The Summer of Illness Continues

Well, when last we spoke, I had just gotten my 3rd PICCline out, but was feeling like I had the flu or something. So I went back to the doctor just to be safe.

Now I have a 4th PICCline. I've had it for almost a month now, and that's after another week in the hospital. These infections have been cropping up pretty continuously, and it's partially because I have a brand-new bug to contend with: Mycobacteria abscessus, which actually moved in and set up shop while I was recovering from my brain abscess. So, I guess that's...ironic?

M. abscessus is pretty tough to treat, not because it's actually tough to treat, but because so few drugs actively kill it. I'm on a drug called Cefoxitin, which is in the same family as one of my Pseudomonas drugs, Cephtazadine. I'm also going on a new antibiotic pill. My diabetes came back (though it'll probably go away again) and I have a new inhalent to start. Luckily, it only takes three to four minutes to do, so...that ain't bad.

The bad news is that it takes potentially years to kill off all the M. abscessus, so after this PICCline has to be pulled, I'm getting a port, like cancer patients have. Yippee. So that's where I'm at. I haven't done any drawing, or writing, or really even game-playing. Well, that's not fair. I did but and am enjoying Bloodrayne: Betrayal for PSN because it's just so pretty, but it's ghoulishly difficult.

More substantial posts will come in time. Consider this lengthy summer my sick leave from the blog. LOL

Progress Report, and Art!

Look, kids! I'm not dead!

I got my third IV out on the 1st, started back on my normal med routine, and BAM, two weeks later and I'm already developing symptoms associated with another lung infection. I'm going into the doctor tomorrow. Hopefully it'll be nothing but a cold, but I just never know anymore. Follow me on Twitter (@zmiller1902) for updates.

But now is not the time for worry--now is the time for showing off horrible sketches! I'm again working on my "Life on Leather Wings" story. I've got a lot of the storyline worked out and the three main characters well-defined. This is a prelim sketch of one of them--Angol Fear (name taken shamelessly from the Soul Calibur IV character), one of Heaven's Vanguard. She and her squad of Angels is in charge of hunting and killing soul-harvesting Succubi. She is young and brash, but determined and gets the job done. She and Lily have a tenuous truce: Angol won't go after Lily as long as Lily continues harvesting souls that are already Inferno-bound. But the second Lily goes over that line, Angol's coming after her.

I'm having a difficult time imagining the armor for Heaven's Vanguard and Angol in particular. I want it to be imposing but breathable. I don't want Angol to have a helmet, either. But her silhouette is different from Lily (or Gwendolyn): Angol's widest point is just below hips, at the top of her thighs. She has short blonde hair and, of course, those big Angel wings. This is the only drawing I've done in the last month that I've considered good enough to keep, but I'm glad I'm getting back in the groove, slow though it may be.

Ignore the "LeBouf" scribble. I forgot to erase it, and I was trying to figure out if The Beef's name really meant "the beef." Turns out it doesn't--what a shame!

Now then. To lunch!

Seriously, a Month?!

Seriously, it's been over a month.

I never thought I’d make it to the point where I was blogging once a freaking month. Believe me, I’ve considered blogging in the last four weeks, but I was never really motivated to. There was no paleo story that got me revved up, no gaming news that made me sweat, and here’s the other thing: I haven’t really drawn anything in just as long. So we begin today with a consideration that When Pigs Fly Returns might close up shop soon. Maybe it’s the aftermath of the brain infection, but I am just NOT feeling the writing bug anymore. I assume you have to work at it; drawing, too, but right now there is nothing I’d rather do less than sit down and type out something about Stegosaurus. I spent two weeks—I’m not kidding—writing and re-writing my Wonder Woman figure review over at Dirty Little Figures.

It’s a struggle. My question is whether this disinterest in the creative process is a REAL aftereffect of the brain injury, or merely a temporary setback that will edge its way back into my cranium? I really hope it’s the latter.

Second thing I want to talk about today is my progress. I am off all abscess-specific medications now, though the medications I am on also treat any lingering residuals of the abscess infection. Remember back in March when I had that respiratory infection and ended up with a PICCline IV that only lasted two weeks? Then a few weeks later I was in the ICU with a different PICCline in my (other) arm and that lasted well over a month? Well, funny story: while I was recovering from the abscess, the respiratory infection actually came raging back, faster than before, and now I’m on a third PICCline (in the original arm) that we’re treating with the same antibiotics as we did in March. Hopefully this won’t last more than two weeks, although I’m kind of hoping for three—maybe we didn’t totally kill it off in March/April.

