If Mrs. HM Is There, A Weirdo Is Sure To Appear

As I was preparing to pump T-Hoe's gas on Thursday at the Sis-Town Casey's, a weirdo came out of nowhere to speak to me. Actually, she came out of the store, and walked up to her car parked on the opposite side of my pump. She was a frazzled lady with wavy brown hair, in a red sweatshirt and jeans.

"I feel like such an idiot. I paid for $1 worth of gas with my card."

Okay... what was I supposed to say? "Why yes, you ARE certainly an idiot." Or not. Was a response required? Nobody else was near us. I tried to be polite. Though wondering if she was only buying $1 of gas, which was $3.09 per gallon, or if she ran out of cash and needed another dollar.

"Well, a couple weeks ago, I went in to pre-pay, and the guy told me I might want to move to another pump, because the nozzle was gone on mine!"

"Oh. My son-in-law sent me to get gas, but he didn't give me any money!" 

She got a red plastic gas can with a yellow spout out of her car, and started taking off the cap. I suppose maybe the son-in-law was going to mow grass. Or had run out of gas somewhere in his vehicle. 

"Well. I guess maybe it's just one of those days..."

"I went to school to pick up my granddaughter because she was sick. I stopped and bought her a Sprite. And when I opened it, the soda sprayed all over my car."

"Oh, no. I hope she feels better..."

Then I got in T-Hoe and left. Before more tales of woe were forthcoming.

Are Icicles Forming In Not-Heaven?

Sweet Gummi Mary! Go out and look at the sky. Are pigs flying? Is today the 12th of Never? Did the Cleveland Browns win the Super Bowl? Can you squeeze blood from a stone? Do hens have a full set of chompers? Did somebody find that needle in a haystack?

THE UNIVERSE HAS STOPPED CONSPIRING AGAINST MRS. HM!!!

While I was working on my taxes Wednesday, I got a text that 2 of 3 prescriptions were ready. And just before I filed, I got another text that 3 of 3 prescriptions were ready!

Oh, and you'll never believe THIS, but when I picked them up and looked in the bag, ALL THREE PRESCRIPTIONS HAVE THREE REFILLS REMAINING!

That's a victory, people! 

Of course I will still make an appointment to get my regular bloodwork and exam. But I might just stretch it until time for that last refill. Wouldn't want to get the med schedule discombobulated again. It will only be one month off.

Counting To Six

Here we go again...

It's time to refill my regular medicines, but two of the three are out of refills. I called in all three on Monday. The recorded message said they were out of refills, that they would contact my doctor, and that my prescriptions should be ready on Tuesday afternoon. On Tuesday afternoon, I got an automated text that one prescription was ready.

I called my pharmacy, because sometimes all are ready, but they only text about one. They used to be more automated-ly efficient, telling me things such as 1 of 3 prescriptions are ready. Anyhoo... the gal was polite. Gave her name. Asked for my birthdate. Then said that only one was ready. 

"Okay. Is it because two are out of refills?"

"I don't know. Let me see. Yes. Two are out of refills. We sent a message to your doctor."

"Okay. Did they refuse it? Because I will call their office."

"Um. It looks like they just haven't gotten back to us. Do you want me to re-send it?"

"Yes, please. I'll wait another day, and then call to check on it. Thank you."

Here's the thing. I go to the doctor every six months for bloodwork and prescription refills. Remember this issue before, when he only gave me the prescription and four refills? And you brainwashed loyal readers kept telling me that I needed to get my bloodwork before I could get my six months more of refills, which I already KNEW, the point being that my NP was shorting me on the refills!

I am not an idiot. I understand that I can't get years' worth of refills without an exam. I didn't just fall off the turnip truck. I KNOW that it is standard practice to have bloodwork every six months to see if there are any problems with the medications. Not only is this not my first rodeo, I have a giant belt buckle making me a six-month-med-bloodwork champion!!!

Anyhoo... here's my current issue. My last appointment was Monday, November 7. I even mentioned it to you way back then. I remember, because we went to vote that same day, at the OLD MORGUE! See? It's coming back to you, isn't it?

Now if you count on your fingers, you will see that it has not been SIX MONTHS since my last bloodwork and appointment. That would be on May 7. So here's the deal. IF I have to get another appointment to get my refills that are out, it will only have been five months. I would imagine the insurance company would take issue with that, and possibly make me pay for the bloodwork.

What kind of a scam is THIS? Do I need an office visit every five months, and bloodwork every six months? That's crazy talk!

Of course if I find out on Wednesday that I need an appointment, I will have to call and bring this up with the doctor office. Which means I will call and get a recording, then wait for someone to call me back. Which will likely not happen, and I'll have to call again. Which could drag out until I run out of my meds.

I am fully convinced that the medical establishment is currently trying to thin the herd of elderlies...

It's Going To Take A Little Time

I am kind of numb, mourning my Sweet, Sweet Juno. They're just pets, but each one takes a little piece of your heart with them. She had a good life here, and just got old. Nothing tragic. She knew she was loved.

Parts of my days are fine. Then I have a memory of Juno. I look at things as BJD and AJD. Before Juno's Death, and After Juno's Death. Like the treats on the kitchen counter, that got stalled due to my fever. Last night I gave my little Jack the chicken breast with only a few bites taken, that I didn't feel like eating when I was sick. It was being saved for Juno. I even told Farmer H to give it to her, but he couldn't find her.

