All Things Being Equal

"England defeats United States 2-1; USA: first loss to England since 1988.

ESPN crawl - 3:10 p.m. Mountain Daylight Time, April 2, 2011

It's almost time for Butler vs. VCU - the first of two Final Four semifinal games. We were hoping it would be Butler vs. Kansas, even though we rooted for the Indiana Cinderella to defeat Duke in the championship game last year. It's hard to think of Butler as a Cinderella this year, into the Final Four for the second consecutive year. And, VCU just gets stronger with each new group of pundit-naysayers declaring that they can't possibly beat whoever they're playing next.

Caution persists now among those same talking heads, as I've heard all week that it's hard to pick against VCU, based on their five consecutive wins in a tournament they weren't good enough to make; and their dismantling of Kansas, the only number one-seeded team remaining until last Sunday. I'm not sure how much credit to give VCU, as the jaw-dropping upsets of a Bill Self-coached Kansas team at tournament time are well-known by now, having been chronicled in When Pigs Fly. (Insert smiley face here.)

I could say that we're used to it. But, frankly, you never get used to losing like that. It's likely all the more stunning because Kansas frequently fields a very competitive team and tallies so many wins through a season, they look like they can't be stopped. I won't dismiss VCU by saying that Kansas beat themselves last weekend; but, it sure felt like that at times. Their senior (usually sharp) three-point shooters were cold as ice. It was ugly early and felt like a loss by the middle of the first half. We watched to the bitter end, because that's what we do. For either the USC Trojans in football or the Kansas Jayhawks in basketball, we believe that it's not over until it's over.

Well, it was and is truly over; and, that means that I mostly hang up the Mrs. Jayhawk mantle for another few months. Today, I'm a Butler Bulldog. I know that logic would suggest that I root for the team that knocked out my team. But, I don't have an emotional investment in VCU and continue to subscribe to the sentiment that they can't stay hot forever. By the time you read this post, we'll know for a certainty. My father is from Indiana; and, Mark's mother's family is from Indianapolis. So, we don't need to find our True North to know who to support when things get tough. It's a no-brainer.

Speaking of brains, it's multiple-birthday month in the Dickerson household. Mark kicks it off every year by conveniently having his birthday fall on the first day. That's right - he's an April Fools' baby.

I've known him almost 43 years; and I got the story straight just this week. I had been telling everyone that his father had told friends that the baby was due on April 1; and, that, if actually born on that day - regardless of gender - he planned to name the baby "April."

Wrong.

I don't know if the story has changed or I wasn't listening or I was listening too fast. The real story (now) is that his parents were able to choose the date of his birth and deliberately chose April 1. His father's naming story - as apparently recounted from the pulpit throughout Mark's formative years - was that he would name the baby "April" if it was a girl and "Fool" if it was a boy.

Well, the joke was on him. Mark was brilliant. He is also one of the most brilliant males of the human race I've ever known. That's why he's Mr. CRD. Well, one of the reasons. (Insert winking smiley face here.)

A bunch of other birthdays will come and go in our family and among friends before month's end. Easter is late this year; so, we'll have more than our fair share of opportunities to eat sweet things. It's probably a good thing that we get most of this kind of thing out of the way relatively early in the year.

I was sifting through a stack of greeting cards I've saved over the years and found a preponderance of flying pig and pig-related graphics. I suppose I could be known for other, more substantive things and pithy sayings, but the "When Pigs Fly" moniker fits and sticks.

Good thing, too. I have a few personal projects that I feel would be improved by flight. A couple of them feel like a 250-pound hog in a pink tutu. All I need is some wings for those porkers, and off I'll go.

The piano needs to be tuned. I can't do that myself; but, I could make the phone call. That sucker is going to sit there as just another large piece of furniture to be dusted if I don't get on it soon. I sat down to it last night and almost fell off the bench when I realized how bad it's become over the past few months. I'm a phone call away from making that pig fly. It should not be so hard to do. But, when will I both be in town and at home to have this task completed?

It's not looking good during birthday month. May? Maybe.

