Give Me Shelter

This has been the strangest course of events, I’ve experienced in my lifetime. That’s taking into account, polio, and the associated fears of parents in the forties and fifties. Then, there was the AIDS epidemic. We made it through those events.

It’s not necessary to enumerate the bad behaviors of some. There are ways to cope–even with that. Sheltering in place: It’s not the staying at home part that’s difficult. Just knowing, for health reasons it’s advisable, is enough.

We couldn’t have picked a worse time to put our home up for sale. The first two weeks there were plenty of visitors. The well has since dried up. Social distancing shouldn’t be a problem in this neighborhood. A cold chill has blown through since the “for sale” sign went up in the front yard.

Mr. Lizard’s Wild Ride

He, or maybe she, clung to my car’s hood this morning, as I made my way to the Doctor’s clinic, early this morning.

His/her coloration was almost black.  My car is dark gray, so it was to blend into the background.

I first noticed the wayward lizard at the first stop sign.  My diminutive hero survived centrifugal forces around the first corner.  Winds buffeted his tiny body as speed increased to 35 mph in the straightaway.  At the intersection of the county main road, I lost track of Mr. Lizard.

It was distracting to watch the lizard and traffic at the same time.  I wished him/her well.  Anole lizards had strong survival instincts.  This one had the tip of its tail missing.  Possibly, it ran off, as I waited for traffic to clear at the intersection.

 

 

Much More To Come

Distracted living
Click bait for cheapskates
Tijuana brass monkeys
Why was there nothing here?
Took a walk, came back later.


There are lots of things currently going on in my life.  Mostly, de-cluttering sixteen years of excess everything.  Sprucing up the house, in case it is put up for sale.

Made a solemn vow sixteen years before, that I would never move again.  Situations, and people change over the years.  Now, I need to be closer to friends and family.

Every part of the country has good and bad points.  I’m ready to accept colder winters.  Maybe I’ve been in this location for too long?  Nobody in the neighborhood knows we’re going to move–and it shall remain a secret, for now.

A lot of things have to happen in the meantime.  The process has just started.  I don’t intend to give up blogging in the interim.  “Give up the things you love, and there will be nothing left to love.”

 

 

When Good Intentions Go Astray

Sixteen years of clutter.  The beginning of a long, tedious process. Documents, papers with personal information to the shredder. Discarded, outdated electronics to the recycler.

Seasonal clean-up day, sponsored by a nearby city, our electric utility.  I’ve never made it to one of these free recycling events.  This one was scheduled for today, until the weather turn a turn.  Tornado and storm warnings for most of the day.

The event has been rescheduled for next Saturday.  Lets hope for the best.  Unloading and reloading the car won’t be fun.  For now, the clutter will stay.

A Question

How many of you have driven cars with “I don’t work on cars for a living repairs?” The electric windows stopped working–with the driver’s window rolled down. An inserted plexiglas driver’s side window made winter cold survivable.

The steering wheel shuddered and shook at precisely 60 MPH–which necessitated speeds over or under the magic number. Road salt damaged steel body panels, temporarily repaired with rags, kept water damage at bay, when carrying cargo in the trunk.

Nothing lasted forever.  It was the best that could be done with tight budgets.  I once temporarily repaired broken throttle linkage with wire and a piece of rope.  It was part of life’s adventures and growing up.

I’m Glad It’s Over

Asked the same litany of questions by different medical personnel. The pre-surgical nurse, the anesthesiologist, the admissions clerk. It had to be a test. Would I slip-up and give inconsistent answers?

“Have you had any surgeries before?”

“Only, if you count my tonsillectomy 57 years ago.”

“I don’t remember much about it, after all these years.”

“I can tell, there aren’t many entries on your medical records,” The charge nurse commented.

“Yes, I try to avoid invasive medical procedures–be they from space aliens or medical doctors,” I answered.

“You won’t feel a thing, once the anesthetic takes hold. It will be like going to sleep.”

I thought they would never find a vein to hook up the IV. Of course I had to wear one of those “fashionable” medical gowns, open in the back. Luckily, I was lying down covered with a blanket.

In the operating room, I waited while the staff kibitzed, and time stood still–at least it seemed that way.

An older man with gray hair came in and things got underway. It was my doctor. I didn’t have my glasses on, recognized him when he came closer.

“Lie on your left side,” Ordered the surgical nurse. “The anesthetic may burn when it enters your IV.”

That was definitely an understatement. I had a round plastic mouthpiece for the procedure.

“That hurt bad,” I attempted to communicate to the nurse.  “Don’t worry, soon the pain will go away.”

What a refreshing nap. I wanted to continue sleeping. The fog in my befuddled head lifted.  There was no one around. This wasn’t the operating room.  Somebody had some explaining to do.

It was the recovery room. The process was over. For having had an upper GI, I was none the worse for wear–except for a swollen lower lip.  Which is black and blue today.

Samples taken for biopsy will take a few days for analysis.  I was sent home with the doctor’s report, complete with color pictures of the inside of my stomach.  Not something I cared to share with friends.

That Was the Cat, That Ate the Rat, That Lived In the…

“Did I have a living will?” Asked the desk nurse. “Yes,” I answered.

I was living when I walked in to the facility. And, I expected to be living, when I departed.

“Your blood pressure’s a little high,” The nurse commented.  Could it have something to do with waiting so long?    After waiting over an hour, the doctor came in for a ten-minute consultation.

What a circuitous path it had been so far. It started with being chided by my spouse for snoring, and possibly having sleep apnea.

My insurance plan gatekeepers deemed an overnight at the local sleep clinic unnecessary. A home study kit, from a health equipment vendor, for two or three nights, was an acceptable substitute.

It had been around six weeks since the process began. The first health equipment provider, repeatedly, failed to call to arrange delivery. The local sleep clinic advised, that particular company had gone out of business, without regard to their clients.

“What a way to run a railroad?” I thought. A second health equipment company summoned, and they called this past week. Delivery promised in three to five business days. I just wanted to do the study and see it through to the end.

That would be the end of this tale, if it were not for the gastroenterological issues. The barium swallow test at the hospital, went well–or so, I thought at that time.

Another referral, to a gastroenterology clinic, resulted in a future hospital visit, for an endoscopy. For those unfamiliar, it was similar to a colonoscopy, except from the other end.