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Big Fish (DVD, 2004)
2 product ratings
Good value
Engaging characters
Brand newLOWEST PRICE
Big Fish [DVD] [2004] DVDAU $6.23+ AU $3.50 postage
- Brand new condition
- Sold by roxy*books
- See details for delivery est.
Nearly newLOWEST PRICE
Big Fish (DVD, 2004) LIKE NEW ... R4AU $8.00Free postage
- Like new condition
- Sold by vicw2005
- Est. delivery by 4 Oct
Pre-ownedBEST PICK
BIG FISH (DVD, PG)AU $6.98Free postage
- Good condition
- Sold by wollongongcashexpress
- Est. delivery by 3 Oct
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About this product
Product Information
- Product InformationAn A-list cast headed Ewan McGregor, Albert Finney and Jessica Lange catch an adventure as big as life itself in visionary director Tim Burton's feel-good fable Big Fish. Critics and audiences fell hook, line and sinker for this story of a man, who tries to separate fact from fiction and man from myth to solve the greatest mystery in his life - his father. Hailed as Burton's best since Edward Scissorhands, Big Fish is an amazing motion picture experience that's "so enriching, so heart-warming, so funny, so touching and so breathtaking" (Clint Morris, Film Threat)
Product Identifiers
- TitleBig Fish
- FormatDVD
- Product Release Date17/06/2004
Key Feaures
- Theatrical Release Year2003
- Number of Discs1
- ActorsAlbert Finney,Alison Lohman,Billy Crudup,Danny De Vito,Ewan McGregor,Helena Bonham-Carter,Jessica Lange,Marion Cotillard,Robert Guillaume,Steve Buscemi
- DirectorsTim Burton
- RatingPG
- LanguageEnglish
- Run Time120 minutes
Theatrical Information
- Primary GenreAction/Adventure
- StudioSony Pictures
Most relevant reviews
- 030caseyhyde04 Aug, 2016by
big fish
Good movie if your into that type.
Verified purchase: Yes | Condition: New
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Auto Parts Search
Learn how to repair a car or truck, install or remove parts, wire an engine, reset warning lights, replace fuel filter, fix auto body and more. Get Automotix DIY!
Automotix DIY provides automotive consumers and do it yourselfers; the most comprehensive repair information about 2002 Nissan Maxima car and truck repair procedures including Nissan engine diagrams, wiring diagrams, repair work estimating measures, technical service bulletins, auto body work guidance, starter & alternator replacement procedures, serpentine belt replacement procedures, radiator & hose replacement procedures, tune-up & drivability specifications, quick lube illustrations, preventive maintenance guide, engine light reset instructions, parts removal and install procedures, fuel filter replacement directions, component location diagrams, air filter locations & replacement instructions, a/c system specifications, and general auto service procedures. You don't have to be a car mechanic or technician to know how to fix your 2002 Nissan Maxima automobile. Try the Automotix DIY solution today!
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Cabin air filter locations and replacement procedures with corresponding images for most domestic and imported 2002 Nissan Maxima cars and light trucks sold in the U.S. as equipped to the current model year.
Cabin Air Filter Service -> Nissan -> 2002-03 Maxima
Vehicle: 2002 Nissan Maxima 3.5 V6 GAS
Under normal operating conditions the cabin air filter should be replaced every 12 months or 15,000 miles. In dusty areas change the cabin air filter more often.
- Remove the glove compartment.
- Remove the instrument panel lower trim panel.
- Remove the cabin air filter cover retainer clip.
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Shop online for auto body parts, engines, wheels, lights...
|2008 Nissan Maxima Headlight, Driver Side, Bulbs included; Composite, combination, and halogen type; DOT and SAE approved; A high quality, direct fit OE replacement headlight assembly; With 2 years limited Trustbuilt warranty..
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subset: commoncrawl


text:
Registered nurses can help you find a location or specialist that's right for you.
Call 404-778-7777
7:30 a.m. to 6 p.m. EST (M-F)
Call 404-778-7777
7:30 a.m. to 6 p.m. EST (M-F)
Conditions & Treatments
Male Incontinence Surgery
Incontinence is a common problem for men after surgery for prostate cancer or enlarged prostate and may also affect men with nerve damage or an overactive bladder. If incontinence persists for more than a year, corrective surgery may be recommended.
There are three surgical options for the treatment of male urinary incontinence:
- Artificial Urinary Sphincter: An artificial urinary sphincter is an implanted device which compresses the patient's urethra to keep it closed except when voiding. A cuff fits around the urethra and prevents urine from leaking. When a man wants to urinate, he squeezes a pump placed inside the scrotum. The pump deflates the cuff, urine is released, and then the cuff automatically re-inflates. This type of incontinence surgery may be an option for men experiencing incontinence due to nerve damage or weakened sphincter muscles.
- Urinary Diversion: Urinary diversion is a surgical procedure used when the bladder must be removed or all bladder function is lost because of nerve damage. During the urinary diversion procedure, the surgeon will create a pouch or reservoir and a diversion, usually by removing a piece of the small intestine and connecting the ureters to the pouch. This method of urinary diversion requires patients to empty the pouch through a stoma--an opening on the lower abdomen where urine can be drained through a catheter. If the urethra is preserved, urinary diversion techniques that do not require a stoma or use of a catheter may be used instead.
- Male Sling: The male sling procedure involves the surgical anchoring of a mesh sling to the patient's pubic bones, which compresses the urethra to prevent stress incontinence. The male sling device keeps consistent pressure on the urethra, which remains closed until the patient intentionally voids. The male sling is most effective in men with mild to moderate incontinence.
NewsView all News
Emory Healthcare news from the Emory News Center
Emory Physician Group Practices awarded for outpatient care excellence by Vizient
September 19, 2017
Happy Tails therapy dogs bring comfort and joy to hospital patients
September 15, 2017
Navicent Health and Emory Healthcare announce surgical partnership
September 13, 2017
Emory primary care grows with nine new clinics and a clinic expansion
September 13, 2017
Emory University Hospital is first in the US to use new 3DHD endoscopy
September 13, 2017
Emory University names new Dean for School of Medicine
September 12, 2017
Emory Johns Creek Hospital opens state-of-the-art cardiac catheterization lab
September 11, 2017
Emory Saint Joseph's expands neurosurgery program
September 01, 2017
Emory Heart & Vascular Center expands in Cumming, Johns Creek
September 01, 2017
New MRI machine provides faster results and clearer images for patients in Johns Creek
September 01, 2017


