my conflicting feelings over michael jackson

This post is not for those of you who are holding nightly vigils near Michael Jackson posters.

This post is for those of us who have conflicting feelings about the passing of Michael Jackson (henceforth referred to as MJ).

When I first heard about his sudden death and the flood of grief and shock, I was confused. After all, the MJ that everyone is grieving right now, the one who was an innovator in music and in dance, 'died' about 20 years ago. Within the last 20 years, MJ has turned into a caricature, a person haunted by both personal and external demons.

In the last 20 years, MJ

• had lightened his skin
• had one too many rhinoplasties
• had married and divorced Elvis' daughter (not before filming a creepy music video in which they both appear naked)
• was accused of child abuse countless times (at least one case was settled out of court)
• dangled his baby from a balcony
• went to trial for child abuse charges
• went to said trial in pajamas
• agreed to appear in a documentary about his life
• did not appear to be lucid in said documentary
• admitted to lying in bed with children (little boys specifically) and expressed how there was nothing wrong with that (in said documentary).

Although MJ was found not guilty of child abuse charges (for the record, OJ was found not guilty too), the court of public opinion had already condemned him (myself included). The documentary did nothing to change my mind about this, particularly his comment about sharing his bed with boys. I wonder, if MJ had a fondness for sharing his bed with little girls, would his fans still believe in his innocence? Would there have been a bigger public outrage? Would his fans have gotten over that pretty quickly just as they did with his alleged abuse of little boys? What is it about celebrities that we are so quick to forget their transgressions?

As you know, I see a lot of substance abuse and mental illness in my line of work and my opinion is that MJ is a classic case of both. I have no doubt that MJ was mentally ill. The longtime abuse from his money-grubbing father and an entire lifetime in the spotlight does not leave someone unscarred by the experience. If anything, I feel much sadness that MJ never got the help he truly needed, probably because the people he surrounded himself with only saw him as a meal ticket, rather than a human being crying out for help. Instead of getting real help, MJ self-medicated (I read somewhere that the only things that were in his stomach at the time of death were pills). And all of those around him probably noticed but decided to look away.

The Michael Jackson everyone is mourning now has long been gone. Celebrity friends are coming out of the woodwork, commenting about how troubled he was and how they knew it all could end this way. Well, then, so-called friends, where the f*ck were you all when he was down and out and looking to prescription drugs for help?

I do feel like an outsider (or even more of a minority than I usually feel) because I'm not crying over MJ's death while so many are. His sudden death does not surprise me. Yes, he was a musical innovator. He was a great singer and entertainer. But he was also a troubled person who sought comfort in drugs and the company of little boys.

Michael Jackson was a victim who victimized. I can't mourn someone who hurt others. But I can be sad because his cries for help were never answered.

an open letter to my fellow metrobus rider during cold and flu season

Dear Sick Man on the Bus,

You don't know me, but we met on Monday and now I can't get you off of my mind. There we were, sitting on the bus during evening rush hour. I was sitting directly in front of you. I could tell that you were sick and I felt really bad for you. Personally, I don't have the patience to be sick nor do I have the time to take off from work in order to nurse some wicked illness so I understood your situation and I empathized.

Perhaps you mistook my empathy as my being a willing recipient of your germs because during the duration of our bus ride together, without cause or provocation, you decided to sneeze on me. Not once, but twice. And both times, you neglected to keep your cooties to yourself by covering your mouth. Despite the earbuds playing loud music in my ear from my iPod, I distinctly heard the vociferous sneezes behind me. And because my hair was pulled back that day, I felt your spit on my neck.

After getting over the grossness that was your snot on my neck, you proceeded to sneeze again. This time, in true passive-aggressive fashion, I turned around and glared. Excuse you, Mr. Sick Man. Did your mom not teach you how to cover your mouth when you sneeze? Did you not realize that the snot you projected ended up on me? Did you ever stop to realize that your actions might infect others, making them as miserable and as sickly as you?

Well, guess what? I'm sick. Incidentally, it happened after I came across your snot. I'm no epidemiologist, but I've taken enough courses in epidemiology to know that you probably infected me with what you have. Thanks a lot, buddy.

So, what did I do? After cursing you repeatedly for infecting me, I stayed home for 3 days to keep from infecting others (nevermind the fact that I had a lot of work to do this week and certainly don't have the sick leave available to take 3 days off of work and I'm not allowed to work from home). Yeah, because I'm THAT considerate.

I really wish you had been that considerate of me.

