Some people should not be taken to an anime convention!

Srsly.

We attended MTAC this past weekend. We sold t-shirts as is our wont, and sold them we did. Some 600 people are wearing our Aardvark-ey goodness. I will share some of my thoughts in my next entry as I promised. This is parenthetical.

David Goodman attended the con, displayed some of his art, and sketched like crazy. He kind of sucked in the culture. He and his sweet wife invited us to their home for dinner Friday night, and were excellent hosts. Their three children were energetic and well-behaved, a difficult balance to strike, but they did so, and well. They were put to bed around 8:00 PM (I mean, who puts kids to bed at 8? It was refreshing, and hearkened back to a simpler time.) We sat and talked after a deee-LISH dinner of vegetable lasagna and salad. Rachel roasted some chicken and baked a potato for the Dread Dormomoo, who cannot tolerate wheat in her diet. It was such a lovely effort, done with grace, and very yummy according to my wife. We sat in the living room after, with cool air wafting through the screens, and talked, and laughed. The conversation moved from the sublime to the insane, with bad movie remembrances interspersed. David even sang for us. We had a wonderful time! Thanks and blessings to the Goodman clan.

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Well, today was the day. I went to the doctors running the drug trials, and was given news and more. Dr. N. sat me down and let me know I was in the study. All the other stuff was preliminary to determine my suitability. I am in for seventeen months. It is already paying off, as Dr. N. gave me some intel. My BP is high (need a different prescription). My cholesterol and triglycerides are high, though not massively so. My blood sugar is on the high side, so I need to watch that. Here's the funny one: all my years as a rich young Republican (pause to chuckle) have paid off, because my uric acid levels are high.
That's right, friends, your Aardvark joins Benjamin Franklin, and his own grandfather in having gout. (God be praised, no symptoms have presented, and again, diet is key. In full-blown gout, uric acid crystals form in the joints, especially the feet. The crystals are long and needle-like, and cause intense discomfort) So back off the pork, and as much red meat. It's looking like a Mediterranean diet is going to be a winner overall.
I was surprised when Dr. N. brought two loaded syringes into my room. Today was the day. I got two shots of Man-No-More in my bum. (I jest, the treatment is not that drastic...it lowers testosterone production, not halts it.)

I have experienced a bit of light-headedness, and extreme lassitude, though that may just be convention lag. I received VERY happy news, in that my PSA level was a one. One to four is normal. My issue is BPH, not prostate cancer. The Aardvark does a happy dance.

I was gifted with a nifty gadget: a digital pedometer. It was presented as a thank you for participating, but I suspect it is a gentle nudge for me to try to look more like a burglar than a grocer. They want teh Aardvark hotness to come out.

The Aardvark feels the love.

On with the show


OK, you win. I shall share the harrowing tale of the Aardvark as guinea pig.
(Does anyone know the Japanese word for "aardvark"?)

The clinical trial investigates the efficacy of a drug that is currently on the market as an agent to fight certain cancers in women. Its mechanism inhibits hormone production.
The idea is to see if this will work in men, resulting in the reduction of prostate size in cases of benign prostate hyperplasia (BPH).

My doctor (Dr. N.) is a woman, a neat person, but had to use the word "castration" twice in the interview (in that the diminution of testosterone would not be at "castration levels"). So, this drug will inhibit my body's production of testosterone, which will reduce the size of my prostate (assuming that it has done as is normal in my family line, and grown to gamma-induced proportions. HULK SMASH!), which will in turn keep me in bed at night, rather than trotting to the bathroom. This is made of WIN, as the kids say now.

Unfortunately, the staying in bed may not be as advantageous as one might think. One of the side-effects of the treatment may be the reduction of my libido. The percentage is surprisingly low, but still possible, as is the other possibility of aggression being a side-effect. Wow, color me an Attack-'vark. This is one of the reasons I want to keep this journal, so as not to become insular. You will be outsiders with white lab coats and stainless-steel clipboards, and those neat astronaut pens that can write in microgravity.
You can make "ahem" noises if I seem too wiggy, or go silent.

Or you know, this could be the most boring thing ever, except for the shots.

Oh yes. There will be shots.

