Tag: health

The Healers Dream

We were outside, on a wooden deck. Like a restaurant deck under blue sky. Three tables. Eighteen people. Men, women. No one I knew.

Women came among us dressed in purples, raspberries, golds and yellows, greens. Loose clothing. Skirts, blouses, and vests. We knew they were healers. Everyone was there because they wanted to be healed.

The women walked around us, checking everyone out. One, short and swarthy, with brown hair, came up to me and said with a friendly laugh, “Don’t worry. You’re okay.”

Dream end.

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The Sick Dream

I was at work. Tired. Becoming more tired. Then, sleepy. Eyes were falling shut. Body slumping over. Nothing I could do.

A friendly co-worker, male, was trying to take care of me. Help me. But he was helpless. My work shift ended. He tried helping me leave. I couldn’t. Everything was a strain. He was telling me, “Come on, I’ll get you help.” I was replying, “I’m okay, I just want to sleep.”

Became separated from him. Found myself on a cement sidewalk by an asphalt road. An intersection. Naked. Crawling. Barely awake. Cars passing me. One, a black Chevy Suburban, stopped. The driver asked, “Are you alright? Do you need help?”

I kept going. Found clothes. Blue jeans. Pale tee shirt. Boots. Managed to dress. Get on my feet. Walked, swaying and stumbling. Eyes barely open. Brain coddled in thick pudding. Thoughts almost non-existent. Had garbage in a small white bag. Began looking to dispose of it. Saw a booth. Constructed of plywood. Took it there.

Food booth. The man behind the booth counter asked, “What do you want to order?”

I handed him the bag of garbage. He took it. Tossed it away behind him. “What do you want?”

Mute, I shook my head. Moved on. Thinking, sick. Still sick. But getting better. I was walking. On my feet. Swaying less. People began speaking to me. I began comprehending them. Interacting with them. Answering questions. Two young women joined me. They asked me if I need help. No, I was okay. Then, could I help them? They needed information.

Initially, I balked. Wasn’t my area. Didn’t know anything about it. Then I told them I would help. I would find the answers to their questions and get back to them. Trotted from one place to another, seeking answers. Inadvertently stumbled through someone’s garden while attempting a short cut. They’d just set it up. Planted it. Nothing was growing. Backing out, I fixed the damages. Then ran down to the other end of town. Thinking, anyone seeing me would think he runs everywhere.

I was running everywhere through a busy, hilly city. Felt good. The sickness was gone. I stopped running. Looked around to see where I was. Thought, where do I want to go?

Dream end.

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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

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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…

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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.”

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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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Sunday’s Theme Music

Today finds us at Sunday once again. I was just looking at the calendar, confirming that it’s April 25, and was surprised to realize there’s another Friday in the month. Just not paying attention.

The sun made it to Ashland at 6:15 AM and will make its departure at 8:03 PM. We’re getting close to almost fourteen hours of sunshine, which I do like. Like my cats, I am a sunshine fan. Don’t know how much sunshine we’ll see. The weather is continuing a drizzly, damp, chilly pattern. It’s 42 F right now, and we’re not expecting much higher. As I read on the net, the weather slowed down like a driver doing 75 in a 55 when he sees a cop behind him.

“Wedding Bell Blues” by the Fifth Dimension (1969) is looping through my mind. The great Laura Nyro wrote and originally recorded it. Her songs were hits by several others, like “Stoned Soul Picnic”, “And When I Die”, and “Eli’s Comin'”. She died way too young, 49, done in by ovarian cancer.

And while I like all those songs, I’m in the mood for something upbeat this morning. I challenged the mind for something. After a period of crickets singing and playing, the Foo Fighters crept in with “I’ll Stick Around” from 1995.

Upbeat? Up-tempo, I guess.

By the way, the three-day green-smoothie fast ended for me yesterday, day eight. Energy level just felt too low. Tired while walking, and didn’t achieve twelve miles for the day. Been a while for that. So I’m back on solids, and just finished a bowl of gluten-free oatmeal with peanut butter, cranberries, and pumpkin seed/flax granola.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, and get the vax, including the second dose, if you’re going the Moderna/Pfizer route. Cheers

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Thursday’s Theme Music

Day six of the three-day green smoothie fast. Hello, it’s Earth Day. Happy Earth Day! It’s also Thursday, April 22, 2021. Huzzah.

