Tag: health issues

Wenzdaz Wandering Thoughts

Let me tell you about the pants.

First, I’ll tell you about my typical summer wardrobe.

But first, a side path.

The side path is that I suffer from edema. Maybe it’s the lymphatic flavor. Medicos are out about the source and cause. Addressing it means I wear knee-high support hose. They work, help, however you want to put it. However, I’m a vain guy and don’t want to be seen wearing them outdoors.

My standard summer clothing choice since I was a small child are short pants, or shorts. I’m not going out in them while wearing my support house. I’ve seen folks out there in that combo. I admire their courage. Did I mention that I’m vain?

All this means I had a new challenge: what to wear when the sunshine and air conspire to push temperatures into the 80s, 90s, and 100s, as happens here in Ashlandia in the months between May and October. Jeans do not work for me. They feel hot, sweaty, and constricting.

My wife said, “You should wear joggers.”

Suspicions roused themselves. What was that? Joggers? I know what they are. I’ve seen young people in them. And women wear them. I’m not a young person or a woman. However…

I began sniffing around joggers. Looking for garments which will meet my needs. There are men’s joggers out there, but they often lack pockets. I like having pockets, especially those of the pouch type on my front thigh, where I can safely and comfortably deposit my wallet.

My search culminated at Costco. There, as if in answer to my hopes, were Wrangler Men’s Tech Pants. Made of synthetics, they met all my other needs, and were priced to move at $22. I put them into the cart and tried them on at home.

They fit. They’re comfortable. And they look good without attracting attention. I am not fond of attraction.

After wearing the black ones for a few days, I purchased them in grey and khaki. My vanity is appeased, and my wife is pleased with my appearance. All in all, a small win-win for me.

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A Personally Hopeful Dream

I’m dealing with sludge in my gallbladder. Basically, my bile has thickened. Some of it has likely turned to gallstones. These gallstones have apparently blocked some of my bile ducts. This results in my gallbladder spasming when it tries to deliver bile upon demand from the intestines. That spasm causes more pain than I felt from my kidney stones a few years back. The short-term solution is to avoid red meat and dairy fats, foods and substances that need more bile to break down for digestion. Long-term, they want to remove my gallbladder.

Last night I dreamed that I was with a young white woman. She wore a white toga clipped over one shoulder. I never got a name and didn’t look much at her.

My attention was focused on the scene before me. It seemed like a large model of organs. “What is this?”

She replied, “That’s your gallbladder and liver. See, there is your bile.”

Leaning over to examine it more closely, I took in the many pebbles in the sludge that was my bile. “You made a model of my gallbladder and liver and filled it with sludge?” I was amazed and amused.

“No, these are your actual parts.”

As I digested that with surprise, she said, “Now watch.”

Hand flat and open, palm down, she swept it slowly around my organs. As she did, all the pebbles just vanished. My bile turned from sludge into something more fluid.

I was agog. “How’d you do that?”

She replied, “You’re all fixed.”

Dream end.

Yes, if only it was that easy, right?

5

The Mom Saga

The Mom Saga has resumed.

In the last episode, Mom, 89, was released from the hospital and returned home. Her pain was sourced in her sciatica nerve, which kept her from walking. Everyone realized her pain relief came from steroid shots and now she’s on a recurring program for steroid shots.

Meanwhile, her 95-yo live-in BF, Frank, half-blind and half-deaf, was experiencing dizzy spells. Mom and Frank have separate rooms. He was unable to help Mom, and she was found helpless in bed in piss-soaked clothes and bedding after nobody heard anything from her for a couple days, which precipitated the hospital stay. We’ve been trying to years to convince Mom and Frank to move into assisted living. Mom wanted to but Frank refused because he didn’t want to pay rent. Last week they were close to deciding to move when Mom announced she wasn’t going to move with Frank to live with him until he apologized to her for lying. The cited lie: Frank had lunch with his daughter while Mom could not walk. It gets complicated from there.  

We pick up the story with Mom back in her 1940s era three-story home with its steep, narrow steps.

Sister: Mom’s power went out last night and she was stuck in her room. As you know, she might as well be in a brick pizza over.