But I definitely needed a re-do. My appetite had fallen off a cliff, I was slowly losing weight, my energy level was just above “lazy sea lion,” and best of all, my lung function tests were declining every week. So getting another IV was certainly A Good Thing. Best of all, the first respiratory infection and the brain abscess made me meet my Out of Pocket Maximum, so assuming there are no insurance kerfuffles (of course there will be), this one is basically free!

So that’s where I’m at. Now I’m going to force myself back into drawing so that I start getting back into the creative groove. My focus? I’m going back to mythological pin-ups. Remember way back when I did the Silk Succubus? That’s the well I’m going back to. I’d had many others planned, including a Harpy, Gorgon, and Siren. I just have to re-learn how to draw…

Another Health Scare

If you scroll down the page a bit, you may recall that I had a PICC line IV in March and part of April to clear up a respiratory infection that'd been nagging me ever since SVP in Bristol. That lasted two weeks and really wasn't all bad.


But then something else happened!


But on May 16th, I developed a nasty headache...what you might call a migraine headache. I actually wasn't super-worried about it. When I was a teenager, I got migraines on an annual basis. The problem is this one wasn't going away. It lasted three days, and in fact the pain became so intense that the wife and I went to a clinic to get it checked out on day 2. They told me (at first) that it was a migraine and gave me some pills and sent me home to rest with the caveat that if it was still bothering me that night, I should go back for a re-check. Which I did. At that point, I was told I had a meio-facial headache. The doctor gave me a deep-tissue massage to my neck and scalp, and they pumped me full of fluids via IV (saying I was dehydrated, which would make the pain worse). Indeed, I felt a little better after that.


But that night? I couldn't sleep because the pain ratched up to about a 9. It felt like my brain was being stabbed every time my heart beat. We actually went back to the clinic the next morning and they forwarded us to the ER. At that point, I pretty much lost consciousness.

You all might have heard this story already if you've been following me on Twitter (@zmiller1902) or on Facebook, but a few of you readers probably aren't (you should!) so I'll go over the quick 'n' dirty version here. The ER doctors gave me a head CT scan which showed an abnormality, so they also did an MRI, which showed a blotch on my brain. Then they did a lumbar punction (spinal tap) which I'm super-happy not to have been awake for. My spinal fluid was cloudy--it should be clear--and that MRI made the neurosurgeon jump up and take notice. The man, Dr. Marshall Tolbert, was working on a gunshot victim but when he saw my test results he put that guy on ice and rolled me into the OR.


He installed a tube (maybe a "port") in my skull underneath my scalp. This tube could be used for three things: monitoring my endocranial pressure, draining spinal fluid, and (if need be) delivering antibiotics directly to my brain. I had a brain abscess, which basically means that some bacteria was sneezed onto my blood-brain barrier and slowly ate away at it until it was sitting directly on my brain. If any more time had passed before I got into the OR, there's a good chance the infection could have penetrated the brain tissue itself--and then I would've been royally screwed. A total-brain infection could have killed me or left me with lasting disabilities. Neither thing happened, so I'm extremely grateful to Dr. Tolbert and the nursing staff at Providence.


At any rate, I was pretty out of it for about two days. When I finally did get back to consciousness, I was lying in an ICU room with a tube in my head, a few temporary IV's in my arms, and lots of wires on my chest, monitoring my vitals. There was also a...uh...catheter in my down there parts. If I recall, that was taken out first. People came to visit me during those missing two days but I don't remember them. I don't remember my nurses from those two days, either. I guess my head was pretty messed up, too (superficially).


I spent seven days in the ICU, during which time they figured out that the bacteria to blame was simple Streptococcus, which lives in all of our mouths and sinuses. So my advice is to not sneeze! I was hooked up to another PICC IV and was given a powerful antibiotic called Miropenim, which attacked not just the Strep but also the Pseudomonis in my lungs. Unfortunately, it also killed my gut bacteria, so I became a raw sewage plant. Eventually my spinal fluid cleared up enough that Dr. Tolbert felt comfortable removing the tube, and at that point I was wheeled up to a lower-intensity ward. I went home two days later.


There are some lasting effects. I'm on a steroid to kep my brain from expanding. The steroid has been tough, especially at higher doses. It affects my mood and energy level, but I'm tapering off it now, and the one good side-effect is that it makes me hungry all the time. That's been great, because I lost 15 pounds at the hospital! It also really screwed up my body chemistry, so I had diabetes for about two weeks. I'm coming off that, too (insulin suuuucks). I lost a lot of leg muscle because you can't move in the ICU. It's still surprisingly hard to go down slopes and stairs. I feel like my knees give out more easily. I also haven't come off the PICC yet, and I probably won't until early July at the earliest. At least we change the antibiotic to simple penacillin, which doesn't kill my gut bacteria. Finally, I have a lot of scars and bruises that I'm unusually self-conscious about.


