One Day in the Life

Sometimes, promotional considerations make no sense at all. For example, I order Macintax, generally in concert with other people. They're used to this. (In fact, this year you get your first electronic filing free with Macintax, and then up to three more at $9.95 each. Clearly, they're used to the idea that three people will get together and purchase the program, rather than every one buying it themselves.

Hey cool. No problem.

This year, however, they've decided to bundle special bonuses with it, pushing online purchasing and the like. No problem again. I like free things.

The free things that came with it were a crappy greeting card making thing (just what I think of when I'm doing my taxes) and -- I swear I'm not making this up -- a Family Tree Maker program, for Genealogical Research.

I don't get it. I don't get it at all. A Willmaker program, sure. You might want to shoot yourself after you complete your taxes. But a Genealogy Program?

Needless to say, it's heaps of fun. I plugged in all the relatives I could remember, then talked to Mom and Dad and filled in gaps to the fifth generation, with only a couple of missing gaps. I learned I have some Wilde in me, which is cool. (I need to get a decent coat and ascot now.) I also learned I'm a descendent of the Long family, which if you've read Robert Heinlein means I'm going to live for centuries and that any day now people will be picking me up to have me rejuvenated. It'd be good timing, as the heart's having some trouble.

Genealogy is an addictive process. You want to know more and more -- kinships and cousins and the like -- so that you can fill in all the gaps possible. It's also possible that this would lead me to getting in touch with family members I don't normally speak much to, and that would be a nice thing.

The other thing, which people don't often remember, is that it's a square equation. Each generation back doubles, and so on and so on. Pretty soon you're drowning in relatives with really cool names. And they come fast -- I mean, I'm at the great great grandmother stage and that's Civil War era. Think how many ancestors predate the Revolution, or predate the Battle of Hastings for that matter.

An impossible problem. Sooner or later you're related to everyone on Earth. And that too is a good reason to plug these things into the Geneology. It's hard to imagine you'd be prejudiced when you saw the breadth of your ancestry.

There's also an issue of destiny involved. I mean, when you have that many ancestors all dropping their DNA down to you, Plinko style, you're given a false sense of importance. All of these people had to live that I might live. They live in me.

It's enough to give you a swelled head, until you realize every other person of your generation has just as many ancestors as you do. And sooner or later you have them in common.

And that gives the lie to pedigree. Oh, it's fun to be descended from someone famous -- but ultimately it's a tiny drop in a big sea, unless you're talking just going back two or three generations. Irrelevant, ultimately. The exceptions are the horrifically inbred monarchies of Europe -- and they've paid for that folly. George III proved that much, and there are days I think Charles footnotes it.

So after I recovered from the day (being easily winded means being easily tired out), I ended up chatting up the folks a long time on such subjects. And my sister. But that was opportunity, as Doctor George was calling to say hi and give me his opinions of the Echocardiogram.

George feels this didn't come on a month ago. He thinks it's more likely this has been developing for the past five years or more. What's finally happened is my kidneys have noticed the severely restricted bloodflow coming from my heart.

The kidneys are remarkable machines, you know. But they have the brains of... well, kidneys. When they see a loss of volume in the blood and body, they freak. It's their job. "Hey wait! We're dehydrating! Don't you understand! We're dehydrating!"

So, they tell the body to hold onto fluid. To hold onto salt. To do anything it has to do to get the volume back up. Except the heart can't pump out more than the trickle it's currently doing, so blood pressure goes up instead. And you bloat. Your ankles swell ridiculously. You feel like you're three times the size you really are.

And eventually, fluid backs into your lungs and congests you. You can't get air. Your heart pumps harder, trying to compensate, and it's already damaged. Fatigue overtakes you. Ultimately, even lying down fills your air passages with other crap.

The damage was done long ago, but your symptoms finally catch up with you. Like they did me in November. This is where we are now.

So. Drugs to drain that fluid out of you, confounding those damn kidneys. I need to -- no joke -- lost ten to twenty pounds of water, minimum. Permanently. Do you have any clue how large a container holds twenty pounds of water? Drugs to improve the function of the heart. Then, more drugs to thin the blood, to counteract the damage. And a few procedures that sound like interesting ways to go straight to Hell. Cardiac Catheterization. When they cut you in the groin, shove a tube through your entire torso to your heart, and flood it with die to check for blockages. A good technique, and George says it's no big deal and I believe him.

He also says that "the bad part," is not moving at all for six... straight... hours. So things will heal up right and you have no trouble. Yikes.

George thinks this is dealable. All of it. With aggressive therapy, weight loss and care, I should live a few more decades at least. I believe him.

Of course, weight loss has never been particularly successful for me in the past....

I also spoke to John Bankert last night, when I was still wiped from the afternoon's activities. I'm sure I sounded like a moron to him, and not very interactive. I'm sorry for that, as I like John a great deal. He and Frank are confirmed for this weekend, which will be very cool indeed.

A good night. A good time. And, I actually got some decent sleep. Phone the papers.

One of my favorite journal's, Kate's, has come back. And like others she's remarked on my condition.

I hope everyone out there reading this knows how much I care that you care. There have been times in my life I've felt very alone, but right now I know I'm surrounded by more people who really want the best for me than I could have imagined.

That caring takes many forms. The demonstrative. The undemonstrative. Third-hand reports of friends I haven't had much contact with in a while being concerned, and not knowing how to broach the subject. How amazingly connected we are, to our world and our friends.

I've also had some indication of how worried people are, especially in communication with each other. Well, Doctor George thinks I can beat this, gang -- and I'm going to try my damnedest.

Because while none of you think you have anything to wear for my funeral, how do you think I feel? Do you know how hard it is to get a decent suit in my size? Oy.....