Wednesday, September 11, 2013

Bugsy nine one one

     We finally got Bugsy home from the hospital at about 8:30 this evening. After three transfusions and I-don't-know-what-else, he’s feeling good. He's happy and so are his mom and dad.
     We still don’t know the cause of his blood problem—the feline leukemia test is still pending. (That disease is the likely culprit, I'm afraid.) Other tests have been problematical. I won’t go into the details.
     So we’ll see how it goes. At least for now, for this moment, all is well in the world of Bugsy and those who love him.
     Meow, baby.

We get a map—and a helicopter? 9-11, IVC style

Yes, a chopper, courtesy the Sheriff's Dept. I guess Glenn's pal Mike can still pull strings—er, wings.
     "Nothing says '9-11' like a helicopter landing on your campus." So said an unnamed source.
     150 spaces of parking lot 5 will be reserved for today's 9-11 hoopla.
     Administration sent us this graphic. "See, there." Lot 5 is in front of the PAC, I think.
     Why is this event scheduled for prime time? Just who is in charge around here?


     Good luck with parking, everybody. And, no, we're not being invaded from the sky—I guess. The source didn't explain why the chopper is landing here. Maybe it's the return of IVC "Hometown Hero" Mike Carona.
     Headline: "Roquemore's 'Pen Pal' to make a special surprise helicopter appearance for 9-11 Fest at IVC!"

"And now, via helicopter, straight from Federal Correctional Institution,
Englewood, Colorado, IVC Hometown Hero Mike Carona!"
With that, the 150 guests, still bitter from the parking snafu, stood up to cheer.
Yes, there were balloons, but they were black. Former SOCCCD trustee
Tom Fuentes, who remains dead, also made a brief appearance.
"Dear Heavenly Father," he said.

Some "rumer," eh?
MORE PHOTOS:

Students took great interest in the helicopter. Certain employees, however,
were told in advance to stay away from the thing.
Some students, seeing the various emergency vehicles, were concerned
that some sort of accident or incident had occurred. As usual, there was
a fair amount of confusion.
Those 150 parking spaces? Well, by 11:45, few had been taken for the 9-11 event.
Did anyone attend the ceremony? Was it poorly attended? Who showed?
A very lonely place, parking lot 5. Meanwhile, students and faculty (et al.) scrambled for parking.
Is anyone in charge at IVC?
From IVC's Facebook page

State Chancellor: Community college enrollments

     According to a “media advisory” from the State Chancellor’s Office, “California Community Colleges Chancellor Brice W. Harris will hold a teleconference [at 1 p.m.] to discuss fall enrollment numbers for most of the state’s 112 community colleges. Other community college leaders from across the state are expected to join Chancellor Harris on the call.”

Monday, September 9, 2013

Bugsy update

     Have nothing new to report about young Bugsy. Visited him at about 3:00 today—stayed with him for about an hour. Sweet kid. He was very nervous, responding to every sound in the damned place, including jet noise (the hospital is under the JW Airport flightpath). I got him to relax and sleep in my arms.
     Talked to a vet who explained that we still haven’t received results from the recent test. Later tonight, they’ll check his red blood cell count, and hopefully it will be up.
     More tomorrow.

     UPDATE (Tuesday): it's been a frustrating day. Played telephone tag with the doctor all day. Finally, I just went to the hospital to talk to the doctor, but she was unavailable. So I visited with Bugsy for an hour and a half. I got him to relax, sleep. That's about as good as it gets, I figure. No worries, Little Man. Just sleep.
     For Bugsy, these fine sessions are sandwiched, naturally, by journeys between his intensive care cage and the visiting room, a gauntlet guaranteed to induce fear and trembling in tiny creatures.
     Late tonight, I finally heard from the doctor, who rattled off complex points about inconclusive tests and offered some alarming and difficult mutterings about the Bugster's bone marrow failing completely to produce what it needs to produce. Maybe. Or maybe not.
     Somehow, the upshot of it all was the suggestion that, if his numbers remain stable tomorrow morning, he'll be sent home.
     Could this be?!
     Just now, a nurse called explaining again that, if, tomorrow, Bugsy's numbers remain stable (he's slipped down from 19 to 17, whatever that means, but never mind that), he'll be sent home in the morning.
     Whatever else is true, I do hope that happens. A hospital is no place for a sweet, tiny, hornless unicorn. Such creatures need to be home and free, even if their time is short.

