June - that was the month that was

 AND, here it is, the last day of July.  I suppose that month of July passed swiftly.  I am trying to forget a bunch of it.  But, July ( I like to pronounce it Hoo-lie ) has been 31 days of sameness and newness.  Let me cite a few examples.

Our garden has pretty much stopped producing.  Surprisingly to me, the cantaloupes keep putting forth little fruit.  To start, they were regular size - now, we get little ones about 2 to 3 inches across.  Yummy, they still be.  Tiny, they are.  My watermelons never have seemed to make it this year.  

Now tomatoes and peppers have been good.  Here in central Texas, I can now plant a fresh crop of tomatoes and peppers.  It won't be long till they'll put on fruit.  Our corn crop yielded about 5 good ears of corn.   Potatoes were somewhat of a joke.  I suppose Okra was the most surprising star of them all.  We learned that Okra should be picked when it is about 3 + inches in length.  Any longer and they become too hard to chew after cooking - yes, we fry our Okra.  Who, I ask you, "Who" can eat that slimy okra stuff that shows up in soups?  Certainly not me.

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Back in June - yes, back in June, we ordered a new king sized bed.  It is a sleep number something model and cost way more that I should have spent.  The bed is actually 2 twin sized, extra long beds tied together to give the appearance of one enormous bed.  The head and the foot areas - both - can be raised and lowered.  Our old sleep number, regular size, bed has been with us since before the beginning of time.  My side has begun to lose air daily.  I realize Sleep Number people would make it work; but, I really felt that we need this (what I call) medical type bed as we lunge into our older age.  I can visualize one or both of us being bed ridden for certain periods of time.  This should make it easier.

Oh, forgot the point of this entry.  The bed will be delivered on August 9th.  I roll my eyes.

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Son Roger and wife Penney plus Grand-girls came through on Hoo-lie 23rd or there-a-bouts.  Our Dot Christine joined them as they went to San Antonio for the DCI competition.  DCI stands for drum corps international.  It is a drum and bugle competition.  They dropped off their 4 dachshunds for us to dog sit.  We had a fairly good time with the dogs; I'm not sure our Sadie appreciated the company.  A good time in San Antone was had by all and the Blue Devils won.

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Let's move on to the gross medical things.  In addition to our wellness visit (where our doctor says "hmmm") plus my wife's 3 visits to the dentist {had to go back the 3rd time because their air compressor died 2 hours before we arrived } - my radiation treatments began this month.  I didn't think they were ever going to get here.  I write this because there might be someone out there who'll have to do this in the future.   I will have 42 sessions of radiation.  They are are aiming at my prostate, I believe.  I have this philosophy: don't ask questions - just do what I am told.  My doctors seem confident and skilled.

/////an aside: my cancer doctor (Jhavar) was raised in India.  He had a vacation and flew back to India for the time.  It took 38 hours to fly - each direction.  I believe I have that number right.  He said it was tiring and thanked me for asking about the trip.  I like this doctor. /////

So for my first session, I had a short visit with my doctor (Jhavar) prior to the zapping.  I had just given blood on a different floor of the facility to be used in a heredity study being done by someone to see if I have a certain bad gene that caused this.  We'll see.  I was sitting in doc's office with my diet coke bottle on the floor.  He pointed at it and explained that I wanted to give them up until treatments end.

Before I continue this forward, an apology to my ex-students and others who might know me.  I am going to produce an image which some may not want me to share.  Imagine some of your past teachers lying naked on a metal table.  It is somewhat revolting.  

Now - get this - it seems that I have to have a bowel movement prior to the zapping.  The doc has prescribed Milk of Magnesia for me to facilitate this occurrence.  That, I assume, is to make the bowels empty for zapping.  At the same time, I am to come with a full bladder.  To me, these are contradictory.  But, if there is a gas bubble inside me, this is wrong.  Before zapping, they must roll me over and insert a tube (guess where) to let out the gas.  Tube goes in - Gas comes out.  You can hear the whooshing noise.  Cokes seem to be the biggest contributor to gas.  Who knew?

I am called into the room.  They make me put on scrub bottoms.  My regular pants have zippers and buttons and belt buckles and a knife and a cell phone and ...  I am escorted to a long metal table.  Lie down.  My feet are strapped to a block;  a longer block is placed under my knees;  I am given a 6 " plastic hoop to hold on my chest;  under a small / tiny blanket, I pull down my pants to the thigh; and, I am left alone - just me, a metal bed, and this enormous white machine.  I left off the part where they slide me back and forth and up and down until the green laser light is properly adjusted to my new tattoo.

They start. The bed slides under the machine.  The machine begins to rotate around me.  I believe there are 4 different arms on the machine - each different.  As warned, the machine rotates one way then the other then back and then back again.  Then, nothing.  Then, I lay in silence.  [ This paragraph has way too many "thens" ]   A voice speaks into my left ear.  "The doctor is always right."  I rolled my head his way and said, "Really?"  It was Jhavar.  Out came a tube - I laid on my left side and a procedure began.   Hisssssss

Back on my back (cute expression).  The machine rotated again and again.  Now silence.  Apparently the first rotations are to see if my innards are prepared properly for the zapping.  They were.   The  radiating began...I felt nothing.  With eyes closed and horrible rock and country music playing through the P.A., I was zapped. 

Wed. Session #42 was over;  only 41 more sessions to attend.  My other doctor (El Tayeb) was the one who used a device and removed parts of my Prostate 3 months ago.  He told me that 90% of the prostate had been removed.  You know how that 90% left my body.  It left through the other portal - like that word.  This means they are zapping only 10% of my prostate.  I suppose.  What do I know.  I have a degree in music education.

Thurs. Session #41 the next day was a replay of  #42.  This Session's numbering system has nothing to do with our President's number in office.  Coincidental, that's all.   In #41, I had the same gas problem.  The doctor was not there this time.  The technicians performed the dirty deed.  Interestingly, as I rolled over and listened to them talk, I figured out that one tech was a newby.  The other tech showed "her" how to insert the tube, etc.  I am close to losing all of my modesty.

Fri. Session #40 was different.  I bought a pair of shorts with no zipper - no changing into scrubs.  The night before, I swallowed a gallon of milk of magnesia - making me get out of bed at 3:30 a.m. for a quick trip.  In the morning, I swigged  half as much around 8:30.  I took a Gas-X Extreme pill after lunch.  I moved lunch back one hour closer to zap time.   I had no problem.  The FEMALE nurse said, "whatever you did this time, continue doing it."                      

I won't drink carbonated drinks again until this is over in September.  I won't eat beans or sauerkraut or ?? again until  September. I no longer have milk with my breakfast (milk is another trouble maker).  

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For the rest of the month.  I see a doctor in about a week to get shots in both knees.   I get another "anti-hormone" shot in about 2 weeks.  My eye doctor appt. is coming up.  The new bed is coming soon.  And =

let's make that a big  A N D ....

My wife and I will be having our 60th anniversary on the 5th.  I need to plan a festival for that.  It would be nice to be able to see our 70th together.

over and out,

love you (sure),

send money,

mtz

I'm getting a Tattoo - but wait....

It is true.   I am getting a Tattoo.  I've held out for all these years while others were making black ink marks.  Not me.  I truly don't understand tattoos.  I once new an elementary P.E. teacher who had a tiny little butterfly on the outside of her right ankle.  I suppose it was lovely.  I didn't understand it then; I don't understand it now.  Someday that young 20 year old will begin to put on weight - or her ankle will swell up.  That cute  little butterfly will enlarge to be a large vampire bat.  But it was her ankle.