Sincerely,
an OC girl who has chosen to keep her germs to herself

my baby is still sick, but not as sick as other people...

This little furball is still sick.

He is SO OVER being sick, as you can tell.

The baldness on his leg has increased in size since we took him to the vet two weeks ago and we're going back again tomorrow to get some more diagnostics done. Hopefully, we'll soon find out why my fur baby is missing fur.

The other day, I had the pleasure of meeting Capitol Hill 20210 for happy hour and she agreed to give little Nicky a look afterwards (she was sober, so it was ok). Without revealing too much, I trust her judgment as she has more animal health training than I do. So, she came over and had a look see (and play time with the kittehs) and told me not to worry. She also advised me to check out the interwebs for pictures of hotspots, since that is obviously what Nicky is suffering from.

Shortly after she left, I hit the Web running and did a google image search for hotspots. That didn't work as I'm not looking to see what the most popular clubs in the world look like. But doing a search for the medical term for hotspots (dermatitis, acute dermatitis, or acute moist dermatitis) led me to view some horrific images that have now been seared into my brain.

Like this one (AKA crusty butt)

Or this one (crusty peen)

Thankfully, Nicky appears to have an incredibly mild case compared to these people.

And I have CH 20210 to thank for scarring me for life. :)

sometimes, i wish i was making this stuff up

Here is my trip to California in a nutshell (a very, very large nutshell).

Day One (Wednesday).
I flew out of Dulles at 8 a.m. on Virgin America. It was my first time flying with them and I was impressed. I really liked the atmosphere on the plane and the seats in coach had a lot of room. Plus, we all had our own TVs at our seats, like JetBlue. Unfortunately, the satellite wasn’t working, so the only channel I could get was Fox. Boo.

The flight to SF is normally 5.5 hours. About two hours in, I was feeling incredibly uncomfortable in my seat. I was freezing cold and my body was achy. It wasn’t long before I realized that I was feverish. I put on my down jacket, asked for a blanket from the Virgin flight attendant and hoped that would help. Ummm…nope. Let me tell you how much it sucks to have a fever on a plane. It’s awful. It’s hell. So at the 5.5 hour mark, I was anxious to land. Except we weren’t. We were circling and circling for what felt like an eternity. Apparently, the folks at San Francisco Airport weren’t letting us land.

All of that circling led to one little problem—the plane I was on was starting to run out of gas. So, we headed over to San Jose Airport to get some gas and hang out on their run way until we were cleared to land at SFO. Still feeling feverish, I willed myself to sleep. When I woke up from my nap (feeling incredibly rested so it had to have been at least an hour), we were landing at SFO.

Day Two (Thursday, AKA my birthday)
I had a hard time getting up and an even harder time getting ready to go to my conference. My body was so incredibly achy and I had developed a cough. I really wasn’t feeling well, but I had to work so I forced myself to go.

I left the conference early because I really wasn’t feeling well. I thought maybe if I got some fresh air and tried to enjoy the day, maybe I could salvage my birthday. So my friend Kattie (who flew up to keep me company) and I headed into the city (Union Square) to do some shopping, my favorite pastime and usually the cure to all of my ills. Unfortunately, not today. I didn’t buy much (a pair of shoes, a necklace, and tank top) and I felt so miserable while going from store to store. But I wanted to enjoy my day, I really did. Finally, we left H&M and headed to dinner at a restaurant called Colibrio Mexican. OH MY GOD. The food was so good. And the dessert was even better. And the sangria helped me forget about my misery for a little bit. But then, once sober, it all came back.

Day Three
Right after the conference, I left for the airport for my flight to L.A. When my mom gets out of the car to hug me, I beg her, “Please make me feel better. Please.”

Day Four (Saturday, AKA, the day of my Cali birthday party)
I was determined to have a good time despite how horrible I felt. I learned that coughing up phlegm was making me feel better, albeit temporarily. Shortly before my friends showed up at my mom’s house for the festivities, I threw up phlegm in the bathroom. I thought I was done because I started feeling better.

While talking to my friends, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. The coughing came back. But I put on a smile and made the most of it. I had a great time with my friends. And then, little by little, they left. I rushed to the bathroom after the last person left and coughed and coughed and threw up some more phlegm (I know the difference between coughing up and throwing up and I managed to do both). This time, it came out red. Damn it. I told my mom and she said, “We’re going to the hospital. NOW.”

Day Five
At the crack of dawn on Sunday, I was in St. Joseph’s Hospital in Orange. Turns out I have pneumonia.