text:
Find a copy online
Links to this item
Find a copy in the library
Finding libraries that hold this item...
|Streaming audio
|Material Type:
|Music, Sound recording, Internet resource
|Document Type:
|Internet Resource, Computer File, Sound Recording
|All Authors / Contributors:
Alfred Deller; Gustav Leonhardt; Henry Purcell; Matthew Locke; John Jenkins; Leonhardt Baroque Ensemble.
|OCLC Number:
|Streaming audio.
|Alfred Deller, counter-tenor ; Leonhardt Baroque Ensemble ; Gustav Leonhardt, harpsichord and conductor.
|Event notes:
|Recorded 1954 in Europe.
|1 online resource (1 sound file)
|Secrecie's song from "The fairy queene" ; Mystery's song from "The fairy queene" ; Fantasia in D for 4 viols, 1680 ; Here let my life from the cantata "If ever I more riches did desire" ; Prelude, Air, and Hornpipe for harpsichord / Henry Purcell --
Consort of four parts, for viols / Matthew Locke --
Here the deities approve from the Ode: "Welcome to all the pleasures" ; Since from my dear Astrea's sight from "Dioclesian" ; Suite in D minor for harpsichord ; The plaint from "The fairy queen" / Henry Purcell --
Pavane, for 4 viols / John Jenkins.
|Series Title:
|Naxos Music Library.; Vanguard Classics.
User-contributed reviews


text:
The Director of Communications at the Electoral Commission, Eric Dzakpasu, has slammed political parties for the low turnout during the first day of the ongoing voter register exhibition exercise.
Dzakpasu said political parties are not encouraging their members to go and verify their names as they encouraged their members to register during the limited registration exercise.
He said: "When it comes to registration, the political parties are very active. They go round, they make sure their people go to the registration centres to go and register massively. It beats the mind when it comes to exhibition, which is the final stage in certifying a register for credible election we are found wanting so much."
Dzakpasu was, however, hopeful that interest in the exercise will pick up as the days go by.
"Being a 21-day exercise our expectations are that as the days go by it will pick up. It has always been the case when it comes to this critical stage of the exercise," he said.
Asked what the EC is doing to encourage people to go out and verify their names, he said the commission has placed 130 TV and radio ads.
"But we are doing our part, we are just calling on the stakeholders to join and play their part so that we can all have a very successful exhibition exercise," he concluded.
Abu Mubarik/Ghanadecides.com


text:
In my work I find myself often needing a Markdown formatted link, containing both URL and page title. Most often, this happens when working on references for studies or commentary on medical debates, where links to pubmed and similar are expected to be done AMA Style. This very simple Alfred 3 Workflow automates this.
Simply navigate to the page in question, make sure it's the top most tab on Chrome, activate Alfred, and type
lmd. Paste as needed into your Markdown Editor of choice.
(Note: in Ulysses you'll need to ⌘-Shift-V and select "5 – from Markdown" or it'll do weird things. MWeb doesn't do this, simply paste.)
Ulysses, now that it's subscription, should really enable the "snag Link Title" feature they've been promising for years, but hey… until then, this will do.


text:
Rosh Hashanah 2017
Wednesday, September 20, 2017 & Thursday, September 21, 2017 from 4:00PM-9:30PM
Celebrate Rosh Hashanah this year at L. Woods! Enjoy a family style dinner complete with holiday favorites like Matzoh Ball Soup, Potato-Crusted Lake Superior Whitefish, Beef Brisket, and Lemon Sponge Cake. Adults enjoy for $42.95 and kids 12 & under for $15.95 + tax (gratuity not included). Available for carry-out and dine-in. Reservations Recommended – see a host or call (847) 677-3350.


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clipart baby shower whale , this design has good combination of color.
There are lots of great selection out there about clipart baby shower whale. This post will give you the best baby shower image currently available out there! We put together a list of images with some of the most brilliant baby shower image around the web.
When you are going to welcome your baby birth, you might have idea to hold baby shower for sharing your happiness to next-door neighbors or buddies. To develop your own baby shower, you might need to discover some clipart baby shower whale that are spread on the internet however there are some things you need to concern and take an appearance so you will not miss out on many important things on your important moment like baby shower. You select the purple or pink as the primary style of your baby shower, so you will need to develop other things with purple too to make it in line with the primary style you have actually chosen.
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Marrickville 3 Bedroom house - Great Location!
Marrickville 3 Bedroom house - Great Location!
7 guests
3 bedrooms
4 beds
2 baths
7 guests
3 bedrooms
4 beds
2 baths
My place is good for couples, solo adventurers, business travellers, and families (with kids).
New house in a perfect location: within 2 min walk from very trendy cafes, restaurants, supermarkets and the train station, where you can get to the city within 20 mins.
Main features to highlight:
Patio with BBQ and sitting area, en-suite bathroom in main bedroom, little trampoline for kids, walk-in wardrobe. The main bathroom has a bathtub and all the laundry facilities. Linen and Towels.
Sleeping arrangements
Bedroom 1
1 double bed
Bedroom 2
1 double bed
Bedroom 3
1 bunk bed
Common spaces
1 sofa bed
Extra people No Charge
Cleaning Fee £61
Security Deposit £304
Weekly Discount: 10%
Always communicate through Airbnb
To protect your payment, never transfer money or communicate outside of the Airbnb website or app.Learn more
House Rules
Cancel up to 7 days before your trip and get a 50% refund. Cancel within 7 days of your trip and the reservation is non-refundable.
Safety features
Smoke detector
7 nights minimum stay
No reviews (yet)
This home doesn't have any reviews. If you stay here, your review will appear here.
Response rate: 100%
Response time: within a few hours
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More places to stay in Marrickville:


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Drumnadrochit Holiday Rentals
Just booked in Drumnadrochit
Just booked in Drumnadrochit
Travelling with Airbnb
Travelling with Airbnb
24/7 customer support
Day or night, we're here for you. Talk to our support team from anywhere in the world, any hour of day.
Global hospitality standards
Guests review their hosts after each stay. All hosts must maintain a minimum rating and our hospitality standards to be on Airbnb.
5-star hosts
From fresh-pressed sheets to tips on where to get the best brunch, our hosts are full of local hospitality.
Reviews from guests who stayed in Drumnadrochit
Reviews from guests who stayed in Drumnadrochit
2,500+ reviews
of Airbnb homes in Drumnadrochit
4.7 out of 5 stars
average home rating in Drumnadrochit
Jennie is a delight as is her home. Very comfortable bed! Breakfast was delicious, especially the fresh blueberries. Jennie has thoughtfully included an outlet with 2 USB ports in the room which saved…
The location of the house is really nice. Just a few minutes walk to Drumnadrochit village and within few minutes of drive to all the Loch Ness attractions. The house is beautiful and the room is cosy…
We loved our stay at Simon and Annie's place! They were wonderful and very friendly and knowledgeable about the area. Our room had great views of Loch Ness and we enjoyed a delicious breakfast in the …
This is a splendid, splendid place to stay. The room is comfortable, clean, spacious and well appointed. It's very well looked after and the little touches make it a great base for exploring. Off the…
Great location, lovely garden lodge with cleanliness and comfortable beds. It is extremely close to Loch Ness, easy to find according to the description. Very peaceful little village with a good local…
Although we stayed just one night in this small paradise on earth but we enjoyed every second. Andre and Mathilda are such kind and welcoming hosts. The room is wonderfully decorated, modernly equippe…
It is absolutely stunning! The beautiful garden, the yummy breakfast, and the comfy bed, you just can't miss this wonderful friendly home when visiting Loch Ness. Annie & Simon both are very friendly…
Jennie ist eine total unkomplizierte, nette Gastgeberin. Wir haben uns sehr wohl gefühlt. Das Zimmer war gemütlich, das Bad supersauber und das Frühstück reichhaltig und lecker! Vom Garten aus hat man…