But I'm back at work and going to a lot of follow-up appointments to make sure I'm recovering at a good clip. It's strange to think I almost, or at least could have died in the hospital. This has certainly been a wild ride, but I'm getting back to normal now. Posting should resume before long! If I can find it, I have a small dog skull to show you all, and a whale vertebrae!

Velafrons coahuilensis & IV Status

My wife didn't make a color copy of this, but here it is! I draw this for a friend. It was between Velafrons and Coahuiluaceratops and the decision was made by asking her whether she liked Duckie or Sara more in "Land Before Time." I'm also starting a new paleo-artist internet meme:

"No Greg Paul skeletals were referenced for the production of this illustration."

Also, I had the I.V. taken out today. Only two weeks! I'm back to full power. I'll post a picture of my mangled arm later. It's actually not mangled at all. There's a large scab over the hole in my arm and that's about it. Whatever. Velafrons!

Do Not Adjust Your Internets

Yep, that's me, sportin' a brand-new I.V. After unsuccessfully fighting off a nasty respiratory infection with oral antibiotics for a year and a half, the doc said it's time to just kill it with chemotherapy-strength I.V. antibiotics. Today marks my first full week with my new friend. My arm is connected via medical tubing to a small rectangular pump which shoots me full of one kind of medication three times a day, and another kind of medication once a day. I assume I'll be on this for two full weeks, maybe three depending on how tolerant my arm is of having a tube in it. But I haven't missed any work and I'm definately improving, health-wise. So don't worry, kids, I won't be dead tomorrow. I should be posting some Xenopermian stuff later tonight or tomorrow. Hovasaur vs. baby Walrodont = CARNAGE!

I Didn't Get an I.V. Yesterday

And I'm very happy about it.

The last few months saw a flare-up from the normal bugs in my lungs, and at my last doctor's appointment, my PFT's were down 7% since...well, October of 2008. My doctor prescribed Ciprofloxin, which doesn't always work on my bugs, with the understanding that if I didn't recover within 10 days, it was time for an I.V. I wasn't super-excited about that possibility, but I wouldn't be surprised either, since I haven't had a "tune-up" in seven years. Anyway, the Cipro seems to have knocked out whatever was causing a ruckus. He gave me another week of Cipro and there will be a recheck on my birthday, because my doctor is very paranoid. Better safe than sorry, I suppose. He also wants me to gain some weight, which is understandable. I'm below 170 right now, so I'll be eating like a pig for the next week.

I never talk about CF on the blog, but this was exciting. We now return you to your regularly-scheduled paleo/art/gaming blog...

Why I don't blog about Cystic Fibrosis

Some of my readers might not even be aware that I have cystic fibrosis. I've only blogged about it once and I have virtually no motivation to write any more about it. Even when an interesting PLoS Biology paper released in July trumpeting a potential cure for mucus buildup in the lungs of CF patients, I didn't really bat an eye. Some of my readers might be curious as to why.

Truth is, I do my meds every day and cough and wheeze sometimes, but CF doesn't give me much trouble. I may be blessed with a minor case of the disease. I've known plenty of patients worse off than me at earlier ages who were stricter about their medications than I am, and they got sicker quicker and most of them died. Honestly, I do a pretty crappy job of keeping myself healthy: I don't always do my Albuterol before my Pulmozime and Tobi, I almost never do the Flutter, and there are meals where I simply space out and forget to take my pancreatic enzymes. Part of this is apathy, plain 'n' simple, but part of it is that I know I can get away with it. I feel like my CF has leveled off somewhat. My lung functions are good enough that my doctor doesn't even question me not doing the Flutter.

But I do wonder sometimes. If I did do the Flutter every day, and I did do Albuterol before my morning routine, would my lung functions improve? There's never a day where the CF makes me feel crappy. I can take long walks, hike up mountains with my wife, and hit the gym with my friends. I never feel out of breath because of the CF, and if I do, it's because I'm really out of shape. Because of that, I'm not terribly motivated to increase my level of commitment to more meds and therapies. But then in the back of my head right now, my doctor is giving me that old mantra: "the goal is to keep your lung functions high for as long as possible." And it's true, there are certain low points that CF patients can't come back from. Once you lose a certain amount of lung capacity, you can't recover all the way anymore.

