Tag: first world blues

The Wake Up Ping

WARNING: It’s ‘nother first world blues rant.

I don’t usually keep my phone near me when I’m in bed. Had a lifetime in the military, along with my time in marketing. People always wanted me immediately available.

Well, no longer! It’s one of the declarations of independence I made when I retired from all that work stuff. The phone stays in the other room.

Except, yesterday, it didn’t. I wasn’t feeling well. My car was in the shop for routine maintenance. I was waiting for them to call or text to tell me it was ready. So I had the phone on my nightstand.

They called about four-ish, asking if they could keep it overnight. No, nothing major found; they were just short-handed and overscheduled.

Shrugging it off, I agreed, sure. “Call me in the morning when it’s ready.”

I went back to sleep, off and on, and forgot about the phone.

Until six AM this morning.

The phone pinged with a message. In irritation, I thought, sisters. That was more a matter of my mood than anything. My sisters have habits of getting up early and sending texts early. They’re on the east coast of the US, so they’re three hours ahead of me. Texts that they’re sending at 8 AM are pinging on my phone at 5 AM.

But it wasn’t my sisters.

Nor was it the car repair shop.

No, it was Google Health, formerly known as Fitbit.

Google Health pinged me awake at 6 AM to tell me that I didn’t have a good night of sleep.

Sure; that made total freaking sense.

As Mom often grumbles, “Those so and so’s.”

0

A Bulb Tale

More first world blues!

I barked out a laugh.

My wife absently asked, “What’s so funny?”

We were in the home office, each quietly doing computer things. Sitting back, I turned my chair to face her. “You know how that garage door light bulb went out?”

The background: there’s a light that goes on when you press the button to raise or lower the garage door. It was no longer going on.

She nodded, waiting for me to drop the other shoe.

“Well, when you were out the other day, I replaced the bulb. That didn’t fix it, though.”

“Oh,” my wife said.

“Anyway.” I gestured at the computer. “I figure, must be something else. So I’m researching online. One of the things I came across was that I should use a light bulb specifically made for garage door lifts.”

My wife frowned. “What?”

I laughed. “Exactly. We’ve lived here twenty years. I think I replaced the bulb one before. I replaced our Half Moon Bay garage door light one time. I’ve never bought a special bulb for it.”

“Why would the garage door need a special bulb?” my wife asked.

“It’s supposed to be ‘more rugged’.”

She and I both laughed. “I think that’s crap,” she said.

“I agree,” I replied.

We returned attention to our computers.

0

More First World Blues

My wife lost her phone.

So, I’m changing information in online accounts. The procedures were all originally all set up for us do online — technological DIY, if you will — back in the Internet’s infancy. Since then, the net has been terrorized by security threats and thefts.

Anway, the saga begins…

I log into my account. Navigate to my profile. Go to the phone numbers. Try to change the number.

Can’t!

Because I have already added that number.

I attempt to delete that number.

Can’t!  

In order to do that, they want to text me a security code on the number I’m attempting to delete because the number is no longer valid.

Yet, that’s listed as the primary contact. I can’t move the other name up. It has a strange, inexplicable logic to it.

No other options are available online. My only choice is to call them and explain it all.

It’s a technological catch 22.

1

First World Blues: The Phone Saga

I entered the house.

My wife looked at me with hope. “Did you find my phone?”

“What?” I asked.

She explained. She’d called and left messages. She’d lost her phone.

My phone never rang.

After cursing that, I examined my settings. The phone should have rung. It’s possible it rang and I didn’t hear it.

Anyway…

My wife lost her phone. She thought it happened at the coffee shop. I called them to ask if they had found it. They looked all over as I called the number.

“No, sorry,” Katie told me.

We drove over to the coffee shop to look for ourselves. No sign of the phone.

Then I got a phone call from her phone. Children were making a prank call.

I tried talking to them. I offered a reward. I texted them with an offer to buy the phone back.

No response.

After two days of trying, my wife accepted, the phone was gone. She needed to cancel the service for that number.

She called the support center.

A bot answered. It explained it was a bot and asked her what her problem was.

My wife explained the situation.

“Hold on,” the bot said. A few minutes later, it came back on the line. “Can you explain your problem again please?”

My wife did.

“Please hold,” the bot said. “I’ll be right back.”

The back came back and suggested, “Turn your phone off and on.”

“No,” my wife replied. She explained again: she did not have her phone. Her phone was lost. She needed to cancel the service.

“Hold on,” the bot replied. It went away. My wife listened to hold music. The bot came back: “Turn your phone off and on.”

“That won’t work,” my wife answered. “Let me speak to a human.”

The human had her sorted in thirty seconds. If she had spoken to the human in the first place, the call would have been under a minute.