Follow this:  I am getting ready to have radiation treatments for 5 days a week for 9 weeks.   I muttered "That would be 45 treatments."  The doc jumped right in and said, "Only 42."  I suppose I am blessed.  I have a cousin who had 40.   Soon, I will report to the Baylor Scott & White cancer institute and they will zap me 42 different days.  I have been told that I will never notice it.  

The problem is:  the Big Zapper does not know where to zap.  They don't just take aim at you from 20 paces and let fly a jolt of uranium.  Nope.  Doesn't work like that.  Tomorrow I go in for a scan.  During the scan they will place a couple (who know, maybe 10) marks on me   in an appropriate location of course.  These will be tiny tattoos - so I have been told.  

No, I do not intend to take photos of the tats and post to Facebook.  I'm thinking, down in the area where the prostate and bladder are located, that might create a photo which would lean towards the Porn side.  Don't want to go to no jail for having my tats shown to some 11 year old child.  If they want to see my Tats, they'll just have to wait until they hit "OF AGE" and, then, pay me a lot of money.  I mean a lot of money.  I don't just show my tats to anyone.  I have standards.

Well that is it.  The prostate cancer saga continues.  One cancer doctor lady said I probably have 2 to 5 years or so.  I liked her.  She went to school at Dallas Skyline and played the flute.  Band kids will be my saviors.

As I close, my little girl Sadie is sitting at my door giving me the eye.  We are close to supper time.  She has "that" stare.    "Look into my eyes.  Now!  Come into the kitchen. Find my bowl.  Fill the bowl.  Don't forget the good stuff.  NOW!!!  You will not be sorry."

mtz3

 

Urine or Ur-out

URINE OR UR-OUT  (of what?)   😀

WARNING:  THIS WILL BE A RATHER LONG POST TAKING SEVERAL DAYS TO COMPOSE.  It will not be humorous - funny - gagging - or even perhaps eye rolling. Instead it will be a running description of what has happened since the end of last year.  I am NOT looking for sympathy or hugs.  At age 81, hugs are rather an advanced stage of groping and propping up.  I have already heard all of the "doctors can do great things" comments.  I don't need those either.  Just need to move on..

As of this writing - May 5th, 10:45 a.m. - the weatherman on TV is showing a storm heading this way.  He is talking strong winds - potential for a tornado - HAIL - rain - we got it all.   There was a time in my life when I wouldn't say:  "Hail."  I thought it was too close to Hell -   I always said that we had "Heck."  When you get older, your mind seems to wander (or wonder) at times.  HAIL comes up later in this edition.  The worse thing about  a storm approaching at this earlier hour is:  you have to watch morning TV to see the weathermen.  They break in and out of the morning shows.  Meanwhile you must endure the morning personalities:  smiling faces, jabbering females, uninspired topics, asparagus recipes, 

So my introduction is complete.  I shall now go to our spacious kitchen and begin preparing a delightful lunch.  What will it be?  Certainly won't be asparagus and tofu fondue.

Let me add that I have been a quiet person all of my life when it pertains to my personal self.  There are just some subjects I never attack.  With this entry, all of that changes.  You will see.

========================= pause ===========================

Last December, I was starting to have problems going to the bathroom.  There are 2 types of bathroom:  as in my childhood, we have #1  and #2.   My problem was #1.  I had always heard that old guys have this type of problem.   Since I had a GP doctor appt after the first of the year, I figured I could hang on till then and start the new year with the new insurance deductible getting paid.    Financial reasons.

In January, I was scheduled for a doc visit (we diabetics tend to see doctors on a regular basis.).  By the time the appt. arrived I was having more problems and my lower abdomen was hurting some.   I talked about this problem with the doctor.  It didn't seem to be an emergency to me.  The doctor arranged an appt with a urologist in Temple - Baylor Scott & White Hospital area.  Fine with me - but about 2 months away.

That was on a Tuesday.  On the following Monday, I went back to the doctor.  My stomach was really starting to hurt, and I was visiting the bathroom on the average of once an hour - day and night.  I discussed that I thought I might be constipated.   He suggested a certain laxative.   We eventually went on our merry ways.

My daughter Christine was working at her hospital Fri-Sat-Sun.  When she came in from work late Sunday, I knew that I was in trouble.  We loaded me up with the spouse and headed for BSW  (Baylor S&W) emergency room.  I was hustled into a room -  discussions were had - a CT scan was done of my lower abdomen.  Now, comes my favorite part of the story.

The emergency room doc came in and introduced me to a "catheter."  If you are as dumb as I was, you should look that up...C-a-t-h-e-t-e-r.  It is a fact that I did not understand catheters - their use - or the overall process.  I got a quick education.  They took a tube and inserted it inside of me - and water began to flow.  They measured the water.  My bladder held 2 full liters plus about 15 more ounces.  Think about the two liter coke bottles at the store.  I could have the extra ounces number wrong by a bit.  When I was emptied, my stomach quit hurting.  It was a miracle; except now, I had a tube running out of me.

I was transferred to a hospital bed after some lengthy time. My family came and sat by my side.  The doctors felt like it was a good idea for me to stay a while.  The tube extended to a bag.  The nurses dutifully emptied my bag constantly.  I discussed with the staff if perhaps my 2+ liters was some type of a world record.  They thought, "maybe."  For a person who is very self-conscious about anything to do with that area of the anatomy, this was traumatic.  Little did I know it could get worse.

Just for the record:  by the time I was placed in the hospital bed, it was Valentine's Day.  Aside stone:  food in the hospital.  I saved all of my menus from the hospital.  It was my aim to reprint them here.  Now, that time has flown and this recitative has become lengthy, I will save them for later. Surprisingly, the food wasn't bad.  There never was enough to equal a trip to Rosa's Mexican Restaurant or the Golden Corral buffet - but it was adequate.

On the 17th, I went home - urine bag in hand - tube sticking out.  An appt. was made with urology for the future.  After a couple or more weeks at home carrying the bag, the urology appt approached.  Meanwhile, I had learned how to disconnect the tube from the big bag and attach to a smaller one which I strapped to my thigh.  Later, I learned these were to be attached to the calf of the leg.  I didn't know.  The leg bag was better than the big bag carried in hand.

Another CT scan was taken.   When I arrived for my urology appt, I was ushered into a room where a short discussion was had with staff.   Then on a table, I had the tube removed.  A female nurse had me stand & I was told to fill the jug.   Big Jug.  I tried.   I failed.  I could not make anything work.  

I paraphrase here:  She said something like FINE...or  OKAY .... or ALRIGHT THEN - You get the picture.  She waltzed out and back in carrying 2 large sacks.  The nurse handed me a catheter about 18 inches long.  I am standing there with my pants down and a catheter in my hand.  She told me to insert it.  Yes, my education continued.  I was able to insert the tube - it doesn't really hurt like a hammer hitting you in the head - but it is a quite uncomfortable experience.  Tube inserted, water started to flow.  She handed me a sack of new catheters.   I was told to insert a catheter 4 times a day to empty my self - then, pull it out and discard.  I went home with 2 large sacks of catheters.

I learned that Medicare pays for catheters.  The staff put in an order with an Oklahoma company for more catheters and sent me home.  I had no large bag - no leg bag - but a sack of catheters.   

When I got down to 2 days of catheters, I called the staff and asked about the replacement ones.   It seems that an error had been made and the order never placed.   There was all kinds of scurrying about.  A new order was placed and my order was "overnighted" to me.  They did arrive the next day.  I have learned much about this process.

