to the email address you registered with. I won't know what your email address is but you can respond by scrolling down and followng the link if you like.
Glad you are feeling a bit better.
Posted by Shortelise on January 5, 2005, at 1:16:57
In reply to Re: Please Get Better Atticus, posted by Atticus on January 4, 2005, at 22:34:05
That sounds horrific. But you are in good voice, so to speak, or not to, depending on the state of your voice. Which is good, I think I just said that.
I do hope your doc lets the pharmaceutical co's know about your reaction.
You certainly have read a lot of books.
ShortE
Posted by Atticus on January 5, 2005, at 8:24:17
In reply to Better » Atticus, posted by Shortelise on January 5, 2005, at 1:16:57
True, I have read a lot of books. But here I am, all set to go back to work tomorrow, and yet I still bear a striking resemblance to an oversized orange tabby with a great dental plan and poor typing skills every time I sneak a peek in the mirror. Guess I shouldn't complain too much, though. And I think, etiquette-wise, it might not be a bad idea to leave a dead mouse or extremely irritable chipmunk in my boss's mailbox at the office tomorrow. These little things end up counting so much come evaluation time. Ta! Atticus, who's not quite mad as a hatter at this point, which stands as an improvement from where I sit. Um. Yes. Carry on, then. And you, Toph! Casual Friday isn't for two days. Please put on some trousers, man! Oh, and I suppose if Dr. Bob were to jump off a bridge, you'd do that too, as well? Hmmph. Catnip, anyone?
Posted by Toph on January 6, 2005, at 17:53:10
In reply to Re: Better » Shortelise, posted by Atticus on January 5, 2005, at 8:24:17
You blinked first, man. Glad to hear you survived. Most of my clients I see at the wake after contracting pneumonia. My pants have been on too much these days, at least as far as marital relations go. Not certain what you mean by this unless you are referring to my Parisian survival skills. This anonymity thing allows kids to say the darndest things. Funny how I'd sell a hand job to a pedophile hanging out at Gare Saint-Lazare but couldn't see selling my Triumph. Even though I had no gas it was my true love at the time.
I'm pleased that you feel free to bust my chops again. You don't know how much I deserve it.Toph
Posted by Atticus on January 6, 2005, at 20:09:59
In reply to Re: Better » Atticus, posted by Toph on January 6, 2005, at 17:53:10
Come on now, lad. Buck up. I wasn't busting your chops. Or p'raps I was. Hard to keep these hallucinations straight.
"It all comes," said Rabbit crossly, "of combining powerful psychotropic drugs with powerful opiates because your PCP is too bloody f*cking lazy to check with your pdoc on whether a nasty interaction is possible (turns out it is)."
"It all comes," replied Pooh, "of Dr. Bob setting a bad example by administrating PB sans pants while belting out 'Copacabana' into his karaoke machine."
"Oh, B*llocks," said Pooh. " I yield. I'm afraid your razor-sharp logic is just too, well, razor-sharp for me. Plus," allowed Pooh, "I've been wondering when was the last time Nekkid Bob changed that pink nappy he wears over his green tights."
But enough of this banter. Are you, Mr. Toph, still a worm? Or have you transformed again? Your fans await your answer ... and I guess I'm vaguely curious too, in a sort of not-curious-at-all way. Your most humble servant, Atticus, Cat of Cheshire
Posted by Toph on January 7, 2005, at 11:07:59
In reply to Re: Better » Toph, posted by Atticus on January 6, 2005, at 20:09:59
Not sure what a worm is, though I vaguely recall a recent thread on the subject. Actually, I feel more like a slug which has new meaning in Babbleland. If my memory serves me, in Lewis' tale the cheshire cat disappears leaving only a smile, which is kind of slug-like. As for fans, well, these days only my trusty dog notices when I'm missing.
Toph
Posted by Atticus on January 7, 2005, at 15:10:51
In reply to Re: Best » Atticus, posted by Toph on January 7, 2005, at 11:07:59
Sorry. It's VERNE who calling himself a worm these days. I apologize for the confusion. Curiously, I'd see a Cheshire Cat as the opposite of a slug in many ways. The cat is composed of almost pure attitude, of a snarky dollop of there-but-not-there hipster vibe plucked from the wispy string of a ghost's bass; it leaves in its wake a floating smile that embodies an Oscar Wilde-like impudence and insolence, but an absence of solidity. But while the cat leaves behind only facial features and what they symbolize, a slug -- from what I remember observing in the Park as a kid -- seems to prefer to withdraw its facial features and become pure substance. Anyway, no insult intended. Clearly, since Verne is the self-proclaimed worm, I'm addressing the wrong pilgrim. Might be time for me to take one last great hit of the morphine and see where it takes me. However, if you do feel the urge to become more of a hookah-smoking caterpillar and take up your waterpipe for some Dada-esque banter, give me a call, boyo. Ta. Atti the batty
Posted by Toph on January 7, 2005, at 16:37:17
In reply to Re: Best » Toph, posted by Atticus on January 7, 2005, at 15:10:51
My slug reference came from alexandra's poem. I think you would appreciate it if you haven't already seen it:
http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/social/20041226/msgs/434803.html
This is the end of the thread.
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Dr. Bob is Robert Hsiung, MD,
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