Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Don’t you hate it when you gain weight but you hang onto clothes which no longer fit you because you tell yourself you’re going to lose that weight, and then you finally give up on that idea and give the clothes away or throw them out because it just depresses you to see all those clothes that used to fit you, and then, about a year after you give them away or throw them out, you lose weight and could wear them?
Yeah, me too.
I limit what I share. That’s true in life and includes my blogging.
One, I’m a private individual. Two, I don’t want it to appear as if I don’t respect and appreciate that I have it pretty good. Three, I’m boring and lead a boring life. At the same time, I sometimes decide to share because I endure something in isolation, hunting information, coping and struggling. I suspect that I’m not alone.
So, Ima gonna talk about my feet and ankles. Yes, but this is actually about edema, sodium, and hypertension.
Hypertension has plagued me my entire life. Brief doctor checkups were required when I was a child in my early teens first trying out for an organized sport. The first time, the physician said two things: “You have high blood pressure, and your ears need cleaned.”
When I was in the military, physicians would regularly order me to go through a week of coming into the clinic, hospital, or infirmary daily to check my blood pressure every day. I never paid much attention to it. It was always kind of high and never changed.
I should have been paying attention. That’s on me and my overconfidence and ignorance.
My hypertension finally caught up with me and began manifesting as edema several years ago. I have Mom’s very slender ankles, ankles which my wife always envied. Now they’re puffy. Swollen. Discolored. Stiff.
My healthcare team isn’t quite sure what causes my edema, whether it’s actually my lymph nodes, or venous insufficiency. I don’t want to oversimplify; multiple factors influence it. I always figure venous insufficiency played a large part, but I’ve also discovered that my body doesn’t deal well with sodium. Sodium is used in cooking, baking, and food processing as flavoring and a binding agent and preservative. My body decided it can’t stand sodium. When my blood results come back, high sodium levels always stand out as critically high.
This all came to a huge issue for me when I sprained my right ankle, first in May, then again in June. Both times, I was just moving when — snap – crack — my right ankle gave out and I went down in a blaze of pain.
The second time this happened, I couldn’t believe how much my foot and ankle swelled. Suckers ballooned into huge sizes. Shoes would not fit, limiting my footwear and activities.
I’ve been on amlodipine for several years to help with my blood pressure. I’d quit taking it for reasons I couldn’t even quite define for myself. I don’t know what I was thinking, for real. I resumed the med in early June. But when I went in for my annual check with my PCP in late June, my BP was 169/89. That concerned her.
It concerned me as well. She urged me to track my BP for two weeks and report the results back to her. Take your blood pressure morning and evening every day, she said. If it stayed high, we would need to address my meds. I agreed.
The first week’s results were horrendous. My right foot and ankle were also regularly swollen during that period. So was my left ankle. All of this was depressing. After the first week, I stopped tracking my blood pressure for a day because I was so upset. I had to make changes.
I’d been watching my sodium levels since the edema began manifesting. Now I carried it to hyper-vigilant levels. High levels of sodium are in so many foods. Condiments like mayo and mustard were gone, along with any salad dressings, pickles, olives, etc. I mean, I’d already cut them substantially back but now they were completely verboten. I’d treat myself to bacon once in a while before; no more. The butter we use has sodium; it was cut off. Bread was cut out. Rolls. Cheese. Salsa. Guacamole. Many favorite foods were simply eliminated from my diet. Raw fruits and veggies, which I’d always eaten in regular quantities, were eaten more frequently. I also increased my water intake. I cut down on my coffee consumption, and whenever I go to the coffee shop, I order a glass of water with my coffee. Desserts and treats are off the table.
The results paid off. My two-week average when I turned in my records to my PCP was 134/79. I had several second week readings in the 120/70 range. I had one reading of 117/72, and another of 106/69. My right foot’s swelling subsided. My ankles’ swelling declined. Besides that, I lost six pounds and an inch off my waist. I became more limber and flexible and slept better.
What I sort of realized/hypothesized was that the edema and swelling which I saw in my feet and ankles were happening internally as well. As things reacted to more fluids and less sodium, that unseen swelling also diminished.
Anyway, that’s my story. If you’re out there dealing with hypertension, high blood pressure, and struggling with edema and sodium, you’re not alone. I feel for you. I hope you can make changes and that those changes result in improvements.
They did for at least for me. It’s not over, though. I remain on that strict, almost completely sodium-free diet. Sometimes, we need to face it, this is how it must be.
And that’s how it is.
