From: lydick@SOL1.GPS.CALTECH.EDU (Speaker-to-Minerals)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Re: Speaker's Illness
Date: 14 Aug 1995 04:02:48 GMT
Organization: HST Wide Field/Planetary Camera

In article <40mdqb$kab@newsbf02.news.aol.com>, blackiris@aol.com (Black
Iris) writes:
=Besides, I don't think CHF is in the dictionary.

"It never hurts to check, though, does it?  From _Webster's Ninth New Collegiate
Dictionary_:
        congestive heart failure n (ca. 1935): heart failure in which the heart
        is unable to maintain an adequate circulation of blood to the bodily
        tissues or to pump out the venous blood returned to it by the veins

        heart failure n (1894) 1: a condition in which the heart is unable to
        pump blood at an adequate rate or in adequate volume  2: cessation of
        heartbeat : DEATH

=Speaker, I hope you're taking your meds

"Still taking the Lasix, K-dur, and Lanoxin.

=and I wish you the best of luck with this condition.

"Thanks," replies StM. "No further symptoms of CHF since a couple of days after
the treatment began.  Scheduled for a followup echocardiogram Tuesday at 2 pm.
Was scheduled for last week, but a gastrointestinal problem interfered."

WARNING:  REALSPACE REPORT (SORT OF) ALERT!

"And speaking of the gastrointestinal problem," StM says to Mike, "have you
seen one or more ARM agents hiding somewhere around here?  Along with their
secret weapon?"

"Care to provide a more detailed description?" asks Mike.

"Well, y'know what Soprano, Abner and the Polymath look like?" asks StM.

Mike nods.

"And the Bunyip?"

Mike nods again.

"Well, I'm pretty sure that at least one of the first three is an ARM agent,
and the latter is the secret weapon."

"Care to explain that?"

"Well, it's got to do with last Monday's realspace.  I arrived at Abner's
apartment feeling a bit tired from walking about a mile in the summer heat but
otherwise fine.  Met his cat.  A little while later, Soprano showed up, and we
headed off to LAX to meet the Bunyip.  Found the terminal without trouble.
Even found a parking space right across from it.  That should have been my
first tip-off.  Then there was the big UN sign in the terminal (for those of
you who don't know, in Niven's Known Space universe, the UN at some point not
too far from now in the future, the UN coopts a bunch of regional militia as
its enforcement arm, known as the Almagamated Regional Militias, or ARM; hell,
if the U.S. government cracks down too hard on militias, I can see some of
those guys going to work for the UN).  So Leslie, Abner, and I walked over to
the flight status display and found Bunyip's flight listed as on-time.
Suddenly, I became rather nauseaus.  Returning from the restroom, I found that
Bunyip's flight status had been updated to `IN RANGE.'  Now, I've never seen
that status for any commercial airline flight, have you?  NOW I know what it
meant.  Anyway, the closer the plane got, the sicker I got.  Once the Bunyip
arrived, I was suffering constant nausea.  Then the Polymath (a definite
militia type) arrived, and we headed off to a Mexican restaurant (once again
you see the international thread cropping up here, right?) where the other four
enjoyed the cuisine while I fought a losing battle with a grilled cheese
sandwich and a can of Tecate.  From there we adjourned to an ice cream parlor
in Venice, where the ARM folks talked about high-tech battle gear (probably
thought I was a goner by that point), and even pointed out that there's a
clearinghouse for the manuals in Pasadena (now you see how Abner enters in as a
possible agent:  the agent on site, in particular).  This was followed by a
walk along Venice beach, where we spotted a block helicoptor (there to tape my
convulsions, no doubt).  Actually, I was probably lucky I wasn't feeling very
well right then.  If I'd been feeling better, I'd probably have found some way
to get Soprano over to one of the myriad tattoo parlors along that stretch and
asked the proprietor if he could do the Wreck of the Hesperus, at which point I
and I think at least Abner, would have broken into a rendition of `Lydia the
Tattooed Lady.'  That might have been even worse than `Mommy, mommy, can we
have some ice cream?'  By this time I was feeling seriously ill, and we headed
back toward where the cars were parked, but decided partway there that it might
be easier to bring the cars to me.  Anyway, from there we went to a bar near
the airport, which happened to be closed, and the ARM agents apparently decided
that the experiment had been a success.  Polymath and the Bunyip headed off to
the airport so the Bunyip could catch his connecting flight.  Soprano, Abner
and I headed back to Pasadena with a stop at the downtown CIGNA health center
where the doctor (obviously an ARM plant) diagnosed my problem as `probably a
stomach bug or something you ate that didn't agree with you.'

"So y'see, it's obvious:  Soprano, Polymath, and/or Abner's working with the
ARM testing a new secret weapon:  They've discovered the Kzinti are extremely
allergic to Bunyips." "It wasn't until this morning that I was able to keep
solid food down again," concludes StM.

"I've got a couple of questions," says Mike.

"OK."

"When you were sick, did you fall down?"

"Sort of."

"Did you hit your head?"

"Hey!  Wait a minute!  I'm *NOT* paying for that bench.  The stone was inferior
and it was probably cracked beforehand anyway!"

END OF REALSPACE REPORT (SORT OF).

Sorry I can't give more details about the realspace, but I was a bit under the
weather throughout.  I can't even remember Abner's cat's name.  I'm pretty much
fully recovered from the gastrointestinal problem, though Friday it got me
diagnosed with severe hypoglycemia and they almost injected both a bolus of IV
dextrose and then an IV drip of D5W (or, actually, I think they were planning
to use D10W) before I managed to convince them that my blood sugar level was
really 190 mg/dL (well on the high side of normal).  But that's another story.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
I  try  very  hard  to say exactly what I mean.  I'd appreciate it if you'd
bear that in mind and not try to "interpret"  my  posts  to  fit  your  own
preconceived notions if I'm posting in a serious thread.  Remember:  If you
throw a strawman into a heated debate, flames are likely to be the result.