text:
- Open Access
Phase II, Open-Label Trial of Single-Agent CCNU in Dogs with Previously Untreated Histiocytic Sarcoma
Dr Moore is presently affiliated with Veterinary Oncology Consultants, Wauchope, Australia. Dr Russell is presently affiliated with The Ohio State University, Columbus, OH. Dr Northrup is presently affiliated with College of Veterinary Medicine, University of Georgia, Athens, GA. Dr Kristal is presently affiliated with Chavat Daat Veterinary Specialty Center, Bet Berl, Kfar Saba, Israel. Dr Bailey is presently affiliated with Oradell Animal Hospital, Paramus, NJ. Dr Flory is presently affiliated with Veterinary Specialist Centre, North Ryde, Australia. Dr Kiselow is presently affiliated with Veterinary Medical Specialists, Campbell, CA. Dr Intile is presently affiliated with Veterinary Specialists of Rochester, Rochester, NY.
Corresponding author: Kenneth Rassnick, DVM, DACVIM, Department of Clinical Sciences, College of Veterinary Medicine, Cornell University, P.O. Box 31, Ithaca, NY 14853; e-mail email@example.com.
Background: Histiocytic sarcoma (HS) is an aggressive neoplasm in dogs, and in most instances, the disease is localized, but not amenable to surgical removal, or is disseminated. Affected patients usually die within 6 months. There have been no prospective studies to determine efficacy of single-agent chemotherapy in dogs with HS.
Hypothesis: Single-agent CCNU [1-(2-chloroethyl)3-cyclohexyl-1-nitrosourea; lomustine] has antitumor activity against HS in dogs.
Animals: Twenty-one dogs with histologically confirmed, nonresectable localized or disseminated HS.
Methods: Prospective, open-label phase II clinical trial in which dogs with previously untreated HS were uniformly treated with CCNU as a single oral dosage of 90 mg/m2 every 4 weeks. The primary outcome measure was reduction in tumor size.
Results: Fourteen dogs with disseminated HS and 7 with localized HS were enrolled between 1999 and 2008. Overall response rate was 29% (95% confidence interval [CI], 14–50%) for a median of 96 days (95% CI, 55–137 days). Three dogs (1 disseminated, 2 localized) had complete responses lasting for 54–269 days and 3 dogs (2 disseminated, 1 localized) had partial responses lasting for 78–112 days.
Conclusions and Clinical Importance: CCNU, when used as a single agent, has activity against HS in dogs. Evaluation of CCNU postoperatively for dogs with resectable localized HS and as part of combination therapy for tumors that are nonresectable or disseminated should be considered.


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"Hatsune Miku" DIVA of the net
Spice Stellar Mi-508 smartphone was launched in August 2014. The phone comes with a 5.00-inch touchscreen display with a resolution of 480 pixels by 854 pixels.
The Spice Stellar Mi-508 is powered by 1.3GHz dual-core it comes with 512MB of RAM. The phone packs 4GB of internal storage that can be expanded up to 32GB via a microSD card. As far as the cameras are concerned, the Spice Stellar Mi-508 packs a 8-megapixel primary camera on the rear and a 2-megapixel front shooter for selfies.
The Spice Stellar Mi-508 runs Android 4.4 and is powered by a 2000mAh removable battery.
The Spice Stellar Mi-508 is a dual SIM (GSM and GSM) smartphone that accepts Regular and Regular. Connectivity options include Wi-Fi, GPS, Bluetooth and FM. Sensors on the phone include Proximity sensor and Accelerometer.
How to download Hatsune Miku Video app form Spice Stellar Mi-508?
- Check the Android version to verify compatibility of Hatsune Miku Video app with Spice Stellar Mi-508.
Find Android version: go to "Settings" - "About the phone" - "Android version". Make sure Hatsune Miku Video app is compatible with Spice Stellar Mi-508.
- Click the download button to download Hatsune Miku Video app in Spice Stellar Mi-508.
- Once the download and installation are complete, find Hatsune Miku Video app in your home screen and tap the icon to open it.
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Adcom A400
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Intex Cloud String HD
Micromax Canvas Blaze 4G
iBall Andi 3.5i
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Alcatel OneTouch Pixi 3 (5.5) 3G
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Asus Padfone mini 4.3
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text:
We are one of leading trader, importer, exporter and supplier of premium quality Indian Spices & Food Grains. These products are processed at our vendors end using advanced processing techniques and machines as per industry guidelines. Our offered products are packed in safe packaging options in order to avoid any kind of damage while transporting and retaining their quality. Clients can avail these products from us for adding flavour and taste in food items.
We offer:
Plain Papad
Single Mari Papad
Double Mari Papad
Jeera Papad
Green Chilli Papad
Punjabi Papad
Garlic Papad
Showcase Gallery
© Ekdant Enterprise. All Rights Reserved (Terms of Use)
Developed and Managed by IndiaMART InterMESH Limited


text:
Gail Speckmann, artist, photographer, writer/poet, and music lyricist, brings a full artistic perspective as your guide in her Sights and Sounds Tours. This highly integrated approach will broaden and deepen your travel experience.
Gail has led 11 European tours over the years including ngland, Scotland, Netherlands, Belgium, Luxembourg, France, Germany, Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland
as well as including parts of Belgium & France. Each day will include a focus idea to help enhance composition for your photography. Gail will introduce you to the work of some of the past & contemporary visual artists in the destination.
Daily, we will also experience words and sounds pertaining to particular poets/writers and musicians (contemporary and past) from these countries. These "voices" will help us immerse fully into the rhythms of a particular area, but they also strike a universal chord.
Prior to the tour a notebook will be provided to help acquaint you with what we will cover. A daily journal may be kept by volunteers and shared after the tour to help fill out your memories.
Our professional travel guide will provide us with interesting history and stories of the areas where we will visit. Time is allowed for personal enjoyment and exploration within these tours as well.


text:
The College of Nursing makes earning a nursing degree flexible, convenient and affordable with regional campuses and online programs. You can attend face-to-face "lock-step" programs in Orlando and on select regional campuses—and registered nurses (R.N.) can earn bachelor's, master's, Ph.D. and select DNP degrees online.
The BSN, MSN, DNP and post-graduate APRN certificate programs at UCF are accredited by the Commission on Collegiate Nursing Education.
Explore your opportunities.
There are many benefits to taking a more proactive approach to choosing a career. The College of Nursing has curriculum and programs to help you land your next opportunity.
Or browse by:
College of Nursing News
Florida's First Health Care Simulation Graduates Begin Work in Emerging Field
The nine recent graduates from the University of Central Florida College of Nursing Healthcare Simulation program are the first in the state fully trained to…
Nursing Honors in the Major Students Shine in Research Excellence
Skin cancer, the most commonly diagnosed cancer in the U.S. Depression, which is estimated to affect more than 15 million adults in the U.S. Pediatric…
Next-generation Nursing Education
Learn more about the advanced research, innovative technology and faculty that power the UCF's Nursing programs.


