Sunday’s Theme Music

The daily can of sunshine was opened up on Ashland, Oregon at 5:49 AM on this Sunday, May 16, 2021. Said can will close at 8:26 PM. That sun comes with a mildly hot flavor. We expect temperatures in the mid to upper eighties in our part of the valley. All the clouds have departed to other areas, leaving us with blue sky as far as vision takes us.

Today’s theme music is “Changes” by Yes (1983). And why not? After a year plus of wearing masks, changes are suddenly being distributed.

Change, changing places
Root yourself to the ground
Capitalize on this good fortune
One word can bring you round
Changes

h/t to Genius.com

Stay pos, test neg, keep up to date on the changes, and get the vax. Enjoy the music, and your day. Cheers

Saturday’s Theme Music

Sunshine came busting in all ablaze at 5:50 AM this Saturday morning, May 15, 2021. Their twin, Sunset, is likely to sneak away at 8:25 this evening. Between, comes weather. Yesterday’s weather iteration brought us sunshine. 83 degrees F. Clouds. Thunder. Lightning. Cold air. Petrichor. Could today do the same? One never knows with weather. Fickle as a drunk, is weather.

Music today comes out of 1981. “Invisible Sun” by The Police struck a mental chord as I thought about COVID-19 statistics. That connection was made when I thought about government charts.

I don’t want to spend my time in hell
Lookin’ at the walls of a prison cell
I don’t ever want to play the part
Of a statistic on a Government chart

h/t to Metrolyrics.com

As for COVID-19 locally, we jumped back on for another ride up and down. 7-day average continues falling but then you get a day that leaps back into the forties and think, “Damn. Thought we were done with that.” Mask wearing is the topic. Is it safe without masks? Many declare they’ll continue wearing them while a large percentage immediately whisked their masks off. We’ll see what’s what in about ten days, I think. That’ll give time to see if people immediately stripping away their masks sends us a new spike of cases.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask when needed, and get the vax. Please get the vax. Please.

Thursday’s Theme Music

Welcome to the day, by international standards, which is the fourth day of the week, Thursday. We count Sunday as the first day of the week in my house, so Thursday is the fifth day of the week. Regardless, it is May 13, 2021. Sunrise, by scientific observation, came to Ashland at 5:52 AM and sunset will follow at 8:20 PM. Outside, we’re expecting a dry, warm, spring day, with temperature pushing into the lower eighties.

We saw 40 new cases of COVID-19 in Jackson county yesterday, continuing the roller-coaster trend. Our seven-day average has declined to thirty. Thirty-six percent of Oregonians are fully vaccinated. Almost fifty percent have had at least one shot.

Dreams were of a wide variety last night. They featured a great deal of domesticity like shopping and house-cleaning, but also trended to having broken machines (like vacuum cleaners) and broken remote controls. Must go through the debrief about what it’s all about.

Today’s music choice comes from Chris Rea. Released in 1986, “Let’s Dance” was a small hit in the U.S. for him but made into the top ten in several other countries. I always like the jaunty tune. Feels optimistic. That summarizes my mood: optimistic.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, and get the vax. Cheers

Tuesday’s Theme Music

As inexorable as the sun arriving in the east each AM, we’ve cycled into another Tuesday, labeled May 11, 2021, for official record keeping. The star known as Sol punched in at 5:54 AM and will punch out as regular as Fred Flintstone at 8:21 PM. Spring sunshine is as plentiful as green leaves and temperatures are expected to tiptoe into the upper seventies today. Lovely.

Feeling well today. During my Saturday evening hospital visit for a damn kidney stone, I was given batteries of tests to verify all is well. They keep saying things like, ‘you’re remarkably healthy.’ I always think, you should see the other guy. CT scan showed liver, gall bladder, appendix, intestines, colon, stomach, lungs, kidneys all in great shape. Blood work support those claims. So, yea, me, or more rightly, yea Mom and Dad for giving me genes that set me on the road of having good health.