I did figure out that 4 times a day was not good.  On many days, I needed 5 times a day because of  the long over-night hours. I called Staff - new RX was made and more catheters overnight arrived in order for me to do 5 times daily.   Me thinks I may drink too much tea and diet coke.

Life went on.  I was still waiting for my urology doctor appointment to arrive. One morning, I was unable to insert the tube.  No matter how I tried.  It would not work.  I tried another tube with extra lubrication (yes, they are pre-lubricated).  I tried and I tried.  My bladder began to fill.  I made a quick phone call to urology -  loaded the wife into the car - and headed for Temple.   Once there I laid on another table.  A nurse tried to insert the tube.  She couldn't.  A doctor was called in.  Nothing.   Finally a team of 5 or 6 doctors and nurse worked on me.  Imagine me on the table with my pants down during all of this.  On 2nd thought, don't try to imagine that.

One doctor inserted a camera inside me - they DO have a camera that small.  Diagnosis:  When I had inserted the tube, it had taken the route of least resistance, right into the Prostate.  The doctors tried to insert another tube.  A smaller tube was tried.  The eventual answer was a wire which was able to make the trip - then a tube was inserted over the wire -guiding its path.  Tube in - the water began to flush.  I filled another couple of liters.

The new catheter was attached to a leg bag - I was given extra bags - and I went home.  No more self-insertion ----- self mutilation if you will.  Meanwhile, my phone message to daughter C brought her flying from work up to rescue the both of us.  I am going to point out here that the date was March 17th ... St Patrick's Day.   First hospital on St. Valentine's - 2nd emergency problem on St. Patrick's.  This does not bode well for Halloween - All Saint's day???

Just in case any of you are as dumb about this as I was.  The prostate sometimes increases in size as a feller ages.  This presses against the tube coming out of the bladder.  Eventually, it increases enough to completely close off the tube.  That was my joy.

About a couple weeks or so later, I finally had my first visit with my urologist.  We sat and talked for a while.  He said that he needed to feel my prostate.  I dropped my pants.  When he was done with his 5 second feel, he returned to his chair and said: "You have prostate cancer."  5 seconds.  None of my other doctors since January had noticed that.  This doctor decided in 5 seconds.  We talked.  He explained things fairly well.   I am going to jump ahead here.

He has given me a hormone shot - actually an anti hormone shot.  Later, he performed a prostate biopsy.  This exam uses a device to remove 12 different small pieces of my prostate. I felt nothing. The 12 samples are examined and a determination is made.  It verified cancer.  Mine is called level (4+5) 9 - which means aggressive.  This is not the same as stage I or IV or V cancer.  It is different and can be found on line.  Once the cancer was verified, we moved on.  

I went in for a day surgery.  They performed what is called HoLEP.  You can look that up online.  He explained that I had two problems.  One was the cancer and the other was the catheter.  The HoLEP made it possible for the catheter to be removed.  I am going to simplify here.  A device is inserted.  It goes into the prostate gland and removes the inside leaving only the shell.  I don't know if everything is removed or just most of it.  At any rate, I slept through the procedure - happily.  I spent one night in the hospital.  I had to urinate 2 times on my own before being released.  I won't go into this gory detail or the description of my roommate, but I did my 2 jobs and went home - no bag - no catheter.

Meanwhile, being concerned about the spread of the cancer, the doctor had me go for a Nuclear Bone Scan.   This was on Tuesday of this week.   Arriving at 9:45, a tiny bit of radioactive material is put inside my veins.   Then, at 1 p.m. I laid down on a table while the big ole machine passed over me taking pictures.   I asked if I could get an 8 by 10.  Apparently not.  It looked at whether cancer had spread to the bones.

Three days later, I received the call that my bone scan was negative.  There is no cancer in the bones at this time.  Now we are in the process of heading towards radiation.   That's it. I don't believe they ever cure prostate cancer...prolong,  but not cure.  We'll see.

=====================================

Now in an effort to make you feel sorry for me.  Other things have happened during all of this.

#1  My little dachshund Sadie suddenly had back problems.  The day after I arrived home from the hospital.  I had problems moving.  Luckily daughter Laura was here - She and my wife rushed Sadie to a vet.  Pills and drugs were given.   The next day, I changed vets to go to one who offered Laser treatments.  About 3 weeks later, Sadie was moving again.  I'm not sure she is perfect, but we hope so.

#2  Our dryer quit.  Bang.  It was older.  I decided to buy new instead of  fixing.  It took a week to get a new washer/dryer ordered.  Now get this:  it will be delivered on May 31st.   It is taking over a month for the items to arrive and be delivered.  My wife is going crazy waiting.

#3  We had the Salado tornado and hail storm.  The tornado missed us.  We had 3 inch balls of ice pound the house.  The back window of the Marauder was broken out, and the car took damage.  When the adjuster arrived, he calculated that all was fixable but the car would be totaled.  It is a 2003 Mercury Marauder.   However, the next day he called.  It seems that the Marauder has an $11,000 value while a normal 2003 Mercury is only about $5000.  The car is covered and not totaled.   It has been to a shop and is home in the shed.   Aside:  when it arrived, the left back window had fallen out of its track.  That window is halfway down and won't move.  Next thing is another trip to a mechanic.

#4  Roof damage.  Adjuster said only the north and east side of room had any damage.  Insurance would pay for half a roof.  He assured me that roof was plenty stable without new shingles.  I would have no problems with roof.    There is more.  That will come later.  Mtz

My wife has been shot (well....)

 No violence here.

I'm talking Moderna Covid vaccination.  What did you think? I mean - c'mon -

The wife and I had two shots last Feb / March in Corsicana.  It was an interesting experience which the Navarro County health dept. had set up with the lacal fire departments and other medical-type folks.  I believe they should get 5 stars for this effort.  Navarro County did a good job; no, they did a fantastic job.

Six to eight months later, we begin hearing that we need a 3rd booster.  

After a great deal of fretting - we can fret with the best of them - taking the initiative last week, I stopped at a Walmart Pharmacy in Temple.   We waited in line for 15 minutes.  I asked the lady quite politely about the Moderna shot for old people.  It was like I was trying to get away with something illegal.  Her look would have melted glass.

She handed me a printed paper and explained that I had to have one of these conditions to qualify for the 3rd shot.   I felt ushered off / or out of the line.   The list surely didn't include old people or even  diabetic folks.  We left and visited another section of the store wagging our printed paper behind us.

Now, only a week later.  Things changed.  That very day of our Walmart trip, the government changed the rules.  I felt so used.

-------   jump ahead   --------

Today, my daughter Christine took the wife to town to get a haircut.  I luckily was able to stay home and do nothing.  Well, I read the paper, did a Suduko, and talked to the dogs.  The dogs need a talking to.

My family dropped by the Walmart in Belton = I suppose you could say "Lo and Behold" the rules have changed.  Both of them received their 3rd shot -  the spouse because of age (we're not really old, we're just drawn that way) and the dot because she is a health care worker.  

How Nice.  How Very Nice.  Tomorrow, maybe, I can drive into town all alone and get mine without their moral support.  What if I cry when I see the needle?   What if I faint?   Nobody there to caress my soul.   Can I handle it?

(Truth in advertising statement:  because my wife may read this blog entry I need to clarify.  When I go to town, my wife will travel with me.  I will not have to go alone.  I think it is because she likes to see me in pain - sorta revenge thing.)

Goodnight all,  Keep those needles sharp.

me

Covid Shmovid (Shot)

 Remember the old song:  "Oh where, oh where has my little dog gone?"

