Friday, November 16, 2018

Mrs. Hillbilly Mom, Heal Thyself

A part of my recent sickness involves a stuffy and sometimes painful ear when I swallow. It's like something needs to give. Poking my little finger in there, and trying to suction out whatever was stuffing up my ear canal, did nothing to alleviate the problem.

Nor did poking around inside there with the end of a cap from a red ink pen that sits on my dark basement lair desk. You know. Those plastic caps that cover the ball-point end. That stick-like part of it that clips onto your pocket. It didn't even feel particularly satisfying like when you sometimes get an ear-canal itch. No. I might even have made the stuffy-pain issue a tiny bit worse. Plus, it sounded like I was scraping the burnt off a piece of toast.

I probably shouldn't play a doctor or nurse-practitioner over the innernets. But then again, my treatment plan for the Posterior Tibial Tendonitis that I had in my left ankle has been a remarkable success! I can walk normally, without pain. Every now and then, like every night, mainly, I get a sharp shooting pain right there when I'm minding my own business, cooling my heels in my OPC (Old People Chair). It also hurts at night, if I get up without stretching it before standing on it. But I'd say that I've made a remarkable recovery.

I'm pretty sure I'll get over this cold, and the ear stuffy-pain, too. Just don't butter any toast around me for a while.

Thursday, November 15, 2018

Drug-Seeking With Mrs. HM

I almost said that to my doctor nurse practitioner on Monday, you know. While waiting in the exam room for him to enter, I knew he would say, "What brings you here today?" So I figured I could say, "Oh, I'm just a drug-seeker." Because, you know, I was only there for a routine 6-month visit, to get refills on my prescriptions for another 6 months.

I decided against it, though. You never know how a medical professional might take that. They might think it was a cry for help, or that I really was a drug-seeker. I'm sure he's heard it before. It's probably like how an airline pilot stewardess might not react favorably to somebody jumping up and yelling, "HI, JACK!"

Anyhoo...I called in my prescription refills this morning around 10:00. Sometimes they'll have them ready by the time I go to town. I get notified by text. But the automated man on the refill line kept repeating that my prescriptions had expired, and it would take an extra day to contact the doctor. Well. It does not. But you can't program an automated line to recognize that the medical office has sent refills over the innernets, I guess. That could be subject to drug-seeking hackers. In the old days, with a paper scrip, I'd drop it off and they'd put that refill notice in my file until mine ran out, then they'd check, and didn't have to contact the office.

Anyhoo...I figured the meds wouldn't be ready today. They're for my missing thyroid and my blood pressure. Nothing to sneeze at, but I always have a few pills left when I start the refill process. Unlike Farmer H, who goes the very day he runs out, or sometimes even a day after, saying, "One day isn't gonna hurt me." With 4-8 inches of snow in the Wednesday evening forecast, I didn't even think I'd be able to pick up those meds until Friday or Saturday. No big deal. I had enough to get me through.

Well. I'd come home from town, and had just consumed a big cup of vegetable beef soup (the canned version), several ounces of Diet Coke, and a bubba cup of ice water, when my phone buzzed to tell me that my prescriptions were ready. Okay. I could run back to town to pick them up. Before the snowstorm. I ascended from my lair, put my town clothes back on, took a potty break for all those fluids, and checked the cabinet for cough drops.

Farmer H had told me, upon my return (the first time Wednesday) from town, that I should have gotten myself some Mucinex, for my cough. I don't really like Mucinex, so I asked him if we still had cough drops. He said we did. THAT'S WHY I CHECKED BEFORE LEAVING HOME! Of course I found two bags of "throat soothers" that look like cough drops, but don't affect the cough, which I had bought for Genius quite some time ago. Oh, and there was a bag of cough drops, cherry flavor, that actually suppress a cough. Uh huh. There was a BAG of cough drops. No cough drops. Just the BAG. Empty.

Anyhoo...while picking up my prescriptions, I also got two bags of actual cough drops. A sugar-free version, dark purple in color, in case Farmer H needs them. And a bag of Honey Lemon, which I prefer. I think I'm set for a blizzard. We'll see what develops.

Wednesday, November 14, 2018

You Know Mrs. HM Is Sick When She Doesn't Drive To Town For Her 44 Oz Diet Coke And Scratchers

Yeah. I'm sick. With a stuffy head that makes me (even more) unstable, and watering eyes that wanted no part of driving through the bright sun reflecting off what was left of the snowy landscape... I told Farmer H that I had no intention of getting in T-Hoe. Not even for my magical elixir and lottery.

Do you know what he said?

"Do you want me to go get you a soda?"

YES!!! That was quite a change from a day or two ago, when I was complaining whining just telling him about how bad I felt, and he said, "HM. You just have a cold."

