I go on and off Twitter the way some people go on and off drugs. A few days ago I decided to go back on. I promised myself this time that I was rejoining solely to read accounts about Ukraine without running into the nag screen that forces you to join up and not to tweet but well, you know, I weakened and sure enough, I ran into trouble. It took only a week—this is a record.
The offending tweet:
It’s beyond me how this joke tweet is offensive to anyone, including Vladimir Putin or his girlfriend. I appealed. We shall see. I’m not deleting the tweet, no matter what happens.
But all of this is small potatoes—in the world, and in my life. Since June 25, 2022, I’ve been obsessed with my saliva, because it’s gone.
On June 25, 2022, I woke up with a dry mouth. Dry as cotton. It didn’t go away. On July 1, I had blood work. Long story short, I scored negative on the Really Bad Things (RA, Sjogren’s) but my ANA scores were on the borderline (1:60). Not bad but not exactly good.
I saw a dentist at NYU College of Dentistry on July 13. I was referred to Oral Medicine, where I’ll have a consultation on July 27. On July 14, I saw my PCP for a regularly-scheduled visit. They took more blood to check my thyroid. I have Hashimoto’s, and for some inexplicable reason the PCP on July 1 didn’t check my thyroid. (That’s really stupid—given that I have Hashimoto’s, that should have been the first thing to check.) On July 20, I saw an ENT, just to be sure. He ruled out anything ENT related.
In other words, I’ve seen more doctors in the last month than I have in the previous 10 years. I’m not going to whine about “the system” here, although I have plenty of reason to. Emails not returned, tests not explained, etc., waiting for a half an hour on hold only to find out that the doctor is out of network, making appointments for February of 2023 (endocrinologist) and November 2022 (rheumatologist). That’s how long you have to wait in my system (Weill Cornell).
I’m on the waiting list, which is automated and efficient, but if nothing comes up by end August I’m going to try NYU Langone, another big system, which seems to have a more open schedule. As to why I don’t do that now, that’s a long story for another time. The whole thing is so tedious.
Plus I banged my index finger, creating a lovely subdural hematoma, my printer broke, and I put a piece of raw pizza dough in a drawer and forgot about it. It’s hot as an oven in NYC and will be so for the next few days so I’ll have to sleep on the living room floor because I don’t have AC in my bedroom. If I were rich I’d just run to Jackson Hole, or Paris. (OK, not Paris. It’s hot there.) A Greek island. The Mani peninsula. Cappadocia. Anywhere but here.
And Twitter says I insulted Vladimir Putin’s uterus.
I cannot for the life of me remember June 25 to yesterday. It’s as if an entire part of my life melted into one marathon session of chewing Xylitol mints (useless) and spelling my surname to doctor’s offices. It’s hard to exercise when you have to take a sip a second and even that doesn’t work.
I’m slowly coming back to life. My new thing is sunlight therapy, per Dr. Roger Seheult of Medcram. I think we’ve been propagandized against sunlight by the Dermatological Industrial Complex. If you sunbathe responsibly, you can avoid skin cancer and get the benefits of sunlight, which go beyond Vitamin D synthesis. Staying inside has, I believe, had horrific effects on the immune system of entire populations.
I apologize to Vladimir Putin’s uterus. But I’ll never apologize to Twitter.