My question:  Oh where, oh where has my covid shot gone?"  Corsicana is apparently is awash  in     "no-information available."  That may seem backwards / contradictory  - -

Being awashed in the lack of information  / awash in Nothing.  This past week, off and on, I have called phone numbers that I could find.  Nobody seems to know nuthin'.  Or if somebody does know sumpin', he is hiding it from folks, the common everyday public.

Examples:  I called the Corsicana health dept - phone number in the book - all I get is a fax machine.  You'd think, over time, somebody would notice that.  You'd think.

I called the Navarro Regional Hospital - nice lady operator - she know nuthin'.  Based upon what I think she said, people (just regular folks) are calling her and giving her information about where the covid shots are NOT available.

Our CVS does not have a phone number in the book - found it on the Net.   Their prerecorded message says that they have no shots available.

But, we see people lined up in cars on TV - all getting shots.  Every newscast, we see more images of cars lining up in some vacant lot - people getting shots. 

I called my doctor's office - his phone person transferred our call to the hospital without telling me what she was doing.  Yep, she didn't want to talk about it.

I called the Navarro County health dept.  they have a lot of numbers to press.  I finally just picked one that sounded a bit like "seniors" and got his machine.  I left a message asking them to help the public to learn what was happening.

I called the local paper.  Talked to a guy.  He passed info on to the Editor (based upon reading the paper, I didn't know anyone was editing that thing).  I suggested that a small daily column be dedicated to information on getting the shots.  He thought that seemed like a good idea.  Am I crazy here or shouldn't a journalist think about this on his own?  Just wonderin'?

I do have the county judge's personal email.  I wounder if he could stir things up.  Bothering a judge does seem like a wrong way to do this.

So, what did I learn today.  Nobody knows what is going on and if they do, they are not telling the general public -- and, I am the general public.

Now, let's see, where is the Governor's home phone number again?

mtz

fly flue fluen

this little bluggy was written a month ago.  I forgot to hit the word publish.
Now I will.  Nothing earth shattering here of course.
m

===============
This past week we ventured into a CVS pharmacy to buy Cokes.  If you don't watch the advertisements, you may not know that CVS will have Cokes and associated varieties on sale a lot cheaper than the guys across the street.  2 liters can be had for $1 while HEB sells it for $1.50.    
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Lemme point out:  Most people I know call all soft drinks - all sodas - whatever - we called them cokes.  I quote:  "Let's go to the Dairy Queen and get a coke."  It is like all nose blowing tissues are Kleenex or all refrigerators are Kelvinators - make up your own product and find the ones you generalize.
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In this case I wanted Diet Cokes and Caffeine free diet cokes.  I am not suppose to drink sugary stuff; thus, diet cokes.  Diet Pepsi is vile - and "lips that touch Dr Pepper shall never touch mine."  We walked in pushing their tiny buggy/cart.   At that moment I had a revelation - an epiphany if you will.  We need our flu shots.
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Last year, when we tried this, our insurer  Aetna  had put a new process in place.  I had to go home and call them.  Then, they sent out a letter or form which I carried into CVS.  
In addition, to those of you who are uninformed, there are 2 types of flu shots.  One is bigger than the other.  They have a name for it.  I forget.  I am allowed to forget.  I am getting older. 

Naturally, when we sidled up to the window, I brought these facts up - one at a time of course. Re: going home and getting a letter from Aetna -- The young lady behind the counter entered our info and said we are "good to go."   I asked about the dosage.  She told us that "Seniors" automatically get the higher dosage.   Question:  How did she know we are Seniors?  She didn't ask.  Is that profiling?  Should I be offended?  Of course not.  I believe in profiling.
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The spouse and I found our waiting-area chairs and chilled out --  waiting -- and talking about other people we saw come through.  Other people and their little quirks are always good fodder for a quick conversation.  No, I never feel guilty for being catty.  What they don't know, hurts nobody except my tally sheet when I arrive at Gabriel's gate, if you get my drift.
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A nice young lady brought over some official forms to be signed.  The form granted our permission to be abused by her needle and the store.   CVS is off the hook if there is a problem. And it instructed us how to pronounce:   "IN - FLOO - EN  ZA"      I had always wondered how to pronounce Flu.  If it were not for this valuable form, I might have continued to think it was pronounced "Bippity boppity boo." 
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She administered our shot.  Both were poked in the left arm.  Frankly, there was no pain at all.   Over and done with.  She was one of the finest Administrators I have ever met.  On the whole, I rarely say nice things about Administrators.    

Bought our Diet drinks and went home.   Nuff.  I never regret getting the flu shot.
==========================  
Addition to the above comments:
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Can't  say names -  OSHA might get me....    BUT SOMEONE I KNOW  and his wife got their shots up in   XXXXX   (town name censored)  the previous week.  The next day her shoulder started to hurt.   After a trip to the ER  and more,  I THINK her problem was attributed to the flu shot.   Perhaps the "shot giver"  hit a bone or a nerve?  She has had major health issues in the past and is naturally concerned when she begins having any medical problem.
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I don't know what has happened since her MRI.
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To continue   As it would happen, the day before they got their shots, I read an article in the Dallas paper about this.  The People's Pharmacy (Oct. 25th, page 3E)  has medical questions and answers.  I think the authors may be latter-day hippies who are going for the healthy life style approach to all things.  Someone wrote in about the flu shot and problems.   I will summerize.
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They were told that pain can happen.   Now, what got me in their explanation was that our government has a website for you to report if you have a problem with a vaccination.  And, if the problem continues for a long enough time, they have a compensation program.    OUR RICH GOVERNMENT WILL GIVE YOU MONEY IF YOU HAVE PROBLEMS WITH YOUR VACCINATION.   Isn't that nice.
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So if you have a problem.   Govn website     vaers.hhs.gov/index    
To apply for compensation -- the National Vaccine Injury Compensation Program has a phone number   800/338-2382   and a website  www.hrsa.gov/vaccinecompensation/index.html

Who'd a thought?    That is my public service message for this day - for the week, month - year - whenever.   I wish they had a compensation program for fertilizing my grass...or shining my shoes...or getting my haircut...or answering robocalls

fly flue fluen

This past week we ventured into a CVS pharmacy to buy Cokes.  If you don't watch the advertisements, you may not know that CVS will have Cokes and associated varieties on sale a lot cheaper than the guys across the street.  2 liters can be had for $1 while HEB sells it for $1.50.    
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Lemme point out:  Most people I know call all soft drinks - all sodas - whatever - we called them cokes.  I quote:  "Let's go to Sonic and get a coke."  It is like all nose blowing tissues are Kleenex or all refrigerators are Kelvinators - make up your own product and find the ones you generalize.
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In this case I wanted Diet Cokes and Caffeine free diet cokes.  I am not suppose to drink sugary stuff; thus, diet cokes.  Diet Pepsi is vile - and "lips that touch Dr Pepper shall never touch mine."  We walked in pushing their tiny buggy/cart.   At that moment I had a revelation - an epiphany if you will.  We need our flu shots.
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Last year, when we tried this, our insurer  Aetna  had put a new process in place.  I had to go home and call them.  Then, they sent out a letter or form which I carried into CVS.  
In addition, to those of you who are uninformed, there are 2 types of flu shots.  One is bigger than the other.  They have a name for it.  I forget.  I am allowed to forget.  I am getting older. 