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene

     Jim Gardner has a blog/column in the Lake Forest Patch. Today, he posted about Jolene Fuentes, Tom’s widow, and the odd circumstances surrounding a recent vote, taken among Lake Forest officials (the mayor and two city councilmembers) to place her on the Planning Commission vacated by Tim Hughes.
     Evidently, Jolene was less qualified than other candidates who didn't get the nod. (Sound familiar? See links below.)
     Gardner notes some other worrisome circumstances involving possible Brown Act violations and the influence of campaign contributors.
     Check it out:

The Fuentes Shock. Part 1. Collusion or Confusion (Lake Forest Patch)

See also:
• Maybe it’s Jolene - May 13, 2012
• "Unseemly" May meeting of the SOCCCD BOT: board will appoint Fuentes' replacement! - May 21, 2012
• Predictably, Mickadeit attacks the BOT - June 25, 2012
• Special "trustee replacement" board meeting, live and direct! (CONTROVERSY, WRIGHT GETS NOD) - June 25, 2012
• More misplaced righteous indignation (on behalf of Jolene Fuentes) - July 1, 2012

The Bugsy watch

Friday, after class, I visited my folks and found young Bugsy to be looking pretty unkempt. His eyes weren’t quite right. I announced, “I’m taking him to the vet.” "It's just the heat," said pop. (Typical; an old story.)

"Don't think so," I said. I called the vet's office and found that he was due anyway for a comprehensive check-up, and so I dropped him off for this hours-long process early Saturday morning.

By mid-morning, I got a call from the vet: he looks pretty anemic, she said. I agreed to some special testing.

An hour or so later I was told that I must move Bugsy to another hospital immediately so that he can get a blood transfusion: it turned out that his red blood count was down to 7 (it’s supposed to be 35 or so).

Did that. I was focused, man. Took no shit from nobody. Got there fast, ready to go.

It eventually became clear that Bugsy needed “whole blood,” and so I volunteered my pal Teddy the Cat for that job. Ran home, got ‘em, brought him to the expensive emergency place deep in Irvine. He was very good about the whole thing. "Sorry bud," I said. "But it's gotta be." Turned out he had the right blood type and so we got the green light.

Eventually, by the evening, Bugsy’s red blood count was up to 14, and the little guy felt much better. Annie and I visited him. He was just two or three cages down from young Teddy, that big, strapping, healthy guy, who meowed loudly as we entered the emergency care area. “Hey, Teddy, we’ll be with you in a minute!”

Took Teddy home. He was our hero. Got him special junk food.

On Sunday, we waited for results for the bone-marrow biopsy (I think that’s what it was). Meanwhile, we kept tabs on ‘im. My folks found their way to the hospital (good Lord) to visit their little Buster as I waited by the phone for some word from the vet (one of the specialists). It sounds as though my folks’ visit went very well.

Later, Annie and I visited the boy. Took off that damned Elizabethan collar to get at ‘im. He got normal and kinda OK pretty fast. Stayed with him nearly an hour. What a drag though. He was down to 3 or 4 pounds.

It was by then clear that his bone marrow wasn’t producing red blood cells, and that’s seriously bad. Is it feline leukemia? The test said no, but that could be wrong. Is it some more exotic condition? Don’t know. Was he poisoned—ate the wrong plants or got into my folks numerous medicines? Not likely.

This morning, after my first class, I talked to “the vet” (one of ‘em), who said Bugsy’s red blood count was up to 20, which was great news. If it stays up there, we’ll be able to take him home (probably). If not, he’ll get another transfusion. Can’t use Teddy for that but we’ll make arrangements if need be.

So we’re still waiting for the test results. Don’t know. But I’m more hopeful now than I’ve been since mid-Saturday. I think my folks are visiting Bugsy this morning. Hope so. Hope they get there. (You have no idea.)

Sheesh. Such an innocent little guy.

Good fucking grief.

Rebel Girl's Poetry Corner: "the work is hard"



Transcendentalism
- Lucia Perillo

The professor stabbed his chest with his hands curled like forks
before coughing up the question
that had dogged him since he first read Emerson:
Why am I “I”? Like musk oxen we hunkered
while his lecture drifted against us like snow.
If we could, we would have turned our backs into the wind.

I felt bad about his class’s being such a snoozefest, though peaceful too,
a quiet little interlude from everyone outside
rooting up the corpse of literature
for being too Caucasian. There was a simple answer
to my own question (how come no one loved me,
stomping on the pedals of my little bicycle):

I was insufferable. So, too, was Emerson I bet,
though I liked If the red slayer think he slays—
the professor drew a giant eyeball to depict the Over-soul.
Then he read a chapter from his own book:
naptime.
He didn’t care if our heads tipped forward on their stalks.

When spring came, he even threw us a picnic in his yard
where dogwood bloomed despire a few last
dirty bergs of snow. He was a wounded animal
being chased across the tundra by those wolves,
the postmodernists. At any moment
you expected to see blood come dripping through his clothes.

And I am I who never understood his question,
though he let me climb to take a seat
aboard the wooden scow he’d been building in the shade
of thirty-odd years. How I ever rowed it
from his yard, into my life—remains a mystery.
The work is hard because the eyeball’s heavy, riding in the bow.


*

Roy's obituary in LA Times and Register: "we were lucky to have you while we did"

  This ran in the Sunday December 24, 2023 edition of the Los Angeles Times and the Orange County Register : July 14, 1955 - November 20, 2...