This Behavior Is Only Logical For One Person

You'd think I'm the only person in this Mansion who knows my way around the kitchen. You'd be mostly right. Sometimes, Farmer H gives the impression he might be almost competent, but then the illusion falls apart.

Farmer H got a dozen fresh eggs from one of his customers at the SUS2.5 (Storage Unit Store 2.5). He kept forgetting to bring them home. I think it was four or five days. When he finally remembered, he decided to have eggs for supper. I will boil eggs or scramble eggs, but I don't FRY eggs. I don't like them that way, and I don't cook them that way.

Farmer H said he was going to have ham and eggs. I had offered to scramble (but leave them in a solid piece), and make him a ham, egg, and cheese McMuffin. Farmer H said no, that he'd fry his own ham and eggs, because he wanted the runny yolk, and put them on a slice of bread, to eat with a fork.

That was fine. I was scratching my lottery tickets at the kitchen table when he began. He fried the ham. Then added oil to the pan for his eggs. I resisted complaining when he whacked those 3 eggs on the side of my small non-stick skillet for about 10 times each. It's not a cast-iron skillet! Just a flimsy thin pan. He would have been better off cracking the eggs against the edge of the counter.

I DID question how he was getting his eggs from skillet to plate, which was on the cutting block. I'd seen him balance each slice of ham on the spatula, and walk it over to the cutting block. I sure didn't want him walking drippy eggs across the kitchen floor. He haughtily replied that he would carry the pan over to the cutting block. I'm still waiting to see if my floor starts collecting dirt on any drippings that might have dropped from the edge of the pan as he tilted it to scrape out his eggs.

Anyhoo... with his supper completed, Farmer H opened FRIG II to reach for a Diet Mountain Dew. He instead picked up a mini jug of milk that I'd gotten to make his generic Hamburger Helper with added mushrooms a while back.

"Are you doing anything with this milk?"

"Um. No. It's expired. I keep forgetting to take it out when I bag up the trash around 10:30 at night."

"Oh. It says 3-6. I was thinking that was March-26."

And with that, Farmer H PUT THE EXPIRED MILK BACK IN FRIG II!!!

It's one thing to keep forgetting to pour it out because you don't remember to check FRIG II when bagging the trash. It's another thing entirely to be told that it's expired, and PUT IT RIGHT BACK IN FRIG II.

I guess throwing out milk is a job only I can do. Like washing his dirty egg skillet.

How Sweet Is THIS?

It's always nice to get a surprise in the mail. Or by UPS or FedEx. Farmer H was sitting on the porch supervising Pepper and Jack on Thursday evening. I had just sat down with my scratchers, after a busy Errand Day that included the closing on Lap House, our newest flip purchase. Farmer H barged through the kitchen door.

"This package just came for you. I don't know what it is."

Well. Of course not. Why would Farmer H know what a package was? Unless it's something he made me order for his business, the occasional ordering of items is not shared with him until I'm expecting it. In case it might get left by the garage, or on the porch, where Farmer H will be the first to see it. Or delivered to the lock boxes down on Mailbox Row, in which case Farmer H should be watching for a key in EmBee to get it out.

I did not know what this package could be, either. Once I removed it from the shipping envelope, I knew exactly the source, even before reading the enclosed card.

LADYBUGS! In the form of chocolate! I knew right away that this was the work of my best old ex-teaching buddy Mabel! She knows what ladybugs mean to me. And she's a very caring and gifty person.

THANK YOU, MABEL! I ate a bug last night, and it was delicious.

False Hope Addendum

After talking to a real live person at the Wound Care Clinic about my proposed referral... 

I was not overly optimistic about a timely solution to this issue. It was, after all, 1:30 on a Friday afternoon. My situation was not an emergency. I figured it would be next week before I heard anything.

I laid down for my 20-minute nap at 2:30. I took a shower to get ready for town. As I was getting dressed, I heard my phone sitting by the bathroom sink. Huh. I had an email saying there was a new message in YourChart!

Well. That was speedy. I wondered if they were giving me a time for an appointment with Physical Therapy, and to respond if the date didn't work for me. Normally, I would wait until back from town, with Farmer H's supper done, before getting on HIPPIE to log into YourChart. But what if they wanted me to call? It was 3:35. I could still catch them before they closed at 4:00.