Instead, she was forced to endure having a bot tell her, “Turn your phone off and on.”

AI.

Right.

0

Friday’s Theme Music

Ashland, southern Oregon — Friday, July 24, 2026.

It’s a hot, sunny day. 85 F now, 95 later. But the air is free from smoke.

Fasted last night so I could go get some blood tests done today. So then went off and ate breakfast after that was completed.

Then the morning got a little complicated. My wife lost her cell phone. Children found it and wouldn’t return it. Yes, rewards were offered. She didn’t have the phone locator turned on, a choice she made years ago but now regrets. She also didn’t set up phone security. Fortunately, she used it for nothing except texting, games, and phone calls.

BUT —

It was the primary number for receiving security texts for different accounts. So I’ve been going through the very painful process of changing that number with several companies. It isn’t just ‘log in and fix it’; it’s log in — or, call us. Give us your name, DOB, address, social, UserID. Now, take a photo of both sides of your driver’s license. And a selfie. Now hop on your right leg three times, turn in one complete circle, spit toward the sun, and declare, “New phone number” three times.

Classic first world blues.

It’s pretty apparent these days that Trump’s shallow thinking has exhausted its ability to come up with new ideas. Deeply into repeating himself, Trump is inflicting new tariffs on us (even though the US is projected to refund $85B in tariffs and our customs duties receipts are negative $26B in June) and trying to add his name to another building as part of Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL!

Not surprising, given Trump’s flat ideas and bullying leadership style, Trump is losing staff. Those he chose who were approved by the Senate are escaping while they can. Could be that they know that the mid-terms are looking like another Trump disaster — like:

No worries; he’s not.

We’re becoming the land of the poor, sick, and broken under Trump. According to a Harris Poll, 95% of U.S. adults believe the country is facing a severe affordability crisis.

Still living in a fantasy, Trump thinks the next president will have it great.

Your Trump Quote of the Day:

The other way that we can take this quote is that Trump made another Freudian slip. He’s actually acknowledging that he’s doing a shit job, and that anyone after him will look much better in comparison.

Given his declining physical appearance and the way he often babbles, I wonder if he’ll be alive to see the next Oval Office inhabitant.

Maybe Trump will pull a Mitch McConnell. That might be even why the GOP isn’t trying very hard to prove Mitch is still alive; they’re testing the waters to do the same with Trump.

Today’s song came to me as I was driving and thinking, returning home from my lab visit. I had the radio off, thinking about my dreams from last night. With my daily routine shifted, I thought, “Come up for air.” From that, “Miracle Mile” by Cold War Kids began playing in my morning mental music stream.

May the season’s winds carry you to a happy, healthy, and safe future.

Cheers

0

Sunday’s Wandering Thoughts

I did my ‘first of the month’ chores the other day. These include pouring things down into the bathtub to keep the sewer lines cleared, and running cleaners through the washing machine, dishwasher, and garbage disposal. We hunt for organic, safe things to do this with. I do them every month on the first day to keep it all working well.

That’s the dream, anyway.

All transpired as planned with everything except the washing machine. It stopped, showing an error message.

My wife pointed it out to me by asking, “What’s this mean?”

“What?”

“The washing machine isn’t doing anything. It shows ‘rL’ where it usually shows the time.”

I looked. Not because I didn’t believe her. It’s just habit: see for myself. Helps me shift into ‘maybe I can fix it’ mode.

She was right about what it said. The time is always in green. These letters were in red.

“That’s not good,” I wisely noted.

We pulled out the manual and found the error message. It’s specifically for the cleaning cycle and means, ‘something is in the washer’. Nothing is supposed to be in the washer during this process. The only thing in it is the tablet purchased for the purpose.

My wife and I talked about it. “This is what we used before,” we agreed. “It was never upset before.”

Shrugging, I took the standard modern technology route: turn it off, turn it back on.

And it worked.

2

Post-Op Update

TL/DR: My bladder cancer surgery went well yesterday. Two tumors were removed. I’m at home in recovery and awaiting biopsy results. We don’t know when they’ll be in.

The longer version…

I’m standing up to type. I have an 18 French Foley catheter in me. It’s inflated with saline solution.

Sitting is hugely uncomfortable. Taking a few drugs for that but whenever I sit, an enormous urgent need to pee wells up and doesn’t end, even as I see urine going down into my collection bag.

All went great yesterday. First, just as we were leaving the house, the surgery called and asked if we could hurry in. If we could, my surgery would be moved up by an hour. Yes! Let’s go.

I head to the Self Check-in Kiosk. A young volunteer rushes over to help me. She’ll type for me. Okay. I read faster than her, so I answer before she finishes asking. We zip through.