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4 new charges for driver in SXSW crash
Updated 9:24 am, Saturday, April 19, 2014
AUSTIN - Four additional assault charges were filed Friday against the aspiring rapper accused of running down a crowd of early-morning revelers at the South by Southwest music festival in March.
Authorities said Rashad Charjuan Owens, 21, of Killeen, was charged with four additional counts of aggravated assault with a deadly weapon - adding to two counts of capital murder and 20 other assault charges filed earlier.
Four people were killed and at least two dozen others were injured March 13 when Owens drove through barricades and into a street crowd outside the Mohawk club in downtown Austin, according to the charges. Police allege he was driving drunk and was fleeing an officer who had tried to stop him at a nearby gas station.
Prosecutors said Owens' bail of $5 million would be raised by $500,000 as a result of the new charges.
The new charges stem from severe injuries sustained by Liberty Hill High School student Mason Endres, 18, and three others who suffered concussions, lacerations and serious bruises. The earlier charges against Owens alleged he caused injuries to 20 others ranging from brain and internal juries to cracked vertebrae and bone fractures, according to authorities.
Local Channel
- SAPD: Garbage truck driver causes 7-car pile up on I-10mysa
- SAPD: Teen shot after dispute with fathermysa
- SAPD: Man crashes stolen truck, hides from policemysa
- Drive-by shooting critically injures 1mysa
- Police: Man fatally shot after exchanging gunfire with suspects familiar to himmysa
- Man shot at East Side apartmentsmysa
- DUI suspect kills pedestrian on San Antonio sidewalkmysa
- Suspect arrested in S.A. bar fight that left man deadmysa
- Driver killed after sports car erupts in flamesmysa
- DACA: Carla Martinezmysa
Several Houston-area residents were among the victims, including Gracie Nguyen, 23, a pastry chef at Mark's American Cuisine in Houston.
Killed in the incident were Sandy Le, 26, and Jamie West, 27, both of Austin; Steven Craenmehr, 35, of The Netherlands, and DeAndre Tatum 18, of Fort Worth.


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Workstations Created From Abandoned Houses
The Cleveland Institute of Art needed new workstations so Dan Cuffaro decided to make them out of recycled materials from abandoned homes in the area.
Dan Cuffaro from the Cleveland Institute of Art decided to make workstations for the school's design studio using recycled materials from abandoned houses in the area. Working together with companies A Piece of Cleveland and Benchmark Craftsmen, he created the HIVE workstation. These mobile units are on wheels so they can be easily moved to find the best spot to work. They feature a worksurface, storage space, LED lights, and customizable panels.
The workstations were designed to have a positive impact on the community, meet the needs of generations of design students, and directly benefit the school. They also generated commercial interest and so earlier this year Cuffaro formed his own company, Abeo Design.
The Latest
During a webinar on Thursday July 13th at 10am, the PSFK research team will be presenting findings from our most recent report, Future of Manufacturing. For this project, we looked at how brands and organizations can meet elevated consumer needs and combat increased market competition by leveraging connected technologies that give total insights to manage their end-to-end operations and the opportunity to integrate cutting-edge technologies to reinvent supply chains.
Christina Agapakis, creative director at Ginkgo Bioworks, discussed how she uses her background in science and collaborates with engineers, designers, artists and social scientists to explore the many unexpected connections between microbiology, technology, art and popular culture.


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From Our Editors
Find the flavor that satisfies your sweet tooth at Frozen Cay, a lovely ice cream shop in the Douglasville region of Douglasville.
The parking options near Frozen Cay are quick and painless.
Everyone will scream for the ice cream at Frozen Cay. Head there tonight for quite the treat!