I turned on HIPPIE and logged in.

"This is a reminder to schedule your mammogram appointment."

Ooh! That's a dirty trick! Getting my hopes up for this reminder that I'd had a few months ago, but pointedly ignored because I am not exactly mobile these days, and don't feel like gimping around on non-urgent trips unless they involve scratchers, casino, or groceries. I am not feeling like hobbling through the hospital on my bum knee, making Farmer H take time off from his busy schedule to drive me and drop me off at the door.

But wait! While reading that reminder and feeling tricked, another email came in at 3:38. Oh. This must be about my PT appointment, right?

WRONG!

"You have a new statement."

PAY BILL

WHAT? I never had an old statement. I pay my co-pay when I'm at the appointments. How dare they charge me because SOMEBODY at the Wound Care Clinic had to call my NP to verify a referral for my lymphedema intervention because one of those two offices messed something up!

Then I figured out how to read the details of that statement. It was from my orthopedist appointment on March 5. For the x-rays. Insurance had been billed $800, and my part remaining was now $48.51. I paid it with my debit while I was already in YourChart. 

I guess these two "sudden" notices in YourChart was one way of punishing me for being DIFFICULT!

Meanwhile, I am on the edge of my seat, awaiting a call from Physical Therapy to make an appointment.

The Universe Must Think A Replacement Is Not KNEEcessary

In the continuing saga of Mrs. HM's irreplaceable knee...

I called the Wound Care Center on Friday to make my own appointment, as my NP's nurse had suggested through our YourChart communication regarding my lack of a call from them to make an appointment as my NP had informed me they would. Did you follow that? It's the easiest part of this snafu-filled adventure!

I called at 10:30. I figured they'd had time to get the day started, and it was not yet time for lunch. I got an automated system. I pressed "1" to schedule an appointment. I got voicemail. I left my name and a BRIEF reason for my call: to make an appointment as referred by my primary physician NP, concerning lymphedema treatment.

By 1:30, I figured I wouldn't hear anything until Monday. Maybe they didn't read messages in the afternoon. I called again. I got a PERSON!

Person recognized my name, and apologized for not calling me back, as the day had been CRAZY. She asked if I had an open wound. 

"No. I DID nine days ago, an oozing spot that might be psoriasis, but it has since healed. That was not the reason for the referral. It was the redness in my other leg that he thinks is lymphedema."

Silence. Then...

"Oh. We don't handle that here. That's our Physical Therapy department. A lot of primaries refer people to us for lymphedema. I don't know why, because that is handled by Physical Therapy. I don't see anything in your chart..."

"The nurse for my NP said I should call you to make an appointment. She said she could see the referral in my file."

"Oh. I will contact your NP. And then call Physical Therapy about an appointment."

"So you are saying that somebody from Physical Therapy will call me to make an appointment?"

"Yes. They will call you."

It is now 9:02 p.m. on Friday. Nobody has called me. I wonder how long I should wait on that call before contacting SOMEBODY again. You know. Without being labeled as DIFFICULT.

The Universe should not be making me jump through so many hoops. I have a bad knee, you know.

Left Hand, Meet Right Hand

As with most events scheduled for Mrs. HM, there has been a kerfuffle from her last doctor NP appointment. Which you may recall came after her orthopedist appointment, at his request, because he can't replace the knee she consulted him about.

Somebody has dropped the ball here. The left hand doesn't know what the right hand is doing. Or else they're both big ol' butterfingers, with one unable to pass the ball, and the other unable to catch it!

At my appointment on March 9, my NP said he was referring me to the Wound Care Clinic about the redness in my lower legs. The orthopedist thought it was lymphedema causing the coloring, and was concerned it could turn into cellulitis which could spread up the leg and into the knee joint when circulation was disrupted from the surgery had can't do.

NP said they might suggest compression stockings, or exercises to help with the circulation, to see if the issue would resolve. He explained where the Wound Care Clinic was. I asked him twice if I needed to give them a call to make an appointment. He said no, they would call me. Farmer H and I even drove by to make sure where the entrance was. It's the old ER entrance where I went in to birth Genius and The Pony. The Wound Care Clinic is associated with the local hospital and my medical clinic. I know that my phone number is on file in my chart.

