Month: November 2007 (Page 1 of 2)

Like home prices lately, you just know as soon as you buy anything electronic, its price will go down. Hence, I’ve been paralyzed for the past couple days scanning the net for a “better” deal on a new, grown-up camera. The risk in this game is that supply and demand is in play and unless you slept through day 1 of your Econ 101 class, you know that if supply gets exhausted, you’re screwed, or even worse, you’re forced to buy a Canon. Yeah, my old, badly repaired Canon can still take a nice shot, but its got limits I’d like exceed.

The object of my digital desire has been the Nikon D40, but my DDDS had prevented me from pulling the ecommerce trigger until this morning when I rang up:

• Nikon D40 6.1MP Digital SLR Camera Kit with 18-55mm f/3.5-5.6G ED II AF-S DX Zoom-Nikkor Lens
• Nikon 55-200mm f/4-5.6G ED IF AF-S DX VR Zoom Nikkor Lens
• Kingston 2 GB Elite Pro Secure Digital Memory Card

That’s a lot of digital photography for $611.00 and free shipping! Oh, and my pals at Amazon threw in a nice camera strap and a UV protection filter on the house! Yes, I did consider the D40x 10MP big brother, but my exhaustive research led me to conclude it’s not the size of your megapixel that matters, but the aperture of your lens, and the D40 is identical in that department to the more expensive D40x… At 6:58am I’m very happy with my deal, but buyer’s remorse is a side-effect of treating DDDS and I expect that could hit before lunch. Stay tuned.

Oh, and here’s one more reason I’ll never buy another Canon…

There was no “goooo mournee” like the previous hundreds of times I set off the alarm summoning her to the counter of my local Brite-Kleen. As I counted 5… 6… 7… to the end of my shirt pile, I looked up to see the spector of the follicle fiasco suppressing this poor woman’s usually friendly wall of sound.

Does a bad hair day affect you or do you simply give it a “whatever” and go on with your day?

The mudslinging will ebb slightly in 343 mornings as partisans shuttle the pandered pliable to the polls. Just after lunch, charges of voter fraud will churn and spin will be spun. Sadly, all it takes is one backward state (Al Gore, meet Florida) to screw the country for eight years and kill thousands forever.

Currently we have a field of 16 presidential candidates from the two major parties exhorting their appeal to the outer reaches of their respective parties. Speaking of outer reaches, a quiz assessing ones views on the issues aligns me with Mr. Spock himself, Dennis Kucinich. Maybe I really should move to France. I don’t agree with everything the man believes, just 65% of it and some of the Democratic front-runners are close behind. Still, I agree with Mr. Kucinich on these basics:

• Reject war as an instrument of foreign policy
• Cut the Pentagon budget to fund education, healthcare, diplomacy, alt-energy and rebuilding our national infrastructure
• WPA-type program for veterans and others will create jobs and rebuild America
• Healthcare access is a basic right in a democratic society
• Affirm intention to work with the world community
• Americans’ social consciousness should override cheap goods and exploitation of foreign workers
• Lead world to sustainable energy production
• A clean environment is not a luxury
• Raise CAFE standard from 27.5 mpg to 45
• Double our energy from renewable sources by 2010
• Public financing for elections
• Ban sale or transfer of semi-automatic guns

Where do you stand on the issues facing your country and your world?

Our medical odyssey with Kyle has been like a speed-dating contest with a line of doctors winding around the block waiting to connect or dispassionately go through the motions. The rapid round robin process produces rapid relativity and it becomes natural to compare experiences from one doctor to the next. Acute competence has usually been paired with sincere kindness, but there are exceptions…

Given that it’s Thanks, um, giving, today’s medical review will focus on two extraordinary women who are literally saving Kyle’s life. The two doctors, Madelena Martin and Christy Stine are a Metabolic Geneticist and Neurologist respectively at the UMass Medical Center in Worcester, MA.

Yeah, they order a great deal of bloodwork that terrifies my boy, but with it, they are getting at the source of Kyle’s maladies. Together these women are an amazing team and just love Kyle. On our first visit, they spent the large part of 3 1/2 hours with us during a scheduled 2 hour appointment. (Note to self: Never again bitch when doctors are running late…) Tests reveal Mr. Daley has elevated levels of homocystine in his system, but we haven’t yet nailed down why. A regimen of custom B6, B12 and Folic Acid supplements plus a compound labeled cystadane is prescribed to lower these dangerous levels. While Dr. Martin has focused on the metabolics, Dr. Stine is doing the uh, legwork on what she’s theorized as increasing spasticity in Kyle that is inhibiting his walking.

Yesterday during another consultation she legibly wrote a script for Baclofen to ease the spasticity and possibly improve Kyle’s urinary difficulties. Later, Kyle, his mom and I thanked this wonderful team for their work and compassion treating Kyle, then waited anxiously for the feared Phlebotomy. Oh, did I mention yesterday was Dr. Stine’s day off, but she came in to see Kyle? Yeah. Unbelievable. Even more so was when she came back into the room to help calm Kyle during the prickly procedure! What doctor does that? Well, one who Kyle might describe a “practically perfect.” Late last night, after a couple doses of Baclofen, I could see improvement. As Kyle sat on his bed, Megan appeared to say good night. “Get up and give your sister a hug and a kiss,” I requested. Kyle rose from his bed unaided and walked gingerly to his sister to lay one on her…

Put me down for thoroughly thankful.

I have six minutes to get upstairs for Countdown communion with Keith Olbermann. I’m juggling balls in my head representing deliverables and diagnoses and have nothing at all to write about. Oh, sure, an obligatory snide recap about the futility of NFL pretenders being shredded by the merciless Patriots is just filler in the void. I want to know the drugs will help and dance lessons remain a possibility. Do turkeys get nervous? Times up.