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August 14, 2014
I have been running for awhile just for exercise but honestly didn't start really getting into it until 2008. I did my first marathon in 2012 but stepped away from distance running since then. I would like to get back into it!
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Once again I woke to the sound of that goddamn alarm clock blaring at 4:45 on yet another morning wondering, "What in the hell am I doing?" While rising at that hour of the morning may not have been entirely unusual—in a life that not so long ago was mine, but which now seemed somewhat nauseatingly foreign I had often awakened long before sensible people do, literally skipping from my bed to my computer, ready for action having become possessed by some idea or another. Writers, researchers, academics of all types are familiar with this compulsion. One learns rather quickly that, if one does not take advantage of the gifts bestowed by the Muse immediately—whatever the hour, damn the circumstances—she will all too often slip away having failed to leave more than a tantalizing trace regarding the contents of her inspiration. Many who occasionally imbibe to excess have had a similar experience: the taste of stale scotch the morning after a hard night of drinking. "What was her name, anyway? Surely, I behaved." Inevitably, as the semester neared its end twice each year my working hours became ever more erratic. Indeed, more often than not, that essential breakthrough, the one argument that transformed a paper from an acceptable A into a veritable event of writing comes to me in the wee hours. There are very few feelings in the world more invigorating than that rush I get as I sit at my computer as the sun peaks over the masses of the unconscious as I elaborate the idea that has consumed me for weeks, or, even months, knowing that finally I have nailed it. I have not just written a paper; I have produced a piece of art.
Therefore, in a sense, there was nothing shockingly abnormal about my rising on the day in question at 4:45. Well, there was nothing all too strange about it except for the impetus and inspiration: both of which were diametrically opposed to which I had accustomed myself for years. Although by this point, to be sure, it was no more than a day like any other: up at 4:45; drive to work; watch in awe as Boone, Split Creek Farm's resident Boarder Collie, herds 200 plus goats into the holding pen; getting in the first milkers; feed the pastures, dogs, rabbits, and the innumerable other chores that come along with working on a farm. I guess there was one difference.
Nationals were approaching. This is a huge event for any goat farm; in fact there is no happening of corresponding prestige in the goat world. The prestige that goes along with a First translates into cash from all around the globe, and any goat farm with 300 animals must have cash. Any event of such importance constitutes a little extra insanity between the barn, the office, and the packinghouse: dotting "i"s, crossing "t"s, grooming goats, and tasting cheese. After all, why go if you aren't going to take home the gold? "Split Creek Farm Places First in National Dairy Association Cheese Tasting Event," read the local paper's headlines, but that was sometime later.
Speaking of time, who knows? It was dark. Evin was in the office, Jess in the kitchen making fudge. Initially, I was somewhere in between, though I ended up in the latter, and Evin must have come into the kitchen as well, for I am sure that both were there when it ripped through my gray matter. No mistaking this much. Suddenly, I had begun to shake as if I had just had a horrific car accident, and the sweat, it was liquid panic, like nothing I had ever experienced before. I rarely employ the verb "to know" in any but the loosest sense. Then, however, something was wrong, I KNEW it; and I said as much. Nonetheless, the concern that reflected back to me left me somewhat confused. I suppose this was the result of the thermo-nuclear event that had probably already occurred at this point: my brain in full revolt. Alas, the full effects had not nearly fully elaborated its shock waves within the confines of my skull.
I suppose that I was coming into the main house to give my final report on the goats and kids. Surely, that was the case for it was dark outside. I entered the side door, as we all do. The front door is triple protected: from Boone, the border collie who becomes psychotic during thunder storms; from the nosy tourists who think nothing of entering someone's domicile simply because they paid $3.00 for a tour; and to ensure that no one carelessly leaves the door opened. This latter would allow the newest of the summer's herd—the kids still being bottle fed—from escaping. Jessica, Evin's stepdaughter: the cheese and fudge wiz was stirring Split Creek's secret ingredient into a batch of fudge. Everything seemed to be going as things go. It was a relatively normal, if frenzied day on the farm.
But anyone who knows anything about raising animals knows that there are very few days that are not frenzied. Thus I sat my weary bones down on an old curve backed wooden chair—you know, the type, which, if one were to place the curved pieces in the middle together, they would form a heart—before the cupboard to chat for a while. Indeed, a beautiful thing about Split Creek Farm is that I loved the two women into whose presence I had just entered. I am happy to say that I felt the same for Pat, Evin's partner, also. But she was yet to arrive, and Rachel, the accounts manager had left already. Thus, I sat surrounded by people whose company I treasured as much as I did any others in the world. Unfortunately, to cite the title of a Nine Inch Nails song, Love Is Not Enough: at least for what was coming for me.
Pure immediacy, there was no warning: just all wrong. Suddenly, I felt something that I can only describe as a pervasive sense of despair. It took me a while – time, who knows? – it took a while to realize that there was nothing wrong with Jess or Evin. It was only me, but not only was time out of joint, so was perception, my entire being was erupting with alien sensations. As I mentioned that I felt strange, I could tell from the gazes directed towards me that this was something more than simply strangeness, which is, after all, either one of my more endearing or annoying traits.
What was this babbling? Then I realize: Oh, it's me that Evin is telling to sit down, and what is this about yogurt? I see, metaphorically speaking: the yogurt thing is not for me to do anything about. The boss is not ordering me to get yogurt. She wants me to have some. Yes, yogurt just what I need. First, however, it is imperative that I get off of these rubbery sticks, which I had used to remove myself from the chair. (If you feel dizzy in a chair, prudence dictates that you remain sitting, for standing will simply exacerbate the disequilibrium. Then again, it is fair to make a strong presumption that common sense had by this time donned the swift shoes of Hermes; his message is not, after all, always a kind one.) So, I sit, again facing Evin's fantastically arrayed cabinets.
I've always liked Evin's cabinets: glass fronts, framed in white, a menagerie of dishes, proper for all animals, no pretentious shit, no bon-bon spoons here. Just beautifully crafted cabinets neatly stacked with rescued dishes no color of the rainbow unrepresented. There was no pansy-ass bone china here; even I, the proverbial bull- in-the-china-shop, am not afraid to eat from these solidly constructed plates and bowls. It is possible, however, that the dishes, in their display of perfect utility, contributed to my crisis, for the cupboard suddenly became a Babel of its sundry serving apparatus', they were throwing stars, blue stars to be exact, and green clovers, and yellow moons. Whoa, what the fuck? This cannot be right.
Evin is still saying yogurt, I try to concentrate my mind and decide whether there is an "a" somewhere in this word. Jess is saying something, "vanilla". I think, calm down, Rusty. Don't worry; you were crazy before this anyway. On the other hand, perhaps I should worry; this shit is not right, and this you KNOW. Dishes do not cast speeding flashes of light, speeding menacing flashes of light. I am being attacked, overwhelmed, in fact. Whatever is not too fast is too slow. Forget the yogurt; the majority of the cupboard's contents are coming at me at warp speed, either that or they are, for the time being, suspended in mid-air, awaiting their turn at a death-dealing blow. I'm in Bosch's painting, The Ship of Fools. You wonder what that one, the very one that so fascinates you is so terrified of; table settings, I tell you. Surely, this is not that thing: insanity. Could this state be perdurable, life could not happen this way. Even Dante's God is not so cruel. Yet, I am clearly losing my mind. Dishes do not break the sound barrier. I have enjoyed life to the fullest. I have never been one to turn down a chance to explore different possibilities of consciousness. Then again, I have never had to defend myself against psychotic dishes either. Alternatively, could it be that I am the psychotic one? I was not in a position to rule out any possibility. Ergot poisoning, perhaps: can a witch have a penis?
Animal that I am, however, my mind had at least retained its primitive functions. I had no choice; it was imperative to defend myself against those abnormally aggressive dishes. I recall no cognitive orders being issued. Rather, it was more like going into a skid in a speeding car. You turn into it. It's just what you do. Except that in the car, there is no fear until after the event. Thus, this example is not strictly analogous to my jumping up from the chair in front of the cabinets with "yogurt" ringing in my ears that night. There was no lag time for the fear to arrive I was consumed by it: a classic example of fight or flight, better yet, the exception that proves the rule, fight and fly. Yes, you can do both simultaneously.
After all, there were foreign objects whirling towards my head. What could they intend but dark-eyed death? But, almost as certainly as I ducked, I parried. I regained my posture—to be sure, this term is to be understood in the most attenuated sense, as when a toddler falls and regains her stance— as I prepared to begin my counter-offensive. What else does one do in a fight? I have been told that my fists were anything but still once I was up; praise Zeus that I did not chose to swing the chair. I was in a fight; I was fighting for my sanity, which at the time my mind was mandating that I defend physically. After all, what is sanity but life itself, at least to one whose history of sanity has been known to be relatively stable?
Thus, while my paramount concern was sanity, there was no thought involved. Essentially, my quadriceps flexed instinctually, propelling me vertically from the chair as I threw my hands up to protect my head and face. It only takes a brain-stem to avoid pain. Unfortunately, it is all that is required for irremediable fear, as well. I jumped up and spun to my left, away from the cabinets containing the offending vessels. I recall throwing my arms up at the same moment, to protect myself. It is all quite logical from the point of view of one who perceives his existence to be at stake, that I would then act out a scenario much like that elaborated above. Apparently, this all happened with extreme rapidity: electrical impulses racing through my body as if induced by thunderbolts cast from all-powerful Zeus, with no consideration of consequence. Frankly, if the gods simply wish to be entertained, I would have much preferred that they had simply turned me into a tree or perhaps into a goat, relative of my mythological soul mate, Pan.