Naturally, when we sidled up to the window, I brought these facts up - one at a time of course. Re: going home and getting a letter from Aetna -- The young lady behind the counter entered our info and said we are "good to go."   I asked about the dosage.  She told us that "Seniors" automatically get the higher dosage.   Question:  How did she know we are Seniors?  She didn't ask.  Is that profiling?  Should I be offended?  Of course not.  I believe in profiling.
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The spouse and I found our waiting-area chairs and chilled out --  waiting -- and talking about other people we saw come through.  Other people and their little quirks are always good fodder for a quick conversation.  No, I never feel guilty for being catty.  What they don't know, hurts nobody except my tally sheet when I arrive at Gabriel's gate, if you get my drift.
.
A nice young lady brought over some official forms to be signed.  The form granted our permission to be abused by her needle and the store.   CVS is off the hook if there is a problem. And it instructed us how to pronounce:   IN - FLOO - EN  ZA      I had always wondered how to pronounce Flu.  If it were not for this valuable form, I might have continued to think it was pronounced "Bippity boppity." 
.
She administered our shot.  Both were poked in the left arm.  Frankly, there was no pain at all.   Over and done with.  She was one of the finest Administrators I have ever met.  On the whole, I rarely say nice things about Administrators.    

Bought our Diet drinks and went home.   Nuff.  I never regret getting the flu shot.
==========================  
Addition to the above comments:
.
Can't  say names -  OSHA might get me....    BUT SOMEONE I KNOW  and his wife got their shots up in (town name censored) XXXXX the previous week.  The next day her shoulder started to hurt.   After a trip to the ER  and more,  I THINK her problem was attributed to the flu shot.   Perhaps the "shot giver"  hit a bone or a nerve?  She has had major health issues in the past and is naturally concerned when she begins having any medical problem.
.
I don't know what has happened since her MRI.
. 
To continue   As it would happen, the day before they got their shots, I read an article in the Dallas paper about this.  The People's Pharmacy (Oct. 25th, page 3E)  has medical questions and answers.  I think the authors may be latter-day hippies who are going for the healthy life style approach to all things.  Someone wrote in about the flu shot and problems.   I will summerize.
.
They were told that pain can happen.   Now, what got me in their explanation was that our government has a website for you to report if you have a problem with a vaccination.  And, if the problem continues for a long enough time, they have a compensation program.    OUR RICH GOVERNMENT WILL GIVE YOU MONEY IF YOU HAVE PROBLEMS WITH YOUR VACCINATION.   Isn't that nice.
.
So if you have a problem.   Govn website     vaers.hhs.gov/index    
To apply for compensation -- the National Vaccine Injury Compensation Program has a phone number   800/338-2382   and a website  www.hrsa.gov/vaccinecompensation/index.html

Who'd a thought?    That is my public service message for this day - for the week, month - year - whenever.   I wish they had a compensation program for fertilizing my grass...or shining my shoes...or getting my haircut...or answering robocalls

The eyes have it

Wed. the 2nd
Yesterday was my return visit to the eye doctor.  A spell back (a while ago) our regular eye doctor sent out notice that he was moving to Florida.  He did  - move that is.  We had to find a new eye doctor; and, we did.
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This guy must have been new to the area because he was not really organized - some equipment was not here, etc.  Because of the diabetes thing, they suggest that I see an ophthalmologist at least once a year.  His nurse took me into an area and did all the major eye testing - no need for new glasses.   Then, he came in and did the actual eye check -- This was back in May or so.
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a little bit of history:   Living in Pflugerville several years back, I started seeing flashes of light.  I went to my Oph - whatever - eye doc - he looked and immediately sent me to another doc.  This new doc was nearly 12 years old, I think.  The "kid" performed laser surgery on my right eye.  It seems that my retina had torn.   Now, if you have never had laser surgery by a 12 yr old, you haven't lived.  It was intense pain for a very few seconds.  I have never had pain like that.  Dull pain - not sharp like stepping on a nail.   It was indeed tough.  The kid told me to come back if I more problems.
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Well, sure, I did.   About a year or so later, light flashing and trip to see the Kid.  He zapped me again - same eye - terrible experience.   I asked and he told me that it was like 1 in 100 billion people have the first tear  and 1 in a quad-zillion-coquetatillion if it ever happens again.  It is so nice to know I am special. 
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Back to last May.  The new doc looks at my eyes - Right eye seems to have a problem.   He pulled out his zapper and lasered the right eye again....(I made up the word lasered.  Spell check doesn't like it.)  This time the pain was a "nothing."  I still don't understand it unless he is pretending to hit the laser button so he can overcharge Medicare.  Or, of course, maybe technology has improved over 2002.  I'll take either explanation.  My co-pay remains the same.  He had me back a couple of months later to check the eye - all is well.
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He started talking about my left eye.  I believe he believes that the original work was done in the left eye, not the right.  Well, No.   Pain like that is remembered.  Anyway, during this latest trip, he keeps looking at the left eye.
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The new eye doc has lots of new machines which I experienced.  I'm thinking my right eye has helped to buy those new machines.  Yesterday, he made pictures of the back of my eyes.  Amazing - really.  And he showed me where their might be diabetes nerve damage in the back of the eye.  That's pleasant news.
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He wants to see me again in 9 months.  Originally, he said 6 months - then I mumbled something about the insurance company - only can have inspection every year, I thought - and so forth.  So he settled on 9 months back.   I am not complaining.  Except when he uses that little extra lens and the light on his head, this is not a bad trip to see a doctor.  I do hate it when he uses extra lights to gander at the back of my eyes.  This is so uncomfortable.
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I put on dark sunglasses and the lovely spouse drove me home.  I didn't even buy a big gulp for the trip - and, frankly, I deserved a big gulp for not screaming when he looked into my eyes.  Dracula.

Medical

While Monday was fun picking up the dogs, today is not a fun day.
I see my GP  (doctor)  twice a year to have blood test for the A1C  - something diabetics do on a regular occasion.  Today is the day. 
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He talks.  He prods.  He pokes.  He uses a rubber glove  (once a year only).  We chat.  I have blood drawn.  I really like this doctor.  He is above par.   First of all I believe he could have been a concert pianist or some degree.  His brother was a band director in the HEB area and now teaches trumpet on the side at SMU  (he retired & does this now).  He talks softly and intelligently.
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I am really not one to cultivate friends.  Somehow, it never seems to work out.  I don't make enemies - not that - and sure, I have friends - some very good ones - but I am awkward when it comes to social settings such as inviting people over for dinner or going out with another couple.  We have done this with one local couple.  But, I am really not good at it.  I want to be.  
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I believe the good doctor would be someone who would be good to socialize with; but, there is the problem of socialization with someone who knows you - and I really do mean the word "Know."
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So I move on.  Time to get ready for the prods and the pokes ....
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While I am here, I would like to mention that my previous next door neighbor, Lelanie Petty, has just been diagnosed with a stage 2 to 4 brain tumor.  She is also our insurance agent.  This whole thing just makes me mad.  Lelanie is holed up at Baylor hospital (Dallas) waiting test results.  They cut open her head yesterday and removed a fist-size tumor.  Why do bad things have to happen to good people?  Makes me mad.

My hearing has been aided

Today I had a life style change.  Life style changes come at different times of our lives.  Retirement was a life style change.  Moving to Corsicana and the lake - buying my Mercury Marauder - when I bought my first pair of glasses with plastic lenses - diabetes - marriage - having to drink just diet Cokes - the list probably is endless.