I have purchased a few of those little sample bottles of paint that are now so readily available (where were they hiding before they were so readily available?). I don't do large-scale projects myself. But, I have a couple of spaces that I can easily do myself. I just need to do it. Well, I just need to decide on colors. THEN, I just need to do it.

Why are these decisions so hard? I used to work in homebuilding, for crying out loud. I had no problem deciding what to paint a model home owned by someone else. But, I also have a file folder full of ideas that I've accumulated since we moved into the house in 2002. I have a self-inflicted case of the "Tyranny of Indecision." A subject for another post on another day.

This paint pig has the "I'm fixin' to start" problem. All I really need to do is just make a choice.

Without the distraction of college basketball, I should do what I do best: focus, choose, do.

Maybe I'll take a look at that paint folder during the Butler game. Although, it's a really tight contest here at 4:51 to go in the first half.

I should probably go through my e-mails and find the name of that piano tuner I was going to call just before Christmas...

...momentum seems to be swinging back to Butler.

...what time does the other national semi-final game start?

...pigs lined up like jets at O'Hare....

...this little piggy ate roast beef...

...what are we going to eat tonight...

...I should really get the clothes out of the dryer and fold them at halftime...

...where's Dr. Jayhawk?

Fly Away Home

Going-Away Party Cake at Young & Rubicam/Los Angeles August, 1981

Crossing the state line August, 1981.

Leaving California with remaining possessions and wedding gifts; squeezing Maid of Honor into picture, October 29, 1981.

Teasing University of Oklahoma friend/alum long-distance from Alameda, California after University of Kansas "Danny & The Miracles" Jayhawks defeat OU for 1988 NCAA Men's Basketball National Championship: Mark Alan Dickerson, USC'77 B.S., Political Science & KU'81 J.D. and Shannon Gayle Dickerson, future University of Nebraska, Lincoln'10 B.S., College of Business - Marketing; on April 4, 1988, 17 days before Miss Dickerson's first birthday.

“Kansas is a state of the Union, but it is also a state of mind, a neurotic condition, a psychological phase, a symptom, indeed, something undreamed of in your philosophy, an inferiority complex against the tricks and manners of plutocracy -- social, political and economic.”

William Allen White, American Journalist known as the Sage of Emporia (1868-1944)

"I don't know if I want to go to New York. They'll have to pay me a lot more money because I like it here in Kansas City."

Roger Maris, American professional baseball player (1934-1985)

As Madness Marches forward, I'm orchestrating my day around a schedule of broadcasts for which no one consulted me. If I want to be at the proper angle for flatscreen viewing, I'll need to take my seat by 2:30 pm Mountain, to be followed by the tip of the only other game that matters today at 5:05 pm. I'll repeat this process by 12:20 p.m. tomorrow, the broadcast time for the next match slated to fray my nerves. A fourth game is scheduled; but, if the Jayhawks don't defeat the inexplicable Virginia Commonwealth Rams before that, my Mrs. Jayhawk duties will be complete for another year. And, I'll be sad. Very, very sad.

Look what Dr. Jayhawk hath wrought. As he mellows with age, I'm on pins and needles. Frankly, I think he's twisting on that prickly seat as well. He's just learned how to submerge his angst so he can feign amusement at me. I returned late yesterday afternoon from four days of business travel to Kansas City - Jayhawk Land - with a fresh, new cotton KU shirt for him. He didn't cut off the tag until the team blew the Richmond Spiders back to Virginia in a gusty Kansas wind of basketball tutelage by 20 points.

We're always superstitious that way. My nerves are all his fault. Prior to 1981, I didn't care about the University of Kansas or the Jayhawks. Almost 30 years later, I'm completely in. "All In."

One of his many large, framed certificates of accomplishment says that the University of Kansas School of Law conferred on him the degree of Juris Doctor on January 9, 1981. But the School of Law didn't have a mid-year commencement, and his ceremony was not held until May. Though not impossible, it's unlikely we would be married if the KU School of Law had not made their graduates wait until a certain weekend in May. Sort of coincidentally, I decided to visit family in Olathe on that same weekend. The story of why I was there on that particular weekend has nothing to do with the availability of the relatives and everything to do with the fact that, if I was in the vicinity of Lawrence, Kansas on that weekend, I would get to see Mark for lunch.

