I’m eating fruitcake.

I know, I know, it’s supposed to be inedible, you’re supposed to pass it on to some out of the loop friend as a gift, there are fruitcakes from the 1800s still circulating, but this one is pretty damn good, it came from Whole Foods with a gingerbread base and nothing involved speaks to my holiday memories since I’m Jewish, but I’m all up for new traditions, as long as you don’t put a Christmas tree up in the house, who knows what’s next, a cross?

So I’ve spent the last three days getting IVIG at home. Funny how the medical establishment and the insurance companies are on their game when you’re testing the health limits. They immediately called me from the pharmacy, they messengered over the supplies and the nurse phoned in that she was ready to go.

So, I’ve spent the last three days sitting in a chair for four and a half hours having fluid dripped into my arm and you steel yourself and get through it but when you’re done you’re frustrated and angry but now I’m done completely which is a relief except that the house is empty and quiet and that’s so disconcerting. I told Felice to go to Vail without me and now I’m spending the holiday alone and that’s kind of creepy. In the seventies you went to the movies. But it’s a dead time, if you’re not on vacation you’re killing time, which is why I’m writing this to you, I’ve got to communicate.

And a lot of thoughts have been going through my brain, but they all require separate e-mails to get their full point across, but then I’ll get people bitching I’m sending too much and don’t I respect the holidays and welcome to the twenty first century wherein everybody’s got an opinion and there’s no context. Used to be few were famous, there were few media outlets and we all knew what everybody else was talking about. That era is through, along with facts. Did you see Margaret Sullivan is now calling the WaPo and the NYT the “fact-based” media? Because too much of the mainstream media is biased and fake. And reading the newspapers is the highlight of my day, they appear on the doorstep every twenty four hours and even though I’ve read so many of the stories already on the app it’s good to be able to depend upon something in this era where you can’t depend on anyone or anything, we’re all on our own. Kinda like the experience I just had with the Sonos One.

Do they have tech help on Christmas? Can I bug someone at the company on Christmas?

This is the world we live in, one where you’re your own tech help.

And we create our own problems. You see I’m in one house utilizing two Alexa accounts. Let’s make it more complicated. The Sonos One hooked into Felice’s Sonos system but I used my Alexa app and my Amazon Music account so I could pull up what I wanted on demand.

And now you’ve got no idea what I’m talking about.

I use ’em all, every one but Tidal that is. Although I can still port over to it from its initial incarnation known as WIMP. So if I want to listen in CD quality, I use Deezer. And I hate to say it, but Apple Music does sound better than Spotify, Spotify’s got to dump their codec. And then there’s Amazon Music. Amazon has got the best voice controlled playlists. You can be pretty specific, I just asked Alexa to play “Rock hits from 1965” and she did. It’s pretty cool. And on the Echo Show you can see the lyrics, but…

I wanted to use MY Amazon Music account on Felice’s Sonos which I was running via MY Alexa app on my phone, since Felice has her iPhone and iPad with her in Colorado.

And oftentimes no music comes out.

Why am I doing this? Because the Amazon Music account they gave me for Felice’s house randomly crapped out, and I can’t just call out the tracks I want. And that’s a huge pain in the ass. Which is why using the free tier of Spotify is such an incentive to pay. Because it’s so FRUSTRATING! As it is using the free tier of Amazon Music on the Echo Show and the Sonos One.

And I got it all to work, except sometimes it doesn’t, and there’s nothing worse than an intermittent problem, but there’s such a sense of satisfaction when you figure things out.

And the first song I wanted to hear was Terry Stafford’s “Suspicion.” I know, I know, it was originally cut by Elvis, but Stafford had the hit. I must have heard it on Sirius the other day, because I can’t get it out of my head.

And then “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald,” because that’s the right song for a cold winter night. Assuming you consider forties cold, which if you live long enough in Los Angeles it is.

