politics

 I would be amiss if I didn't say that Trump seems to have pulled this off.  I like what he has done.

Pardon me for rambling

 Here I go again.

Yesterday, I weed ate part of the yard.  Several people in our HOA get upset if the grass in your yard grows over the curb towards the street.  It's been about 2 months since I used the eater on the curb.  It was time.  

I have a couple of weed eaters:  a smaller battery powered that I bought for my wife to use a few years ago when she liked and could go outside and work in the yard ---  a gas powered honkin' machine.  The smaller one is hand held and for short people.  It will cut little stuff.   The gas one will cut most anything.  It hangs from a strap from your shoulder.

The little one wears me out since I must bend over to reach the grass (I am not tall, only 5'9").  The big one wears me out since it is heavy .  Not much more to recite here.  I had a young couple borrow the big one to do a special job.  When they returned it, they had named it "The Terminator."

Today I am resting.  My knees - thighs are tired.  My right forearm has a muscle pain.  Still the job is over.  Next will be the back yard.  That is a killer.  Did I mention that I had to blow off the street because these same HOA folks don't like to see grass in the street.  I say, "Get a life."  Grass in the street?    Makes me tired to think of it.

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It was reported this week that Alaska has had a heat advisory listed for this week.  Alaska - Heat Advisory.  This was reported as the first Heat Advisory issued for that State.  Woe is me.  Woe is me.   Wait.  The rest of the story.  It seems they are changing the terminology.  It is not new.  They use to call it something else.  Now, it is called a heat advisory.  Cheeee.  As a P.S.   Fairbanks is looking at temperatures of 85 degrees.  Move on.

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A Texas Ranger rookie pitcher, Kumar Rocker, was doing a great job - 5 scoreless innings.  He started cramping up.  There was a conference on the mound.  Then, the first baseman ran to the dugout and got TWO bottles of pickle juice for the pitcher who drank them both down immediately.  Pickle Juice.  I didn't know that.  After another pitch or two, a ball boy ran another bottle out to the pitcher.  That is 3 bottles of pickle juice.  They figured he had set a world's record - 3 bottles of pickle juice while still on the mound.

After I read this, I noted that my leg was hurting.  I got a SMALL glass and poured about 3 fingers of pickle juice.  Wheweeee.  That will set you free.  Give it a try.  It must be good for you.  Surely.

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My daughter gave me a Dad's Joke 3000 for Father's Day.  You press the button and it recites a corny joke; yes, a Dad's Joke if you will.  Here is the last joke we heard:                   How do you make a Tissue dance?

You give it a little Boogie.

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There was a newspaper feature today about the Sculptor galaxy.  Y'know.  A bunch of stars huddled together.  We live in the Milky Way Galaxy.   Facts presented go way over my head.  I have trouble comprehending all of this.  Example:  a light year is about 5.8 trillion miles...the distance a beam of light travels in a year.  5.8 trillion miles.  That's a lot farther than going to the grocery store and back.  Still this Sculptor Galaxy is  - ready? - 11 million light-years from here.  Do the math.  If I did it right, that is 63,800,000 miles away.  I may have messed up that number.  But, can you wrap your head around that number?  That's more than my salary as a teacher.

So you bundle up your family and head for that galaxy.  A couple weeks go by.  Now, you have arrived.  This galaxy is 65,000 light years across - from one end to the other.    Do you go straight?  Turn Left?  Make a right?  All those stars.  We have 9 planets (I still like Pluto).  all those stars.  If each star has 9 planets...  Frankly I cannot imagine numbers like this.  Think I will just sit here - look out the window - and watch my neighbor mow his yard.  That I can comprehend.

mtz

I am in the hospital -?

 So it is Wednesday.

Past Friday about 2 - 3 pm my stomach was hurting.  Okay, there is this "TMI" thing - Too Much Information. My entire report here is TMI.  Back to Friday.  My brain said, "Go the bathroom, stupid." So I did.  In my house we call  this a Good Job.  I did a Good Job - perhaps, you might say a GOOD job.  Over.  Decided to run down for the mail.  Run Down means get in the car and drive to the mailbox.  I don't run noplace - spell check says that noplace is not a word.  They're wrong.

Before I got out the door, I returned to the Throne for another urgency.  I did a Good Job.  I got the mail. Upon my return, it became evident I should schedule another session in the water closet.  In the next hour, sessions 4 &5.  I was not delivering the product by this time (only liquid); but, wait, the stomach was still hurting.  That made no sense - not to me anyway - again, remember I was trained in a music school.  Bowel Education was never in my resume.

I sat in my "big Daddy" chair and did a little moaning.  Moaning is a well-earned trait of the elderly; yes, you learn to moan as you age.  My daughter walks through after a bit. I told her that I was in no mood to help get supper - fix what she wants and feed the Grammy, Wife, Mother - whatever title you prefer.  She did; and, the nagging began.  I gots a thermometer stuck under my tongue (started to say "stuck between the cheeks."  I had a fear someone would think we we using a different kind of thermometer.  We're not.  We use the mouth thermometer.)  I was in the upper 98(s) point something.   A while later I topped the 99 mark.

Christine thundered, "We're going to the ER."

"Fine.  My cost is ONLY $65 to go."  My tummy was hurting all across the front an left side below the belly button.  Christine talked to my big-time nurse, daughter-in-law, Penney, on the phone.  We eliminated Appendicitis.  We were urged to go.