We had disbanded our relationship more than four years prior, and I was curious to see what a period of graduate school at Magdalen College in Oxford, England and three years of law school had done to someone I had known for 13 years. We were what felt like light years away from our undergraduate experiences at USC. I was employed by the largest advertising agency in the world and based in Los Angeles. I wasn't going to move - for anyone - unless it was to go to New York City.

Lunch turned into afternoon window shopping on The Plaza. To prolong the time, he suggested that I should see KU. So I would know where he had been all this time. It's not like I was completely mesmerized by the campus, although it had - and has - several notable high points, vistas, venerable old buildings, and the like. Most of our major college campuses in America can say the same.

But, I was in tears by the time the driving tour had ended. It was unplanned, unexpected, not motivated by any intent to manipulate his emotions. I was mourning the loss of sharing his KU experience with him. I didn't like the way it felt. I didn't want to feel that way anymore. But, he had joined a law firm in Wichita, and I wasn't going to move for anyone. Repeat after me - "unless it was to go to New York City."

Yes, he had been too busy as a law student to sleep in a tent to get the coveted first-come, first-served student seats for the home basketball games. He'd study until the last minute before games, which were conveniently located just across the street from the School of Law at Allen Fieldhouse. Then, he'd get in line, show his student pass, and take a position in what was left - the rafters. But, he was in. In. "In." And, he would have gotten me in somehow, too. He was like that. He is like that.

The only time I've ever been in Allen Fieldhouse was for a campus visit in May, 2006 when Shannon was transferring from USC to...somewhere... to play soccer. We drove over to Lawrence on Memorial Day weekend and got the VIP tour. Standing in "The Phog" gave me the chills. The echos were haunting. The missed opportunities continued to haunt me, too.

I may never attend a home game there. I have seen the Jayhawks play in person - but, it was in California or Boulder, Colorado. It's not the same. I can't get those years back. Perhaps I've been trying to make up for it ever since. It's not like I was meant to be in Lawrence, Kansas when Mark was in Law School. I don't think we were meant to be married until we were - on October 24, 1981.

I left Lawrence that day in May, 1981 for the ride back to Olathe with a heart filled with despair and sadness. He decided that he should drive over to see me again on Sunday night, and my relatives kindly invited him for something to eat at their home. Before the dishes were even cleared, he was figuratively on one knee in their living room.

I said "yes." But, I didn't know what I was going to do next. After all, I wasn't going to move for anyone.

But, I did. And, he did. And, we did.

And, the University of Kansas and the team many love to hate, the Kansas Jayhawks, will always be linked to that day in May.

Don't Pick Me, Bro

"The NCAA Men's Division I Basketball Championship is a single elimination tournament held each spring in the United States, featuring 68 college basketball teams, both conference champions and at-large selections. The tournament, organized by the National Collegiate Athletic Association (NCAA), was created in 1939 by the National Association of Basketball Coaches and was the brainchild of Kansas coach Phog Allen. Held mostly in March, it is informally known as March Madness or the Big Dance; the tournament, and especially the national semi-finals and final (the Final Four), has become one of the nation's most prominent sporting events."

Wikipedia page for "NCAA Men's Division I Basketball Championship," March 17, 2011

I made sacrifices for the team last night. It's not the first time.

I can read the pivotal moment like the veteran I am; I could see that Kansas would only be able to throw down the hammer on their #16-seeded opponent in the second round of the Big Dance if I left the room.

It was time to start the laundry.

Make no mistake. I'd waited all day for this game, just like Mr. Jayhawk. I had ordered my time, my tasks, and my pre-game meal around what would put me in the best possible position for focus. To do what would be best for the team.

After several years - some of them recent - when Kansas exited this annual tilt "prematurely" (which means, earlier than the pundits, fans, alums, and fans-by-marriage had expected or been told to expect based on a myriad of multivariate factors and statistics), I was ready for anything. This year's seeding and draw had two overwhelmingly disturbing attributes.

