A must read.
Originally posted on Monster Hunter Nation:
So Phil Robertson, who has one of the highest rated shows on cable, was asked a direct question concerning his personal religious beliefs and he gave an honest answer. Of course, honest religious opinions are not tolerated in America if they in any way hurt the feelings of statist control freaks, so the usual suspects had a come apart. A&E, being good at appeasement but bad at math, put Robertson on indefinite hiatus. Which means “we fired him, unless we wimp out at that too, and once we see which way the winds blow, we’ll bring him back.”
Here is the actual article that got the guy fired: http://www.gq.com/entertainment/television/201401/duck-dynasty-phil-robertson We’ll go through the actual controversial statements in a bit, just to see how little it takes to make the lefty censors outrage spike. But you should read it, because as usual you will quickly discover that most of the…
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What a lovely prayer!
Originally posted on A Heapin' Plate of Conservative Politics & Religion:
By Tom Quiner
Paganism is flourishing in America and around the world.
This heathen religion takes a number of forms. For some, it is a sort of worship of nature, as expressed by this person who wrote to Dear Abby in the morning’s paper:
DEAR ABBY: I am a longtime practicing Pagan. Because of the media, Pagans are considered to be evil devil-worshippers instead of the nature-loving people with knowledge of home remedies we are. This makes it difficult in the dating world.
A friend of mine wants to hook me up with a friend of his. When is it appropriate to tell the gentleman that I’m a practicing Pagan? I dress like everyone else, so at first glance you wouldn’t suspect my religion isn’t Christian. — LOVER OF NATURE
[For the record, Quiner’s Diner believes she should express her paganism very quickly. Any serious adherent to a faith would…
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“I need to talk to you about something we found in your Labs,” Nicole said in her phone message. Hmm.
Nicole is the inveterately perky transplant coordinator at the Transplant Center. My sister’s friend Allie is in need of a kidney and my sister, with her asthma and iffy blood pressure and blood sugar is not a good candidate. So I thought I’d give it a try and see if I could get through the live transplant gauntlet to donate a kidney for her.
Last month, I went to the big city to run that gauntlet. It’s a two hour drive; I had to be there by seven a.m., and absolutely no food, water, or more importantly, no caffeine before the tests.
So the Patient Husband drove me up and occupied himself with shopping while I attempted the Herculean feats required of me.
First, the blood tests: A friendly, tattooed young man, Carlos, drew my blood. He expertly found the vein and out flowed vial after vial until the list was finished. We filled up about fifteen vials. Dang. A lot of tests.
Then I was off to CT scan, EKG, psych, and a number of others. Eventually I found the right answer. Yes, now you can have coffee.
I felt strong and heroic because I was attempting such a feat…yet I failed. I wasn’t quite good enough to donate a kidney. That was four weeks ago.
Fast forward to yesterday
I was surprised to hear Nicole’s voice on the phone message. I thought our relationship was over. Call her back, the message said. Something on the Labs.
So I called her back. When she told me, I laughed. Who gets TB? Seriously? But that’s what she said.
A positive TB blood test. Doesn’t mean you have it. You just have to follow up with your regular doctor to see if you DO have it.
She also mentioned that the lab had TWO positive TB tests on the same day. TB’s rare, so that makes me think this might be a false positive, that someone in the Lab screwed up. But better safe than sorry.
I called and made an appointment with my regular doctor, a Physician’s Assistant I prefer over the male doctors in town. She’s nice; she’s direct; and she admits when she doesn’t know something.
Turns out she knows JACK about diagnosing and treating TB. And neither do the other doctors in my small town.
Also turns out if you mention an infectious disease, you get right in, no waiting. I went in this morning and we talked about it. I, of course, had spent a good deal of time and psychic energy researching it on the internet.
I’m not worried about it. Mostly concerned and curious. And totally weirded out.
Types of TB
Basically, there are two types of TB: Latent TB and “TB Disease.” Latent is where you have the bacteria in your bloodstream, but none of the symptoms. It can go into full blown “TB disease” at any time. Latent TB has no symptoms, except for the positive blood test.
TB Disease is usually in the lungs, but the TB bacteria can attack any part of the body, including the kidney, spine, and brain. TB Disease was once the leading cause of death in the United States.
Latent TB can be in your body for years, with your immune system keeping it from multiplying. It’s especially dangerous for the elderly, babies, and those who have compromised immune systems such as those with HIV infection.