Cheers
Mood: Coffeebunctious
Good morning, good day, good afternoon, and good evening. Today is Tuesday, July 16, 2024. It’s now 81 F in Ashland, cloudy, a bit humid, stiff and dull with heat. Our high will be 99 F. Clouds like pleasure craft in the sea have come to the harbor of our sky.
We were coming back from running errands yesterday when the sky darkened. A large, swollen cloud mass blocked the sun, bringing up a wind. Rain veils hovered over the southern mountains’ trees. Could we get rain? my wife and I wondered.
Back home, we questioned Alexa. She assured us that rain wasn’t happening.
Then thunder steamrolled our street. Huh. A few minutes later came a lightning streak. More thunder. The power flickered and danced. Then soft rain pelted the hot ground, summoning petrichor from its depths. The temperature flew from the mid 90s to 86 F. Doors and windows were opened as the thin, light rain drizzled over us like light frosting and left. Thunder continued for another thirty minutes but that was the only band member there as lightning and precipitation hustled on. The temperature recovered to hit 90 but the evening cooled fast. The night was pleasantly chill, and a deep slumber was enjoyed.
One of the things that come with lightning in the west is worry about it striking the ground and igniting fires. Yes, that happened, quite a bit. Many were immediately found and outed. A few are still out there, watched and prioritized to be addressed by the proper government agencies.
The Neurons are feeding One Republic with “Counting Stars” from 2013 into the morning mental music stream (Trademark steamed). It was the line, “Lately, I’ve been, I’ve been losing sleep, dreaming about the things we could be,” which hooked The Neurons. I don’t blame them; I like the line as well. Then I sort of hooked onto later line myself: “Everything that kills me makes me feel alive.” As a person living with hypertension and medicating for it and dealing with edema, I make strenuous efforts to avoid sodium. My bod and sodium don’t get along and the less little bit each day triggers swelling and exasperation. Ah, life gives us each a unique burden to carry, unless you’re some kind of strangely fortunate one like TFG. It’s a uplifting song for me, nice beat, with some stirring lyrics aptly delivered.
Be strong, remain positive, and Vote Blue in 2024. Coffee and I have been sharing a pleasant morning. Hope you’ve been doing the same. Here’s the music video. Off we go. Cheers
Mood: heatthargic
Didn’t get too cool last night. Was only supposed to reach 99 F yesterday but my place saw almost 103 and then the heat hung around long after the sun said adios. Today, Sunday, July 14, 2014, I see clouds in the western sky. 73 F now in my zone, the heat is expected to push the mercury (or digital mercury) to 96 F.
Just finished the breakfast ritual. For a long time, I ate oatmeal, serving it up with fruit and walnuts mixed in. The fruit was mostly blueberries but blackberries were sometimes subbed. Once in a while, strawberries, peaches, or nectarines were installed on the menu. A few years ago, I switched to bagels. I nuke them to warm them and then butter them up. Fresh fruit has been added. Today, I had a kumquat. Then three plump blackberries. A dozen fat blueberries followed, and then a prune, several almonds, and a small slice of watermelon. The fruit varies, depending on what’s in season and what’s bought.
Now, doesn’t it feel good know what I had for breakfast? No, I’m sure it wasn’t at all interesting to you except for you to mutter, why is he writing this? Just a whim.
Today’s music began as “Richard Cory” by Simon & Garfunkel. But even as I protested, I did that song earlier this year, and then asked The Neurons why that song was in the morning mental music stream (Trademark stretched), the song changed to “Find Your Way Back” by Jefferson Starship. I had an idea of why it was there; I’d read of a hope that a coalition of Democrats will find their way back and support President Biden in his re-election and carry us to victory in November. But then —
*dramatic pause*
Papi finished his brekkie and wandered in for some attention. As he sat beside me on the ground, permitting me to bestow needed skritches around his ears, chin, and neck, he stopped proceedings to move aside and scratch an itch. Naturally, I said, “Scratch that itch,” in the same style as it’s sung in Devo’s hit song, “Whip It” from 1980. The Neurons latched onto that like a newborn taking to a nipple, so it’s now the song occupying my mental regions.
Stay positive, be strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. Also, enjoy a healthy breakfast. Coffee is being finished. Here’s the music video. Cheers
Earlier this year, the SCOTUS cut down the Chevron decision of 1984 while adjudicating Loper Bright Enterprises et al v. Raimondo, Secretary of Commerce, et al. In the Chevron decision, it was established that courts must defer to federal agencies when it comes to interpreting certain laws. The bent right-wing Roberts Court has now said, “Naw, uh.” The decision significantly changes how Federal regulatory agencies’ decisions are addressed in the judicial system and hamstring the ability to enforce Federal regulatory standards.