Namely, the "B" jinx.

And, in the history of the tournament, the "no 16-seed has ever defeated a one-seed" jinx.

These two pithy problems were compounded by what I like to call the "Commander-in-Chief Jinx," which was revealed while I was in a St. Louis-area hotel room earlier in the week. I groaned aloud and wondered why he didn't choose to pander for Ohio votes by naming the Buckeyes. We've already been down this road before. Specifically, last year. And, everyone knows what happened. If they don't, they get to hear about it this year every time the Jayhawks take the floor. To wit, the Northern Iowa upset by a two-point basket that was swiftly and predictably followed by the ousting of said Panthers by Michigan State in the next round.

So, I think the track record of the CIC speaks long and loudly for itself - in all matters of men's basketball and well beyond. I'm not sure how the University of Connecticut women's basketball program escapes this burden. But, I'm expecting them to do it again this year. It feels like Maya Moore is a tenth-year senior. If she shows up for pre-season next year, I think the NCAA should look into the situation.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch....

The "no 16-seed has ever defeated a one-seed in the history of the tournament" jinx just seemed ripe for the picking by the team from the program that basically invented the game. That the coach for which their Fieldhouse is named (Allen), launching the infamous warning ("Beware of the Phog"), was the champion for this madness in the first place would suggest to me that the 2011 edition of the Mythical Birds was well-positioned to take this hit. If the cumulative layering of jinxing was firing on all cylinders, then multiplying the CIC jinx by the one-seed jinx would equal a perfect storm for program ridicule to Infinity. And, beyond.

So, it was no surprise to me that Boston University came out shooting from beyond the arc like a four-seed. That the Jayhawks appeared to have forgotten their offensive answer(s) to the 2-3 zone defense. And, perhaps in a nod to UNI in 2010, that they were making BU's perimeter shooters look like they were NBA ringers in the first half.

Yes, certainly, KU was adjusting and beginning to modestly take control just before halftime. But, it wasn't enough. Not enough to stop worrying about that other, mysterious jinx.

The "B" jinx.

On my life, I was there; but, I didn't see the upset by one point coming in 2005 to the Bucknell Bison. A 14-seed with zero NCAA Tournament victories in its 110-year history, five scholarship players and even a borrowed band. I guess that qualified as a double-B jinx - as in, "Bucknell Band." An oxymoron.

On my life, I was there; but, I didn't see the upset by four points coming in 2006 to the Bradley Braves. A 13-seed that gave a team that had nothing to do with what was by then known as the "Bucknell Bummer" something to think about.

Separately, why do all these "B" teams have mascots with "B" names? Okay, Kansas was a very young team that year. But, old enough to be named a four-seed.

So, I was watching a slow-paced, slug-fest against another "B" team last night and trying to shake the jinx. I considered that - maybe - a review of all the associated "B" names that haven't exactly been bad luck for Kansas would help.

"Bill." Self, the head coach. "Brady." Morningstar, the marvelous senior from the backyard of Lawrence, Kansas who, periodically, shoots three-pointers unconsciously. "Baylor." A team that under-performed this season and presented no threat. In fact, they dutifully reclined a la doormat in Waco for their home game against the Jayhawks this year. Booya!!

"Big." For Big XII - their conference.

Oops. Maybe that's a bad choice, since the Big XII is currently only the Big X after two defections by Nebraska and Colorado. Which is a problem in the Big Ten, now with 12 teams playing next year and a huge marketing stumble trying to decide what to call themselves and explain why they have 12 teams.

They finally settled on BIG. Which, I guess is as good as anything. But, that doesn't help Kansas. At least, I don't think so.

No, now I could only hear in my head the B names with a less-than-silver lining. Bucknell. Bradley. BIG. Barack. Boston.

I had already spoken to ma boy, Thomas Robinson, about what he needed to do. And, with the playing time he was given, he was mostly doing it.

It was time to leave the room.