So, while I was frying hamburger to throw in spaghetti sauce with some mushrooms, and boiling rigatoni, and heating some garlic bread in the oven, all for HIS lunch...Farmer H drove off to town for my 44 oz Diet Coke. AND some scratchers, which I gave him the money for, a winner to cash in, and some losers to show what the tickets looked like that I wanted. PLUS a list of those very tickets. You can't hit Farmer H over the head hard enough with instructions.

He was back before his lunch was done. I spent 40 minutes on it. Plus another 20 cleaning up.

Oh, the scratchers he got for me? Every one a loser.

But I knew that before I even scratched them. I don't know what I was thinking, letting Farmer H touch my tickets. He's like a medicine that they prescribe for alcoholics to keep them from drinking. Only he comes without a prescription, and works for gamblers.

Tuesday, November 13, 2018

The Elderly Gentleman

When I left the third-floor lab on Monday, after my blood-drawing, I walked out to the elevator area. An older gentleman was standing there, waiting. I saw that he had already pushed the button.

"Going down. Good!"

He smiled, and it was such a ray of sunshine on that dreary day that I was taken aback. The vibe I got from this guy was SO POSITIVE! I hardly know how to explain it. He seemed to emit good cheer. The elevator arrived, and he stepped back and motioned me ahead. Such a nice guy!

I pressed the bar for MAIN LOBBY, and asked if that where he was going, and he said yes. I said, "That's good. My ride is waiting down there for me." Though it was actually only Farmer H himself, waiting to walk me to my ride.

We chatted a bit on the way down, Elderly Gentleman and I. It's a slow elevator. I mentioned that it looked like they'd re-done it since I was there last, six months ago. And he said, "Oh, you must be healthy, if you haven't been here in six months." I replied that SO FAR, it's been going pretty good.

I don't think I've ever encountered a person who exuded such positive energy, without trying, and so calm and soft-spoken. I guess if you can get evil vibes from folks, you can also get good vibes.

I wasn't worthy of his company.

Monday, November 12, 2018

Let's Hope These Are Not Mrs. HM's Last Words

As I type in my dark basement lair, it is Sunday evening, right before feeding time for Farmer H. The weather forecast shows SNOW for Monday. An 82% chance for 1-3 inches, starting around 3:00 p.m. We are under a Winter Weather Advisory, from 6:00 a.m. to 9:00 p.m. on Monday.

Why am I bothering to tell you about the Hillmomba weather? Because it means I WILL BE RIDING WITH FARMER H tomorrow morning, to my regularly scheduled doctor nurse practitioner appointment! So if you never see anything to read again here, THAT'S WHY!

I instructed Farmer H to put fresh cedar chips in the dog houses for the cold snap which appears to be the new normal. Good thing he did. It was his THIRD warning to do so. I also told him to check Juno's ear, because something smelled not-so-good when she greeted me on the side porch. Farmer H reported that Juno's ear is not smelly, but that she has a big deer leg inside her house. So there's that.

He also said that Juno spends her days in her Farmer-H-built insulated house with the shingled roof, which is right outside the kitchen door. And her nights in a store-bought house on the end of the porch, the side by the goat and mini-pony pen, with Jack. They sleep in separate houses, both alike, with the doors facing each other.

Farmer H didn't exactly volunteer to sweave me over to bill-paying town for my appointment. I mentioned the weather, and asked if he wanted to sweave me. So he agreed. There's also a chance for freezing rain. I don't like to mess with that, but I AM perfectly capable of driving T-Hoe in such a mess. I managed to transport both boys and myself to Newmentia, Lower Basementia, and Elementia all those years without incident. Even though one time it took us TWO HOURS to make the 30-minute drive home, when we were dismissed early. Huh. Not early enough!

If I was still working, this forecast would have me whipped into a frenzy! I'd understand that the snow wasn't supposed to arrive until the time school let out. But there's always hoping the TV weathermen are wrong in the GOOD kind of way. Besides, the school wouldn't want a repeat of that time when they were stuck with students late into the evening, and had to feed them, and even assigned the athletic director to drive some home in his JEEP, with parent permission, of course, because they couldn't make it to school.

The boys and I barely dodged that bullet, because the counselor of Newmentia, who was acting in place of the principal, told me to get on out of there. The hill between Newmentia and the main road was ice-covered. THREE cars had slid off the embankment. Let me tell you, I put T-Hoe in 4 Wheel LOW, and inched my way down. The main office had decreed that none of our buses would traverse that hill until further notice. That was the problem. Middle School kids from Lower Basementia couldn't get up it, to pick up the Newmentia students to complete the routes. Elementia students could get to Newmentia to pick up their older bus riders, but couldn't go down it to complete their routes. That's how Newmentia ended up with High School students and Elementary students, to hold them for safekeeping until their parents could come get them, or the roads were passable.