We achieved sunrise in Ashland, Oregon, at 6:19 AM. Sunset won’t come until almost fourteen hours later, at 8 PM. Huzzah. We reached 72 degrees F yesterday and expect more of the same, what with a clear blue sky, loads of sun beams, and a current temp of 52. Huzzah.

I am quite hungry this morning. That prompted me to sing a bit of “Cheeseburger in Paradise” by Jimmy Buffett in my head. We eat Beyond Burgers in our household, which are plant-based burgers. My wife is a vegetarian. We also put vegan cheese on them. The side is usually a garden salad, but oven-baked tater tots often make the plate. Although, myself wouldn’t say no to a nice steak nor some roasted chicken. Yeah, for breakfast.

The 1971 Three Dog Night song, “Out in the Country”, came to me last night, though, as I gazed at the declining sunshine being flashed off the clouds in shades of pink and gold above the darkening, forested mountains. We’re out in the country, in a small town kind of way, a nice combination in a multitude of ways. I thought it would be a good song for Earth Day, so I post it here. It’s pleasantly green now. But…sigh, the rain has faded, the land is drying, and the heat is climbing. Much of it will soon turn brown. More will blacken with fire.

Or maybe not! Maybe not this year. Fingers crossed. Stay positive (boy, I’m trying – hope you’re better at it than me), test negative, wear a mask, and get the vax. Cheers

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Wednesday Wuthering

  1. On day five of the three-day green smoothie fast. Yesterday, besides three green smoothies, I enjoyed a few celery sticks, four prunes, a boiled egg, a cup of cubed watermelon, eight raw almonds and a handful of raw walnuts. I feel great, so why not continue? Sure, I was constantly mildly hungry throughout the day. And yes, my stomach talks to me in squeals, growls, and grunts all day, too.
  2. Okay, I cheated and ate a protein bar in the mid-afternoon.
  3. Well, the credit card ordeal might be over. Brief recap: was given new cards after reporting fraud on the previous cards. New cards received and activated. Wife wasn’t given chance to set her PIN. We tested: her old PIN didn’t work. Neither did my new one work on her card. Calls were made. A new PIN was set to her. We tested it. Nope. So, I commenced to pursue a fix. After spending over an hour on the phone with three different credit union reps, calling the numbers they specified, etc., I was turned over to a person in the credit card payment division. She listened to the tale. “You’ve been calling the wrong number.” I’d been calling the number the reps had given me. She gave another number. I called it. PIN changed, at least telephonically. We won’t be certain until we use it.
  4. Makes me wonder, though, you know? Why did it take so long for that number to emerge? Why is there a different number? Customer service and focus continues to die a slow death.
  5. Ah, technologically. I have a telemedicine call tomorrow. Video with a new family nurse practitioner. Annual event, to renew my meds for BHP and hypertension. Did the hardware check yesterday. Couldn’t connect to the video. Whaaat? The webcam worked last year. Went through all settings for hardware, software, security, privacy, etc. All was as should be. Even said that website had been given permission to use the camera. So…?
  6. Searched the web for advice and ideas. Microsoft, Kaspersky, HP. Talked to Chatbots for support. Uninstalled, reinstalled, updated drivers, rebooted machine several times, installed new webcam software, checked the device manager, registry, and so on. After three hours, the hardware check claims it works but I get nothing. Tested it on Zoom. Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing, except exasperation and frustration. Tested it this morning, just in case. No change.
  7. Forums are a joke in this regard. Many people reporting the same issue. No solutions found that work. Hell, most solutions were the previously-tried solutions. Ditto, the search engines on every browser and search site tried. They all regurgitate the same results. Remember GIGO? Garbage in, garbage out. Yep.
  8. Screw it, is my final position. I can use the iPad, which would be tres small. My wife generously offered me her iPad. That might be the way I go.
  9. Dad is out of the hospital. He was in at least two weeks, but don’t have greater details. He’d told me, don’t call, I’ll call you in a few days. That was weeks ago. He finally called yesterday. Has issues with fluid in legs. Turn bright red, swell, blister, etc., Medicos finally concluded, yep, heart weakening, kidney issues contributing. Wasn’t surprised, as he’s had COPD for decades. Some pulmonary issues were bound to reveal themselves. He’s in great spirits, mind remains sharp. That’s a tale I hear with many, many friends, though. I see the signs, and know where he’s going. Not unexpected, as that’s where we all go. Primary questions are about how long he’s in this declining state, how much pain and suffering he endures, and what his wife and family will experience during this watch.
  10. Dad and I are both retired military. Twenty-year vets. We receive pensions and healthcare. He retired about twenty-five years before I joined. That makes all the difference. He’s not paying anything for care. Tricare covers everything for him. Then launched into a “no wonder this country is going broke” stand. My Tricare is good, but I have co-pays. Dad does not. I have monthly premiums. Dad does not. I pay a small amount for prescriptions; Dad doesn’t. He also lives in San Antonio. A large military and retired presence there helps him. I live in rural southern Oregon. Time, age, location: that sums up the changes, right? Oh, yeah, and people are living longer, healthcare is constantly evolving, and it all costs. For example, he now has five people coming in each day to help him with different functions, from PT and leg exercises to bathing. He is married, and his wife is there, but I know how hard it is for a spouse to be a care-giver. She’s but a few years younger than him and has her own issues.
  11. Dissatisfied with offerings from U.S. television, we now watch a lot of foreign stuff. Mostly European. Dramas and comedies don’t work well, but thrillers, mysteries, and procedurals do. We try American offerings. We find them shallow, formulaic, and simplistic. Pretty people with fake issues to enhance tension dominate. Cry us another, you know? Right now, we’re watching Swedish, German, French, Italian, and British offerings. Don’t have anything coming out of Canada that entices me, which is a surprise. Same with the Aussies. But this might be the streaming gap, you know?
  12. Watching foreign television shows, we’re often entices by the settings. The procedurals often take place on the coast, an island, or a lake. They’re beautiful, intriguing places. I told my wife that we should set up tours to these places. That would cost a mint, and it’s impossible during the pandemic. If I had to chose one, I’d go to the Stockholm archipelago where “The Sandhamm Murders” is set.
  13. Okay, have my coffee. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.
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Post Vaccine