My wife and I laugh about this whole process. Weird to have a self-check in that isn’t a self-check in. We’re sent over to another area. This is where my wife gets her information about waiting for me. We go into the waiting area. We’re only there for three minutes before Sophia arrives to take us back.

She confirms my name and birth and gives me my wrist band, asking me to confirm it’s right. I strip down and answer Sophia’s questions. Bowel movements, eating, drinking, then she left. Another nurse came in, Sarah, and asked questions, verified information, checked my BP and pulse, and put inflation leggings on my calves. I wondered to them, when will we get Tricorders? She laughs.

Everyone always looks at my wrist band and ask me to say why I was at the hospital – *TURBT* — Transurethral Resection Bladder Tumor with Gemcitabine bladder instillation — name, and birthday. Did I do the Hibiclens shower the night before? Under Sarah’s guidance, I wash with more wipes, get into my gown and the bed. BP and pulse taken, IV port installed. Then…waited.

My anesthesiologist, huge, grinning guy, came in with his questions and explanations. It’s a three-minute drill.

My surgeon comes in. She looks like a little blue and raspberry Samurai warrior in her surgery garb.

Another nurse came in, Sarah. She was wheeling me to the operating room. During the ride, I mentioned that she was my second Sarah of the day. “Yes, it was a popular name during the eighties,” she says.

I reply, “Yes, Michael was popular when I was born.”

Sarah answers, “I was going to be Michael. They thought I was going to be a boy.”

“Were you named after a specific Sarah?”

“No, my brother picked my name. He said he would only play with me if I was named Sarah.”

We arrived at the surgery and introduced to more team. Slid myself from the bed to the operating table. Ugh. Much less comfortable. “There’s a hole in the table,” Chris says as I move. “Aim your rearend for that hole.”

Alrighty.

Monitors were attached. The anesthesiologist said, “I’m administering your anesthesia now. Deep breaths.”

Three deep breaths later, I was gone.

Awakening, I think, oh my God, I have to pee. I’m scrambling to get out of bed. Except there’s a bar in my way.

A nurse grabbed me on the other side. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Go back to sleep.” She pushed me back down. I remembered, oh, yeah. I’m at the hospital. Man, do I have to pee, though.

I’m in the recovery area. Looking around. “How long am I going to be here?” I ask the nurse. She glances at the clock on my monitor. “Another twenty minutes.” I checked the time so I can track it myself.

Other recoverees are wheeled in. We’re half-surrounded by curtains and equipment but I can see three. I can’t see Grace, but Grace doesn’t hear well, so I hear everything that they’re telling Grace.

I’m in space 18. The guy in 19 is awake. I wave at him. He seems to be looking at me. I wave again. He waves back. I smile, give a thumbs up. He does the same, then lays back and closes his eyes. They wheel him back out ten minutes later.

A new woman is wheeled into 17. Her bare shoulders and upper chest are exposed. I wonder what’s going on with her. A nurse or tech wheels in an x-ray machine and tells her that she needs to get some shots. I expect the curtains to be pulled. They’re not. I look away, trying to give 17 some privacy. She’s wheeled out a little later.

I check the time. Still ten minutes left. Man, recovery time is going so slowly. Classic first-world complaint.

Sarah the second returns to wheel me back to my room. “How long have you been doing this, Sarah?” I ask.

“Three years.”

I nod. She’s a vet.

She maneuvers me back into my original little room SUU 3. Paula, another nurse, comes in to begin my post-op care instructions. She asks if I have anyone with me. “Yes, my wife.” Paula goes out and has someone go find my wife in the waiting area.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m dressing. Absorbing instructions. My penis is attached to my groin’s right side via a tube stuck on my thigh so the tube and collecting bag can go on my right, because that’s how I get out of bed, on the right side. It’s a bummer because I hang to the left. Sorry if that’s TMI.

I’m given mesh underwear to put on. A pad is thrust in there to absorb bleeding, and there is bleeding. Then I dress.

Paula explains how to use the catheter. I’m familiar with it. The one difference this time is that I was given chemo. Gemcitabine was instilled. It’ll take 48 hours to flush. I’m instructed to flush twice after emptying the bag, and to be very careful because of the gemcitabine.

Four medicines have been prescribed for pain, the urge to pee, and stool softeners.

I later read two tumors removed. Largest was a posterior papillary bladder tumor measuring 2cm x 3cm.

We’re back home by 4 PM. I have a light lunch, then read and nap for several hours.

It often burned when I urinated last night and this morning. That’s faded a lot, thank dog.

Per Paula’s instructions, I showered last night. My penis tip was caked with drying blood, and pubic hairs were trapped in it. Once that was washed off, a lot of discomfort went away.