Mom and Dad are still about. Dad and his siblings are all alive. Now residing in San Antonio, Texas, Dad is the oldest of that lot of five. Mom is less fortunate. Living in Pittsburgh, PA, second to youngest, she’s the sole survivor of her gang of five. Mom is 85 this year and Dad is 89. Mom had health problems over the last five years, dealing with various heart, lung, foot, and cancer issues. Now she consumes twenty meds a day but still moving. Dad had been doing well but suddenly has issues the last three years. Now he’s losing blood, uses a walker or a cane, oxygen at home for his COPD, and several care-givers coming in a few times a week. Despite several hospital stays, cameras inserted into various orifices, and lots of blood and urine work, they don’t know where the blood is going. His spirits are up, though. Dad is pretty indefatigable.

Mom and Dad divorced almost sixty years ago. They’ve arrived at this point in their lives with good partners. Dad is on his third marriage (although he lived with another three women for years) while Mom is on her sixth fellow. Mom and her fellow are not married but they live together. I’m happy they have someone growing old with them, taking care of them. I’ve seen how hard it is when you’re elderly and living alone.

I’m listening to The Clash in my head this morning. They’re singing the 1978 song, “Guns On the Roof”. Reading about the U.S. troop withdrawal from Afghanistan brought me to this song. We’re still leaving one thousand troops in there, along with contractors. We’ll also continue pursue our latest military fad, drone warfare. That brought up The Clash line, “I like to be in U.S.A. Pretending that the wars are done.” The United States is never done with war. Peace would wreck too many stock portfolios.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, and get the vax. Cheers

The ER Visit

5:15 PM.

He was thinking, I should call Dad. See if he’s out of the hospital and how the colonoscopy went.

Pain stabbed his pelvis. Sucking in air, he bent down, then controlled his breathing and studied the pain. He’d never felt something from that region before. Seemed too low for gas…but what else could it be? He was a little concerned. He’d already had four bowel movements for the day, one more than normal. All of it looked good (yeah, he looked – always). Everything else felt fine. He checked the area for discoloration, bloating, and tenderness. Nothing but pain.

He remained puzzled. It’d been a good day. He and his wife, Brenda, had done some cleaning, then taken hazardous waste to the White City center. After that, a whimsical stop at Dairy Queen. Been a year since they’d been to one. Brenda ordered a fish sandwich and small Reese’s Blizzard. He ordered a small Thin Mint Blizzard and a cheeseburger. They’d slathered his cheeseburger in mustard and ketchup, ruining the flavor for him. They’d eaten in the car in the parking lot. He usually avoided food like this but it was a whim. An indulgence because he and his wife used to go to DQ on dates. It was the only place to go in their home town back then, two years short of a half century ago. After DQ, they’d gone to the park and read books, then went for a walk.

Now, home, and this pain. The pain was increasing, stabbing through his left side, up his back. Motrin was found and swallowed. He peed…a little. Another bowel movement, very loose, followed.

The pain kept growing. He had Flomax on hand for his BHIP. He was beginning to think kidney stones. Flomax worked on relaxing organs and muscles, allowing an easier urine flow. If he had a kidney stone, maybe Flomax would help pass it. Meanwhile, he’d chugged a liter of water. Increasing, the pain encompassed all of the left side of his lower back and his pelvis. Not his right side, and nothing above his rib cage or in his upper abdomen. It was hours before he was due to take his daily Flomax, but he downed one.

An hour had passed. A little liquid had dribbled out. Oh, no, could this be another blocked urethra? He’d gone through that with his BHP two years ago. But this didn’t feel the same. Maybe memories of it were wrong. But wouldn’t the Flomax give some relief?

8:15, with the pain intensifying and options dwindling, he informed his wife. “Sounds like a kidney stone,” she replied.

He agreed. He thought he could tough it out but the pain was growing. He hated to say it, but he thought he needed to go to the emergency room. She agreed, donned bra and lippy, got her mask, a book, and the car keys. They headed to the local hospital.

An efficient, friendly staff took him in. Each introduced themselves and explained their function. Each came across as intelligent, friendly, and professional.