As Evin, Jess, and I discussed the events of this night when no cows were black—just an assumption on my part, but why would cows have confined themselves to the Hegelian obvious any more than the dishes did to the laws of ceramic reason—I heard a story the plot line of which would be obvious to anyone who knows us all; Jessica and Evin were as terrified as I was. I am no small man: 6'2", 205, rock solid. I toss fifty-pound bags of feed for a living: about 3,000 pounds before 8:00 am. While neither Jess nor Evin are fifty-pound bags of sweet-feed, there can be no question as to who deals the damage in this contest. Tough as they are—and let me tell you, these are some tough women—neither approaches me in either height or weight. Moreover, how does one defend oneself against something so unpredictable, what amounts to a force of nature existing for the sole purpose of unleashing destructive power? This not by virtue of any malicious intent, mind you. Katrina was oblivious to the 9th ward, she just was. Notwithstanding my general comportment as a big bear with malice towards none. It's not all that difficult to imagine what they must have been thinking: "This is a damn big guy, and he is agitated. Hell, why be euphemistic? He is psychotic; Achilles could have been in no more of a rage as he drug Hector behind his chariot hoping to defile his body, thereby denying him the peace rightfully deserved by the dead. No doubt, he has lost touch with reality. He is fighting something or ready to fight it. Oh shit, here he comes; he is going to fight me."It is fortunate that Fortuna did not entirely abandon me, and that I lost my balance. There can be no doubt that this was a good thing. I was not swinging to practice. I was in a death match, and the person to die, the first person I saw, would have been Evin—did I even perceive Evin as a "person"? To this day I shudder to imagine the damage that would have resulted, if I had landed a square punch, or made a straightforward attack on either of my present friends. The most likely chain of events is that I applied my vice grip onto Evin's forearms —I have very strong and rather large hands: ring size, 16—and slammed her to the floor with me, because my balance was no more secure than my sanity. This unintended violence was evidenced for quite some time afterward by the imprints of my hands that were tattooed on her forearms. They had reached around her entire arm. In fact, she later suggested that perhaps I could supplement the guard dogs for the goats, I could simply choke any predator that endangered the flock and with very little effort. She joked that she could even reduce my pay, given the ease of my new task.
There is one thing that remains clear, crystal clear, about this span of time, which is otherwise entirely lost to me. The one animal that was absolutely indispensible to that farm was the boarder collie, Boone. Boarder collie's are amazing animals; they are significantly more intelligent that many of the people with whom I have reluctant contact. No one doubts that Boone is Evin's dog; as is the case with most dogs, he is extremely protective of his owner. And, Boone was going berserk. I could hear him, and he was clearly very close to my head.
What's more, he was not employing his normal bark. Something like, "Come on you stubborn goats; I want my post-milking treat." He was barking with a clear intent. My level of terror increased exponentially with each bark. Nevertheless, it was when the canine signifiers behind his otherwise nonsensical signifieds came to have a clear sense to me that the term terror became insignificant. "What a nice neck you have, Rusty. I can smell the blood speeding through your jugular vein, Bark, Bark, Bark. But, I can take care of your misery: current and future. Indeed, I will entirely put you out of your misery." Then, Evin commanded, "Boone…," followed by the very calmly spoken, "Rusty, it's okay." Finally, "Jess, take Boone to the other room." Perhaps the most disturbing thing, however, was the absolutely pellucid realization that in the midst of this total mental meltdown, I thought with a clarity that was about as bone shattering as was my madness, "I am about to be eaten alive." How odd that this one incident was, and remains, so vividly and accurately impressed upon my exploding gray matter?
I recall being in the hospital hours after the event and pondering the implications of Descartes' famous, "I think therefore, I am." to what I had just experienced. Taken literally, I could only conclude that I ceased to exist, in a metaphysical sense, for that six or seven minutes, which transpired as I lay seizing on the floor, trying to bite my tongue in half and snap Evin's forearms like twigs. There were apparently eight to ten minutes following during which time I just lay on the floor staring incomprehensibly around me. I attempted to get up several times. Initially, Evin touched me as she implored me to remain prone. My reaction to her touch, as if I were once again being assaulted but could only flail like an animal in its death throes, convinced her that her voice was the proper tool to employ. Indeed, it took me days to react in any semblance of a normal fashion to the touch of anyone whomsoever. At any rate, as I lay exhausted on the farmhouse's floor something in me understood that I could not get up with even the greatest of efforts. My world had collapsed. It had imploded like a dying star, would anything ever again work, as it should have, as it always had?
Upon regaining consciousness, I was faced with a barrage of questions to which I had no answers; woe is me. I am the person who has worked his ass off to have the answers, or at least the question to end the questioning. After all, what is the purpose of 5 years of graduate study in philosophy, if not to be able to answer even the most complicated questions—making no claims, of course, to the Truth of my answers? I am a very well trained sophist. Yet, suddenly, my mind had nothing to offer but pain, fear, and confusion. Indeed, I felt as if I was being interrogated, and all I wanted to do was to locate my mind, my "true self", so that I could stop these impertinent interrogatories. No potential criminal offender could have been more terrified, for I had no alibi. I could not account for myself; yet, I had the strong impression that I was staring questions of the utmost existential import right in the face and blinking. Indeed, I can imagine that criminal suspects have nightmares akin to what I was living at that time, especially those who are perfectly innocent. What made the situation even more frustrating was that I knew all of the answers, if only I could understand the questions and put the two together. Rusty, whose elaboration of frustratingly long chains of self-reflexive irony were too much for all but the most intrepid of his fellow linguistic tricksters, yet who always somehow ended up right back at the beginning to tie off the bow, was suddenly mute. I had lost the capacity to follow even the most straightforward of lines of thought, however; two and two no longer equaled four to my distorted mind. The sum may as well have equaled five hundred and fifty four, for all I could account at the time.
The questions came from Evin, my boss and one of my best friends: "What's my name?" I thought, "What kind of stupid fucking question is that?" I had the realization—upon understanding how germane the question was, in fact—that something was radically wrong. I could not answer her question, and said as much. It was as if I had entirely forgotten how to process even the most basic information. The one thing that I did know was that something had to be irremediably askew for me to be unable to provide this information. The expression on Evin's face reflected the incredulity descending, as if by the MB, over my entire being. I don't think that she could believe any more than I that I did not know her name. In fact, I had the subtle feeling that I was somehow betraying her by not being able to say it. I did not know it the first time; I did not know the tenth time. I kept saying, "I don't know," and then, "I know it, just give me a minute." I finally remembered Evin's name as the ambulance bounced down the driveway of the farm. Given the location of Split Creek, it had to be at least 45 minutes or more before the ambulance arrived and they strapped me into its cargo, which I definitively did not like. I was so desperate to let her know that I knew her that I said to the EMT, "I know Evin's name now. Will you call and tell her?" At which time, of course, I realized that I had absolutely no clue what the number to my workplace was. Hell, Evin had to call someone else to track down my Mom's number in Canada, so that she could report on my condition to her.
I spent hours in the hospital undergoing test upon test. All I wanted were two things: i) something to keep me from jumping off of the gurney every time I caught something out of the corner of my eye or whenever Evin rubbed my arm to try to sooth me; ii) a pain killer to dull the terrible pain in my head, not to mention my mouth. The tissue destruction within my mouth—my tongue, cheeks and lips—suggested an attack by multiple assailants. Some mean characters had their shots at me in my younger days. My ribs and kidneys have been punished until I urinated blood; as for my mouth, I have had a tooth or two knocked loose. (For the cat who caught me in the mouth on the side of the Virginia House in the "Wood", you coulda been a contender.) Nonetheless, I felt nothing like the pain of the night of the seizure. I had bitten my tongue, lips, and the walls of my cheeks so badly that I did not eat solid food for nearly a week.
I can think of no other way to say it, my brain, at once my best friend and my greatest tormentor, this mass inside my head, which simply uses my body to propel it from place to place, had turned viciously against me. Like a carefully rigged building, I collapsed from the inside, the implosion having begun in my brain. I could not/cannot help but wonder where my mind was during all this time? Wherever it went, and besides the visceral fear that I could have badly injured one of my closest friends, my mind was my predominant concern for a couple of weeks, at the least. I was not sure that it was coming back, ever. This scared the shit out of me.
To aver that I rely upon my brain is something of an understatement; it constitutes the vortex of my being. I was working on a goat farm in large part, because of a series of events that led me to take a leave of absence from my Ph. D. program in philosophy. My wife and I had divorced only twenty-one months after the birth of our son. Three days following his birth I was told that I had a brain tumor, my second in 15 years. What's more, this one was much more serious. It was a pineal tumor, which meant that some human, all too human doctor would have to separate the two hemispheres of my brain in order to remove it. This is a condition so rare—approximately one in forty million—that only two doctors in the U.S. are qualified to perform such a surgery, and they do one, maybe two, a year. Thankfully, this turned out to be a false alarm.
