Saturday, September 16, 2017

I Miss Ice Cream

Look at that - I survived an entire day without having a medical problem. I ate semi-normally (no fat, but still), I managed not to pierce my body with rust-covered pieces of metal, I exercised and ran errands like a normal person...

I'd kill for a Heath Klondike bar, though. KILL.

My preciousssss...

You know what bothers me? I've been pretty much starving for over 2 weeks, so you'd think some of my pants would at least be hanging a tad loosely on me. Is that too much to ask? I don't think so. But no, nothing's changed on this body of mine. Maybe I'm just losing weight on the inside? Is that possible?

The doctor last night at Urgent Care called me "young lady." It was disconcerting, to say the least. I can't even remember the last time someone called me that. Actually, it doesn't matter WHAT age you are, "young lady" always sounds condescending. So I punched him in the nuts.

LOL, no. Just wanted to see if anyone was actually reading...

The other day, I took one of the old ladies I work for to the supermarket to pick up glucose strips and Lean Cuisines. She has a small chest freezer in her garage, so I followed her in there to see if she needed help putting the frozen dinners away. I noted the presence of what seemed to be several large spiders and - not being freaked out much by spiders, believe it or not - I moved in for a closer look, to make sure she wasn't harboring a dangerous species in there. Also, I'll admit, to take a picture, so I could freak out Brian, who most definitely does NOT like spiders. Ha, ha, I thought, he'll hate these.

They weren't spiders.

I spent the next 5 minutes in that garage trying not to scream, as my client fussed over how I put the Lean Cuisines away, and promising myself I wouldn't set foot in there ever again. Because CRICKETS - large, dark crickets were on the walls and the ceiling. Everywhere I turned my head, I saw a cricket. Just sitting there, waiting to jump in my hair when I wasn't looking.

OMG, OMG, OMG.

I most emphatically do not do crickets. I wrote a semi-hysterical email to my client's daughter, letting her know that I would no longer be able to put things away in the garage freezer for her mom. I'm sure my supervisor is thrilled I did that.

Turns out, judging from how unimpressed he was with my story, Brian doesn't mind crickets. Maybe I'll have him help her.





[Klondike bar image: Klondike]


Friday, September 15, 2017

Like Aesop's Fables, Only No Animals

The doctor called me Wednesday and informed me I had high cholesterol. And I was all, "Um, okay, so, uh, does that cause intermittent severe stomach pain?" and it was her turn to go "Huh?" So I had to remind her that I had gone to see her for really bad stomach pain and that she had run all sorts of blood tests for all sorts of enzymes and all.

Sheesh, am I the one with the MD? No, I am not.

So then she looked at her notes and looked at the other tests and said, "Oh, everything looks perfectly normal here! Liver, pancreas...all that. So we'll see you in 3 months for another cholesterol test. Try to eat low-fat."

Whereupon I had to remind her that I was barely eating AT ALL. So she said to wait for the sonogram that she had scheduled a whole week later to see if anything came up. Apparently, she is not too concerned about my nutrient intake.

So yeah, my budget health insurance is working out just great, y'all.

But that's NOT what I came here to tell you. I came here to tell you about the dangers of self-righteousness. You see, one of the townhouses in my neighborhood is a rental, and it's being renovated between tenants. So the contractors doing the renovations left a huge pile of flooring remnants and boxes next to where we leave our trash cans twice a week for garbage pickup.

The stuff sat there all week, irritating the heck out of everyone, until today, trash pick-up day. And the garbage guys didn't pick it up, because really, they're not supposed to pick up any trash that isn't bagged and the contractors should have disposed of that stuff themselves.

So I went out there this evening, filled with self-righteous indignation over the mess, and started carrying all the trash back to the house it came from. I made sure to dump it in the front yard, right next to the For Rent sign.

Because, yeah, I can be petty sometimes.

This is useful
The job took a while, because it turns out some of the boards were old pieces of shoe molding and baseboards, complete with sharp nails sticking straight out. I marched back and forth with those boards, feeling mounting satisfaction as the pile in the yard grew higher. That'll teach people to mess up our neighborhood, I thought smugly.

I was almost done, just cleaning up some plastic debris and cardboard boxes, when it happened: I stepped on a rusty nail in a tiny piece of shoe molding that I had missed. Because my beloved FitFlops have really thick soles, only the tip of the nail got into my foot, but still - RUSTY. So now I get to pay $30 to go get a tetanus shot at Urgent Care tonight.

Moral: Vigilantism doesn't pay.





[Rusty Nail Chart: Wound Care Society]


Sunday, September 10, 2017

Near Death Experience

I haven't blogged in a week, because I was waiting until my stomach didn't hurt, because I was sick of whining.

My stomach still hurts.