Meanwhile, he listened in on the patient in the next room. Narco overdose brought in by ambulance. He’d just been in on the twentieth last month for the same thing. He’d gone into the Safeway bathroom, smoked heroin, and passed out. Could he call his wife and let her know he was okay? Were the police coming? No he was assured, they weren’t.

He reflected on the different windows into lives. He never saw the man next door. His voice sounded rough and tired.

He wrote a short short story in his head while he passed the time. Time was spent looking at this vitals. Pulse stayed around 71. O2 saturation was 98 to 100 percent. Blood pressure was 155 over 92, yeah, high, but not a surprise, as his BP always reacts. He takes Amlodipine for it.

Two hours later, after pain meds, urine and blood samples, and CT scans, confirmation came. A 2 mm kidney stone on his left side in the ureter. Another, larger one, in his right kidney.

2mm. He was appalled that a kidney stone had reduced him to this. Collection equipment was given for him take home so the kidney stone could be captured and identified. Oxycodone acetaminophen was issued for pain. Why, wasn’t that the stuff they’d given him for his broken arm last year? He still had twenty tabs of that at home because he’d never taken it. Hell, if he’d just taken on of those… But, really, he didn’t know what was causing the problem. The pain had largely dissipated at this point. Instructions required to drink lots of water. Sure, he understood that.

He got home at 11:30 and peed 250 ml into the bottle. No kidney stone, but no pain. But…pain killers, right? He sat down to catch up on reading the news on his ‘puter and researched kidney stones. The pain crept back in. At 1:30 AM, it struck as it had over eight hours before. He downed a pain killer and a half liter of water. After twenty five minutes, the pain subsided. He fell asleep.

This morning, he felt fine. No pain. He peed into his collection bottle and hunted the stone. Nothing. Maybe the little bugger got away. Maybe it remained in there.

Mild pain oozed out of his right flank.

Wondering if the other kidney was beginning his move, he drank a liter of water.