Well. I made sure my phone was with me the next day. No leaving it in the living room while I was washing dishes. I put it in my pocket on my way to the bathroom. They always leave a voice mail to call if they miss me. They send me texts and emails as appointment reminders.

Nothing.

Farmer H started nagging me to call them. I explained that THEY were supposed to call ME. That I had asked NP TWICE, to make sure. I don't want to be one of those "difficult" patients who are pushy and don't follow protocol.

By March 16, I was starting to wonder what was taking so long. I'm sure you can't get a fast appointment. I have a follow-up NP visit in May. To see if the treatment they prescribe is helping. So I need to get in there and get going. Farmer H was harping again. I said I would call my NP's office to ask about it. Then I forgot. Until today (Wednesday).

I didn't want to wait on hold to talk to a human. I didn't want to tell the whole story while a minimum wage receptionist typed it in. So I logged into YourChart, where you can ask questions to your provider. 

Well. It said that I might be billed for an appointment if the question took more than five minutes of the provider's time. I guess that's fair enough. I can afford it. I'm selling a flip house, you know! But this doesn't seem very patient-friendly. Why not just make another appointment and talk to the provider in person? Oh. Wait. They overbook everything, and it takes months to get an appointment. Don't get sick, people of Hillmomba!

Anyhoo... I saw the message that had informed me of my lab results. They don't even call with that anymore. Just a message, or you can look at the raw data in the lab section. I replied to that message. Explaining that on my March 9 appointment, NP had said he was referring me to the Wound Care Clinic about my leg circulation. Was I mistaken? Or was I supposed to call them myself to set up an appointment?

I had a reply within three hours.

Hello. I am one of the nurses supporting NP. I am sorry you have not yet heard from the wound care clinic. Since they haven't been able to reach you, here is their information so you can call them:

 

REDACTED 

 

They should have a record of the referral in their system as I was able to find it attached to your medical record. Thank you so much for contacting us. Please feel free to reach out with any further issues or concerns.

So. It wasn't my imagination. She was quite diplomatic in the wording. Not saying I was nutty as a fruitcake, crazy as a loon. Verifying that there WAS a record of such a referral. Yet also not accusing the clinic of failing to contact me.

I'll take what I can get! Which is a timely response. I will be calling to see if I can get an appointment at the Wound Care Clinic. After Thursday, when I will be buying another house.

The Worst Dog Mom Ever

Shame on Mrs. Hillbilly Mom! After all the months of seeking to adopt a companion dog for her lonely Jack, getting one and having him disappear after a week, and then the joy of receiving a brand-new puppy from Farmer H's ex-wife... Mrs. HM has proved herself to be the worst dog mom ever!

Not deliberately! I cuddle with little puppy Pepper every morning on the short couch. He's a good boy. The playful nipping has mostly stopped. Pepper initially greets me all excited, I boost him onto the cushion, he romps a bit looking into the kitchen for Farmer H, then lies down beside me and drifts off to sleep with me petting him. 

When Farmer H decides it's time to leave for town, he says from the long couch, "Well, Pepper, are you ready to go back outside?" Pepper is not! He sits up and tries to shrink into my side, or the crack between the couch cushions. Farmer H used to reach over and grab him, but as he's getting bigger and more awkward to carry, vertically, with all four feet outstretched, and Farmer H's hands around his ribs, he's been left to get down and follow Farmer H to the kitchen. Where they go into the laundry room and Pepper gets his bowl of food. Pedigree Chopped Ground Dinner from a pouch.

Of course I help Pepper down off the couch. Heh, heh. It takes a bit of persuading to make him decide that it's time to go. Sometimes he runs back to see me a couple times, but he ends up in the laundry room, eating his food until Farmer H decides it's safe to set the rest outside and risk Jack eating it if Pepper is full.

Farmer H has been escaping in SilverRedO without incident. I have been able to get away in T-Hoe. Jack and Pepper greet me on the porch. Pepper is getting better about not getting under my feet when I walk, and not jumping up on me. At the top of the steps, I toss Jack his little scrap of bread, then drop one for Pepper. 