A look at the sports headlines tells how sad a world it has become:

• Federal grand jury indicts Barry Bonds – I stand by my disputed contention that hitting it on the screws 762 times off major league pitchers is quite a feat, but cheatin’ Barry’s going down.
• ‘Pacman’ Jones plea deal set in Vegas – This guy gives a bad name to a classic video game.
• Jeter, New York State in tax dispute – They’d never go after their golden boy if this wasn’t legit.

The news isn’t all bad:

• Dolphins welcome Williams back to team – Ricky has been banned for smoking weed, but if you’ve ever seen his “60 minutes’ interview, you know he’s no dummy. Now pay your child support, asshole.
• Bibles allowed in China Olympic village – Religious tolerance in China is a good sign even though their smog is going to be the story.
• A-Rod, Yanks discuss $275 million deal – 10 more years of regular season glory for “Mr. May.”

In other news… I watched the entire Democratic debate last night. If Hillary Clinton is elected president, it will be a remarkable achievement. Last night she was asked about “the gender card,” her comments regarding the “old boys club,” and incredulously whether she preferred diamonds or pearls! I believe it’s more a case of her being “Hillary Clinton” than of being a woman, but she is being held to a much higher standard than any of her peers… and prevailing. I wonder if Dick Cheney is in his secluded location planning the coup with Blackwater for when she wins a year from now?

For 20 minutes Saturday night he sat alone in the 8th row, center orchestra of 42nd Street’s New Amsterdam Theater. The young ushers were so kind and accommodating. He was wheeled up to the front doors at 6:30pm, 90 minutes before curtain. The wheelchair slalom began at 4:00 and paused for a couple hours at that finest of New York dining experiences, the Olive Garden in Times Square. What must my boy have been thinking as he sat solitary in that beautiful belle of a theater? Around 7:30 the surrounding seats began to fill with young and old and at 8:04 the curtain depicting “17 Cherry Hill Lane” slowly rose to reveal… an understudy as Bert! Yeah, Gavin Lee, who created the theater role in London had the night off. It didn’t matter. Kyle beamed brighter than the stage lights and held on tight; not to the string of his kite, but to his new parrot head umbrella. The magic lasted some 2:45 and not long after his favorite Nanny floated over his head into the darkness, we rolled back out into the streets of Gotham for the trip back up to 52nd. One hot pretzel stop later, we wheeled into the Novotel lobby bar for a nightcap. “That was the best show ever,” he said softly, flipping through his color program. “Yes it was, my boy. Yes it was.”

The glow of the non-struck Broadway musical was still warm Monday morning until moments after the wonderful Dr. Klauber* joked, “Not everyone gets to enjoy Urodynamic testing on their birthday.”

* Dr. George T. Klauber and his assistant Judy made a most unpleasant experience as warm and caring as it could be for our boy and I am most grateful.

Three nurses and two parents restrained the terrified young man as one breached the vein with the slenderest of needles. As the dark red flow slowly found its way to five clear tubes, all efforts were diversionary. Talk of new nieces and old movies now Broadway musicals barely misted over the hot, stinging trauma. Earlier in the day at yet another hospital, a noninvasive bladder ultrasound produced the same tears from fears.

Watching my son suffer on this day and every fucking day is hardening my heart. As I stared blankly down a hospital hallway waiting for the ER staff to make Kyle’s nightmare come true, I was tempted to ask my born-again ex-wife where her God was on this one. It’s an unfair question and I kept my mouth shut. As she stroked his hair, I knew she was suffering pain far worse than that of a pinprick.

I realize things could be far worse for Kyle and that his plight is dwarfed by the suffering of millions in this world from fate, greed, god, perversion, and selfishness. I’ve never heard a reasonable answer on why “God” allows it. Among all the the fucked up, backward thinking espoused by right-wing fundamentalists in this country is an opposition to stem-cell research that could help cure many diseases. Hmmm… A recent BBC article surmises America seems to be going through an Atheist “phase.” I hope it’s not a phase, but enlightenment to reality.

Historian Stephen Henry Roberts (1901-71) once said: “I contend that we are both atheists. I just believe in one fewer god than you do. When you understand why you dismiss all the other possible gods, you will understand why I dismiss yours.”

I’ll buy you the CD if you tell me what song this post title comes from. Hey, this is an honor system. No “Asking,” “Googling” or any other “ing” for the answer. You have to prove somehow you really know the song. And yeah, I’ll be the judge.

The view from one floor above 21 of the Venetian wasn’t spectacular, but its opulence was. Two levels. Three flat-screens. Down pillows. A corner couch. This four days in Vegas was the best conference I’ve ever attended, and I’m proud to say my company hosted it. Our customers were absolutely giddy. After a pretty low-key Sunday night poolside reception, Monday morning opened with a Blue Man Group bang that didn’t end until keynote Marcus Buckingham found the strength to sign his last book. Former Navy Commander Michael Abrashoff was the mid-conference speaker on Tuesday and he had some great ship to say about energizing a workforce; a direct hit for our HR-centric audience. Throwing an open-bar, live-band party at Tao was the social highlight of the conference, but as much fun as it was, alcohol really can bring out the worst in people. As one of the few people to “answer the bell” on Wednesday, sparse is the word that comes to mind to describe the attendance of employees and customers alike.

My personal highlight was toasting Madison with cigars with my pal Natira. There we were, chatting over martinis and a couple Davidoff’s when the Temptations walk out on stage… OK, they were a cover band, but a fun surprise and a motel memory.