It worked on April 7, 2008. Not only did I leave the room - I turned off the TV and went upstairs to one of the bedrooms. Bedroom. B-word. I flipped on a different TV and got a different result - a three-pointer by Mario Chalmers with time running out on the clock to put Kansas into overtime and eventually defeat Memphis. A team that was later found to be dirtier than dirt, requiring them to vacate that season and that loss on their side of the ledger.

So, I left Mr. Jayhawk to fume and sweat over a six-point lead and started the washer.

I found a few other things to do. I managed to occupy myself, listening only for signs of distress from himself or to recognize if something good was happening for Kansas based on crowd noise levels.

I heard a big roar. But, I was disciplined. I stayed in my passing lane and out of the room.

I heard another big roar. I wasn't hearing anything from Mr. Jayhawk and wondered if he, too, had left the room. But, I stayed focused and emptied a trash basket in the powder bathroom.

I heard another, HUGE roar. That's all I heard. But, in my self-sacrificing mode, I decided to brush my teeth.

Then, I heard another, hugely HUGE roar. I was thinking it was time to re-enter the field of battle. Before I could decide, I heard the reassuring seven-note bumper music that signals a time-out in March Madness. "duh-da-duh-da-DUH-Duh-Duh."

I ran (sort of) back to see what awesome awesomeness I had missed. Sure enough. I had taken one for the team.

I came around the corner to find that Kansas had hit three consecutive three-pointers after a Brady three-point attempt had first rimmed out.

They - and, I - never looked back.

Back. B word. As in, "I got yours."

Bill Self and the Jayhawks will now face Illinois in the third round. All things Illini hate Bill Self for leaving them to take the Kansas job.

I'm thinking of spending the game in the Basement.

Order of Magnitude

"Japan Quake May Have Shortened Earth Days, Moved Axis"

Jet Propulsion Laboratory - March 11, 2011

My Saturday is a disjointed mix: devastating news stories and images from Japan, mundane chores with modern conveniences I take for granted every day until I see stories like Japan, and the uniquely-American college basketball conference tournaments.

I have nothing to complain about. I also have nothing to say. Since I try to stay disciplined about this weekly posting, I rationalize that I'll log on; write that I have nothing to say, then log off again.

What can be said that has not already been said? Been written? Been broadcast? Been tweeted, reposted on Facebook, witnessed on Youtube?

Nothing.

I am nothing. I know nothing...

But, I know whom I have believed. And am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I've committed unto Him against that day.

On the Border

"Kansas Seals Outright Big 12 Title With 70-66 Win Over Missouri"

KU Athletics

Columbia, Mo. - A powerful inside combination of Marcus Morris, Thomas Robinson, and Markieff Morris propelled the University of Kansas men's basketball team to a 70-66 win over the Missouri Tigers, Saturday, at Mizzou Arena.

Early in the second half, I began having a chat with My Boy, Thomas Robinson. I told him that it was time for him to take over the game. About 10 minutes later, Mr. Jayhawk turned and said unto me, "whatever you're saying to Thomas, please keep saying it!"

Yes. A Mother knows.

Looks like my job duties as Mrs. Jayhawk have been expanded.

If only I had power over sunspots, which are being blamed by CBS for abruptly ripping viewers away from an almost-but-not-quite-over rivalry game and season finale, with the outright Big 12 championship on the line. Their story is that the satellite transmission was cut; and, even though the announcers apparently continued to call the game, the Denver market got the dry, toasted opening few minutes of Oregon vs. Arizona instead. Online gametrackers were deployed, ESPN crawls were carefully inspected for any sign of bad fortune. Exhales were heard when the "Final Score Alert" showed that what we had left as a 13-point lead had dwindled to a four-point win. But, a win is a win.

Who said that?

We didn't get to see the excitement and fireworks of the last 3:28 of this Kansas vs. Missouri grind fest. But, if we lived in metro Kansas City this evening, we'd get to see a replay of the entire second half after the 10:30 news.

Mr. Jayhawk now officially holds CBS with the same disdain as Microsoft. Yep, it's that bad. He thinks they invented the sunspot story this afternoon to cover their switch for contractual reasons.