As if on cue, Iowa suffered heavy rains and flooding in the northwest corner. Agribusiness is huge there, and one area where Iowa has been pretty laconic is how animal manure is handled. Their solution was to put it in large ponds, creating a fecal soup. Guess what happens when floodwaters overtake fecal ponds? Yes, water drinking supply systems are contaminated.
The same sort of story was told in North Carolina a few years ago after a hurricane caused major flooding, so projections about what Iowa will experience, like skyrocketing e-coli levels, are known. Did Iowa learn from that? Hell, no.
So, to recap, in an age when regulatory enforcement is being blown up, an age where climate change is causing more extreme weather and droughts are endangering the nation’s water supply, the dangers and damages of such lax oversight is clearly demonstrated again and again. And yet, they won’t change, cause — money.
That’s the wisdom of the 21st century GOP.
Mood: recoffeefied
Tuesday, July 2, 2024, begins with a cool breeze talking to me as quiet coddles the area and black coffee takes my throat. It’s a peaceful and relaxed moment, diametrically opposed to the world exposed on the world wide web.
The cats are fed. They washed themselves and bedded down in outside locations for a while. It’s 70 F as I write but the expectation is for an 88 degrees F high. Sunshine is ruling without much challenge from clouds, and it’s a blue, unscathed sky.
My ankle is improving. Most striking to me is how it felt as I walked. Slightly off-balance and hitched to me, others often said, “You don’t seem to be limping.” Maybe they didn’t see it but I felt it. Yesterday was the first time that I felt like I walked using my usual stride.
Also, received my blood test results, and they all look good. Nothing worried my PCP, so nothing is worrying me.
I have been reading political news, especially concerning the qualified immunity bullshit being ladled on Donald Trump by the Roberts Supreme Court. If the GOP wins in 2024 and Trump is POTUS again, a lot of bad shit will probably go down in the U.S. I mean, much of it already began under his first efforts to undermine progress. Then the SCOTUS issued its Dobbs ruling and stripped women of their right to decide what to do when pregnant. Right wing states piled on. So, if the GOP wins, history will write that the Roberts Supreme Court was a noble instrument in guiding the United States to a benevolent theocracy ruled by a Christian white patriarchy.
But if the Democrats prevail, the Roberts Supreme Court will be called out as corrupt and misguided. Honestly, look at how these self-professed conservative originalists pulled immunity for the POTUS out of their asses. Where in the fucking U.S. Constitution does it say anything about the POTUS enjoying qualified immunity? Nor does it address abortion, but these right-wing miscreants are as hypocritical and unethical as anything ever seen in any nation in the last two hundred years. Yes, I have little faith in them.
I agree with Robert Hubbell’s assessment, that we — progressives, like the progressives who started the nation — will eventually prevail. He wrote, “My only hopeful comment is that the decision is so bad it will not stand. Like Dred Scott (enslaved people are not citizens and not entitled to judicial protections), Plessy v. Ferguson (upholding segregation), Koramatsu v US (upholding the Japanese internment camps), today’s decision will be overturned and remembered as a mark of shame on the Roberts Court.”. Then he opened his comments section for anyone to weigh in. There are some solid, re-affirming comments in there. Some uplifting, motivating comments. If you need a kick of positive energy, as I did, go to his site and read some. They’ll help.
Just as a final aside on that, I’ll mention that besides the three rulings that R. Hubbell listed, I’ll include the 2022 Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization as a decision that will someday be overturned as wrong and another mark of shame on the Roberts Court. May that day come soon.
For today’s music, I’ve turned to the late Tom Petty. “I Won’t Back Down” came out in 1989, while I was stationed and living in Germany with the U.S. Air Force. I immediately took to the song and its declarations.
Well I know what’s right
I got just one life
In a world that keeps on pushin’ me around
But I’ll stand my ground
And I won’t back down
h/t to Genius.com
The song is filling my morning mental music stream (Trademark immune), and it’s a good thing.
Be positive, stay strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. Coffee has rehabilitated my brain, so here’s the music. Cheers
Mood: Effervopeful
Snowy white clouds with blued shadows have bouldered across the blue sky. A promise of rain? We’ll see.
It certainly dipped the temperatures, pushing us into a chilly night. We’re sitting on 63 F now with a promised high of 79. Tucker took the change by moving to a different location but Papi is wandering around whining, what happened to my summer? That ginger boy loves his sunshine-powered outdoors.