I’m due to remove the Foley catheter on Monday. Get in the shower, cut a valve off, let the saline drain, jerk the catheter out.

It’s good to have something to look forward to.

9

Crash…No More?

TL/DR: I think I fixed my laptop crashing issue. The power brick was the culprit.

A little more:

My Dell laptop computer is less than a year old. Windows 11 is the OS.

Tabs, browsers, and even the OS frequently crash on me, disrupting thinking, writing, typing. I’d end up clenching my jaw and swearing on so many days. I had to remind myself to save, save, save work lest I lose it from a crash.

Gmail was the worse but only marginally so over SFGate, BlueSky, Canvas, Facebook, Amazon, the NY Times, Daily Kos, financial sites, ESPN, and WordPress. The crashing also took down Word. It happened with every search engine I tried, and every app I used.

The net crashes happened in every browser. I tried incognito, private, and stealth modes. Same results. I turned off ad-blockers, encryption, VPNs, firewall, anti-virus.

Things still crashed.

I ran diagnostics. Chip test and ram tests. Keyboard, processors, etc.

No problems found.

Researching, I disabled all extensions. Cleared and cleaned caches. Disabled graphic accelerators. Close, opened, shut down, rebooted…uninstalled drivers, reinstalled drivers, perused forums, reached out to Dell, Microsoft, Firefox, Google…more. I closed tabs and kept fewer tabs open. The crashing continued.

Meanwhile, I took my laptop to the coffee shop. I often wasn’t plugging in there and realized, I never crashed there while I wasn’t plugged in.

Yesterday, I went back home and recharged my laptop. Booting up with the laptop plugged in, I opened a browser. Went to NYTimes since it’s a known crasher.

Crash.

I unplugged.

Completely stable. I opened all known offenders.

None crashed. I opened ten tabs, eleven, twelve.

Nothing crashed.

Plugged in the power supply.

Crash, crash, crash.

Unplugged again and operated the rest of the day without any crashes.

I thought, maybe it’s the house wiring or my network. Then I remembered: I was on vacation last week. Stayed in two different hotels and crashed there. So — not my home setup or environment.

I’ve ordered a new brick. It’ll be here next week.

We’ll see how it goes. I’ll let you know.

5

All ‘Bout Me

Just got a text reminder. I’m due to receive my next dental implant on June 25. That’s exactly a year since the molar and cyst were removed.

Since then, I’ve had my gallbladder removed. Stones and sludge in there, you know?

That was about a year after my ruptured tendon surgery. About two years after my broken arm, itself about two years after my kidney stones emergency room visit, which was about two years after my obstructed bladder emergency.

Now I’m due for Transurethral Resection in my bladder to remove cancer.

On June 25.

Damn, what are the chances that those two things would end up scheduled for the same day?

I’ll need to change the implant appointment. Although I’ve waited a long time to get that completed, facts: the bladder cancer is a greater priority, and it’s harder to schedule. I began noticing blood in my urine in March, and there’s been long periods between blood tests, examinations, CT scans, cystoscopy, and surgery. I don’t want to extend it yet more.

From the half-full point of view, though, I’m fortunate to be able to get any and all of this treatment. So, sure, I’m whining, but it’s first world blues.

It’s way worse for my wife, who has had to visit me to all these different appointments and help me recover. Don’t know where I’d be without her and her support.

6

Internetus Interruptus

Our Internet connection was down this weekend. Started Saturday and dragged through Sunday.

We use Ashland Home Net. Owned by the city, we want to support our city. The service has been reliable. Like everything, though, there can sometimes be outages.

The net went down Saturday afternoon. We gave it time to come back up. Didn’t. So — reboot system. Still no connectivity.

I called our service provider and left a message. It’s a small organization and they don’t have someone in the office at night and on weekends. But they check their messages and get back to you.

They did get back to us on Sunday. We were out. I had my cell phone with me. “Private number” it said. I ignored it. Later, I listened to the message, which was Ashland Home Net telling me that they couldn’t find a record of our account.

*grumble grumble*

When we were home after our Easter festivities with friends, I pulled our records to call Ashland Home Net and give them our account number. The folder had notes from previous issues and fixes. This included one from 2023: “Netgear router inadvertently reset (button on side — beware).” I had the Netgear instruction pamphlet attached to the folder.

Aha.

I pulled out the pamphlet, followed the instructions, and got us back online.

I also called Ashland Home Net and gave them our account number, just to close that loop. And they called back, apologized for not being able to find us, baffled by that side of it, confirming that we were online again and weren’t experiencing any more interruptus.

Normal online life resumed.

1

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