Oh, well. I have a SUPER busy week ahead and won't be home for four days. So, there is simply a limit to how much Mrs. Jayhawk can absorb this evening.

Just win, baby.

Like a Rock

I'll fly away, oh glory, I'll fly away
When I die, hallelujah by and by, I'll fly away

Some bright morning when this life is over, I'll fly away
To a land on God's celestial shore, I'll fly away

When the shadows of this life have grown, I'll fly away
Like a bird from these prison walls, I'll fly away

I'll fly away, oh glory, I'll fly away
When I die, hallelujah by and by, I'll fly away

Oh how glad and happy when we meet, I'll fly away
No more cold iron shackles on my feet, I'll fly away

I'll fly away, oh glory, I'll fly away
When I die, hallelujah by and by, I'll fly away

Just a few more weary days and then, I'll fly away
To a land where joy will never end, I'll fly away

I'll fly away, oh glory, I'll fly away
When I die, hallellujah by and by, I'll fly away

Albert E. Brumley, shape note gospel music composer and publisher, 1905-1977

“Oh that I had wings like a dove, I would flyaway and be at rest.”

Psalm 55:6

"Rock Chalk, Jayhawk, KU"

University of Kansas Jayhawks Chant

I find myself abruptly at the end of February, suddenly looking ahead to March as though I've had no warning. According to the Blackberry calendar, I have a month of almost non-stop travel. The Day Planner of my alternate personality, Mrs. Jayhawk, looks like more fun. March Madness!! Game after game after game of collegiate nonsense, upsets, Cinderella stories, injuries, unrealized potential, and spoilers. Madness, indeed...

Every year is a unique adventure of sameness and the unexpected. I always stand guard early, waiting to take the emotional temperature of Mr. Jayhawk as the season progresses. Once upon a time, his mood would rise and fall with Jayhawk fortunes; at tournament time, he'd stop watching the thing altogether as soon as Kansas was out of it. As in other things, time has mellowed him to a sort of pragmatic, "they're 20-year-old kids" response of satisficing. Since we have lives and our own couple of 20-somethings with their own issues, this evolution is helpful.

Every season of sports - college and professional - brings a new raft of heart-wrenching stories of personal loss - the kind of five-minute ESPN packages that bolt me to the floor, bring tears to my eyes, and never fail to remind me of how I am personally blessed and how much Grace we have been collectively granted as a family.

From the jump, I was riveted as the story of this year's edition of the Kansas Jayhawks began to emerge. They were thoroughly outplaying expectations. The losses to graduation and the NBA would have brought many talented programs to their rebuilding knees. But, somehow, with each contest, this roster began to look like a championship contender. As the team piled win upon win, I began to wonder what circumstances would conspire to bring them their first loss. I was paying some attention to the stories about one of the young players who had lost both of his grandparents within a few days of each other.

But, the morning of their home game against Texas, I felt like a real alumni with close ties - not just a fan by marriage - as I absorbed the news that his too-young mother had died too soon the night before. Leaving him, at the tender age of 19, without an adult family member. And, leaving him with a lonely little seven-year-old sister 2000 miles away.

Incredibly, the announcers were saying that he was not only with the team, but that he expected to play. The whole roster came out in the first half with their hair and pants on fire and looked like they were going to pound Texas back to the Stone Age. Up-all-night fatigue overtook them in the second half, and they dropped the game in front of a national CBS audience.

I've been unable to shake this personal story of Number Zero - the subject of hundreds of "Zero is My Hero" shirts issued the past four weeks in Kansas Crimson and Blue. Particularly, I've been unable to shake that the personal story of tragedies of one Thomas Robinson have been borne beneath the glare and scrutiny of public eyes.

He doesn't know me from a fly on the wall. But, I send him messages of encouragement on Twitter after every game. I can only imagine how many hundreds of other such messages he's receiving.

As for the fortunes of Kansas in the NCAA Tournament this year, I believe one thing. And, one thing only: the Kansas Jayhawks will advance as deep into that tournament as Thomas Robinson is healthy and plays his role. The team's second of only two losses during the regular season had everything to do with Thomas Robinson - again. At Kansas State, they were blown off the court while T-Rob sat in street clothes on the bench, nursing a torn meniscus repair.