And I’m wondering what to do with myself. Read a book, watch TV, god forbid not leave the house.

Which is why I decided to write.

But I was worried about tonality. It is Christmas. Not my holiday, but others respect it. But now they’ve got two football games and NBA all day and sometimes I like to be light and disrespectful and sometimes heavy and damned if I know what will resonate, especially when I’m not white hot. Like I said, I’ve got a bunch of topics in my head. I actually stopped this in the middle and wrote about iPhone sales. And I realized while writing that if you don’t agree with me you hate me and that’s a problem I’ve had my whole life, I cannot tolerate misinformation and stupidity, which there’s more of than ever before. The more news we’ve got, the less truth we’ve got. People recite falsehoods like they’re commandments, and if you contradict them you’re the jerk. Wanna make it worse, just send them documentation of their mistake, they’ll hate you for all time.

And then after finishing the Apple missive I decided to write about Christmas songs, didn’t finish that one either, and normally I finish everything, but I’m gonna append it here, it’s good as far as it goes.

It’s just that… At this time of year you’re with your family and out of the maelstrom, or you’re wondering where you fit in. That’s life, there are rules in school and then you graduate and you’re on your own, you’ve got to make sense of it yourself. And the older I’ve gotten the harder this has been to do. I’m about ready to write a whole piece about the death of the influence of the baby boomers, they’re the last to know, but they’re over. That’s what hip-hop has taught us, the old rock farts are pushing seventy and they’re never gonna have another hit, and you’re not gonna start a breakthrough company and…

These are the kinda thoughts I have when I’ve got too much time and not enough to do. Oh, there’s always tons to do, but when your time is free you’re looking for that which rings your bell and…

CHRISTMAS SONGS

They play in my head. I never ever pull up a Sirius station, never mind terrestrial radio, I don’t need to get into the Christmas spirit, after all, I’m Jewish, but I do have my own private tape loop.

But before I go there, I’ve got to point you to a Steve Knopper article in today’s “New York Times.” Knopper was “Rolling Stone”‘s music business guy, and quite good at it, but everybody’s on contract at that rag these days, if they’re still there at all, and I don’t see how it can be resuscitated, some things cannot, like MySpace, anyway, Knopper’s article points out the fact that in a world of on demand streaming it makes no sense to load up your fourth quarter releases because they get squeezed out by holiday music:

“Taylor Swift’s Rivals This Holiday: Bing Crosby and Nat King Cole”

Money changes everything, but so does streaming.

You want to launch your music when you can get the most mindshare. And it’s all about longevity, not the initial pop. Makes no sense to put your tracks out during the month of clutter, especially if you’re not releasing new music on a regular basis.

But back to those holiday songs.

The one I’ve been singing to myself most this season is “Snoopy vs. the Red Baron” by the Royal Guardsmen. Our society is too coarse to have novelty hits like this anymore. But during Christmas 1966 this dominated the airwaves.

Ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty or more!

Yup, that bloody Red Baron was rolling up the score. We sang along to this story song every time it came on the AM radio we commandeered as our parents drove us around the neighborhood, up to Bromley to ski. This was when Charles Schulz was still alive, before Snoopy got so whored out he lost all credibility, when you could still love “MAD” and “Peanuts” and feel good about yourself.

And I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention Snoopy’s competition on the chart at that time, the irrepressible, indomitable, all time classic “I’m A Believer.” Yes, the Monkees were an ersatz group. Yes, the song was written by Neil Diamond, but Micky Dolenz’s vocal alone not only makes this track one of the best of all time, but deserving of ushering the entire group into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Come on, with so many lame acts in there why not the Monkees? They were bigger than any act working today and they had numerous hits of which this was the apotheosis.

But the track that goes through my head every time at this year is Laura Nyro’s “Christmas In My Soul”…

Christmas Songs – Spotify

But you’re not gonna buy one.