Well, it's been too long. I am too full of stuff to adequately express it all. The lying liars in Washington who keep saying that "the American Pee-pul DEMAND the health care reforms" are beyond me. The People have resoundingly said "NO!!!" time and again. Tea Parties, letters, emails, phone calls, town hall meetings, all have made it clear that the majority of Americans do not want this legislation, legislation that does not do as advertised. I am angry beyond words at Pelosi's stubborn inability to speak truth. "We want to give this as a Christmas present to the American people" or somesuch. AAAAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!

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On the BPH study front: Wednesday last I received my REAL medicine. Since all indications are that I did in fact receive the real thing throughout the double-blind study, this will be all the more interesting. I got double shots of what we lovingly refer to at home as "Man-No-More Angry Juice", one in each...hip. I have already developed the hair-trigger over the top anger reaction (a legit side-effect). Meh.

A sad thing: my original study supervisor, Dr. Nadine, has shuffled off this mortal coil. She was an awesome doc, who succumbed to liver cancer. I actually caught myself grieving a little. I will miss her.

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Ken Rogulski with WJR interviewed several of Detroit's sterling citizens in early October when they were lined up for free cash from the givemint.

Here is one exchange:

KEN ROGULSKI: Why are you here?

WOMAN: To get some money.

ROGULSKI: What kind of money?

WOMAN: Obama money.

ROGULSKI: Where's it coming from?

WOMAN: Obama.

ROGULSKI: And where did Obama get it?

WOMAN: I don't know. His stash. I don't know. I don't know where he got it from but he's giving it to us, to help us. We love him. That's why we voted for him. Obama! Obama!

This has firmed my resolve to see us return to the Founders' idea of only landowners being able to vote. Any color of person can own land, so there is no racial issue involved. If we do not do it, the US taxpayer will be enslaved to the voting whims of women like that.

Well, tomorrow the Grand Experiment begins. You see, I WON!

Not the Irish Sweepstakes. Not a chance at several million sweet, sweet Nigerian dollars. Not EVEN Publishers Clearing House.

Your Aardvark qualified for a Medical Trial. I am part of a blind study of a BPH medication
trial. The next 16 months have the Aardvark transmogrified into a guinea pig, complete with shots, as they so genteelly put it, in the hip. I have a one in three chance that one of the three shots I get will be a placebo. Yaaaay! The good news is that I get some serious health care for nuttin'. I am not a responsible adult where my own health is concerned. I don't do seriously damaging things to my bod; I just don't take as much care and get the checkups I should. Perhaps this is a change for the better.

I will give suitably sanitary reports. This has GOT to be mineable for some amusement.

If it isn't the real thing, I'm sunk.

Last week, as you recall, Will, Penny and Dr. Smith...

As most of my reader know, I'm in a medical research study for a BPH treatment. It consists of periodic injections to reduce testosterone production. I was apprised of certain possible side-effects. The obvious one is not a problem, thankfully. My libido is fine, thank you very much. However, I have some other less-than-fun things going on in my life. I have gained no weight, but my extant avoirdupois seems to be shifting to my abdomen. No six-pack, here...think of a keg. Meh.
The Aardvark seems not as sexiful as he once was.

That is really not that bad, comparatively speaking. My real problem is anger. Now, I have allus had a temper, but with zero being Nirvana, and nine being thermonuclear devastation, with kicking the dog and then dropping cinderblocks on it for good measure, well, I am currently going from 0 to 8 in five seconds. This is not good. Neither is it fun, and I had been worrying over it. Couple of days ago, whilst in a lucid and calm moment, I was discussing with The Dread Dormomoo and Loen my concern, when it hit me: "I'm in a medical trial!!". So-o-o-o-o-o...if I AM in fact receiving the real drug, and not a placebo, it may well explain the situation, and we can all handle it a bit better, with expectation of its being temporary.

If otherwise I am receiving coloured saline, I am having an Unpleasantness, one which needs to be dealt with. That or I am an Unpleasantness, the thought of which really makes me angry. Very, very....

Fortunately, I don't have a dog. Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.