BTW, this is Thursday, June 27, 2024.
Family news has all quieted but is it the storm’s eye? Dad has gotten word that he’ll be released for home from the rehab place on July 5. His kidney doctor has told him she wants to hold off on dialysis for now. Dad’s kidney functioning is up and the doctor wants to search for the root cause of his kidney issues before going the dialysis route. I cheer that approach, myself.
Personally, I’m off to see my primary care physician, who is a nurse, after my writing session. It’s the annual thing, done now that I’m into my Medicare years. I don’t expect any major findings. I seem to have some decent if average genes and take reasonable care of myself, resulting in a basically healthy but aging individual, slowing by the day, with mildly misfiring pieces.
We purchased a new printer week. The small Epson ink tank model replaces a brooding Brother monster machine that hasn’t printed well for us in a decade. Why give ourselves that frustration of dealing with a recalcitrant machine, except *sigh* we need to dispose of the old one and that has an environmental impact. We have found a place that will take it apart and recycle and repurpose to alleviate the impact.
I set it up and printed without any issues. My wife…
*sigh* She seems cursed with bad computer luck when it comes to printer and email. She printed a recipe and the result included all the behind-the-scenes instructions for the page layout. I’ll research it later to see how/if that can be resolved. Meanwhile, her Outlook is giving her fits. I hear an Outlook tirade at least twice a week. I’ve investigated and found some potential fixes but all are pretty radical and she’s putting them off.
Her computeries (computer miseries) inspired The Neurons to bring a KISS song, “Hard Luck Woman” from 1976. to the morning mental music stream (Trademark aging). TBH, this song’s sound never brought KISS to mind. Sounds more like a Rod Stewart offering to me.
Stay positive, be strong, and remained informed and involved. Don’t forget, Vote Blue in 2024. I’m sipping my dark elixir now. Here’s the music. Cheers
Vote Blue 2024.
Mood: Confloofeed
The world has dropped a Sunday bomb on Ashlandia, emphasis on sun. Little wind stir the heat. We’ll travel from our current relative pleasant found in 69 degrees to the upper eighties. Cooler than yesterday, not as hot as that endured by those under the skillet lid in the eastern U.S. Today is June 23, 2024. Next Sunday will be June’s final day. This means that almost half of 2024 has slipped by the surly calendar.
In bad news, a friend sent me stats on COVID-19, showing that it’s risin’ agin’. He saved me some time. I’d planned to look into it because eight friends reported they had it in June. Their experience was a few days with mild cold symptoms followed by two to three weeks of poor energy of any kind. One reported, she sit down with a book and go right to sleep.
I spent the morning texting with sisters. One is teaching her sixteen-year-old to drive as her newly adult high school grad takes on adulting as he preps for college this fall. She’s going down to Georgia to vacation with our oldest sister tomorrow. Meanwhile, texting me, the older sister tells me she’s had a couple strokes without elaborating on what kind. She’s always had back problems and now there’s stenosis and they want to fuse five of her vertebrae together. She’s also diabetic and has chronic kidney failure, a byproduct of her meds, she tells me.
Then there’s my middle younger sister. She and her family drove down to the Carolina coast yesterday. They’ve rented a beach house with a pool. They’re all hard workers and mo’ def’ deserve and need a vacay. Hope they’re able to relax and chill.
Meanwhile, my mind is floating around calling Dad to get an update on him and calling Mom to get an update on her and pass the update along about Dad. I’m not quite up to that yet. More coffee and some writing, first.
We had a net outage the other night. Actually, two nights in a row. This frequently happens when the heat jumps into the upper nineties. I mean degrees, not years, decade, or period.
With the net out, we read but then I surfed the television offerings. Since I cut the cable back in 2010, we survive on over-the-air digital broadcasts. We receive the big four networks, along with PBS, and the networks’ sub channels. Like NBC is channel 5.1, then there are three other networks broadcasting old shows or documentaries on channels 5.2, 5.3, and 5.4. X-Files, Two and a Half Men, Seinfeld, along with Green Acres and Hogan’s Heros, and several police/hospital/fire department-based dramas from past decades.
Watching Hogan’s Heros and its silliness, my wife and tried remembering what happened to Bob Crane. Was it suicide or murder? Bludgeoned to death, we rather later recalled, and then conneted it. (Yes, conneted is my word for ‘confirmed on the net’.)