The kidney stone watch continues…

Further Friday Frustrations

  1. Besides COVID-19, the drought and the threat of wildfires, we’re wondering about how the crazy worms will affect us.
  2. I’m also concerned that I’m not cheugy.
  3. Well, not that concerned.
  4. I’ve been accepted by Medicare. As a military retiree of a certain era, I’m covered by Tricare. Tricare requires me to get Medicare A and B when I turn 65. That happens in July. I applied when I became eligible. A few days later, I was accepted. Meanwhile, I receive phone calls, emails, and snail mail from individuals and companies offering to help me navigate making my Medicare choices. It’s another industry. Everything becomes an industry, and as you reach certain milestones, they make you aware of it. It used to be that my junk mail was all about buying a new car, shopping for clothes, or taking vacations. Now it’s about hearing aids, funeral services, Medicare, reverse mortgages, and Viagra.
  5. Of course, there’s a few new industries afflicting all of us who own a home or car. We receive regular phone calls about our car and home warranties. In our house, we don’t answer the phone unless we recognize the number. The other industry that’s aggressively chasing us is insurance against our water pipes bursting in our yard. A WaPo article says, in essence, yeah, it’s another scam.
  6. I think one of my cats has short-term memory issues. Whenever Boo encounters our other cats, Papi and Tucker, he reacts like, “OMG, who the hell are you?”
  7. To mitigate the fire threat in our town, a ‘firewise’ program has been established. Basically, don’t use any bark mulch on the ground. Don’t grow any flammable plants within five feet of the house. Store wood products that you might have at east thirty feet from the house. Trim back all branches so they’re not touching the house or close enough for flames to leap from the tree to the roof. Get rid of wooden decks, wooden fences, conifers and blackberries. Walking around Ashland, I can see that the program has made little progress. We were affected by a fire last year. There were actually three fires on the same very windy day. All three were started by individuals. The firewise program can’t address the wind or deliberate fires.
  8. They also tell us to keep your plants watered so they don’t dry out and become fuel, but we’re in an extreme drought, so hey, there’s little water to water plants. The only option appears to be to pull out all your plants except those of a desert variety and put small stones or pebbles in your yard to help reduce moisture. Of course, I’m also exploring polymers that are supposed to help the soil retain moisture.
  9. Delivering decorative bark (or mulch) had become a growing industry. Go to any hardware store’s garden area and there’s bags and bags of variations. Blower trucks will load up and come to your house and spread it for you with a giant reverse vacuum cleaner. Now, I suspect a new industry, to vacuum it all back up, will begin taking root.
  10. I thought that killer bees and murder hornets were bad. Now we can add crazy worms to the list of things nature has devised to make the world more interesting. The MSN story says, “Pick one up, and you’ll see why, as the creepy-crawly jerks, writhes and springs out of your hand. (It may even leave its tail behind, as a grim souvenir.) And now, scientists are finding the wrigglers have spread to at least 15 states across the U.S.” They resemble regular worms and are bad for the soil.
  11. I have a crazy cat. I really don’t want crazy worms.
  12. My wife is on her weekly coffee clatch call. Pre-COVID-19, they’d meet after exercise class every M-W-F. Their pandemic compromise is to meet every Friday after exercise class. They have a good time. Lots of laughing. I hear her now talking about her sagging breasts and my drooping scrotum. I’d told her that my sack hung in the water in the hotel toilet during our visit last week. Disgusting, right? Once you feel and know it, you can take action by not sitting all the way down. This is another reason why I prefer to stand and pee, even though I’m cursed with a forked stream. Aging. There’s always something.
  13. Haven’t smelled any skunk for over thirty days, yeah, knock on wood. I’m superstitious that way. Haven’t smelled the skunk, or sighted one, but my wife reports that she heard a thump last night for the first time in weeks. Time to block the entry (again) and see what happens. I would mount my camera but it has quit working. I’ve not been able to reset it and connect it nor receive any images from it. I don’t want to buy a new one because, waste. We’re such a throw-away consuming society. It’s frustrating.
  14. Being cheugy doesn’t offend me. And, from what I understand, I am cheugy. Apparently emerging from TikTok, cheugy is the new ‘square’, a way of saying something is passé, or out of it. Tres important, right? I’m bothered by too many other things, like crazy worms and skunks under the house, to think about being trendy.
  15. Got my coffee. Time to go write like crazy at least one more time. Before the crazy worms get here. We’re already full up on crazy. Even bought a warranty. It was offered on the phone.

Overheard Confession

“No one is putting anything up my ass. Sorry, no colonoscopy. This policy is traced to something done to me when I was a child. I don’t know the backstory but my auntie prevailed on my mother to give me an enema. Other than vowing to never let anything go up my ass ever again, I’ve blocked out all memory of it. I believe that Mom regretted it to her death. Whatever it was, whatever happened, I found the equipment in the hall closet, got a pair of scissors, and cut it all up. I was four years old.”

Thoughts

I spent over twenty years in the military, 1974 to 1995. The Cold War was underway. The U.S. and U.S.S.R. and the allies of each were constantly ready to fight a war. Stationed in Germany for several years, we used to practice wearing our hazmat suits and gas masks, taking shelter as we were attacked. I did the same during war games in Korea and Egypt.

Wearing the suits and masks wasn’t fun. That experience rendered it much easier to wear masks during the pandemic. These masks over our mouths, attached to our ears, are much easier to wear.

I’ve just finished reading The Splendid and the Vile. This book by Erik Larson covers Winston Churchill’s first year as Prime Minister. World War II had begun six months before. The London Blitz began that first year, 1940. The tales of deprivation are stunning. Larson uses multiple sources to weave a narrative not just about Churchill, England, and the Blitz, but about Hitler, Goering, Goebbels, Hess, FDR, and the many people around Churchill coping with him, helping Churchill, and hunting for the way forward.