Unfortunately, I did not find this out until I had arrived at Columbia University Medical School. My surgery was already scheduled. I must say, to that point in my life it was the most terrifying experience in my life; I was too sure, in my infinite wisdom of 20 years, of my immortality to be nearly so scared when I actually had the first tumor removed. Trying to protect my wife from my terror did nothing whatsoever to strengthen our faltering relationship. What's more, I had the ordeal of my oral exams for my Ph. D. in philosophy approaching. I was exhausted in every way possible to the human species: mental, physical, emotional. Sorrow had robbed me of a large part of the passion for what I was doing. But for all that, one thing remained certain: I was and remain a philosopher.
It never has and never will matter what my avocation is. I am a philosopher and writer, an inveterate paradox machine. My worldly possessions are few—about thirty boxes of books that I could stuff into my car as I left my place of study—but, just as I had to have those books, I must have my mind. My mind educated at significant expense, both financial and personal. As I said, my body is just a vehicle to serve for the deliverance of this gray mass, the mandate of thoughts transmitting themselves only metaphysically. Therefore, the foci of my existence, having slowed down enough to ponder what must have presented as an infinite number of unsavory outcomes, followed by the very specific possibility of having a border collie consume me, went on a mad intoxicated tear like a devotee of Dionysus. Following which, cruelty of cruelties, it went on a vacation, from which it may never have returned as far as I knew.
In fact, it was quite some time before I could reliably recall numbers that I have known for years, my entire life in certain cases. What's more, I developed a case of what is called nominal aphasia, meaning that I could not identify the names of everyday objects, nouns: dog, phone, keys, child. Again, these are average everyday things with which I have been familiar for over 35 years. It is incredibly frustrating to be in the middle of a conversation and suddenly not be able to recall a noun as simple as "keys". I spent weeks getting stuck in the middle of conversations and flapping my hands, smacking my forehead, trying to get the other person to figure out what I am trying to say from the context of the conversation, and often, finally saying, "I have no clue what the thing that I am talking about is called. This is a condition that still affects me to a certain extent. Of course, any time I have a seizure—there have been 8 to 10 since that first one—the problem is exacerbated. I must admit that not knowing whether or not the next seizure may or may not have some permanent, ontologico-intellectual transformative effect is one of the terrors of my existence.
Let's be clear about this, I don't fear the answers, be what they may regarding this condition, loosely called epilepsy. Indeed, answers, any answers, would constitute a substantial relief. What is terrifying, in the most existentially profound sense of this term, is the unconditional lack of any of the quotidian certainties by which we negotiate our lives. Following a seizure, I feel as if I have been thrown into an ontological limbo, a place populated by question marks, as if the universe had appropriated the uniform of the Riddler. I am confronted by a black background filled with green question marks whenever I close my eyes.
It strikes me now that this is the menace of which I have been aware since the time of my first articulations, since I said my first word, "book". I never feared the monster under the bed. The perpetual fuel of my anxiety, from the slightest sense that something is awry to the full-blown knowledge that, to return to a familiar metaphor, I will not come out of the skid, is this space of unimaginably oppressive uncertainty, which periodically overtakes me. The fraction of a second between realization and impact does not share the quality of being haunted by fear of the impact itself. I don't cry out because of the knowledge that I will crash into the tree. No, the defining characteristic of fear is the inability to answer. Fear is the interminable question. Terror is exemplified graphically by this seemingly innocuous mark, this "?". Doctor, is there any hope, a treatment if not a cure, a regimen of palliative care? Can you remove this mark that dominates my existence? Have you considered a lobotomy? I will donate my prefrontal cortex to science: right now!
There is not a single problem in the world that could not be remedied in the following simple manner: eliminate the question. We live under a totalitarian regime of the interrogatory. One can even see the peril represented by the question; it is represented graphically in its very structure. To swallow a period? Easy, like aspirin. An exclamation point? Somewhat more intimidating, until you think of a tablet of acetaminophen, hell combine it with the aspirin and there you go. But a question mark? Questions cannot be assimilated so easily, even if you can get it started down the proper canal it is sure to snag its insidious hook onto something, the tiny hairs lining the stomach, if you are lucky. There are, after all, worse places for it to stick.
We may even be so bold as to assert that the question is the God of all fundamentalisms, of all "isms" whatsoever, not to mention the "ologies" and "ics", which have haunted our world. Indeed, perhaps it is this, which has so hollowed out the soul of the fragmented, postmodern individual.
In the beginning there was the question, the formulation of which demanded the elaboration of the logos, always-already having failed in its mission to annihilate the next question, of which it is, paradoxically, both the foundation and lack thereof. Thus, language is the necessity of the sickle suspended over an otherwise innocuous period, the mark of impurity, which is moreover the guarantor or its own perpetuation. Our noble species fell irrevocably upon this slippery slope the moment that the anticipation of terror became more real than the actual physical, objective proximity of its constitutive aspect. The rabbit "fears" because of direct sensory input combined with certain instinctual or evolutionary aspects. It is the movement from physiological responsiveness to the mental anticipation of nothing more than the possibility of the necessity of such a response in the absence of an objective threat, characteristic of the naked ape, which marks the double event of God's birth and His death. God was born by the first "why?" and was subsequently murdered by the first insufficient articulation of the "because".
Pray, you don't accuse me of having contradicted myself. For did I not just claim that the question was merely secondary. I will not directly repudiate this argument. For the question, as I claimed above, is the derivative of our fundamental lack, the failure of certainty, our inability to secure a firm place for meaning: any existential anchor whatsoever. The question is the by-product of the human being's never ending search for transcendental value, a value secured above the vicissitudes of our all too clearly fragile and entirely contingent existence.
How in the hell did we get here, you may be asking, inherently dangerous as such an endeavor has been shown to be. Fair enough. The easy answer is a combination of philosophical inclination combined with stream of consciousness and my desire to share a story the contents of which continue to perplex me infinitely. But, I think my point is stronger. On a personal level, I am certain of it, for the events that I have unfolded for you, for myself, amount ultimately to a metaphor for a more significant existential dilemma, and ultimately a source of true child-like wonder.
Our most basic necessity as human animals is to possess a core of certainty around which we can structure our lives, even if in our most honest moments we recognize this core as little more than a necessary fiction. The repository of this core is not the brain itself, but our unique Janus-faced inheritance, the mind. To have this restless place of respite from uncertainty disturbed in a radical way is profoundly unsettling. It would be nice to believe that such disturbances occur only in extreme instances, such as that I have elaborated. Alas, such is not the case. We encounter such disruptions on a daily basis. What is truly amazing is that we can muster the energy to uphold the elaborate defenses that we must unceasingly deploy in order to prevent such occurrences from becoming life-negating. Thus, in the midst of the freefall there is hope.
The hours that Evin and I spent in the hospital on the night of my seizure now seem like seconds. I recall the next couple of weeks, however, as an eternity, marked as they were by the persistent question, "Will I be me again?" There was a total disconnection between my thoughts; perhaps you think they remain so. The feeling of searching for answers to the myriad questions I faced thereafter was like that of digging my own grave. As I have recounted, I could not recall telephone numbers that I had known for years. I would read something and immediately forget what I had read, that is, when I could muster the will to read at all. I encountered the infinitely disconcerting failure to recall common nouns, descriptive words to indicate objects that I encountered on a daily basis. My memory of those weeks is dominated by the question as to whether I would ever again have a fully functioning brain.
Fortunately, given time, my function has returned to a more or less "normal" state following this and each subsequent seizure. My memory returns, even if there are certain moments when it seems strained. There is not the constant interruption by questions as to the status of my mental life when I attempt to read and write. On a day to day level, I function as if my core certainties have never been interrupted, and are, in fact, certainties rather than constructions for negotiating the world as if I were normal: rather, as if the world did not normally require such intellectual shields. The terror has abated, recurring only at odd moments: perhaps the universe's way of recalling to me that I am far from God. I had hope reinstalled when my mind rebooted, leading me to conclude that the mind is a terrible thing to malfunction. What's more, that the question is both the most luxurious and perilous of our rare human abilities.
This piece is a description of my first epileptic explosion, the fear and uncertainty surrounding it, and its profoundly disturbing aftermath. It elaborates my sense of metaphysical annihilation and the ensuing ontological uncertainty. This uncertainty was the result of major changes in my intellectual and perceptive apparatus in the days and weeks following this implosion of my brain and leads to certain philosophical observations as to the precarious status of a human being unable to find an anchor for the necessary fictions, which sustain our lives in a world of pure contingency.