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But, today, I have ventured into a new world - the new world of hearing aids.  At 10:07 a.m. this morning, the lady Vicki installed my 2 hearing aids and adjusted them to my ample ears.  You'd think - with my ear structure - that I shouldn't have any hearing problems.  They should be able to funnel all sounds successfully into the proper canal.

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Well wrong, ear wax breath.   All of those many years of excessive musical sounds - drummers - trombone players - crescendos - riding on a school bus with 50 rowdy teens and tweens.  Listening to the NY Philharmonic recordings of "Pictures at an Exhibition" -  I have ridden that horse and it has bucked me off.

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Bro-in-law Ernie called it my "War Badge."

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There are things to learn about wearing these things. Batteries, ear wax, inserting in the ear, so forth....

My set comes with a device which hangs around my neck.  It connects by Blue Tooth to my phone.  The phone rings; I push a button; no longer must I answer the phone physically as before.  

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My ears feel stuffed with the machines.  They itch too. Maybe over time, I will forget they are there.  A life style change.  Here we go Batman!!!

m

lines etc

I am sitting here waiting for supper to simmer properly.  The wife is making some chili which needs to cook down a bit to meld all the proper flavors.  She makes a good chili. The plan is nachos...chips covered with cheese and chili.  .  . and don't forget the jalapenos.  It will be good.
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I opened a can of Ranch Style beans to top off the culinary feast.
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I thought I'd give you a bit of my medical history.  If this is not fine reading, what could be better?  I see lines - not little green men or dead people - lines.  They are very colorful sometimes flashing lighter to brighter.  The lines are jagged.  There is not one line; it is a set of lines.  I might mention I do not see them all of the time...just sometimes.
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Over the years I have been told that these are aural symptoms of migraine headaches. I have migraines without any pain.   The lines usually start in the lower part of my vision then cross diagonally until they slowly float off the top part of the visual field. The whole process takes about 20 to 30 minutes.    But, no pain.
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I can remember my first time - having lines.   I was in high school.  My brother's best friend was a guy named Doc McKay.  Doc was our drummer; he had some real talent.   I imagine I could write a full blog on Doc.   His mother was the local dance teacher. Quite a lady.   At one point of their life, they bought a Lot out on the Brownfield highway out in Levelland  (you can read previous blogs about Levelland being my home town).  The Brownfield Highway was an area where richer people started building their houses - mostly ranch style homes on a really big lot.  The McKays had one of those lots.  They had no house.
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Back in the 50s, Levelland had two gasoline plants.  One was "The Levelland Gas Plant" owned by Standard Oil - who became Amoco - who was bought by BP.  Yes, BP paid my father who paid for my education.  I like BP.  The second plant was called CO-OP.  
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Sometime during that period the CO-OP closed.  All of the pipes and tubes and towers and all were ripped out and gone.  As it turns out the CO-OP had some stuff down in the ground.  I don't know what.  Do I look like a person who can design a gas plant?  These holes in the ground were lined with brick.
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The McKay family hired my brother Jim and me and Doc to dig out those brick - clean em - and transport to their lot.  They used the brick to build their house.  it was summer.  We would climb down in those holes and dig out the brick.  We had a brick carrier that would carry 8 bricks at a time.  That was just about my limit.   This took us several days to complete.
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Do you remember why I am telling this stone?   One day (afternoon) Jim and Doc took off with a load of brick.  I was left behind to keep pulling them out.  And, I did.   It was this particular hot, sweaty, stressful, labor intensive, lonely time that I had my first attack of lines.  They lasted a while - I kept working - and they went away.
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Side note:   Times were certainly different in the 50s.  We worked all those days without any bottle water.  Nobody worried about how we were hydrating.  As a matter of fact, I don't believe anyone even knew the word hydrating.
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Wellsiree, this has gone on too long.  It served little purpose other than documenting that I have these lines.  I had em today.  I used to get them about one day after band contest and other stressful times in my band directing career.   For the life of me, I cannot figure out what triggered those lines today.   Just thought of a word.  Kaleidoscope  - when you look through a kaleidoscope you see these shapes and lines.  Pretty close to mine - except my flash more.
see ya guys around.
If you know a doctor who wants to have my brain after I am gone, give em my phone number.
m 
p.s.  I have no intention to proofread this blog.

Therapy

I graduated today - or rather, I graduated again today.  After a month, 3 times a week, I have left my therapy.  For some reason my children laugh when I say I am in therapy. They have implied that I needed to be in therapy for some time.
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I suppose there is a need for clarification.  I have been in physical therapy for a month.  Yes, it was not fun.  Yes, I would go back if I were told.  No, it did not help my brain to be there.  I shall now explain.
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Last May or maybe June, my wife said to me,  "I'm going walking.  Do you want to come with me?"  The obvious answer for me is normally, "No."  But on this particular day I put on my shoes and dutifully paddled out the front door after her.  I wear my floppy hat on these excursions.
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As I have probably mentioned before, we live on a hill.  I have to walk up the hill to the road or down the hill to the lake.  They brought in 100 load of dirt to make us a pad for the house to live.  I walked up the hill.  About 3 steps down the road, my ankle had a pain.  I have normal pains all the time, muscle spasms, creaking knees, and all the typical bits that people my age endure.
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I continued down the road for a while.  The pain increased.  Maybe 50 to 100 yards down the path, I called it quits and went home to sit and ponder.  The pain in the ankle didn't go away.  Anywhere I walked, there was a sharp pain right under the left ankle bone.  Then, a few nights later that ankle pain reached up and grabbed me throwing me out of bed.  That was something.  At night when it kicked in, I rolled out of bed and stood on the foot, much like you might do if you have a cramp in your leg.  The pain would go away.
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You might be able to figure out why I blame my wife for my ankle pain.  No Walkie, no Painie.   She says I am the reason for the pain in her neck.  Suppose we are even.
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I figured out that if I laid on my left side with the left leg pulled up and the foot at a normal angle, the ankle didn't hurt.   I love that.  How often am I able to get "angle" and "ankle" written in the same sentence?  Prose must be my mistress.
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It became obvious that a trip to the foot doctor was in order.  I had seen him before about a tendon that needed stretching out.  Wore a nighttime boot for that affliction.
He looked at my swollen ankle and produced a hmmmmm worthy of any fine doctor.
Petty.  Did I mention it is Dr. Petty?   He must have a first name.  I forget.  He has great bedside manner, always smiling and informative.   It was decided that I would wear an ankle brace which had straps wrapping around the bottom of the foot.  I put on the brace - not accurate - his 12 yr old nurse put it on me.   Most nurse types in doctor's offices look to be 12 years old when you are my age.  Maybe she was 14.
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I wore that ankle brace from June until now religiously.   I even bought a 2nd brace online that was easier to strap on.  Every 2 to 3 weeks, it was back to Dr. Petty - pay the $10 co-pay - he would hmmmm and we would move on.   Then, something new, in September he sent me for an MRI on the ankle.  The MRI trip might be a blog all its own.
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The results came in.  There is a tendon that runs down the back of the leg and wraps around the outside of your ankle.  This tendon had split, vertically - up and down - not horizontally across.   It was taking its time healing.  But, now we knew what was wrong.   He showed me on the report where the tendon had already healed - but more was needed.  The pain had grown less as I started learning to ignore.   
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In October's doctor visit, the doc had been hit with the same problem.  He was wearing his ankle brace.  We bonded.   By November, his brace was off; he was healed.   Not me.  Finally in February, it was decided that I should go to therapy.   This was after December and January's shots into the ankle.  That is fun.  They spray it with a cold stuff so you can't feel the needle inserting. . . I went to Therapy - uh, physical therapy.
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This blog ( or blug, for the older visitors ) has gone on too long.   Tomorrow, I may write a missive on the P.T.   Not know for my physical attributes, physical therapy is a new adventure for the plump of heart.  Stay tuned.   It may take a week to get back to this.
luv ya,
mtz 

Earline

I won't go into great detail here at this time.   My brother's wife will be receiving a heart transplant about noon today.    With all the ice in the Dallas area, it has been tough on my brother...unable to leave the hospital.....animals at home isolated by the weather ..... not that it hasn't been tough on her too....maybe more so.
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They say she will be out of the hospital in a week. Amazing!!!  Isn't it amazing what they can do? Yes, you may pray for her; but, also pray for the family that had to lose someone in order to save her.