Just an odd bit day. Thoughts and prayers for Rachel Lucas' situation. I am horrified at the callousness of people who ignore a person's emotional pain to advance their own agendas. The believer and non-believer alike are capable of such; believer who takes the opportunity to use a funeral to "evangelise" the heathen, and the atheist who seeks to "evangelise" an agnostic who may be wavering toward faith in...something, and who is unfortunate enough to be culturally literate in her blog titling. Faugh. There is a time to confront, and a time to dummy up, be a pal, and be a leaning post if need be.

Kudos to Roci, Pretty Lady, and all others who supported RL in her embattled state. To the others, nuts to you.

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The Confusticated One has taken me to task about Capitalisation for Emphasis. I forget the word he used. Pompous, pedantic, Pretty Lady-esque.

He knows I have done this for years, and have not been coat-tailing PL, but lest I give offense, I shall Rein It In.

BUT. The British variant spelling is back. I worked so hard to quit, too.

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Gas prices. ZOMG!! The end of Western civ. American families must forego their Disneyworld vacations, and must stay home eating baloney, and playing on the Slip 'n' SlideTM. Pucky of the equine variety. Eat a couple of Burger King meals instead of Cracker Barrel or IHOP. Stay at Motel 6, Budget Inn, or at a nice Mom & Pop motel, instead of Hilton, Sheraton, or even Best Western. (Motel 6 allows pets, so be aware.)
You can have a lovely vacance , and still drive the minivan. Your Aardvark travels much, and he knows, especially about the minivan.

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Character is what you are in the dark. Christian life is what you do outside the church building.

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Things medical

Had a BP reading of 190 / 107 yesterday at my local doc's. The BPH trial has my BP checked each visit, and Dr. N. has given me a hard stare on more than one occasion, so I took the opportunity to get a new prescription. Yaaaaaay! pills.I'm so thrilled. Can't you tell? Now my head won't pop!! No-one is telling me that I need to drop 40 pounds, but I do. Any suggestions? I can categorically say that Atkins no longer works for me. I know I need to do more as far as walkies are concerned, so we'll see what the Summer brings. The NP wrote the scrip after saying that I need summat else so I won't have a stroke. That was cheery news. Dunno if he was just being dramatic, or if I should have blanched when he said that. Might have dropped my reading! I should ask for leeches.


I'm not worried or anxious, which frankly surprises me, being that I am having mortality issues. Death is a nuisance. I am offended that I have to die. I will have words with Adam. Such words I plan to have with Adam. I'm not scared of dying...I don't think. I just don't WANNA. "Everybody wants to go to Heaven, but no-one wants to die."

Oh dear, I hope I don't offend someone who DOESN'T want to go to Heaven.

...and then I'm driving to Mobile for MobiCon, with a LOT of thinking time, and beaucoups of ideas for the blog come to mind. Many, many cogent and pithy remarks on The Human Condition, The Whole State of Christ's Church, and How Pocky Just Isn't Special Anymore.

None of which come to mind now.

The predations of, if not age, then sheer busy-ness, drives the best ideas away over sadly brief periods of time. Perhaps I should carry an actually useful version of those digital recorders the TV box flogs to an ever-senescent population; I do need one that can carry more than "Butter...eggs...milk...." I refuse to nod with obvious satisfaction as I listen to the replay of my prior thoughts and instructions.
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I am in the second phase of my BPH trials. I have a bum full of the Real Deal this time: three shots of Whateverol to reduce testosterone production, and so shrink the prostate. Side effects are lethargy, a tendency toward flash depression, decreased libido (hmmm...could there be a connexion?) and oddly enough, hair-trigger anger. The pluses are freer ability to urinate, ability to sleep through the night without having to get up and go, like that. There must be a better methodology.

Isn't Transparency a hoot ?

The Grand Experiment has ended. The saga which began here is a wrap. Abbadee, abbadee, That's All, Folks!

My latest doctor at Medical Affiliated Research Center called a couple of days ago and told me that the BPH study was over. The pharmaceutical company had gathered enough data to determine that this mode of treatment is made of fail. Injecting testosterone-inhibiting brews is not a helpful modality in remedying enlarged prostate issues. Back to the drawing board.

I would not be averse to participating in other medical studies. It's a good way to keep tabs on one's basic medical state.