Just adding to the body of knowledge out there about what people experience with their COVID-19 vaccinations.

For background, I’m officially retired from active employment, white, male, and a few months short of sixty-five years old. I’m a little overweight at 185 pounds. I walk regularly and lightly exercise but lead a mostly sedentary life of writing, reading, and surfing the net. Yard work and house work gives me additional ‘exercise’. I drink beer, wine, and coffee, but haven’t had any alcohol since last Thanksgiving. Just worked out that way. I only drink one cup of coffee a day now, a nod to my prostate.

I don’t eat much meat but a lot of fruits and vegetables, in large part because my wife is a vegetarian. I’ve dealt with high blood pressure/hypertension throughout my life, but played softball, racquetball, and ran a few miles a day several times a week until I blew out a knee in my late thirties. With a daily dose of Amlodipine, my blood pressure hovers around 130/60, with a heart rate of 62. My usual resting rate is 55 to 58. I also suffer from an enlarged prostate gland. I’m on Flomax for that.

I received the J&J one-shot coronavirus vaccine on Saturday morning, just before eleven. I had no immediate reaction. Per guidance, I rubbed the injection area and moved my arm throughout the day. I ran in place in the house, accumulating my twelve miles, but generally took it easy, writing, reading, eating, and attending to my floof masters.

The next day, Sunday, I woke up feeling fantastic. It was like I’d been given a B-12 injection. Was it possible that they’d given me some kind of placebo? I wrote a chapter in the morning (about three thousand words), and did some editing. After lunch, I drove down to the library to pick up a book up for my wife. The sunshine invited me to take a walk, so I put on three miles. Returning home just before three, I prepared to do yard work. I thought I’d do a strenuous walk after that.

My wife reminded me that my thinking was wrong. “I hope you didn’t exert yourself too much when you were walking,” she said.

“I didn’t. It’s mostly flat down there. Just a couple mild hills.”

“You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”

Oh, yeah.

“They say that even though you feel good, your body is working hard beneath the surface.”

True.

I resigned myself to reading and surfing the net (and taking an incidental nap along the way). Running in place, I did achieve my goal of twelve miles but mourned that I hadn’t been able to take advantage of that fresh air and sunshine to break a serious sweat going up the steep hills around us.

Today, I feel good. Not as good as yesterday, more like just above my average. I have some stiffness and soreness on my left arm above the injection site. There’s no redness or swelling. My wife, who has an autoimmune disease, has experience similar symptoms, and reports that she feels fine.

That’s one of the maddening traits of this virus, though. Some feel like they get hit by a truck. Others feel nothing. Some suffer mild symptoms. As they say, your experience may vary.

Take care.

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