My chosen emergency room is the Baylor Scott & White hospital of Temple.  I've had a couple of experiences with them that were not pure.  I think it is a fine hospital.  They seemed to have taken care of my prostate cancer properly with minimal discomfort.  Their ER.  You walk in this door and veer to the right through 2 machines looking for sub-machine guns and machetes.  They have a nice lady greeting you and a policeman in full gear watching over all.

I was sent to a window the wife/daughter were given badges.  Yes, you need stinking badges.  Registration and payment over, we sat.  We're in the big room with a bunch of sick people.  Why izzat? My name was called, and we were escorted to Triage room 13. Much was said; much was nurse tested; much was left undecided. Whisked me off for a CAT scan.  Whisked me off for an EKG.  Whisked me off for an Xray - that one didn't happen.  Whisked back to R13.  I have been in this room before.  You look up at the ceiling and in the florescent light is a big black dead cockroach.  I pointed it out.  Betcha it will still be there upon my return someday.

Back to waiting room.  Back to 13.  Met doctor.  I have a problem with my lower left bowel - Took a while to learn Colitis in the bowel .  They explained it to me in 4th grade terms.  For that I was thankful. No sense getting too smart.  I was moved into a permanent room down on the bottom floor and given drugs.  It was decided that wife\dot would go home.  Mum needs the rest.  

Somewhere in the 11 o'clock time slot, I was informed that a room was waiting in the TCU...transitional care unit, room 20.  Nice people up there. 2nd floor.  Still in my street clothes, rejecting the hospital gown offered, I lay there freezing.  I finally got a blanket.  Threw my coat over me.  4 hours later I was offered a heated blanket.  YES!!  The nurse guy adjust the thermostat up to 76 for me.  Nicer. I spent Saturday in the TCU.  Think on this.  Transitional means?  I'm going from one place to another.  What is that other place?   New room?  Heaven? Hell?  Downtown Chicago?  The family visited me in my transition.  Dot Laura/Hub Tom arrived and visited.  All left. This is Friday. 

Did I mention that I am on a liquid diet.  Lots of sugar/carbs in a liquid diet.  Also, no substance.  My blood sugar started up.  They shot me with insulin.  Then, they would feed me with more high sugar/carbs liquids.  Go figure.  Guess they get a discount on water and insulin.

Give or take 11 pm.  We're off to a new room on the 5th floor.  They had a 3 letter name for that floor too.  But it was more permanent.  Sunday arrives.  Family returns.  Nurses come and go.  Drugs and insulin given.  More liquid for breakfast.  Have you ever tried to eat Cream of Wheat?  I just couldn't finish it.  Doctor visits.  It is generally thought that my side is getting better & I would probably go home on Monday.  it is now Sunday.  I can live with that.  Doctor called and got me solid food - a cheeseburger to begin.  Nighttime was bbq brisket.  Not bad.  So it is about 4 - 5 o'clock, Sunday.  

This is the reason for the whole blog:

In walks this nurse-type.  Very pleasant young lady.  I've had nothing but fabulous, helpful people helping me this whole outing.  My side still hurts a bit. The lady starts talking and explains a new Medicare program.  I am on Medicare, pay for it every month.   Get this.  The program sends me home.  BSW nurses come see me 3 to 4 plus times a day at home.  They administer all medicine. 

Once a day I talk to a doctor via computer with the nurse standing there.  They provide all the drugs, iPad, nurses, and IF I DESIRE they bring me my meals.   According to Medicare, I am still in the hospital.  I cannot leave the house without approval.  I just lay there at home watching TV and welcoming nurses into the house.  Oh, for me to get back home:  I must be transported in a BS&W ambulance.  Medicare says I am still in the hospital.

All of this costs nothing.  I've already paid my hospital bill - via required Medicare rules.  If it goes on for a day - a week - a month, whatever, no extra costs. Presents:   I am given a blood pressure thing, one of those finger oxygen measuring things, a thermometer, a new blood sugar measuring device, etc.  And some little stuff of no consequence.  It seems the program is for sick people who are not badly sick.

I sign up.  Sunday, about 10 pm, I say goodbye to the hospital staff and am "Whisked" away in the back of an ambulance.  Looking backwards out the back of an ambulance is a bit of a different experience.  We arrive at the house & I am pushed to the door in my ambulance bed.  I climb out and go into the house.  It is about 10:15 or so.  A Nurse follows me in for my set-up and indoctrination visit - plus more drugs.

I won't go through all the nurses visits and the nurse personalities.  You couldn't find nicer folks.  I got my drugs, insulin, watched TV, and ate my own food.  The TV doctor was helpful.  I made him laugh once.  Tuesday morning arrive.  The doctor discharged me "from the hospital."  I was left my drugs - not quite, but for this report, yes.  Now it is Wednesday.  My pills are being used.  I'm on my way to recovery.

I will refrain from explaining my problems over the past 4 days with having a bowel movement - sometimes called a BM.  Actually, I have a Bachelor of Music (BM) on my resume.  Maybe I will explain that in the next.

If you lasted for this whole thing, bless you.  I write these so that maybe someday I will have a great grandchild who wants to learn my personality.  He/She will read these and know me a bit better.  We will see.

Y'all take care.  Getting old has its downfalls.   Now I will groan for the sympathy.

One thing for sure.  I have a good family to usher me through all this.

mtz