FifthLung.com

Dogs and Cats Living Together Since 1968

Month: March 2007 (page 1 of 2)

My Photo Essay is UP

The long-promised photo essay is done. Though I will probably be making a few tweaks here and there. I decided to make “retransplant timeline & photo essay” one of my header links. So you can just click on it above or here.

One other note. The comments function on my header links does not work. I’m hoping to work out the kinks on that and a couple other things when the updated version of K2 comes out. (K2 is the shell my blog uses to operate over the main blog program, WordPress.) So if you left comments before on the header links, I didn’t delete them, they’re still there. Hopefully they’ll be back soon!

New Blog Name

I have been neglecting my blog, I know. I have at least three transplant entries in the works (one is a long photo essay using Ted’s excellent pics). The other two are about what I fondly call El Chest Tubo Diablo and my Predator triple valve. I also have an entry nearly ready to go on Barack Obama (I’m officially on the bandwagon). Plus I’m feeling it’s time for me to weigh in on Iraq again and, needless to say, various other topics. I am now, after all, regrettably, an inveterate blogger.

But I’m also thinking of changing the name of the blog. I’m still on Retransplant Road, but “174days.com” is related to a book I may not write for ten years. So I feel like I need something a little more current. I like “elblizzardodiablo.com” but I’m not sure it’s right for Will 3.0.

So I’m throwing this out there for suggestions. Any good ideas for a new blog name/web address for me?

Brave New World

Arriving homeMy convalescence at Chez Mere continues to go well. (At right, my arrival from the hospital on Wednesday.) Yesterday, I went on my longest walk in about two years. My Mom and I did a circuit around my Capitol Hill ‘hood, going about six blocks over forty minutes. My legs felt it more than my lungs I think, much as was the case when I did my post-transplant walks in Congress Park nine years ago.

My television viewing schedule has carried over from the hospital. I start watching Channel 2’s morning show at 8am or so and from there it’s an easy fall into the Regis & Kelly show. Something soothing about morning television. Usually I shut off the TV then because if I don’t, some People’s Court descendant begins to take over my day and before you know it I’m watching Montel. I might watch the noon news but I try to keep the TV off until a solid 4-5:30pm stretch of Seinfeld episodes.

I have to comment on one TV ad I keep seeing, one for Progressive car insurance. This woman and her daughter were just in a minor accident. There is a nice Progressive agent helping the woman transfer her daughter to a replacement car. (Or maybe it’s a dealership employee acting at Progressive’s behest.) Along the way the woman specifically mentions that the daughter did not even wake up during the fender bender and the employee helps her safely ensconce the daughter in the replacement car. Yeah! Great customer service! But here’s my question, should we not be concerned that this kid has not been conscious since before the accident? If my kid is in the car when I have an accident, the first thing I’m doing is making sure he or she can wake up. [Update: I saw the ad again and here is the mother’s critical line: “We backed into a pole. She didn’t even wake up.”]

This lung transplant recovery has caused me a great deal of pain and suffering. I refer, of course, to the 56k modem here at Chez Mere. I would review the Progressive ad online to make sure I’m not missing something but the webnection is not great so my usual high standards of primary source research must regrettably suffer. My new idea is to torture Gitmo inmates by providing them access to a dreamload of anti-American websites but to put slow-loading ads all over the sites and make them browse with a 56k modem. This will break them, I assure you. It’s just crazy enough to work.

In the meantime, ’tis a brave new world in which I breathe, sweet elixir that is Oxygen. I love you Oxygen, dammit, and I don’t care who knows it!

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