Talk about a tempest in a teapot, Apple tries to save your ass and you’re up in arms about it. That’s right, in order to prevent your old phone from shutting down because of its lame battery Apple is slowing down the OS. If they didn’t do this, you’d be bitching the phone was broken, which way do you want it?

Oh, you want a user-replaceable battery, but you want a sleek device to show your friends. This is kinda like the electronics repair conundrum. You complain you can’t get anything fixed while not realizing that a new CD or DVD player is cheaper than the cost of a repair, which was often done so poorly anyway.

That’s the uninformed public for you.

But the public is cheap.

In case you’ve missed the memo, iPhone sales are stalling. You can walk in and buy an X. Certainly an 8. There is no backlog.

All the analysts were wrong about this. Except me! I’m gonna take my victory lap right now. Because this is important. It’s not only about income inequality, it’s about intelligence disparity. The analysts and the media have no idea how people live their lives. They said we were at the advent of the mother of all iPhone upgrade cycles. And now that proves to be untrue. Proving once again these people can tell you where we’ve been, but not where we’re going. It’s positively scary. They were wrong about the election, they’re wrong about almost everything.

They’re too expensive. And they’re no longer subsidized.

The new phones used to FEEL free! Because the cost was baked into your plan. But when John Legere at T-Mobile got rid of these subsidies and you realized you were paying full price for these handheld devices you didn’t want to.

The 5 was the breakthrough, because of LTE. But that was hard to explain, especially if you were on anything but Verizon, with poor coverage and bad data. Verizon is the only carrier that just works, and even sometimes it does not. But people are afraid of switching providers for fear of…god knows what, you can take your number with you. And they’re cheap. So they’re going with T-Mobile, which works where it does, and nowhere else, which is a lot of places, especially when it comes to LTE, or Sprint, which should be out of business, or AT&T which is just lame. If it didn’t have that moniker it would have a lot fewer subscribers, never underestimate the power of a name.

So the 5 gave you LTE, i.e. high speed connection. You needed that. Even so, people stayed with their 4.

And then came the 6. With its larger form factors. This was the breakthrough, the public was hungering for larger phones. And…YOU SHOULD BUY THE BIGGEST PHONE YOU CAN!!! That’s right, if you settle for the small one you’re an idiot. You heard me, I’m insulting you. It’s not a phone, it’s a COMPUTER! Honestly, you can live without a desktop machine, you just need a phone. Where you’ve got enough screen real estate to function. You buy stuff on it, you research on it, would you go to Best Buy and say SELL ME THE SMALLEST FLAT SCREEN? You want a 65″ TV but a small iPhone, think about it.

So people bought the 6 in droves. There was pent-up demand for a larger screen.

And then came the 7. A me-too device. We were told a breakthrough was around the corner but I bit the bullet because…

They gave me $650 off. That’s right, you always want to buy your phone at the beginning of the cycle. The fall. That’s when the best offers are. Because the providers are afraid you’ll jump ship! You may be paying full price for the device, but it’s spread over 24 months, so you’re locked in until you’re not. And to tell you the truth, this fall’s offers were not as generous, but they were there. If you’re a nincompoop who’s waiting until spring or summer to upgrade… You’re probably the kind of person who pays nearly full price for the outgoing automobile that’s gonna be upgraded. You’re buying a gasoline engine when electrics rule. You’ve already got a year-old device and you don’t want this.

And a 7 looks almost identical to a 6 but I love my 7 Plus…BECAUSE OF THE CHIP!

You can’t see it, but that’s not only the heart of the device, but the matter. Usually every year speed is increased by 50%. This won’t last forever, but we’re here now, it’s kind of like the nineties when as soon as you brought your Packard Bell home from the store it was obsolete. Just try surfing on your 6 next to a 7 or 8 or X. You’ll be stunned how slow your 6 is. This is not Apple messing with you, it’s the old chip you’ve got inside and the lame battery to boot. Apple can’t change science. Everybody’s trying to increase battery capacity, no competitor is doing much better. But you think since you bought an iPhone it should keep a charge forever. You’re dreaming. Just pay them $80 for a new battery. But that’s stupid, because you’re better off just upgrading.