Editing note: The temp where Mom lives in Penn Hills hit 95 F yesterday. Mom has air-conditioning window units in her living room and bedroom, and that’s it. Her bedroom faces west.

Sister: We’re going on vacation this week. We’ve been planning this for months. We’ll be gone a week.

Editing note: ‘We’ in this context are the two sisters, husbands and SOs, and their immediate families.

Sister: Frank’s daughter, Karen, called this morning. She said, “We’re bringing Dad over to my house this week so he can rest. His doctor is worried about Dad’s heart and wants him to take it easy for a week. He’ll be wearing a heart monitor. So Dad won’t be staying at your Mom’s and won’t be able to help her.”

Sister: I proposed to Mom that she come and stay at my house while I’m away. It’s one level and air-conditioned.

Editing note: My sister’s house is a nice suburban ranch about fifteen years old, 1800 square feet, built after a fire destroyed her previous home.

Sister: We hired Marc to come and feed Cheesecake twice a day. Marc usually stays a while, has a cup of coffee and sits on the back porch.

Editing note: Cheesecake is sis’s cat.

Sister: We asked him if he would mind cooking a meal for Mom in the evening, filing her water glass in the morning, and making her a cup of decaf.

Editing note: Mom’s practice is to fill a 40 ounce plastic cup with warm water every morning and drink from it through a straw throughout the day. She likes a cup of warm decaf with hazelnut and almond milk in equal measure for breakfast, which is half a bagel with cream cheese. Her suppers vary. She loves KFC.

Sister: I also asked Jessica if she can check on Mom and I asked Sharon if she would mind coming by.

Editing note: Jessica is sis’s oldest daughter. Sharon is another sister. Sharon, two years younger than me, still works. She has a complicated relationship with Mom.

Sister: Sharon says she will be away over the weekend and beginning of next week.

Sister: I just talked to Jessica. She just pretty much straight out said, “I have a relationship with grandma and I’m going to be very busy. You know we have very little time. I of course can find it in my heart to come over there if need be,” but she doesn’t feel obligated.

Editing note: Jessica also has a complicated relationship with Mom. She also has three sons. The oldest is fourteen and their ages descend in two year steps.

That’s where the Mom Saga stands for the day. Tune in tomorrow for more exciting updates in The Mom Saga.

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Munda’s Theme Music

A cold night surrendered to blue skies and warming sunshine. It’s 62 F now. The sun is promoting a high of 76 F. It’s said that we’ll see 81 F tomorrow. This is Munda, May 5, 2025 in Ashlandia. This is spring in Ashlandia.

Our trip last week gifted us a few things. One, my sciatica kicked in on Saturday. Too much time in a car seat. I’ve been dealing with it off and on since I was 20. I can usually feel it developing and head it off with stretching exercises. My early warning system failed me this time. I didn’t medicate but my wife suggested a Salon Pas. I slapped that thing on. I couldn’t believe the ensuing burning. I was in a recliner watching telly. The heat grew so intense, I pulled the patch off. On a whim, I popped it on my belly.

Well, call me Steve if I wasn’t surprised by the results. I suffer belly bloat. That Salon Pas patch remarkably reduced it. So I did it again yesterday. Same result. I was truly astonished and impressed and put another one on today. Only drawback from the patch at this point is hair. Yes, I’m a hairy boi. Getting that patch off required scissors and delicacy. The end result was a belly Brazil.

That’s my side. My wife could hardly get out of a chair on Friday night. She’d been complaining about pain and using different methods to address inflamation and pain. Epsom paths. Salon Pas. Valtaren. Red light therapy. Bed rest. Diet. But her weakness scared me. She’s better today but related that when we were on vacation, she worried about getting out of the bathtub. Fortunately, handles were available. Here an home, she reported a similar problem.

Her problems dig into my psyche as my sister peppers me with updates on Mom. “Mom is really debilitated. She’s confused about dates and other things.” Mom went and stayed with sis. “Mom said that she had to pee. Then she stood and began peeing. I went to help her, asking her what she needs. Mom said, I’m going to fall. I dropped everything and rushed over and caught her, keeping her from falling.” There are good answers about what to do but none are simple. Guilt spreads through me because I seem to recover. My sciatica did a quick and silent goodbye while Mom and my wife both endure. I can do little for either.