Day Six
Sleeeeeep. Mmmmm…

Day Seven
Back to DC (cough, cough, wheeze, wheeze).

Ok, blog peeps, I really want to post pictures and blog about the wildfires (many of which I saw) but it took all I had to write this post. I’m going to go back to sleep. G’nite.

if it ain't broke, don't fix it

I’ve never been this sick in my entire life. In the last year, I’ve called out sick from work more times than in the last 6 years combined (the previous 6 years were the Crap years and I called out sick maybe twice). Before this year, I rarely got sick. In fact, I was always the one taking care of other people who had gotten sick. Very early in my relationship with Jesse, he would get sick constantly. Only once did I get sick from him (no, it wasn’t bad enough for me to call out from work). So what did I do differently this year that I’ve never done before? What could’ve possibly compromised my immune system so much that I’m extremely vulnerable to even the common cold?

I have only one answer—the flu vaccine.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for vaccinations. Measles, mumps, typhoid, HPV, etc. None of those sound like fun. So why not just prevent them all together? Up until right before this year’s flu season, I had never gotten the flu shot. I didn’t really think that I needed it before as I don’t usually get very sick. This year, because I now work in an office setting in close quarters with other people in Cubeville, I decided that a flu shot would be a good idea. I don’t say this very often, but it turns out, I was wrong. The vaccine was a horrible idea. And I continue to suffer the consequences, even now, long after the cold season has passed.

Since I got the flu vaccine I have suffered from the following, bronchitis (which took 3 weeks for me to get over), laryngitis (on several occasions), colds (including the most recent bout, which caused me to miss two days of work this week), sinus infections galore, fevers, and general bodily aches and pains (usually concentrated in the head and throat areas). No, I suppose I haven’t gotten the flu. But I’ve come down with a myriad of other ailments that I don’t think I would’ve been susceptible to had I not gotten the flu vaccine.

Take example A: Jesse. As I previously mentioned, Jesse used to get sick all of the time in the first year of our relationship. Having worked in Cubeville while at his previous job, Jesse thought it was a good idea to get the flu vaccine. During our first year together, Jesse would suffer from a sore throat on a monthly basis. Usually, this sore throat would turn into something worse and made him miserable for about a week. Since the big flu vaccine shortage of 2005, Jesse has not gotten the flu shot. After the 2005 flu season, Jesse realized that he didn’t get as sick as he did the previous years. So in 2006, Jesse decided not to get the shot again. If it ain’t broke, why fix it? Jesse has stopped coming down with the random cold/sinus infection/sore throat that plagued him in years past.

Take example B: my sister. My sister is a resource teacher at an elementary school in the OC. She now teaches reading to small groups of kids who need extra attention. Before she got promoted, she taught in a classroom setting for many, many years. Every time one of her kids got sick, she would catch it and bring it home (and give it to my mom and me). My sister was sick all of the time. Now that she has been a resource teacher, she doesn’t have as much contact with a lot of kids. She also doesn’t really get sick anymore. Sure, she gets the occasional cold, but nothing that would leave her miserable for more than a couple of days (and she definitely doesn’t get as sick as she used to).

This year, my sister decided to get the flu shot for the first time. My mom’s doctor convinced my sis to get one when she took my mom to get hers (btw, my mom is old, hypertensive, and diabetic so she falls in that demographic of peeps who HAVE to get the vaccine). Since then, my sister has never been more sick in her life. In fact, when I talked to her yesterday and told her about my current illness, my sister said, “You too? I was so sick last week and I’m just now starting to get over it. I’m telling you, it’s that flu shot.”

So, now I’ve learned my lesson. No more flu shots ever again. And if you are an otherwise healthy adult (and not a sadomasochist), don’t get the flu shot.

For more info on why the flu shot doesn’t work, check this out.

you can’t get Strep from reading this blog!

Random thoughts during my self-imposed quarantine…

• The doctor lied to me. He prescribed something that was supposed to bring my voice back and it’s still not back. First he mocks me for my ‘yellow tonsils’ and then he gives me medicine that didn’t work. If it weren’t for the strong paid med he gave me for my sore throat, I might be more upset.

• I haven’t shaved in two days. As much as I hate shaving every day, I think I hate two day growth even more. Jesse probably agrees with me on this one.

• The marriage between Eminem and his wife for a second time, Kim Mathers, has ended…again. I guess this means he’s available again, ladies! Hurry before Kim snatches him up again (well, you know if little pasty homophobic guys are your cup of tea).