But I don't talk about it on the blog. Part of it is that I don't percieve it as interesting (it certainly doesn't interest me), but I also don't want to come off as whiny or self-centered (more than I do already). I equate yapping about my terminal illness with goth kids reading their weepy poetry to people. Now, if something I think is AWESOME (or really terrible) happens, like getting an I.V. or starting an experimental drug, you'll probably hear about it. But I'm not going to be giving updates. I won't let ya'll know what my latest FEV-1 rate is because it's not interesting. Same situation with my back. Getting a cortisone injection is wierd and cool, and like Glendon and Sean commented, it provides information to other people who might get that procedure in the future. It's informative.

I'm just not that CF Guy, and I can't do the subject justice. There are plenty of other people who can, though, like Ronnie Sharpe. And he does, often, and in a very engaging way. Check his blog out, seriously. He's a cool cat.

As for me, I'd rather drone on and on about dinosaurs and video games. If you readers out there in Readerland have any questions, leave them in the comments and I'll answer them as best I can.

Reforming Health Care is Pretty Simple

Every day on the radio, on the news, on the Daily Show, I hear about how President Obama is trying to renovate the health care system. You hear all sorts of scary words thrown around: Socialism, "death panels" (thanks, Sarah!), public plans, 60% taxation, etc. None of this would even be necessary if people in Congress would stand up to the private insurance companies and tell them to get their act together. We don't need regulated health care, we need regulated health insurance companies. The health care system in this country is broken because of insurance companies, who don't want to pay two dimes for your specialized perscription, especially if it's only doled out by a non-preferred provider.

That's one of my favorite terms in all of private health care. It's not my preferred provider (Providence hopsital); it's theirs (Alaska Regional hospital). One of those providers knows what CF is--in fact, they have a clinic. The other one doesn't. In fact, every time they see "CF culture" on my sputum labs, they actually send the sample to Providence. That's a rant for another day, though. My preferred mail-order pharmacy is CF Services Pharmacy (wonder why?), but if I order my specialized meds through CFSP, my insurance won't cover it because it's not their preferred mail-order pharmacy, which constantly gets my orders wrong or lose my prescriptions. If you have cystic fibrosis, Medco is not your best bet, kids.

So we don't need a public plan, and I don't really want one. My taxes would go up, and I wouldn't mind that if the public plan were only for people who tried to be healthy, but inevitably, the public plan would go to boozehounds and crack junkies who can't afford private insurance, and I don't want to pay one dime of my money to help them with their horrible life choices. Nobody who already has insurance through their employer is going to switch, because no matter how bad their plan is, it's cheaper (through their employer) than paying for it themself.

A public plan is not the answer. Our representatives in Washington need to come down hard on the policies of private insurance companies. Regulate them if need be, but get those f*ckers to play ball.

How I Spent My Friday

For those of you who haven't been reading this blog since its original inception (before the word "Returns" was tacked on), a little history: I have degenerative disk disease (and CF!). About seven years ago, my L5-S1 disk collapsed, and since then two more have collapsed.


Okay: science lesson time. Your vertebrae don't just sit on top of each other. They are cushioned by intervertebral disks--think of them as tough jelly donughts. The interior portion of the disk is called the nucleus pulposus and the thick outer layer is the annulus pulposus. Surrounding the disk is a layer of fatty tissue which my doctor calls dura matter. When you get a herniated disk, it's like squashing a jelly donught: the outer shell breaks, and some jelly squirts out. Every time you fall on your ass or hit a bump on a bike or slip on the ice, the force of that accident is absorbed by, basically, the annulus pulposus, which eventually cracks and breaks. In my case, the annulus pulposus broke real good, and gooey nucleus pulposus flowed out.

That's not so bad, right? Well, look at where the nucleus pulposus goes: right up against the spinal cord and/or nerve root. It's the latter in my case, which causes me pain down my right side (pelvis and lower). I have to be very careful not to further aggrevate the injury because the more jelly leaks out, the more pain I'm in. Well, I was sitting in my chair one day and coughed and BAM--that's all it took. Something slipped a little farther, and I was on the floor. My back doctor recommended a cortisone injection, which I'd never gotten before. He scheduled it for last Friday and that was basically the end of the discussion!

The procedure involves sticking a giant needle directly into the dura matter surrounding the disk and injecting a bunch of steroids in crystaline form that degrade over a 6-month period and, ideally, shrink up the disk and ease pressure off the nerve root. The doctor who actually performed the procedure was hopeful that the shrinking would "stick," effectively curing my L5-S1 herniation, though for how long nobody knows. I sure as hell need to stop lifting heavy things.