Pepper is not sure that bread is food. He runs at Jack, who gobbles his with a quickness. Then he comes back to me, sniffing around and ignoring his own scrap of bread. Which Jack eats. I go down the steps, pat both dogs, and tell them, "See you later, alligators!" That's our routine. I go into the garage through the people door. Normally, I open the garage door then. But with the loosing of little Pepper, I wait until I'm inside, with the engine started. I back out and immediately close the garage door as soon as T-Hoe's nose clears the garage.

Tuesday, Pepper followed me across the sidewalk. Tried to enter the garage with me. I told him "PEPPER! NO!" A couple times. While blocking him with my purse. He got inside anyway. I had to drag him by his collar to "persuade" him to go back out. He sat on the other side of the people door, whimpering and yipping.

From T-Hoe's driver's seat, I saw Pepper go up the steps, and run around to the front porch. I backed out, and closed the garage door. Went to town as normal. When I came home, Jack ran around to the carport as usual. Instead of jumping over the side after a squirrel, he waited for me to pull into the garage. Sometimes he comes in while I'm turning off T-Hoe and gathering my stuff. I hit the remote in the car, to close the garage door.

Indeed, Jack had come in to greet me. He's pretty smart. These days, it's the only individual attention he gets without Pepper jumping on his head when I pet him on the side porch. We had a brief lovefest, then went out the people door. Pepper was waiting at the top of the steps. He came around to the side porch for petting. He whimpered the whole time! That's a new one. He's usually hyper and happy during the outside petting.

Jack almost got knocked off the side porch by Pepper, and walked towards the kitchen. I figured he was going to get a drink, then come back when I reached the door, for his treat. But no! Jack came back with an empty water bottle that had obviously been used as a chew toy. He dropped it, and looked expectantly at Pepper. Who ran towards it, and Jack came back to me. He's a smart one, I tell you!

Anyhoo... I got inside and gave out treats. All but one eaten by Jack. Then Farmer H hollered from his recliner:

"YOU LOCKED PEPPER IN THE GARAGE!"

Oh, the shame! I had no idea! All the times Farmer H has locked up assorted pets, and now I'M the bad guy!!!

"I come home and didn't see Pepper. Jack was here. I asked him 'Where's Pepper?' and he just wandered around. Then I opened the garage door, and Pepper run out. He wasn't barkin' or nothin'. He must have been sittin' there waiting for somebody to open the door."

"Oh, no! It must have been so cold in there on the concrete floor!"

"He was fine."

"I can't see him! Once I'm up in the car, I can't see a thing down by the tires. I backed out and closed the garage door as soon as it could come down and not hit the car. I guess Pepper ran in as I was rolling out. The garage door didn't stop, like when they run past the eye. I could see the garage. In fact, I was watching to see if Pepper went in. There's stuff in there that he probably shouldn't get into."

"He was fine. Maybe he won't do that again, seeing as how he got trapped."

We'll see. I apologized to him profusely during our Wednesday morning couch session.

Genius Cannot Escape

Genius might have thought he escaped tornado alley when he moved to Pittsburgh. 

In reality, he did not. A tornado can find a Hillbilly family member if it wants to! 

Monday afternoon, Genius sent me a picture of his back yard, from the top level of his own mansion. I think it's his back yard, and the picture is from high above, so I'm assuming. I hope that doesn't make a rumpus of me. I've never been there in person. The grass and garage roof were covered with about an inch of snow.

Anyhoo... Genius said, "Wasn't expecting more snow!"

"We had flurries this morning. And tornado warnings last night."

"We had tornado warnings last week, and 70 mph wind gusts on Friday. We ended up losing power for about 26 hours from Friday night to Saturday night."

"Oh no!"

"We survived! Haha. The battery system I had kept us with enough power to keep the fridge and water heater running, and charge devices, so not too bad."

"You ARE a GENIUS!"

Heh, heh. I didn't reveal that OUR wind gusts were only 60 mph. And that we didn't lose power. I don't want Genius thinking we have it easy around here.