Politics again inspired The Neurons for today’s music. A conversation with my wife was the catalyst. She was reading about Conservatives complaining that the root of all of today’s problems in the USA is letting white women go to college and having the right to vote. Apparently, all those women going to college are getting liberal arts degrees and daring to think, and college screws up their thinking.

Like, WTF, seriously? Do those men really believe that? Pretty damn galling to that these people, these obviously sexist and biased shallow thinkers, think they have the right to deprive others of rights.

Included in the responses was a woman being interviewed. She said she could never vote for a woman to be POTUS. Because of hormones. What? Yes, because of hormones. If they’re going through menopause, their mood will change and they’ll go off and start a war.

The male interviewer responded, “But haven’t all the wars been started by men so far?”

The woman went wide eye and still. The video ended.

Talking about this thread of crazo thinking, we remarked, so many people underestimate others’ contributions. Maybe they learn and forget.

And that encouraged The Neurons to begin The Who and “Eminence Front” in the morning mental music stream.

Drinks flow
People forget
That big wheel spins, the hair thins
People forget
Forget they’re hiding
The news slows
People forget
Their shares crash, hopes are dashed
People forget
Forget they’re hiding

h/t to Americansongwriter.com

Off to drink more coffee and employ my neurons in some writing. Hope your energy is up and pulls you safely through another day. Here’s the music. Cheers

1

Frida’s Theme Music

The morning was spent texting with Mom. She prefers texting these days over phone calls. She had a day of doctor appointments yesterday and provided summaries. They’re going to work on her balance with physical therapy. That’s good news to me.

Her fiance’s son and my sister both approached Mom and her fiance about moving into assisted living. They did these separately. I don’t know if they coordinated their attempt.

It would be less dangerous to poke a hornet’s nest with a stick a few times. Mom and her beau are adamant against moving to a home of any kind other than the one where they live. He’s 95 and has difficulties seeing and hearing. She’s 89 and has mobility, heart, and balance issues. She copes with those problems via a massive regimen of medications, vitamins, minerals, lotions, and equipment. The house was built during WW II and has steep, narrow steps. But Mom loves her house, and her companion is happy living there.

Observing the health issues and the home debate always prompts conversations with my wife. “What will we do?” she asks. “I don’t know,” I say. I’m not looking forward to dealing with it.

It’s Frida, April 18, 2025. Good Friday, I suppose. 63 F, sunny but windy. A high of 74 F is in the works. I don’t think we’ll see that. 68 F was projected yesterday but the thermometer quit advancing at 64 F.

The cat has expressed his irritation with the wind. He applied to my wife and I to change it. My wife patiently explains, “I’m sorry, we can’t do that. Here, have a treat instead.”

He was spoiled via several treats. Then he came to me for his standard four-course breakfast. Two of the courses are treats that hide his meds in them. The thorough feeding does take his mind off the wind. The next time I see him, he’s going through his post-eating pre-napping grooming on the bed.

I have read several news articles. Some dealing with politics and rulings against Trump please me. On the whole, though, it’s another heavy serving of disappointing developments. After hearing my GRRRRRRRRR rising in my throat, I order myself to go do other things.

Today’s theme music is a beer group relic. I met with my beer group last Wednesday. The friends beside me began a conversation about popular music and what they listened to when they were young. One commented that some lines were going through his head, but he couldn’t recall the rest. I recalled the rest for him. The song is “I Think We’re Alone Now” by Tommy James and the Shondells. Conversation then swirled in other hits by the group, such as “Crystal Blue Persuasion”. Now The Neurons have those two tunes sharing the morning mental music stream. Thus, I’m forced to share them to break the pattern and release them from my stream.

That latter song is a woke DEI offering about peace and good, brotherhood, love, etc. Sure the Trumpites dislike it, or say that they like it and are all for love, peace, and brotherhood, but only for select people.

Coffee is working its positive way through me. Hope you have a positive day and a solid weekend. Cheers

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