It's an interesting experience. The doctor numbed up my back with an injected agent (oh the brief, but intense burning!), then took a CAT scan of the target area. Using that CAT scan as a guide, he stuck a long needle into my back (couldn't feel anything except pressure), then took a CAT scan, then renegotiated the needle's trajectory, then another CAT scan...ad nauseum. The whole time, I was just waiting for that needle to hit a nerve root (I'm a worrier) but nothing like that happened. The procedure was over before I knew it, and the only real discomfort was when the steroids were being pumped in, because it felt like my pelvis was being filled with something (it quickly dispursed). Then out came the needle and I was on my feet. Interestingly, when he got really close to the nerve root (necessarily), the areas where I normally experience pain felt tingley.

Side effects included ever so slight weakness in my feet, but I was otherwise fine. Walked out the door and went home. I even mowed the lawn even though I wasn't supposed to, and spent almost two hours hanging skulls on a cafe wall even though I probably wasn't supposed to. The pain gradually decreased over the weekend to the point where I'm fit as a fiddle today. Normally I'd be squirming in my chair right now but I'm in NO pain at all, which is kickass. It's hard to get used to--I keep feeling like I should be in pain, but I'm not.

Oh, the Burning!

Read this post and watch the videos. No, don't turn them off. Sit through that shit. Soak it in. Now, remember when I asked why people believe crap like this? Today I have a new question: Why does the media give quacks like this a voice? Why do they get ANY time in the spotlight? I'm all for freedom of speech, but when that freedom of speech actually misinforms the public and potentially causes harm, isn't it like screaming "FIRE" in a crowded theater?

Also: Sorry it's been slow lately. I'm working on three big ol' posts for The Boneyard. The art is taking awhile.

Rationality: 1, Kooks: 0

Yahoo! Our justice system steps up against idiocy. My faith in humanity has been (slightly) restored.

More Medical Quackery

I didn't have the energy to find these links before, when I was talking about idiots who treat their kids with homeopathy and/or prayer, but I've since run across them.

Prayer does not cure diabetes, Part the First.
Prayer does not cure diabetes, Part the Second.
Herbs and ionized water probably aren't going to help with cancer.
Here's the proof.

If you read some of those links, you'll notice that in many cases the parents are being strung up on criminal charges, which I support entirely. The child's rights are being quashed by the religious/nutjob beliefs of the parents, who are voluntarily sending their spawn to an early grave. On the one hand, this does get rid of idiots from the gene pool (parents die and they killed their offspring already), but on the other hand, I really hate these people. My desire to see justice done outweighs my apathy towards the death of morons.

So again I ask: what drives people to such incredible acts of cognative dissonance? When your daughter is days from death's door, what moves you to email your friends and ask for "emergency prayers?" Because prayer worked so well until that point! A few emergency prayers will do the trick! ACK!

*storms out of the room*

As a brief aside, here's a great Discover magazine story about those moronic anti-vaccine activists and why, even after all their claims have been discredited, they still parade their cause.

ANGRY POSTSCRIPT: Look, just because your fringe, nutcase belief is not supported by science or, perhaps, the public in general, does not mean that there's a gigantic conspiracy going on to subdue said belief. Life is not the The X-Files. Here's how science works: If you don't have a falsifiable theory to support your claim, you MUST defer to the theory that DOES have the evidence, at least until you can present actual evidence to your claim. This is a principle I really want to hit the BAND members over the head with (among other groups). If you can't show me a basal crurotarian or archosaur who shares multiple non-convergent synapamorphies with birds that are not plesiomorphies, shut the fuck up and move on. Merely trying to poke holes in established theories is NOT science. You have to come up with a falsifiable alternative yourself, too. If all available evidence shows that vaccines do NOT cause autism, get the fuck over it and move on with your life. Why is it so difficult for people to accept falsifiability? ARGH!

*storms out of room again*

Get Well Soon, Jeff!

Looks like the embargo has been lifted. Jeff, the Blue Collar Scientist, has been diagnosed with liver cancer. Luckily, his chances are pretty good, as his lifestyle in no way suggests the potential for cancer. In fact, it's a mystery as to how Jeff developed such a malady. Click on over and wish the man well. He'll be at a Washington liver cancer treatment center getting the best liver cancer treatment available, so cross your fingers!

Now I Know How Opthalmosaurus Must've Felt

I went to the eye doctor today to get a checkup and new glasses. We found out that I'd developed a slight stigmatism, but my new lenses will correct that. More importantly, I got eyedrops which dialate the pupils for the first time. It's crazy, dude. My near-vision is ruined, and when I'm outside it's like I'm constantly looking directly into the sun. Even though it's overcast. My eyes are just being flooded with light, forcing me to squint.