My wife follows a tangent, recalling that Naomi Judd ended her own life. It’d shocked her and me; Naomi Judd, a lovely and talented person, seemed to have it all together, resulting in a life of artistic and commercial success. Naomi Judd, though, coped with many mental and physical health issues and decided, enough. Never know what’s happening in another’s skin and what’s passing through minds.
The final piece that evening was a sort of celebration of the Judds’ music, with my wife enthusing about their songs, like “Mama He’s Crazy” and “Girls Night Out”. But the one she particularly relished was “Turn It Loose” from 1988. She played it a few times once the net returned, heavily accenting her favorite lines by loudly singing along to them.
I love the slide of a steel guitar
I love the moan of an old blues harp
I love the shake of a tambourine
I love the bass when it’s low and mean
So put on your shoutin’ shoes
And turn it loose
h/t to Lyrics.com
It may surprise you that The Neurons in my head then loaded it up and sprang it on me this morning in my morning mental music stream (Trademark loose) as I was wandering around the kitchen, just minding my own business. So that’s today’s theme music.
Stay positive, be strong, and make what you can of the day. Needn’t be perfect. Just tryin’ can help. I’ve downed some coffee — the last gulp was cold as stone. Time to go write and roll.
Here’s the music. Cheers
Mood: Humpnotized
I was gently serenaded awake by the dulcet tones of a cat upchucking somewhere nearby. Investigating, I found it was Tucker heaving up kibble and a hairball. Fortunately, I had an exercise towel down. It was for foot and leg exercises to cope with my ankle injury, based on recommendations from my sister, a physical therapist. Tucker and Papi had staked out the green towel as the new ideal napping spot in the house. That’s where Tucker was sleeping when I went to bed. Apparently, he slept there until he awoke and puked.
That’s how my Wednesday, June 19, 2024 began. Hope yours was better. I raise my coffee cup to Juneteenth and my fellow Americans who celebrate it for all the right reasons.
Spring’s hold is weakening in Ashlandia. Sprummer has burst back onto the scene. It is a beautiful blue skied morning. Sunshine baths runners, bikers, grooming cats, and everything else under the sky. 61 F, today’s high will bounce into the low 90s. With this abrupt weather shift will come high winds.
After the puke check, I squirmed back into bed, and then tumbled with dreams and thoughts. The thoughts went down a parental aisle. Dad in the hospital. Mom was there in April. The two are divorced, with new partners. They actually divorced over fifty years ago. Dad has been with his ‘new wife’ for 35 years, his third marriage. Mom has been with her beau since 2009. Family whispers say that she’s been married seven times. Mom has a secretive gene so vetting information is a challenge.
Mom professes to constant pain. She complains frequently and often about her existence, frequently demanding her daughters’ attention, repeatedly regaling all of us with tales hospital visits, doctor appointments, and health details. Going backwards, appendicities, and before that, a perforated appendix put her in the hospital. Her pacemaker was replaced. COVID hospitalization, spinal stenosis, swollen foot (but not edema, she tells me, although she had sixteen lymph nodes removed during foot surgery), and of course, fifteen years ago, the disastrous fall down the steps. She sleeps with a mask on to help with her breathing because of emphysema. Hardly able to walk, she insists on tottering around the house to clean it, though to most eyes, it’s immaculate. She takes dozens of medications, vitamins, minerals, and supplements.
Dad tells me from his hospital bed, “I’m fine,” with a chuckle. “They have a hundred doctors helping me. They want to put me on dialysis but at my age, they worry about whether I’d survive the procedure.” He’s been stented over ten years ago. Uses a wheelchair and a cane. Has oxygen at home, which he insists that he doesn’t use. Only his wife is there to help him.
Mom always complains about her beau. He can’t hear, she says, and I’ve witnessed the truth of the 94-year-old man’s hearing issues. “He’s forgetful,” she angrily hisses. “I always have to tell him things and make him lists.”
Dad’s wife laughs about Dad and his idiosyncrasies. He never says a harsh word about her.
What a difference their worlds are.
Today’s song choice by Les Neurons is a little ditty called “Twilight Zone (When the Bullet Hits the Bone)” by Golden Earring from 1982. A song inspired by an adventure spy novel, it’s presence in my morning mental music stream (Trademark split) is all on me. See, I was feeding the cats and somehow ended up singing, “You will come to know when the kibble hits the bowl.” That’s a variation of Twilight’s chorus, “You will come to know when the bullet hits the bone.”
Stay positive, be strong, and Vote Blue for 2024. Coffee has stolen into my body. Here is the music video. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 