And here’s the dirty little secret. iPhones have value. Yup, the one you used for two years is still worth $200. So trade it in now, before it loses value. So, you’ve got the $200 plus the $80, which is basically $300 towards a new phone, with a better chip, battery, camera, everything, but you’d rather bitch and complain while you use your old device which doesn’t hold a charge and is so slow to boot.

So now we’re at the latest iteration of the upgrade cycle.

You can buy an 8 Plus. Once again, don’t be stupid and buy a small 8. But only get this device if you’re gonna flip it in two years. Because facial recognition is gonna be a big thing by then. You’ll want that feature to get into the show, it’s gonna be your ticket and so much more.

Or go straight to the X, which has almost the same size screen as the 8 Plus but in a smaller form factor.

But WHATEVER you do go buy a new iPhone IMMEDIATELY!

But people aren’t doing this. They’re uneducated, they think their old phone is good enough. And the new devices cannot be identified at a distance, so there’s no status involved. Remember almost twenty years ago when everybody bought that tiny Nokia to look cool? And then came the RAZR. Hell, even if you’ve got an X most people are not gonna know.

But you get functionality.

But that doesn’t resonate with people, not when they’ve got to pay a grand.

And if you’re not in the iPhone camp, you’re…

An Apple hater with an almost as expensive Samsung. You’re losing out financially, because that trade-in premium is nonexistent, but I’m not gonna argue with you, not gonna go on about features, you’re happy, o.k.

Or you’re truly cheap and utilizing a whack Android.

That’s okay. It’s just that you’re hurting yourself. Because you need a fast, full-action phone to compete. Kinda like needing a car in L.A. to be a person.

But everybody’s scared away by the thousand bucks.

Flat screens keep coming down in price. Chromebooks go for nothing. Yet mobile phone prices keep going up? MAKES NO SENSE!

This is psychology, not reality. If iPhones were still subsidized they’d be flying off the shelves. But they’re not.

But the analysts missed the memo. They couldn’t see the landscape through the customer’s eyes.

And the truth is gadgets no longer titillate us. A phone is a functional device. Lusting over hardware is so last decade. Now it’s all about software.

So, once again, if you’re in the iPhone ecosystem, repeat after me, you get the largest screen size of the latest phone every two years.

But I can hear you arguing with me right now.

Which is why the numbers are going in the wrong direction.

But I’m right.

“Apple’s New Phones Notch Modest Start — WSJ”

“Analysts Cut iPhone X Shipment Forecasts, Citing Lukewarm Demand”

Mindhunter

I loved it, but I don’t recommend it.

It’s imperfect. You’re not sure where it’s going. The end is unsatisfying. But the TONE!

We live in an upbeat society, when people are not complaining. Used to be we read books and saw movies about the internal dialogue, you know, the one you’re having right now, about your hopes, dreams and wishes as well as your obligations. When you speak to how I feel, then I’m really interested.

I watched it because David Fincher was involved. In the late sixties and seventies the auteur was king, before the studios took back power and movies went to hell, becoming lowbrow epics made for coin. That’s the scourge of America, we judge everybody and everything based on how much money it makes. Whereas some stuff doesn’t appeal to everybody, doesn’t top the chart, but is better than all the rest.

So Fincher was a video director who got into film and has made many, not all of them my favorites, but the one I’ll never forget is “Zodiac.” Because of the feel, because of the tone.

“Mindhunter” has that same tone.

The late seventies.

No one talks about that era anymore except to make fun of it. The eighties were go-go, the MTV era wherein everybody sold out, but the seventies were about inflation and just living your life in the wake of the tumultuous sixties. We had trends, we had TV shows, but no one ever goes back there and captures what it was really like.