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I do not know how long the operation will last. My plan is to drive to Dallas in a couple of hours after the sun has had a while to melt the ice on the Trinity bridge.  The Dallas area is encased in ice.   I know nothing else.

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Short stone.  Since my brother has been isolated at the hospital, a kindly neighbor has been looking after his place and feeding his dogs and cats. The dogs remain inside the house while the cats roam the neighborhood looking for squirrels and rats.   I can only imagine the floor mess the dogs have created unless the kindly neighbor is cleaning up too. Anyway, with all the ice and junk, this neighbor has been walking over to take care of the animals. Imagine if you can.... she is elderly and uses a walker. I told bro that she needed a very special Christmas gift; he agreed. A walker on ice to feed yappy dogs. The pearly gates have opened up for that lady.

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running running

Not much to see here folks.  I awoke this morning with fluid flowing from my nose  ( GROSS ALERT !!  GROSS ALERT !! ).  A clear, liquid-flow, mighty as a river gushing after the hurricane [ from the previous post ] has unleashed its liquid fury.  
                        One Kleenix, Two Kleenix, 
                        Three Kleenix, A Dollar.  

                        All for Tissues 
                        Stand up and hollar.
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Today I stand in awe at the "mighty lowly" Tissue.    Continuing our gross alert, the way it works in my head - the nose runs.  If I lay down, it continues, sometimes flowing down the back of my throat.  While I never know it is flowing, it is for sure.  All of this gross-sit-ity is followed by an increasing sore throat. Pretty soon, the ears start to stop up.   That was fun to write.  Start to Stop. Try it, you'll see. 
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Historically when this first started, it was a spring time, just prior to concert contest.  I went into sight reading unable to hear my students play - everything seemed 5 blocks away.  We were fortunate to have survived that competition - the band did great.  I tried to smile a lot.
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So, running nose and all, today we went to town.   Gotta go to the bank - the post office - and, of course,  Wal*Mart.  That, plus a few more tissues, and I invite my wife to have lunch at a local Italian place we have never tried.   It was okay.  Big bread rolls brushed with butter and garlic. The portions were large.  My piece of chicken was enormous for a restaurant that is still in business.  We brought home supper plus 2 big rolls.
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Once home - a half box tissues later - I called an allergy doctor.  Answering service:   "Doctor's answering service," she recites.   I ask, " You are the answering service?"  After all it was early afternoon.   "Yes, they will be back at 1:30."    1:30.    I set an alarm clock for 1:35 and gave them a 2nd call.    Response ---  Tomorrow morning sometime, I will visit my new best friend.  The doctor will look into my eyes, my ears, my throat, and perchance, my nose, if he is wearing plastic protective garb.   He will emit a hmmmmmm and say, "I need you to come back in, and we will do some tests."
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You see, I have done this before.  I took allergy shots in Austin for 4 years.  Then, in 2003, I stopped.   Not one runny nose since 2003 until this year.  The allergy devil has re-found me. Tomorrow, a new adventure.  wish me the best.
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M

experiment - plus nonsense

This is an experiment - not spiffy reading - an experiment.

On the right of this typing is a button which implies you will get a notice should I ever write another blug.
So I clicked it and signed up to receive notices  - via another name that I use when I don't want people to know who I am - not going to tell you either.  so there.

Then my wife went to the blug / blog and clicked on that button to sign up also.
So this entry is an experiment to see if we get a notice that brilliance has been typed herewithin...a word the spell checker doesn't like but will be used anyway.
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you go sign up too, y'hear.
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Not to leave you without a taste:
My wife is not here right now.  She has gone to town.  On certain Wednesdays a group of like-minded ladies gather at the Corsicana Senior Citizens bldg and knit.   They call it "Sit and Sew."   I call it  "sit & knit."   I have been trying to come up with a rhyming word for Squat -- so they can  Squat and ....
Squat and talk - won't work;   squat and pot  would work if the were doing gardening;   

All of the ladies / participants / squatters / are members of the Corsicana Quilt Guild. . .  I think they are known as the Piecemakers  (cute, huh?)     Much to my surprise, wife says the ladies do not sit and gossip about others.  I think that is marvelous and explains why she keeps going back, not being one who enjoys gossip.

Just this past week - see below - I made the journey to the Corsicana Senior Citizen's bldg and played as entertainment { the Corsicana Swing Orchestra }  for the festivities honoring the local Vietnam Vets.  They were a good group.  As we started to play, there were only 18 people there including the servers and cooks.  The numbers got better.  And the crowd got better as we started to play "The Stripper" and this guy got up dancing around and slowly removing his Vietnam vest.   We would have been in major trouble if he had started working on the suspenders.   

Lady BAR THE DOOR!
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SORTA ONE LINERS FOLLOW - OBSERVATIONS FROM THE MEMO PAD ON MY CELL PHONE.
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A couple weeks ago, we were eating at some simple Chinese Buffet joint - not class - a Buffet for goodness sakes.  This couple came in and "chose" a table.   She was wearing bright red tennis shoes.   Before long she flagged down the waiter guy.  Her request:  Turn down the music on the P.A. System.  It was Chinese music in a Chinese Buffet.
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A one liner I heard on the radio last President's Day  E V E.   After a question, he replied that he was gonna spend President's Dayt  "at home in my rectangular office."   That's it - nothing to write momma about.
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Was in JCPenneys store walking around as the spouse shopped.  I chanced upon a display of female jeans entitled   MODERN FIT.  I asked.  They have slim ankles.   Once again I failed the Modern Fit test.
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My phone memo pad has the following entry:      D#
That's it,  D#.  Don't have the slightest clue.....
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One final stone.   When you reach Medicare age, the govt. limits your paid visits to certain types of doctors. Since I developed the Diabetes thing, certain doctors are included in my care - eye doctors are one.  I keep track on a yearly calendar and make the visit to the Optomologist once a year.   (side note:  I wrote Optomologist and spell check things I should change it to Psephologist.  Guess so.)
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I bought new glasses in 2009 after we moved here; the others were bent and falling off my face, nose piece broken, the works.  Found the Diabetes in late 2008 so the 2009 eye doc visit was just right.   He gave an eye prescription which I filled at Wal*Mart.   I buy real glass - progressive lenses - and photogray.   I discovered several years ago as I bent to family will and bought plastic lenses, plastic lenses are a life-style change.  You treat plastic lenses differently than glass.  Back to glass and am happy....