It’s incredibly infectious, so my main worry was infecting others, especially my 92 year old mom. My P.A. said not to worry; we would already have seen signs in her if she was infected. And that you can’t take back the time you spent with her. Would you really have avoided her for the past two years?
The Blood Test
The test I had (as best I can tell) was the Interferon-Gamma Release Assays blood test. It measures a person’s immunity to the Mycobcterium tuberculosis bacterial infection. It doesn’t identify whether a person has the Latent or the Disease version.
The big IF. If I have it. I want another test, since I’m not sure I trust the lab getting two positives in one day. Des Moines is not that big a city. Then we’ll see about treatment.
So let’s say I am positive, and the next test proves it. What are the symptoms of TB Disease (of the lungs)?
• A bad cough that lasts three weeks or longer
• Pain in the chest
• Coughing up blood or sputum
• Weakness or fatigue
• Weight loss
• No appetite
• Sweating at night
Okay, in the past two years, I’ve had the flu three times—or what I thought was the flu. Most recently, in mid November I had a nasty nasty chest cold/flu that took nearly a month to shake. So bad cough, maybe.
Pain in the chest? No
Coughing up blood or sputum? No
Weakness or fatigue? Other than being lazy and sometimes taking naps on Sunday afternoons, not really.
Weight loss or lack of appetite? Oh, please. I never met a meal I didn’t like.
Chills, fever, sweating at night? Nope.
So if I do have TB, I either have the latent kind, or one that is NOT in the lungs, which would have different symptoms.
My P.A.’s nurse made me an appointment with an infectious disease specialist in Des Moines. Turns out they clear their schedule for new patients too; a judicious choice. I should be getting in there shortly. Hopefully for another test before they start treating with some seriously heavy duty antibiotics.
Oh, and it turns out there are some antibiotic resistant strains of TB, too. Dang.
In the meantime, I’ll stay out of crowds. And not cough, laugh, sing or breathe my germs on anyone.
Aw….I always wanted to have someone say about me: “Her laughter is infectious.” But not quite that way. :)
Wish me luck. I’ll keep you posted with more adventures.
This was the most graceful thing I’ve seen on television. Not only his walk, but the fact that Nick, as part of his concentration, openly prayed to God as he traversed the canyon. It was beautiful.
Originally posted on YouViewed/Editorial:
” Florida aerialist Nik Wallenda’s successful tightrope walk took him a quarter mile over the Little Colorado River Gorge in northeastern Arizona on Sunday, near the Grand Canyon. He performed the stunt on a 2-inch-thick steel cable, 1,500 feet above a river, with no harness. The walk took just more than 22 minutes.”
Handle With Care
It’s the autumn of surprises with leaves
lying like frosting spread across the
birthday cake of YellowMan’s yard.
He’s a hypocrite, and he knows it.
At least he’s honest.
He lies in a hammock in the shade of red and yellow
and thinks of his little boxes of dirt: Texas ochre, black sand.
Would a museum take his dirt collection when he dies?
Should he donate his body to science?
He imagines an anatomy student cutting his sad corpse.
Maybe he should get a tattoo that says handle with care?
Maybe a sky burial, where the birds take his body away.
They would respect him.
Lavish his body with love while they ate.
Death and fall just seem to go together,
like DH Lawrence: wrestling and sex.
Two eggs—wreck ‘em.
Adam and Eve on a raft.
Superman hides behind a tree in the cemetery.
It’s not a surprise.
St. Paul is mine, saith YellowMan.
A good Jewish boy, sadly misunderstood.
Paul only wants to climb up through the hole in the sky.
He is a strange soul; and
wandering is still aberrant behavior.
YellowMan follows him with sticks and letters.
Hell is never a surprise, YellowMan tells him.
You’ll find hell if you’re looking for it,
like the cougar prowling the banks
of the NishnabotnaRiver finds the hunter.
Harvest moon shines full over YellowMan, over the rolling sea.
The rainbow, the moon through stained glass windows.
YellowMan has a dream: St. Paul tiptoes up his roof,
pokes his head through his bedroom window.
Neither is in the mood for fireworks.
Conjure this picture of fall:
harvest moon, fireworks.
Picnic with cougars and red Texas dirt.
Birds and river. YellowMan and DH Lawrence,
Superman and St. Paul eating egg sandwiches.
Say a prayer softly to the night god.
Call her Yahweh or Jesus, Buddha or Mohammed.
Call him Bacchus. Call him Quetzalcoatl. Whatever.
Pray that we all have a little tattoo that says:
Handle With Care. And that we all take it to heart.