Not Great News and Other Bits

My upcoming bean surgery has been delayed. Why? Remember those two back teeth that broke off during my surgery-a-thon of ’20 and ’21? Yeah, them. The fuckers have become problematic and need to come out before the tumor can be dug out.

Motherfucking joy.

I’ve been referred to the dental surgery department at Mass General and am waiting to hear when I’ll meet yet another new surgeon. The good news on this is that, given my history (all those neuro ops, the facial nerve damage and trigeminal neuralgia) I feel a whole lot better about having the teeth taken outat MGH versus some strip mall Gentle Dental office.

In the words of my spiritual sister, Roseanne Roseannadanna, “it's always something — if it's not one thing, it's another.”
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I’m reading this new book by Blake Crouch called Upgrade. It’s set in a dystopian near future where gene editing has become ridiculously common to the point that there’s a dude in Vegas crafting a dragon from crocodile and Komodo genes.  (COOL!) That’s not the story though. It centers around a guy named Logan—a disgraced scientist from an infamous family. His DNA has been hacked without his knowledge or consent. He works for the Gene Protection Agency which is tasked with cracking down on unauthorized DNA hackers. Logan’s life is about to get wildly complicated.

I’ve just begun the book but I AM hooked. I mean, fer fuck’s sake, if I could dig in and edit my very own DNA, my heredity units, I totally would—in a fuckin’ heartbeat! For absolute starters, I’d boot out the NF2 mutations from my 22nd chromosome. Oh YES I would.

The NF2 gene codes for the protein neurofibromin 2, also called merlin or schwannomin. Oh yeah honeys, that sucker would be SO gone, baby, gone. No time to pack its bags either.

I had extraordinary dreams and an ordinary mind.
~ Blake Crouch, Upgrade
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Why, I ask you WHY, when someone sends or posts a birth announcement, do they note sex, weight and length?

First—who cares what sex they are at one day old?! Is the new bairn healthy? THAT’S what counts, what matters. Fuck that pink and blue bow shit!

Can’t a damn bambino have a decade or ten to develop into a decent human being before being pushed into some rigid, antiquated, bullshit gender role?

Second—weight and length? Did you just birth a bass? A trout? Are you vying for a trophy here?

Why not just announce that you (or your spawn) are welcoming a new healthy (or not) human to the planet. Give the new sprog’s name and date of arrival. Maybe a note about the new mum’s health (this was brutally exhausting for Drusilla but she survived it like a warrior queen)?

You want to give the exact time Ocean arrived center stage? Why? Unless they finally exited the birth canal at 3AM after a brutal twelve hour labor, who cares?

Maybe this is just me. Maybe everyone else finds the length, arrival time and gender of a newborn endlessly fascinating.

 Ummmmmmm, happy Catuday!