First dream:

I believed a nuke had been detonated in the city, but I couldn't be sure. I thought it may have been a dirty bomb, or even just a fire bomb. I was taking care of a small warhead myself, shaped like a plumb, that sat in the back of my truck. I had also picked up supplies, knowing the apocalypse would come soon. I met with people that confirmed my suspicions. We went on surviving in a huge white compound. I think I remember having a greenhouse. I don't know what we did to purify the air, but I thought we had something for the water. I suggested we get a Geiger counter at some point, but I'm not sure if we did.

Other details I remember are that most of the dream was a very bright, sterile white, and at times the huge compound shrunk into my house. I was generally okay with surviving in the post-apocalypse, as I had expected it to come for some time. I was better at things than I thought I'd be. Having this dream made me consider 2012 a little more seriously. I think I want to buy a Geiger counter.

Segue dream:

In a children's library or bookstore where Nixon was reading to kids. He was kind of chubby, and a bit past middle-age. He was an alright guy. I'm not sure I was pleased with him, though. Apocalypse and all. This may have been where I read a book, or that may have been prior to the first dream recorded. I definitely read something. I might have recalled that reading in dreams was difficult, and tried to continue reading, but I don't know how that worked out.

Cat dream:

Went to Melissa's house on Valentine's Day. My mom helped me tie a rose around her tree. I said everyone should do this today, just like everyone on Halloween should show up with a severed hand. I saw the crow cat, shittily pictured above. (Note: there was a drawing in my notebook, but obviously not here. Sorry.) A black cat that was so clearly someone's familiar had a second head above its own, that resembled a crow's head but was a little pointier, like a pterodactyl's. I think it also got the wings of the crow. It stood on its hind legs, claws extended and a look of malice on its face. It had been observing me from the bottom of the hill.
Someone called from the house, pissed off that I was there. "He's milking the apples," she called. I ran over to hide behind another tree, but I eventually had to leave my cover and approach them.
I was told that Melissa's dad thought I was rude. My reaction was indignant. I wanted to "show that motherfucker what rude was." Inside the house, he was fixing a terrarium. He needed a particular wrench he liked. It was rather flimsy, as it was made of plastic mesh crocheted with a football team logo. I think it was the Steelers, but it might've been the Ravens. He successfully loosened the giant plastic bolt. I greeted a white cat on the hardwood floor in front of me. I held out my hands in the "gimme some skin" position, but the cat tried to climb me. So I just raised one hand to wave. Or maybe I wanted a high five. He raised a paw and said, "Hi!" I did not think this was strange. Instead I thought about my crappy cat-dog, and why he couldn't at least be useful like these cats.

I feel a bit like the old style jugglers with the spinning plates on sticks. You have to keep each one spinning and balanced. I like it, but I also have to pay attention to my energy level. grundoon and I have both inherited or learned the capacity to go beyond our energy level and then crash.

I'm worried about grundoon, of course. Chronic disease means "currently incurable". There is always hope that it will change and medicine is changing right now at a confusing and impressive rate. I looked at the causes of death in 1900 in the United States and tuberculosis was in the top ten. It isn't any more. As infectious diseases have dropped down the list because of sanitation and the CDC and medicines, more chronic diseases rise on the list. Now dementia is in the top ten for women, which was not true a few years ago. We all die from something, or else we'd have too many people and starve.

The real question with a chronic disease is whether it is progressive and whether it is lethal. Can the progression be slowed or stopped and does it shorten the person's lifespan? For example, Multiple sclerosis can be progressively disabling, but it does not usually shorten someone's lifespan. And the rate of progression is highly variable and there are medicines that slow the progression. Breast cancer really hasn't been a chronic disease until very recently. It used to either be cured, with steadily improving rates of cure, or be lethal. But now some people are living with it for years: a chronic disease. But in spite of treatment, Grundoon's cancer is progressing. This sucks and the treatment sucks. Then I worry about wertperch and my niece.

Kids: The IT and ET are doing well. The ET has applied to 8 colleges and is accepted in 3 so far. I've done my FAFSA. My accountant stated that because of the clinic start up last year, I am "perfectly postitioned to apply for student financial aid." That's a nice way of saying that my income last year was negative. How nice that there might be a positive side to that. The IT is in her sixth year of synchronized swim and in her first year of swim team. We are limiting meets to no more than two per month (or trying to). She did a swim-a-thon for synchro where she swam 3000 yards and has another one this Saturday. I swam laps this morning and am proud to say that I swam 1/6 of her distance.

Beau: He and the big black dog are moving in at the end of the month. He's redoing the upstairs bathroom to his satisfaction. I am kind of hoping it will be done by then, but told my brother outlaw that if it isn't, we'd be taking showers sometimes at his place. Happy Valentine's.

Father: Concert this Friday and Sunday with our joint chorus. His health is not good, he's down from 3 to 1 chorus, he makes it to half the rehearsals at best and he's wearing oxygen most of the time. He bought a treadmill at Christmas to try to help with his stamina. I hate cigarettes. He quit three years ago. He is monumentally tough for 2 packs a day of unfiltered camels for 55 years.

Clinic: Hopping. Broke even on paper for the first time in January, due to chronicled events, and our record is now ten clinic visits in one day. I'll max out at 12-16, which is really wussy for a primary care doctor, except that I want time to be thorough and passionately hate ten minute visits. I've averaged 16 daily for the last 14 years except I wasn't nurse/lab tech/entrepreneur and business owner, as well as room stocker. I should have a hat for each.

Politic: Last Saturday I went and met the Washington State PNHP people in Seattle. Three of the "Max Baucus Eight" were there. They were arrested and removed from the hearings when they demanded that single payer, a national health system for all, be discussed. This was before the present law regarding health insurance was passed. I want health care dollars to go to health care, not be skimmed by 1/3 for administrative costs and profit. Also two of the Oregon Mad as Hell Doctors were there. And it's back on the road this weekend. After the concert on Sunday, I'm going to head down to Eugene to hit the road. I'll be with the team for three days and then need to hurry back. I need to map quest Yachats back to home. Ergh. I don't love long distance driving.

Balance, balance, balance. Ok, also need to exercise, sleep, eat, clean the house, pay the bills, feed the cats, bunny, dog. I have three unfinished knitting projects. I really need to get rid of more stuff to make room for the Beau. Dog my cats and holy moly, Robin, my web-spinners need to be replenished.

For more information please press five and leave a message. I'll be hiding under the bed.

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