The Burbuja!

Sunday, 14 February, Year 8 d.Tr. | Author: Mircea Popescu

This story is based on true facts & real events!

As you know, a good friend and close associate passed recently, due to a severe if rare illnessi.

As you do not know (but might well be suspecting), I am a celebrated hypochondriac the likes of which is rarely encountered in practice, not least because I'm a highly functioning sort of nut, that pernicious kind which makes up a good, credible story and readily persuades innocent bystanders. No flamboyant excesses here except as may be introduced by fine degrees beyond the notice of any boiling frog ; no self-contradiction, no ready semiology someone trained in psychopathy may recognize and attach to. No siree, a smooth ball of crazy the sort of which makes insane asylum resident clinicians with thirty years of practice under their belt take up arms and man a post to defend one from the impending invasion of armed ne'er–do–wells aiming to do harm for no reason and no consideration!

And soii mid January I started feeling a dull pain in the RUQ - an abbreviation with which you're unfamiliar chiefly because there's no pain to be had there in regular, everyday people (unlike say LLQ, with which you'd be unfamiliar through lack of reading) - precisely localised under the lower ribs (ie, the place where the tip of the pancreas would project). Pancreas, geddit ? Huh ? Huh ?

This sent the spymaster into a complete tailspin, because novel poison! Undocumented attack! Notwithstanding that we have no indicia that anything of the sort would be in operational use, notwithstanding that who the hell would think such a thing is a good idea to begin with, nothwithstanding that it's not even clear such a wonder does in fact exist, there is no such thing as a coincidence! The fact of the matter being that I rarely encounter people who are more paranoid than I am, deep-ly-er, rich-ly-eriii paranoid than I am, it's only reasonable they'd end up in that post. Who else ?

Records were furiously reviewed, to reveal what I broadly knew already, speficially that we had spent thirty hours in the same public place during a whole fucking year, due to the exact security concern under discussion. But thirty hours could have been enough! It only takes five minutes, conceivably! Geiger counters were sent for, and they picked up nothing in the (still in vivo) animal in question - humbly, your very own moi. But what of it! So the same beast's habitat(s) were inspected, to no further edificational benefit - but what of it! There's a poison of some sort that specifically gives its unfortunate victims pancreatic cancer! So what if no such thing is known, and so what if what sense does it make, if you have the time to wait for this process you probably don't actually want to spend the resources to kill the fucker in the first place. Ignorance of proof is mere proof of ignorance, not of absence! We also don't know the secret RSA factorization algo! And other things!

I lost a pint of blood to tests, which came back with slightly elevated liver measurements, such as would be befitting a quaint burgeois middle-aged fellow with an array of slaves at his beck and call, eager to lick his parts in choreographed tandems or make him cakes and pies just for the askingiv - or otherwise such as would hide an early pancreatitis process!

Emergency call upon the country's expensive hospital resulted in emergency ultrasound which showed nothing at all, emergency computerized tomography which showed even less than that, and chief of clinic's face which showed a select array of bewilderment and incredulity that money really couldn't buy. Money did buy the rest, and to borrow the expression of a professional fellow in the country que no es un pais pobre, a middle class local could never afford to pay for this.

Eventually, emergency resources well exhausted, a specialist was called for to settle the matter once and for all. And what a fine specimen of a specialist he was, this fellow. He proceeded to palpate, correctly - how many people do you think still know to diagnose with their hands ? Yes, it is true, modern imagistic diagnostic tools work a lot better, more dependably, more efficiently and effectually. Do you know why they do that ? No, it's not by themselves. It's because in the hands of a fellow who knows how to diagnose with his bare hands if need be, the pretty pictures are entirely edifying. In the hands of a derp that went to school in autocad, the pretty pictures are, while just as pretty, worse than worthless. Medicine as a going concern is doomed - but what of it, let it be doomed, so are you.

He proceeded to auscultate, he proceeded to do a job that I've not seen done in twenty-odd years, since I last saw my old Jew doctor in Romania, as a small child - and did it properly. After which he proceeded to give his considered, professional oppinion.


You see, there's two places in the abdominal cavity where the intestine curves upwards (the equivalent arrangement of the gas trap in your sewage link) : the splenic and the hepatic. Sometimes gas can end up trapped in there, irritating the bowel. This is especially seen in people with a particular lifestyle - such lifestyle as may befit elite men in the patriarchy, for instance.

So on very elegant art deco pre-printed pages he wrote me various indications, including treatment, in the form of Trimebutine maleate and some surfactant. In his very elegant hand, going splendidly with the pre-printed font, going splendidly with his appearance altogether, going all the way to the arrangement of the set he inhabited. Well, maybe not quite that far, but anyway - rarely have I been impressed by a male in aesthetic terms before.

And so I took the pills, and felt much better, and there was much rejoicing.v

  1. Pancreatic cancer is something like 0.1% of hospital admissions and 10% of hospital deaths or thereabouts. []
  2. Hey, have you noticed the a-literation of the paragraphs to date ? Yeay ? Good for ya! Neay ? Well now you have! []
  3. No, it's not my fault. Yes, it is your fault. Apology accepted. []
  4. Do you remember that thing about the plums and the drunks ? It's worse with women - they can take all you can put in them, and more ; yet they can make all you can put in you, and more! []
  5. Should you be one of those many who won't admit to it but nevertheless do in fact hold their manhoods cheap for not having been fighting with us on that fated Crispin's day, you may be excused for not rejoicing, but at least consider : I was nearly killed by a bubble.