Imagine those times in the United Kingdom as bombers flew overhead through the night skies, dropping incendiary devices, and then bombs, feeling the ground shake with violence as buildings were shredded and people were killed. Imagine being one of those people in London and other cities, enduring as food and tea was rationed, gas, electric, and water services were interrupted, fighting fires, worrying about unexploded bombs if you survived the raid, then going to work. Imagine sleeping in air raid shelters in squalid conditions. Imagine the black-out demands where lights were left off, forcing all to stumble through darkness.

And so many here, in 2021, complain about social distancing. They won’t wear a mask, because fake news. Freedom.

They know nothing. They should have been in London or any of the other cities around the world that experienced these conditions. Then maybe they’d realize what sacrifice means. A mask? Six feet apart?

Really. It is nothing.

Wear the mask. Stay positive. Test negative. Get the vax.

Sunday’s Theme Music

Spring has a solid grip on this Sunday, May 2, 2021. Clouds tinker with the sunshine. Mountain breezes manipulate the temperature. Snow remnants haunts mountains on the valley’s other side, above shadowy stretches of green that turn into deep jade.

Sunshine first broke cover at 6:05 AM, and will flee for the night at 8:11 PM. Our highs will seek now familiar ranges in the lower sixties.

We ride the unending roller coaster of COVID-19 news around here, up one day, down the next. Vaccinations have stolen past 28% of Oregon’s population. Jackson County, where I call home, had shown a disturbing trend, with the seven-day averaging climbing. It peaked at 49 a few days ago. Now we’re down to 41. We’ve been through this before. After Christmas and New Year, the cases had been declining. Then they rose to levels not recorded since last November.

We visited Curry County last week. The seven-day average had increased from three to four cases there. A relatively remote location on Oregon’s coast, reached by Highway 101 going north and south, they haven’t suffered many cases, but have experienced the morale of businesses being shut, lockdown, and social distancing. Disappointing to note that some businesses had signs up requiring masks, but weren’t enforcing it. On the whole, though, masks were worn, usually correctly, and distancing practiced.

Today’s song is the 1981 Stray Cats song, “Rock This Town”. The song arrived on neurons’ back, their origins unknown, joyous vagabonds stealing through my brain with their musical message. I like the song, so I went with it. Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, and get that vax. Cheers

After the Doctor’s

We are gathered for a little hum-bragging. I’ll try to keep it to a minimum.

I had my annual doctor visit last week. After visiting with a doctor (or, physician, if you must), your mood can swing anywhere. Depends on what he or she said, right? And your general attitude.

I was going in with mild trepidation. I’ve been treated for hypertension, aka high blood pressure, and an enlarged prostate gland (BHP). Meds, diet, and exercise, are handling both. I’m peeing petty normally, not having an seepage (funny how that’s something to cheer about — hey, I’m not peeing myself — but sadly, it happens to folks), and my blood pressure is usually around 131/71 (with a heart beat of 72) when I check it in the AM.

It’s not really those things that cause my mild trepidation. I always approach things with an outward calm aspect that belies mild trepidation going on underneath. It does give me a little white coat aura with my blood pressure, typically raising it by ten.

This was the first time meeting my doctor, who is actually a nurse practitioner. I’d lost the last one, Amber, to her decision to move elsewhere. She began the telemedicine video call with a compliment about my smile. “You have a nice smile in your patient records photo. I thought, he looks like a nice guy. You have the same smile. It’s a really nice smile.”

Well, she won me over. Can I buy you a drink?

She introduced herself. ICU nurse for ten years before making the change last year. She’s been doing this one year.

We talked in specifics about my treatments. Nothing new to report. She gave a general appraisal, based on my blood work. “Everything looks great on your blood work. No diabetes, no A1C warnings, no indication of liver or kidney failure, nothing showing inflammation or heart problems. You’re like a unicorn, because it’s rare that someone who is almost sixty-five has so little wrong with you.”

I felt pretty good about all of that (except the part about almost sixty-five — ah, aging and pride). Since I had nothing showing up and no complaints, we’d make it the same time next year. Meanwhile, if something did come up (knock on wood), I’d contact her as needed.

Okay. Onward.

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