Except Fincher.

THE CARS! I know each and every one of them, like driving with my father when he pointed out the seemingly indistinguishable forties and fifties automobiles. The boxy Americans. The VW bug.

And the CLOTHING! The fringe skirt.

Credit not only the set dresser, but the cinematographer. Real life is not this rich, it’s often brighter, but the darker elements of this show set your mind adrift to how it once was.

And I know millennials don’t care. That’s fine with me. But once upon a time there was no internet, nobody knew what you were up to 24/7, and you had to leave the house to have a good time. Hell, that’s why we had so many bands!

So what the show is ultimately about is the FBI, and a research project wherein they profile serial killers, actually they come up with that term.

But you won’t know this from the start. You’ve got to watch a few episodes to get what they’re up to. But when you do…

The serial killers are fascinating. The goal is to find patterns, but what goes through the mind of a deviant, what caused them to act this way? Psychology gets a bad rap. Today you’re supposed to take a pill for your maladies. But nothing is as exciting as psychotherapy. Not with the hack on your insurance, but a bona fide psychiatrist. The exploration of the human mind. Everybody’s messed-up. It’s so much fun to analyze them. As well as yourself. You can change your behavior and see the results, but most people refuse to do this, refuse to look inward, for fear they’ll lose something…no, they’ll GAIN something. You too can get ahead in life, but it costs. That’s the dirty little secret, everything good costs. And most people, especially older people, want to invest in something tangible, that you own when it’s all done. Youngsters are more about experiences. Ergo their fascination with restaurant meals. But all we’ve got is the human condition, it’s worth investigating.

And that’s what Jonathan Groff does.

If you saw “Hamilton” on Broadway, the original cast, you’ll know he played the king. But you won’t recognize him, his role is completely different. And in the seventies no one wanted to be a cop. So why did he choose to be one?

And then there’s his girlfriend Hannah Gross, the most spot-on performance of the series. She’s attractive and she knows it. She’s manipulative and she knows it. She’s confident and she knows it. She’s studying psychology, when she’s not angsting about paying so many dues, that’s the question, do you delay gratification? And she wants Groff’s character, but she doesn’t want to be controlled by him. She’s a modern woman, you can’t take your eyes off her.

And then there’s Holt McCallany, the brush cut dude who’s by the book but chafes at it. He doesn’t want to think, but when he does he loves the results.

And Anna Torv as their overseer. There’s something creepy about her, she’s unpredictable, you keep trying to figure her out.

Unlike the FBI chief, who can only play by the rules. This is why you hate school, this is why you hate working for the man.

Cameron Britton, as killer Edmund Kemper, almost steals the show. He’s quiet. He’s got the guards in the palm of his hand. But he did it, he killed all those women, WHY?

And the rest of the serial killers are just about as interesting but the star is…

FINCHER!

He creates this mood, this maelstrom. It’s not fast-paced, it goes into nooks and crannies, it doesn’t often build, and unlike seemingly every series in creation, it doesn’t come to a neat conclusion at the end of every episode. Fincher directed four episodes, as well as being a producer, and if you liked the first season of “House of Cards,” which he was involved with, you’ll probably like “Mindhunter.”

You see either you will or you won’t. Or you’ll watch all ten episodes even though you won’t realize you’re hooked until the end. That’s the modern era, that’s why movies are passe. We like the longer form, we like to go deeper.

And what I like to go deeply about most is people. Characters. They don’t have to develop, but I definitely want to peer inside. I want to see the layers of the onion peeled back. And I want their actions to be consistent with reality. I want to go inside the series and forget my everyday life. I want to live in the show.

I lived in “Mindhunter.”

Check it out. You’ll either be in or out. You’ve got to watch two or three episodes, and if you do you’ll never watch one again or be so curious you do.

Where are they going? Why are the people acting this way?

Isn’t it so interesting that the calling of the investigators is not about money and fame.

