Friday, October 27, 2006

blogger beta bites

I have used Opera for, jeez, seems like it must be going on 10 years now. In the past few years, this upstart browser, Firefox, has come along. It's OK, but it ain't Opera. Opera is great. I don't have to find and download some fool extension to do what I want to do. I download the newest version of Opera, arrange the toolbar like I want it, and presto! I can resize, view without images, rewind something I viewed 32 links ago in one click, open up links in real tabs every single time without ever accidently opening up a new goddamn window--yes, Opera does everything I want, while Firefox only imitates everything I want.

That said, it isn't Firefox that pisses me off, just like Jesus doesn't piss me off. It's the fan club. It's the blasted determination that everyone will think and act and love and worship your own personal savior. And Google seems to have elected itself pope of the Firefox religion.

Though I started my blog using Opera, I can no longer access Blogger using Opera. I am right now using IE. I only use IE when I have to access badly designed sites. No, Blogger, I am not going to download and use Firefox. It acts enough like Opera that it just pisses me off when it doesn't perform as well. And I am not going to have 3 browsers loaded just because the fan clubs of 2 of them are run by evangelists.

So, I'll see if I can migrate this blog back to regular old fashioned Blogger, or publish it somewhere else all together. I know it isn't like anyone actually reads this blog, but on the off chance that some frustrated fellow Opera user stumbles across this, hey, I want them to know that they aren't alone. And that Blogger Beta does indeed bite.

Thursday, October 26, 2006


When the doctor first suggested that M.D. had Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, the internet was still in its infancy. From the little I could gather, we needed to determine what type of EDS she had, and whether her vascular system was involved. And that she should be seen by a geneticist.

Now, I don't really know if the specialist we were sent to was actually a geneticist. His shingle read "endocrinologist," which I always thought was a whole 'nother specialty. But what did I know of the wacky ways of medicine? So, in the door we went. After not too long a time in a very unpleasant waiting room, we finally were ushered in to see the doctor.

He was not a particularly inspiring sight nor did he act as if he had any interest at all in M.D. The first thing out of his mouth was "Why are you here?" When I explained that we were looking for an opinion about what sort of EDS M.D. might have, or if she had it, he said "She's not an FLK" and left.

I was aghast. An FLK? Even then, I knew what that meant...a funny looking kid. The guy was into freak shows. I guess we were lucky, seeing as he was a jackass, that he didn't ask M.D. to do the standard EDS sideshow tricks.

But it was, for us, a completely useless medical trip. We were trying to get some advice about her pain, her mobility problems, what was safe and what was dangerous for her to do. Whether this might kill her. And all we got was an unwanted window into the bigotry of someone who styled himself a doctor.

Wednesday, October 25, 2006

Have a spinal chord injury? Need an insult?

Prashant Nair, author of Spinal Injury: So Many Ways to Strike a Chord at the Science Creative Quarterly is very concerned about your sad, pathetic "mere vegetable existence." I don't see how to comment at SCQ, but we can at least talk about him behind his back.

Sunday, October 22, 2006


Eeeeee! I had my first successful bid on an eBay item just now. I wonder how long before I actually receive it.

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

fairy dusted

This particular story takes place at the ren fair this past weekend. Saturday had pleasant weather, but it turned out to be too hot for my daughter, who tends not to sweat and was in garb. She began displaying signs of confusion and irritation, but was determined to charge onward all the same. Which, unsurprising to me, led directly to a seizure.

Now, I am used to these events and know that, as long as she is still breathing, that there is nothing to do but wait it out. Most people simply passed by, not ever noticing the young woman prone in the dirt. A few came up, asking if they should call for assistance. This is the norm. My role in all this is to simply assure others that she isn't dead or about to die, and to make the entire situation look as unremarkable as possible.

After a good 15 minutes, she finally regained consciousness and began slowly scolding me, as usual, for not having done an adequate job of both being right there and leaving her alone. She's my child, so I expect this too.

While we engaged in our ritual of mother/daughter dynamics, and I was thinking that I no longer had to be on the lookout for people bothering her, a foot suddenly comes down on her diaphragm. Attached to that foot was a woman in a fairy costume. After a shocked split second, M.D. pushes the fairy off and chokes out: "I'm not part of the performance" while I holler "She's just coming out of a seizure. Get off her!" A different fairy inquires if she should go get help, but personal-space invader fairy just stands there gob-smacked.

We expect people to stare, to inquire, to want to try out their Red Cross skills. We expect them to just walk by quickly, pretending there is nothing out of the ordinary happening at all. But we never expected that anyone would decide that someone who has fallen to the ground makes a great prop.