That's all I need to know.

I'm sure I'm not the only Jayhawk supporter that wishes I could fill the holes in his heart. I am uplifted by his performance every time he asserts his will in a game when his monstrously talented teammates are sagging. The whole dynamic of his on-court performance versus his off-court challenges will be revisited until the team wins the national championship or their post-season ends, whichever comes first.

May the best team win. May mothers' and fathers' sons from around the country stay out of harm's way and play to their potential.

Rock Chalk, Thomas Robinson.

http://www.kansan.com/news/2011/jan/27/robinson

Nose Job

"Myth: Three Americans every year die from rabies. Fact: Four Americans every year die from rabies."

Michael Scott - "The Office" - Season 4 "Fun Run."

"I'm one stomach flu away from my goal weight."

Emily Charlton - "The Devil Wears Prada."

A week ago, I declared that I thought I had sinusitis but was mistaken. Today, I'm reporting that I was right the first time. By Wednesday, the pain in my forehead, nose, cheek, and ear on the left side reached fever pitch. That, too - about 99.8.

I try not to run to the doctor at the first sign of pain - even when it spans several interrelated body parts. But, after not really sleeping much on Wednesday night, I decided that Thursday was the day. Sure enough, the doctor confidently announced, "Oh YEAH, you really have sinusitis - I'm sure."

It's not like I tried to sell him on the theory. The walking symptoms are all too-familiar to me. The trick is to wait long enough to be sure that I'll leave the doctor's office the first time with the medications I need to beat it; but, not long enough for my face to swell up too much, elephant-man style. I've actually mismanaged this dilemma while traveling for business, since I once failed to sound the alarm bell before leaving town. In that instance, I raced through south suburban Salt Lake City in a rental car with only 35 minutes left before the urgent care facility closed for the day. Anything to avoid the ER charge. By the time I got there, with 10 minutes to spare, the lump on the right side of my nose did my talking for me. Another round of another doctor's new favorite antibiotic for sinusitis.

This week, I might have outsmarted myself. I was certain that the pressure in my ear drum had prevented me from hearing clearly when the doctor proudly pronounced the name of the antibiotic du jour.

"Ciprofloxacin!"

He fairly pumped his fist in the air at the mention, as I stuttered something like, "....did you just say CIPRO???"

Yes, he did. Say Ciprofloxacin. Cipro.

I've only experienced the nuclear medication that is Cipro one other time in my life. The ailment was entirely different, the circumstances of which will not be discussed here. Suffice to say, the remedy was more challenging than the ailment; which had been foreshadowed when that particular doctor had noted that "Cipro kills everything!"

What, exactly, was meant by "everything?" I had wondered at the time which part of me would constitute everything and hoped it wasn't all of me.

If you've ever downed Cipro, you'll understand what I mean when I say that the first couple of days on this drug make you feel like a copper penny flattened by a freight train. Like the doctor forgot to give you a prescription for the antidote that will permit you to do the remedial things. Like walk, eat, and sleep.

Of course, it's important to note that it also "works" for the thing you're trying to overcome. So, that's helpful.

If you're thinking that you've heard the word "Cipro" before, and it wasn't in the context of sinusitis, you would be correct. In all likelihood, you're thinking that it had something to do with national security. You would be right again.

You're probably an avid reader of the National Institutes of Health website and remember now that Cipro is used to treat or prevent dangerous exposures that are deliberately spread. Things like anthrax, plague, and tularemia. Stuff that could happen during biological warfare.

Sounds serious, right? I thought so....

The list of side effects to expect, but that aren't serious enough to call the doctor, includes eight items. The list of side effects that are serious enough to discontinue use and call the doctor numbers 34 items. Reflecting on my day so far, influenced by my active imagination, I might believe I've experienced half the list by now.

But, it's also true that the original ailment is under control and improving. A little confusion, restlessness, and loss of appetite seems a small price to pay.

So long as I live to tell another tale next week....