That’s great work, when you do it for the love of it.

Curiously, the serial killers are in it for the fame.

And look where it leaves them.

Jail.

There’s a thin line between us and them.

P.S. I only recommend things I believe most people will like. Ten percent of the public will hate everything, forget them. But the key to recommendation is to get into the head of the person you’re giving the recommendation to. Which is why I do not recommend this show. I don’t want you watching and telling me the arc is imperfect, that it meanders and isn’t tied up as well as it should be. All that is true! But if what I’ve written here appeals to you, go for it. Kinda like when I watched Siskel & Ebert review Jonathan Demme’s “Something Wild.” They were not abundantly positive about it, but what they said was intriguing. It made me see it. “Something Wild” is a flawed movie, the two halves don’t really hang together, but it’s one of my absolute favorites.

I’ve got a lady doctor
She cure the pain for free

That’s from Graham Parker’s initial LP, “Howlin’ Wind.” It was produced by Nick Lowe, the man of the moment, whose bank account was saved by by a cover of his composition “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love, and Understanding” by Curtis Stigers on the soundtrack of “The Bodyguard,” proving if you’re just prolific enough, hang in there long enough, your ship may come in.

And Graham Parker (and the Rumour!, with guitarist extraordinaire Brinsley Schwarz!) was the great English hope of 1976, at least in America, where he released two albums. But it was not to be his time. Maybe because he released his music on Mercury, maybe because we were passing over punk and grooving to a new sound called new wave, which wasn’t quite here, Parker was neither fish nor fowl, but he was fantastic.

And the second of those two 1976 albums was “Heat Treatment,” produced by the then unknown Robert John “Mutt” Lange, whose name had only graced City Boy LPs, and the truth is the sound on both of these Parker LPs is completely different, the one on “Heat Treatment” is more dense, less immediate, but that’s the album I love best. The white reggae of “Something You’re Goin’ Thru” is right up there with the work of the Police and the closing “Fool’s Gold” is the piece-de-resistance, right up there with those lengthy closers on Elton’s LPs.

And Graham jettisoned Mercury for Arista and never broke through, but those first two LPs are burned into my brain. I remember playing tennis with the new girl in school on our second date and then bringing her to my apartment where she laid on the floor as I played this album. I’m not sure if it sealed the deal, but something did!

And I thought of “Lady Doctor” today. Because just about every dermatologist in this mega-practice is a woman. Can I say that I’d rather see a woman? That they’re often more compassionate? A little less self-impressed?

Anyway, I texted the doctor.

This is a big step for me.

I’ve completely changed my personality, I’m trying to get back to the person I once was, one who stood up for himself, one who PUSHED!

You see my father always said…YOU GOTTA ASK! But after hearing him ask incessantly, after being overloaded by self-promoters intruding upon my time, I turned into the anti-asker. Somehow I became afraid of taking up anybody’s time, fearful they’d get pissed and push me off, reject me. But I texted the dermatologist from the hospital, and I did again yesterday, that’s just how much I was at loose ends.

And that’s why no one likes to give out their cell number. I get iMessages from people all the time who I don’t know. And then they’re pissed when I’m not warm and fuzzy. You can e-mail me like everybody else. Have you ever heard of privacy?

Anyway. the dermatologist did not respond. I believed I’d reached her limit. And when I got no response I made an appointment for a second opinion, after all, I was doing all they said and getting worse.

But when I woke up this morning there were texts and phone calls galore. They wanted me to come in. See the big kahuna, the one with ten pemphigus patients.

Whereupon I worried I wasn’t sick enough. Why is that? You’re existentially pained and when you get attention you say you’re not that bad. But that does remind me of when I got that nuclear medicine test twenty five years ago and I was so much worse than anticipated. And my eyes were starting to crust up again. And the point is…

I’ve got blisters. That’s the nature of pemphigus. And those blisters burst upon the tiniest provocation. And then you’re left with an oozing, sensitive wound. Which is how I got into this mess.