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Comments /{{hitsCtrl.values.hits}} Views / Friday, 23 December 2016 00:00
Dr. Neville Fernando Teaching Hospital Malabe (NFTH) has introduced modern treatment for kidney and urogenital system disease. This high quality treatment for very reasonable charges which cannot be obtained from any other private hospital is offered to patients from Dr. Neville Fernando Teaching Hospital's Kidney and Urogenital system Unit.
Dr Neville Fernando Teaching Hospital and SAITM Chairman Dr. Neville Fernando said that the NFTH has brought down Shock Wave Lithotripter which is a modern sophisticated machine that is used to remove stones in the kidney. The equipment valued at over Rs. 25 million enables the carrying out of treatment without making patients unconscious in a very short period of time, thus eliminating the necessity of getting admitted to hospital. Specialist Doctor Professor Neville D. Perera is the acting head of the Kidney and Urogenital system Disease Department.
"Destroying stones in the kidney by sending sound waves into the body has become a very popular treatment method. With this method about 80% of normal stones in the kidney can be squashed and removed. The Shock Wave Lithotripter that is used for this treatment till recently was only available in government hospitals. However with the acquisition of Shock Wave Lithotripter equipment by Dr Neville Fernando Teaching Hospital now kidney stone treatment can be obtained with much convenience for a very reasonable price at NFTH," said Chairman Dr. Neville Fernando.
Also another specialty is that out of the private hospitals in the Colombo district only NFTH offers treatment using the modern Shock Wave Lithotripter. Dr. Fernando said the cost will be 30% less for kidney stone removal treatment at NFTH when compared to other private hospitals. In addition other modern treatment for the removal of stones in the kidney by using medicines and by using telescope too was available at NFTH.
In addition treatment is available at NETH for cancers in kidney and urinary system and impotency of men .The hospital is well equipped for providing excellent treatment with Specialist Doctors, experienced and well trained nursing staff and state of the art modern operation theatres. The hotlines 0112407600 and 0710481217 are opened for inquiry and clarifications of the public. More details can also be obtained from the official website of NFTH www.nfth.lk.
NFTH is the largest private hospital in Sri Lanka with 1,002 beds and the first private teaching hospital in the country. Patients also get the invaluable opportunity to obtain the service of over 50 full time renowned professors and specialist doctors' service round the clock from NFTH. The hospital is situated in a calm tranquil greenish environment surrounded with flora away from the urban congestion in Malabe just 30 minutes' drive from Colombo. NFTH consists of all facilities needed to provide the required medical services for a very reasonable price to patients. The hospital is also located very close to the Kaduwela highway exit and therefore it is now in demand among the patients living in down south as well.
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