That was too much food at once for my little Jack. But I wanted him to have it. I'm sure he enjoyed it. Especially without Juno breathing down his neck, trying to take it away!

R.I.P, My Sweet, Sweet Juno

I met Farmer H at the end of the driveway on Sunday, as I was headed to town, and he was coming home from a long day at his SUS2 (Storage Unit Store2). He asked if I had seen Juno, that she had not come out for the dry food that morning. I said no, and that she hadn't even scavenged the two dry pieces of bread that I gave Jack on Saturday, to which he had turned up his nose. Farmer H said he was going to look around for her, and start up the Gator.

My first stop in town was the Casey's. As I turned to slide down out of the driver's seat, I spied a penny. While opening my phone's photo app, I heard a text come in. It was Farmer H.

"I found her. She was in the dog house on the end of the porch. Neighbor is coming up to dig a hole so we can bury her."

It was over by the time I got home. The neighbor down the hill, the one my little Jack bit on the heel when Farmer H returned a tractor part that had fallen off in the road, brought up his tractor and dug a hole, since new-back Farmer H cannot dig nor climb on a tractor. He said he just saw Juno running around his field a couple days ago.

Farmer H said Juno was half out of the house, as I she had been coming out and something happened. She was stiff, but not bloated. So he thinks maybe it happened Friday night or Saturday, according to when he last looked for her. I regret that my fever kept me inside.

My Sweet, Sweet Juno. She was a good dog. We saved her from a roadside death, and she repaid us by being my loyal furry friend for 11.5 years. She had a good life, running free through the fields and after the Gator, barking all night, and stealing Jack's food. She knew she was loved.

I miss her terribly, and wish I had the opportunity for one more head pat, and one less, "You stink."

May you find forever happiness, my Sweet, Sweet Juno, on that big farm upstate, over the rainbow bridge.

Where Oh Where

I am concerned about my Sweet, Sweet Juno. I have not seen her since I came home Wednesday evening, and then developed my fever. Farmer H put out food for the dogs as usual. He couldn't find Juno on Thursday to give her the can of food. In fact, even early in the week, she would not come to the back porch when I called her for it. But she would come to the side porch as I left, and I'd put it in her regular food dish.

Anyhoo... on Thursday evening, Farmer H was worried that maybe he had locked her in the BARn when he was over there re-setting the thermostat. So he went out to start up the Gator and drive over, and Juno came running. So she got her canned food.

I did not see her on the porch all day Friday. Didn't hear her bark when the other dogs did. She didn't come running on Saturday when I came home from town. Farmer H said he smelled her, but didn't see her. Meaning he smelled pee from her walking by, I guess. But who knows how old that was.

We have not seen her in her regular house, nor in the houses at the end of the porch outside our bedroom. No barking. Jack was lying in her sunny spot on the back porch Saturday noonish. 

I'm going to have Farmer H start up the Gator, and see if that brings her. And look in the buildings he's been in since he last saw her.

Farmer H said she might have just gone off by herself, knowing it was the end... That's what our old dog Grizzly did. We found him stretched out on the gravel of Shackytown Boulevard when returning home from the first day of school. I hope Juno's heart was not broken from not seeing me for several days.

HM Is Not The Psychic Farmer H Imagines

First cat out of the bag... let's establish that I am feeling MUCH better. I think I have beaten my affliction. I feel almost normal now, at 9:23 on Friday night. Missed another day of scratcher-buying, but I can eat and drink, and took a shower, and might even wash dishes later in the night! I wrote Genius's letter, paid three bills, and sent them for mailing with Farmer H. Farmer H is another story. One that will be told on my not-so-secret blog on Sunday.

Farmer H plopped himself in his recliner around 4:45 after a two-hour nap. I had just sat down on the short couch, not wanting to disturb him in the bedroom by taking a shower. I started a conversation, which took a turn when Farmer H opened his mouth. We were watching The Incredible Dr. Pol, when Farmer H said:

"Neighbor's dog has a collar."

Using context clues, I knew that he meant a cone-of-shame, the plastic thingies that keep dogs from licking or chewing out stitches.

"Huh. What happened to it?"

"It was all over Facebook. People saying how expensive vets are these days..."

Farmer H was scrolling on his phone. I assumed he was going to read me what she said about her dog, and what people have been paying their veterinarians. I waited. And waited. Farmer H was tap-tapping with his thumbs.

"AND...?"

"What do you mean, AND?"

"I'm waiting to hear about the dog."

"Oh. I was answering a couple texts from people wanting things. I was going to look up the dog thing..."

So I still waited, putting off my shower. And then Farmer H spouted out:

"So-and-So's sister So-sy apparently wrecked her car. She's asking her how that mailbox is doing."

"WHAT? What are you talking about?"

"So-and-So. Genius's friend from high school. Her sister is a city police officer. Wrecked her car."

"How am I supposed to know that's who you're talking about? Genius has been out of high school for 10 years!"

"Well, she was a good friend."

"With a common name."

But then Farmer H went even farther off the deep end.

"She had a good round. A 70 and an 80 and an 83. The 70 is really good."

"WHAT? I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Friend's sister! She plays golf. I can't believe you don't know that."

"Well, if you had mentioned Friend, or even golf, I might have picked up on it. I don't know how I'm supposed to understand. I'm not on Facebook. How would I even know that?"

"It always pops up on my phone."

Sweet Gummi Mary! I never did find out about the dog...