Yeah. I wouldn't be surprised if some schools cancel classes around here, just from the forecast. But even if they don't, such a forecast always puts me in a good mood. Even though I will be riding with Farmer H.
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Made it back safe and sound! No precip yet, at 11:18 on 11/12. Guess I cried sweaver wolf too soon! Found out I'm still on Newmentia's automated call list. They're dismissing at 12:30. I'm pretty excited. Even though it doesn't affect me.

Sunday, November 11, 2018

Hillmomba, Where Molehills Are Touted As Mountains

Just like our winter moved directly into summer, with barely a springlike couple of days...our summer has now turned to winter! We enjoyed maybe a week of 40-degree nights, and 65-degree days. On Friday night, Jack Frost paid a visit.

Okay. So it wasn't Jack Frost. It was his more cantankerous buddy, Old Man Winter. I saw it when I went to bed around 3:00 a.m. The front yard was covered with a dusting of snow. By the time I got around to leaving the Mansion Saturday morning, it had melted.


There were some remnants on the leaf pile behind the garage when I got back home. It actually looks more like sleet than snow. This is the ledge the dogs jump off of when chasing squirrels into the back yard. Still has green grass. The sun doesn't really reach this little section behind the garage until evening. Temps hovered at 35 and under during my noontime town trip.


More flurries on the patch of moss that Copper Jack loves to lay on in the heat. He's a big would-be sweaty dog, if dogs were able to sweat. I don't know about that dark area that looks like poop, though I can assure you that it is NOT poop. I stood right by it while getting groceries out of T-Hoe's back side. Maybe it's where the dead leaves blew away? Where the moss didn't grow on the mud, due to being covered up out of the light? I'm thinking it's just a bunch of accumulated dirt and decaying leaves that got wet in the rain a couple days ago, and didn't dry out, then the leaves blew off.

Anyhoo...I was kind of excited to see a little snow so early in the year. Usually, we don't see anything but occasional flurries until after the Christmas holidays. Believe me, I'd know. Teachers LIVE for snow days! The slightest suggestion sends us to our weather sources, diligently hanging onto every word of hope that those liars the TV meteorologists toss out like so much cheap candy at a high school homecoming parade.

Yes, I was excited, until I clicked on blog buddy Kathy's pictures. Let the record show that she IS located a little farther north, in the middle of the state, while Hillmomba is on the eastern border. We get her weather leftovers! Still, she's not THAT much farther north. It's not like she's at the North Pole.

Yeah. I'm kind of embarrassed, now, about proclaiming our first snow.

Saturday, November 10, 2018

A Relapse, Perhaps?

When I ascended the 13 steps from my lair on Friday evening, to prepare Farmer H his requested meal of fish and fries, I heard him breathing. I suppose that's a good thing. To hear him breathing assured me that he was alive. But normally, you shouldn't hear someone breathing from across a room, and halfway below it. Then I heard him wheezy-cough.

"Ooh! Have you had a relapse?"

"I don't know. Maybe. I forgot to take my medicine at 10:00 this morning. So I'll take it here in a minute when I eat."

"Well, you can't take it at bedtime. It won't be far enough apart."

"I know. I won't."

"You can still use VICKS. That should help."

"Yeah. I will."

Let the record show that Farmer H sounded great the last time I overheard him breathing, around 5:00 a.m. He was up and showered and to his Storage Unit Store by 8:30. Let the record further show that the temperature was 35 degrees. Farmer H reported, during my wakeup call at 9:15, that he was sitting in his TrailBlazer (with a new rear left tail light).

"Is that good for you? Sitting like that? You can't do it all day."

"No. I get out and walk around. Go talk to the owner. Use the port-a-potty. I sold a $3 backpack to my buddy!"

"Hm. That's good. I guess."

"Yeah. I have a lady who wants to buy those dog crates. I put it on Buy/Sell/Trade. She said she's sending her husband to pick them up. I told her I'd be here until noon."

"Well. You probably shouldn't. It's COLD!"

"I know. That's why I'm in my car."

Okay. Farmer H is not taking good care of himself, by forgetting his medicine and sitting in a car at 35 degrees. When I went by at 10:30, the TrailBlazer was not at the Storage Unit Store. Farmer H had mentioned going to the pharmacy for his prescriptions, so I didn't think much of it. Then he sent a text that the dog crate man showed up, and he was leaving to go on a Goodwill tour.

As far as Farmer H is concerned, today was a grand success. "I usually don't sell much on Fridays, anyway. I made $43 today! Three on the backpack, and $20 each for the dog crates."

Let the record show that he got the two giant wire dog crate/kennels from back creek neighbor Bev for nothing. She's always giving him stuff. I saw them in the back of Farmer H's truck, and they took up the whole bed of that pickup. He had another lady offer him $25 apiece, but he had already sold them to the first one to come get them.

I hope he makes a full recovery in the next couple days. I have a sore right ear, and a tickle down inside my right lung. Coincidentally, the side that is exposed to Farmer H and his breather while sleeping. Farmer H might have to take care of me.

Huh. I could swear I just heard laughing.