• As I sit here and watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season 4 on DVD, I realize that Riley was such a great boyfriend. Strong, sensitive, and pretty toned. It’s too bad he had to make nice with the vampires right after Buffy’s mother died in Season 5.

• Is anyone else upset that Lorelai married Christopher on the Gilmore Girls?

• The Guttmacher Institute has released a study showing that 95% of Americans engage in premarital sex. Sure this is straight out of the book of Duh. Do you think this will prove to the Religious Right that abstinence only education isn’t effective (even for adults)? Yeah, I’m not holding my breath either.

• The Capitol Christmas Tree is WAY better than the so-called National Christmas Tree on the Ellipse.

I love that it comes from a different state every year (Washington state this year).

• Only 5 days until Xmas and 3 days until Jesse and I celebrate Xmas with his family. And guess who I still haven’t bought Xmas presents for. Yes, Jesse’s family. I’ve been lucky enough to do all of my holiday shopping online so far. But it’s too late now. I’m going to have to venture out to the malls. Yuck. The malls at Christmas time. Could you think of a worse place to be?

• 4 days until the Christmas in Cali Tour ’06 begins. Sure, Cali’s going through a brief cold spell right now (mid to high 60s), but by Christmas it will be a perfect 72 degrees. Ah…there’s nothing like warm, sunny-ness on Christmas Day!

I think it’s nap time now…g’night!

my fortune cookie was WRONG!

I feel miserable. This is what I get for going to 4 parties this weekend when I should’ve been Christmas shopping. I am absolutely the worst person to be around when I’m sick. I turn into this whiny, needy, helpless mess (even more so than usual, I guess).

Usually, I’m the one who takes care of Jesse when he’s sick. Very early on in our relationship, we discovered that Jesse very rarely got me sick when he was. Which is good because my maternal instincts kick in every time Jesse gets sick. All I want to do is make him warm soup, make sure he takes his medicine, hold him in my arms and tell him that he’ll get better soon. And for the first time in our relationship, Jesse slipped on my caregiver hat.

I left work early yesterday with a sore throat. By the time I got home, I had a sinus headache. Nothing but pressure all around my forehead and along my temples. I felt like my eyes were going to pop out. My whole body ached as if I had run several marathons in one day. After making me soup, Jesse checked out the medicine cabinet for something that would help me. We had nothing for my symptoms. So off Jesse went to CVS to get me some Sudafed for what I thought was a sinus infection. By the time Jesse returned, I had lost my voice. What ever bug I caught was acting quickly. For a second I thought, Gee, I really hope it isn’t strep.

After making me tea, Jesse decided he wasn’t in the mood to cook something for dinner so we ordered Chinese. When it came, I tried hard to swallow my lo mein noodles but it hurt every time. In the middle of dinner, a friend of mine called and as I answered it, I realized the silliness of my actions. Ummm…hello, Lizzie. You don’t have a voice. Sana, the caller, could barely make out what I had to say. The call ended quickly for obvious reasons.

I couldn’t finish my lo mein but I still had room for a fortune cookie. I snapped it in two and pulled out my fortune. My fortune read, “Today is a good day.” WHAT? Clearly Mr. Fortune Cookie didn’t know what I was going through otherwise it wouldn’t have spewed such a venomous ‘fortune.’ Today is NOT a good day, stupid cookie. Any day spent with an achy body, an extra sore throat, laryngitis, and a pressure-filled head is not a good day.

I had the hardest time staying asleep. I kept waking up every 30 minutes. And when I suddenly got cold in the middle of the night (while under a thick blanket that usually makes me very hot), I knew what I was suffering from.

Going to the doctor this morning confirmed it. Hello, strep throat! When the doctor (not my usual primary care physician but someone else in the office) took a look at my tonsils, he actually said, “Ewww…well, they sure are yellow back there!” Hmmm…that’s professional, Doc. I’m sure you’ve seen more disgusting things than my yellow tonsils. But whatever. It wasn’t like I could offer a witty comeback. He could barely hear me as it is.

Getting my prescriptions filled at CVS during the lunch hour probably wasn’t the greatest idea if I wanted to be heard. When I asked for my prescriptions, the lady behind the counter actually handed me a pen and a paper to write what I had to say. How nice, I thought. That is until she told me (after getting my drugs), “I’ve never lost my voice before. I’ve always wanted to lose it so I would know what it’s like.” Knowing that it certainly isn’t fun being me right now, I whispered, “Trust me, it’s not fun.” Crazy lady. Who actually wants to lose their voice?

I feel so yucky. Maybe if I just sleep until tomorrow, it will all go away…