And the itchiness! They say not to scratch but you can’t stop scratching. I woke up Tuesday night and lathered my body with Clobetasol, I just could not sleep, I had the heebie-jeebies. But by time I hit the doctor’s office today…

She was very impressed how bad I was. Took one look at my skin and saw the problem. I was pointing out blisters but she got the point. I was bad.

So here’s the story. Takes about eight weeks for the Rituxan to work. To replace all the bad antibodies.

Meanwhile. the old antibodies are raising hell.

Which is why we must wipe out those old antibodies once again. We need to apply another round of IVIG. Three days in a row, five or six hours. but in the house! That’s right, it’s cheaper to do it at home than the hospital, and who wants to go to the hospital where you might get an infection.

And I need to take prednisone. Every day. And this antibiotic Bactrim, so I don’t get an infection, since all this treatment is lowering my immune system.

And if that doesn’t work…

They’re gonna replace my blood.

That’s right, I’m gonna be Keith Richards fighting the immigration police. Only in this case I’m covering up pemphigus instead of heroin.

But I should be good to go. That’s what the lady doctor, #2, the woman in charge, said today.

I’ve just got to be patient and get there.

And that’s damn near impossible the way I feel now.

Which is why she’s throwing all this treatment at it.

A. Why am I writing so much? As Ray Davies once sang, “Unemployment is unenjoyment.” You think you want time off, you wish you could clear the decks, but when you’ve got 24/7 to watch TV and read you don’t want to watch or read anything, the world goes limp and you become numb. We were made to work.

B. To quote Prince, “I ain’t got no money, but I’m RICH on PERSONALITY! And that personality has allowed me to build this edifice known as “The Lefsetz Letter.” And it comes with perks. Most rewardingly that anybody I write about reads it, and I hear from them. But also the laying on of hands by laymen, in this case veritable MDs. A woman dermatologist in rural Wisconsin whose husband is an avid reader. She’s helped me through the crisis. And this immunologist James L. Friedlander who e-mailed me the following, which I believe is very illuminating:

“So, full disclosure, typically I am not the treating doc for this, but rather get called to consult regularly for patients with pemphigus (both vulgaris and foliaceous) if the treating physician wants to initiate IVIG therapy. I also get consulted often when rituximab is used for any condition, which as you know can cause a lot of infections (pneumonia, sinusitis, and usually only with continued maintenance ritux therapy). Pemphigus is antibody mediated. Fact. So it makes the most sense to use rituximab and IVIG. The rituximab blasts away all of your circulating B cells, and IVIG washes away and neutralizes the bad antibodies, replacing them with good ones, and meanwhile also keeps you free of serious infection while on rituximab. A safer combo than ritux alone. There are plenty of other immunosuppressives to try, though most of those fight T cells (like azathioprine). It doesn’t make as much sense that those would be effective.

Also, I know that I do not get a vote or know every detail, but am doubtful that Gleevec was the underlying trigger…”

C. And in closing, although this is an ongoing story, the lady doctor said that pemphigus foliaceous is harder to treat than pemphigus vulgaris. Although when you recover it’s from the top down. So the skin on my head will clear first.

P.S. She definitely ain’t treating me for free. I’ve got pretty good insurance, and you should have yours. Because when you least expect it, you’re not on “Candid Camera,” rather the gods reach down and mess you up. The bills are staggering. Health care should be a right. I did nothing to get this disease, and no one should be bankrupted because they became ill. But what I’m really saying is if you’ve got something wrong, get professional attention, the real pussies are those who refuse to go to the doctor.

It’s just something I’m going through.

No, that’s a gross understatement for a gross disease. I should be good, but mortality is not out of the question. And every day the pemphigus fights back, with blisters and wounds and pockets of ooze that would be too gross for any horror movie.

Pemphigus Playlist