Daily Archives: August 7, 2014

Much ado about Ebola

Hi readers.  Thanks for coming by for a read.

Probably the Synthetic Crisis Manufacturing Center is going to have to find some new plague scare organism after the current Ebola crisis loses steam.  The bug has just been around too long waving the bloody flag.  I recall as early as 1992 Ebola was being talked about as potentially scary.  Same year as hantavirus in northern New Mexico offered itself up to the scare bidness.

Problem is that humanity knows what a bullgoose badass honest to goodness epidemic looks like.  1918 influenza filled the bill and gave a burst of financial health to the cemetery plot bidness.  Black plague walked across Europe enough times to burn itself firmly into the memory of everyone since.

Anthrax.  HIV.  Malaria, Yellow Fever, Cholera.  Equine encephalitis.  Rabies.  Heartworms on dogs.  We 21st Century types who own televisions know all about epidemics and epizootic.  So naturally not just any yawn in the virus family can keep our attention and adrenalin levels up.

At first glance Ebola looked good.  Fairly long incubation period, high kill rate, the victim probably throws off the virus a considerable while before showing symptions sometimes.  In ’92  Ebola could stand on its own hind legs as a worthy source of wide-eyed shivering hugging ourselves look-under-the-bed fear.

And you have to admit it’s held up fairly well over the years without actually killing many people or spreading much.  This time it’s fewer than 2000 people contracted it, less than half of them dead.  Heck, I’m betting there were more people than that chopped to death with machetes last week in Africa.  Certainly more killed in Gaza, Syria, plenty of other places as bystanders in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Not to say Ebola won’t someday get loose and kill a respectable portion of humanity. It might.  But as a means to fill in for something to be scared of between meteors striking the earth and all the ice on the planet melting it needs to do a bit of outreach.  Work a bit harder and explore new locations.

Public relations and a good resume can only carry on so long before something has to be produced.  And Ebola’s beginning to appear to be all hat and no cattle.

Old Jules

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Graduation March

Hi readers.  Monday after Physical Therapy they stood me in front of a Happy Graduation banner, gave me a diploma and card signed by all the nurse-ladies, put a mortarboard hat on me and took a picure.  Then they played Graduation March and I went around the room shaking hands while all the old codgers on machines cheered and waved on their various machines.

So the VA paid-for session of my return to physical perfection is done.

I’ve paid for another month use of the Olathe Community Center machines because I’m not 17 years old again yet.

Some of the guys who’ve been using the medical center facility a long time who’d been through similar cardiac situations to mine said they kept improving a while after the first physical therapy, is the reason I’m still hopeful it’s going to improve more despite congestive heart failure.  But they also said, every one I discussed it with, that there’s a plateau that comes somewhere afterward, and things don’t get better from then on.  It becomes a matter of maintaining, holding what you’ve got.

So I’m hoping the plateau for me will involve an ejection factor a bit higher than the 10-15% the VA and private cardiologists measured before therapy.  I need to be able to go out in the world and climb over fences, trespass onto forbidden places.  I need to be able to walk down to the grocery store somewhere and back with a bag of groceries inside each arm.

Or at least I need to be able to walk around the streets somewhere pusing a shopping cart with my belongings in it without tiring myself out too terribly.  Some things in life a person just hates to give up the prospects for.

But phase one is done.  Sorry if you didn’t get your invitation but graduation was never a sure thing.  Even during the final weeks, even the next-to-the-last session the fast six minute measured distance walk took the wind out of my sails.

I’m going to miss all those old guys.  Especially the ones doing post-graduate work hanging around because they didn’t have a courthouse square to hang around in playing dominoes and spitting tobacco.  They’re paying a dear price to go there and can’t even spit.

Old Jules