I spent a while on Tuesday lying on my bed and wondering whether or not I should go to the ER. The pain felt like one of those female heart attack scenarios one reads about in the Health section of newspapers. Then, being lazy, I decided to wait 2 hours. If I weren't dead by then, I'd know it wasn't a heart attack. I'm scientific like that.

So that worked well, as in I was still alive after the experiment. In pain, but alive. Felt better Wednesday and Thursday (whew!), started to get my life back together, and then was laid low again Thursday night. Get this - I actually went to the doctor on Friday. I know, crazy, right? She ordered all sorts of blood tests - liver enzymes, pancreatic enzymes, I don't know what all - scheduled a non-urgent sonogram of my innards, complimented my knitting, and sent me home.

I spent the next four hours or so imagining every dire gastrointestinal scenario possible and sorting my yarn into projects I wanted to complete before I died. There were the fingerless mitts I had promised a friend, way back in April; another pair of mitts to use the yarn another friend had brought me all the way from Italy; a couple of baby hats for the grandchildren I'd never get to meet...


Deathbed Knitting

You know, I'm thinking no one does maudlin as well as me.

At some point, my Sensible Friend (who knew I'd been dealing with stomach pain) thought to call and see how I was. I told her about the multiple fatal illnesses I had diagnosed myself with and she said, essentially, "Oh, pooh, it's probably pancreatitis. I've had it, and I'm still here. Hurts like crazy, though."

She's a good friend. I'm still knitting those baby hats, though.

So here I am, Sunday, and still in pain. But, hey, that's only when I try to eat something, so technically the pain is avoidable. I mean, who needs food, anyway? Not me, apparently...


Monday, September 04, 2017

The Sound Of Music, Annotated

Okay, that weekend went by in record time. I spent it recovering from whatever the heck was wrong with me last week, and working at the yoga center, and entertaining visiting family, and taking tweens to the mall, and seeing Anna off on her next overseas adventure. Also? Our local movie theater was showing "Sound of Music" this morning on the big screen, so of course I went. Susie was the only kid who accompanied me, because Rachel is too cool for such things now.

I've said it before, but "Sound of Music" on the big screen is absolutely magnificent. If you ever have a chance to see it that way, GO. And if you are really lucky, you won't be sitting in front of a person who is eating movie snacks loudly, constantly, like a pig at a feeding trough.

I wasn't that lucky, unfortunately. When this person wasn't slurping and chomping and rustling his popcorn, he was offering not-so-astute commentary on the movie. When the Captain and Maria (spoiler alert!) share their first kiss, Mr. Popcorn Snorter said to his companion, "He must be at least 20 years older than her." When we were treated to a full-screen picture of a huge Nazi flag covering a building facing a plaza where soldiers are goosestepping along in fine Third Reich fashion, he announced, "The Germans have taken over."

You know, because that was so hard to pick up on...

Picnic chickpea salad
But I still managed to enjoy the movie because, hey, absolutely magnificent. Afterwards I had to rush home and get things ready for a neighborhood BBQ, because I always seem to be in charge of such things. It might be the Jewish genes, I don't know.

What I DO know is that I am finally sitting down by myself this evening, reveling in the solitude and looking at my wreck of a house. I don't understand how grown-ups who are socially active manage their lives. I haven't been able to clean much of anything all weekend (aside from basic kitchen chores, of course); there are myriad details of my life that have fallen through the cracks; in short I feel completely discombobulated, simply because I had a few outside commitments over the past 3 days.

So how do people run for political office, say, or even volunteer on campaigns or join protest marches? How do they manage to hang out with friends, or pursue interesting hobbies, or hold down full-time jobs? When do they get their laundry done?

Just wondering...




Thursday, August 31, 2017

Better Housekeeping Through Technology

All right, so yesterday RobinH (who, really, has never led me wrong) informed me in the comments that the appliance I was lusting after was essentially a $99 dustpan. Dammit, she's right.

Still want it, though. Not gonna get it, but I want it.

Tempting, but price-y
Gigi suggested I get a Roomba instead, but wow, those things are $300 and up now. I had no idea they were so expensive. Also, doesn't it just keep bumping into chair legs and such? Anyway, I'm not getting one, because, well, $300.

I continued to feel lousy all day yesterday; by evening, I had myself convinced that I had either diverticulitis or colon cancer or life-threatening appendicitis that was presenting weirdly. So I spent several hours imagining how I would say good-bye to my children. I also wondered how Larry would find someone to drive them places.

I'm not kidding.

I woke up able to drink liquids and even managed a piece of toast, so maybe I don't have to put out a Help Wanted ad yet. I don't know, because now my stomach is hurting again. This thing is weird, the way it's hanging on.

Yeah, I do have health insurance. I just hate going to the doctor, is all. So I'll sit here and wait until the holiday weekend before I decide to do anything about any of this. That's smart, right?




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