    At least in the estimation of those charged with my physical security & continued perpetuity, I was nearly killed by an intestinal bubble. []

Category: Lifespiel
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15 Responses

  1. Ah, dear leader was gassy. I for one thank you for your cautions in this matter.

  2. Mircea Popescu`s avatar
    Mircea Popescu 
    Sunday, 14 February 2016

    His Most Bulbillious Majesty has tasked me to thank you for your words.

  3. spartacus`s avatar
    Sunday, 14 February 2016

    This is actually good news for bitcoin.
    Loud cheers from the cheap seats.

  4. Mircea Popescu`s avatar
    Mircea Popescu 
    Sunday, 14 February 2016


  5. Glad you're feeling better!

  6. Mircea Popescu`s avatar
    Mircea Popescu 
    Tuesday, 16 February 2016


  7. meh, personal anecdote, by someone supposedly quite paranoid as well, and while drunk mind you, take with a grain of salt, still, such mental health professionals are fucking borderline stupid, if not retarded, argue with them? just reinforces their stupid fucking dsm text book convictions..

    The medical profession in Australia are next to useless and I imagine it the same across the western world, any symptoms that cannot be explained upon the first or second visit are disregarded as psychiatric disorders, they'll label you as schizophrenic, major depressive disorder, conduct disorder among a host of other shit in order to bulk bill the gov and get you the fuck out of there so they can get the next person in before repeating the process, dollar dollar bill ya'll. In, out, indians making bank cause there sure as fuck isn't a single white mature gentleman doctor to be found these days upon the shores of Aus.

    I posted in the logs a year or 2 ago regarding my own health problems, still no explanation or insite. MRI's of head and neck, neuros, a rheumatologist, echos, cts, ultrasound. Fucking nothing despite daily formication, fasiculations, chest pain, sometimes cannot even cut a fucking tomato due to the muscle pain, like I did 10 squats on the muscle itself. Headaches, electrical pain, flashes of light.. Still, you're fine! It's in your head! Here, take some fucking zyprexa, no? Fine, we'll try force you until you convince us with enough bullshit to get out of the ward. Won't do as your told as a minor ? conduct disorder! Won't do as your told as an adult? Somatic, factitious, mental illness blah blah disorder!! Schizophrenic!!

    The fucking misery of being middle class and having to (not) rely on the public and shitty "private" health care system.

    Pretty sure I have some type of autoimmune disorder, not near smart enough to figure it out nor help those supposedly smart enough to figure it out.

  8. Mircea Popescu`s avatar
    Mircea Popescu 
    Thursday, 18 February 2016

    Well, ok, but you gotta admit : pain of unknown etiology ; no apparent biological basis ; other sensory disturbance. It stands to reason the problem would be psychological/psychosomatic.

    Why would you think you have some unknown type of autoimmune disorder ? For one thing, these are rare ; for the other thing, they're histo-visible.

  9. Sure, it makes sense that it would be psychological/psychosomatic except for the fact that it's me, and I know I don't suffer from such things beyond typical depression.

    As for why an autoimmune disorder? I'm only speculating. 23andme reports I have a bunch of markers for MS, as well as rheumatoid arthritis. My Oma had RA, but afaik, I don't. Really, I don't have a clue beyond that what I feel is real and not in my mind.

  10. Mircea Popescu`s avatar
    Mircea Popescu 
    Thursday, 18 February 2016

    23andme is by and large a piece of shit, roughly on the level of a magazine insert cryptocipher magic ring.

    MS is poorly understood, but it correlates with pain kinda so-so. Half the people get it, half the people don't get it, whatever. Arthrisits is common, most people develop it eventually, if they live long enough.

    Stick to the Bubba curative plan, I'd say.

  11. spartacus`s avatar
    Friday, 2 September 2016

    Please could you review

  12. Mircea Popescu`s avatar
    Mircea Popescu 
    Friday, 2 September 2016

    Aite, I'ma add it to the list.

  13. Mircea Popescu`s avatar
    Mircea Popescu 
    Monday, 5 September 2016

    Meh, film about "black people", misrepresented to cater to the notions of proclivities of white 19yo bois. The main character can't fucking act to save his life, and apparently someone told him "the secret is to just be yourself" which results in the entire production having this frathouse docudrama air to it. Forrest Whittaker acts about as well as an intelligent dog : he tilts his head, that's his whole stock in trade. Consequently the two make a great team, but their output is miserable.

    This is a hourlong commercial to, for and by UStardia. Naught else.

  14. spartacus`s avatar
    Monday, 5 September 2016

    Shit, so sorry to waste your time.
    I learned a lot from your review; thank you.

  15. Mircea Popescu`s avatar
    Mircea Popescu 
    Monday, 5 September 2016

    Eh don't worry about it, I watched it of my own volition.

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