This year the doctor gave me another prescription and stated as he has the past 3 visits, there is not much of a change, get new glasses if you want.  I bit the bullet.   My old glasses were 4 years old - still worked but, it was time to become Modern again.   My new glasses are in and I am bumping into walls getting use to them.
Didja know, the type of lens that I have, these lenses must pass a test after grinding.  A steel ball is dropped on them from a set distance.  If they don't break, the lenses are shipped out.   If they break, well, they were just not meant to be.
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ending.
have come up with some drama to write about on Friday.  I know you lie in wait.
mtz

operation

This past week was not too much fun.   My oldest daughter had an operation scheduled for this past Thursday.  We - being the lovable parents - drove down on Wednesday, all 5 dogs in tow, to help her get through the process.    Our 5 dogs added to her 3 make 8 - but who's counting.
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If there was one blessing, we didn't have to be at the hospital till 10.   It was at the North Austin hospital off Mopac.  It is really a pretty bldg and the folks are quite nice.    15 minutes we arrived early.   We sat and waited.
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Bored, I informed the females that I was going over "there" and get a diet coke.  And as expected they came after us when I was out of pocket digging for change.  We were moved to room 19 for pre-opt.  Check-in at 10, operation to start at noon.
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There are so many things that the staff does prior to an operation - I simply cannot recite all of them.  Again, they were really gushy being helpful.  I sensed a desire for us to be quite happy and to not sue at the end of the day.   It is a shame that we have to be treated with kid gloves instead of just people.   Since this daughter works in a hospital lab, she was able to communicate with the nurses in their language.  That was another blessing.
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Noon came and went.  No operation.  We were informed that doctor had called and it would 1 p.m.   Then another phone call and it would be 2 pm.  The wife and I were getting hungry.  Recognizing it would be another hour, we tripped down to the cafeteria.  Hospital cafeterias have their own life.  We both got a burger and chips.  Over, back to room 19,
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The daughter was dressed.   It seems - and I won't get into things I don't understand here - The doctor was at another hospital doing a surgery in the morning.  That sick person had a major problem inside the stomach walls - additional surgeons were called in - and major operation continued.  We left the hospital and she had a sandwich.
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The rest of the day and the next day were spent in conversations about rescheduling.  Nothing has been decided as of this writing.  I am sure we will make another trip south soon as soon as veteran's day and the scheduling person gets together with the doctor.
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meanwhile my daughter waits to begin the long process again.  It has to be hard to go through all that prep and have to start over.    More info will follow.

Bro's eyes

my brother Jim has gone through 3 weeks of having 2 cataract surgeries where the lens was replaced in his eyes.   Jim has had glass since early elementary years - like 1st / 2nd grade or so.  His eyes got worse and worser and worstest as time went by.   I would guess his glasses were 1/4 inch thick. 

Operation over.  He has measured 20/20 in both eyes - even though this may change over time.   No glasses after 60 plus years.

I am a believer in this process now.

Frozen Face

Last July - t'was about the last week or so, this thing came up on my right jaw.  It was just back far enough that I couldn't see it without a mirror and, just so you'll know,  I was never too good looking at anything with a mirror.  


My first thought was:  ingrown whisker - or pimple  (I am still a teenager at heart).  When I touched same mass, it hurt.  I left it alone as my mother taught me.   "Don't touch that pimple or it will turn into a wart.  DO YOU WANT A WART?"   Leave em alone - they will heal on their own.   Wrong.


I left it alone.  August started and so did Grammy Camp.  It was two weeks long and so was my growth.  On the 4th week, I decided -- call a dermotologist, darnatogolist, droop-a-mologist - I never could keep those straight.   I called.  Nurse answered.  I explained that I wanted an appointment with Dr. Bilitz.   She started talking up the Physician Asst.  PA....BOTH FEMALE.   I said, "No, I don't want some female poking around on me, I will wait for the Doctor."  Now I know that is a bit wrong, but I am 70 yrs old and I don't want some female poking around on me.  I have enough problems.


Keep in mind - this is 3rd week of August.   I went in for my appt on Tuesday.   His waiting list is that long.


The nurse ushered me into a small examining room,  chair, table, stool, recliner - and hung brilliantly on the wall,  a Whitish flag with a big double T in the middle....signed by Leach and that basketball guy we all loved to love and hate.  Two other signatures adorned the flag in two other corners - couldn't make them out.  I was in the presence of a Tech grad.  All must be okay.


Nurse left.  In walked this late 20 to early 30 tall young lady.   She introduced herself as an intern from Baylor.  A FEMALE !!!!  She said, "If you will POP off your shirt and sit up here."   pop off my shirt.  This female is going to go poking around my body - that concept to most of you readers should be repulsive in itself - not the poking around, but me without a shirt.   Ask my wife.  No, don't ask my wife.


I said as I popped of my shirt,  "Pop off your shirt.  You must not have been raised in Texas."   I was right.  She is over here from Ireland.  Of course I was able to talk about my Irish heritage - the Tule family.   She found the spelling to be interesting, or she was just being nice.   Much poking went on.  Eventually, I was able to replace my pop-off.   Dr. Bilitz stolled in.   I complimented him on the Tech flag - we were instant friends. 


The doc poked around.  They agreed;  I had 3 things on my face that needed to go away.  The jaw thing had gone done somewhat - so it was suspect too.  Doc left.  Irish Doc got out the freezer gun.   She said, "close your eyes."   Whoosh.  I can tell you, that hurts.  I asked if I could scream.  She said that some do.   I didn't.  I have had one pain that was more than this, but don't let anyone tell you this is fun.  It is not.


(side bar:  my retina detached  two different times and I was hit by a laser  twice, one month or so apart.  This is a pain that I cannot describe.  You don't want it unless the doctor provides a bullet to put between your teeth.)


Zapping over.  Irish chick doc split.   I split.  Set up a follow-up appt for exactly one year from now.  They seem concerned don't they?   One year before a follow up.    My 3 bits of pain dimished over time.  Still it all hurts and scabs are starting to form.  I want to return to normal.


With that, I close.
Zappingly yours,
Mtz3
p.s.  hummingbirds outside my window are having a great time right now  AND   it is precisely 5 p.m.  My dog Fritz is starting to pace the floor for his supper.

Medical Times

A pot pouring of not much:

I awoke this morn feeling  bad - 3rd day in a row - sore throat.  In the past these throats have been from "drainage."  Sure, talking about drainage is not the coolest thing.   I figure:  Today is Friday.  Next comes the weekend.  What doctor is gonna help me on weekends?  The throat might only get worse, worst, worser.  To the phone, got an appointment for 1:45.

I was early.  Didn't make any difference, they called me back at 1:45, and the doc didn't see me till about 2:00.  And that is okay.  I like my doctor,  Dr. Merrill.   He has a pleasant bedside manner and always seems interested and pleased to see you.  The doc has a new nurse.  His old nurse retired on Jan. 15th and the new one came in. 

This part I like the best.  She opened the door to the waiting room and called my name.  She even pronounced it correctly.  As we trudged down the hallway, she said - and I do paraphrase here - "You are much younger looking than I expected.  I was looking for a much older man."   This lady gets an "A."   No, make that an "A+."   I look much younger than my age?  What does an 70 year old guy look like?   She probably thought I looked closer to 68.   Still, that nurse knows how to get my blood pressure down.

Which reminds me, bp was 122 / 70.   Sounds good to me.
The doc thinks I either have a virus or allergies from being outside lately.  The Oak trees are really acting up right now.  I  t'was sent on my way with a RX for bacteria infection  IF MY  drainage starts getting major coloring.  Yep.  He says don't use it unless I really need to.  The prescription rests comfortably in my billfold.

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enough for now - bed time - my head is just singing away - ringing away.   Been told this is my ears ringing.   Continuous singing.   It will never go away.  All of my young readers should be cautioned about loud music.  Being a band director forever put me in front of some pretty loud groups.   Just sayin..........

mtz