A Cold And Dark As Mrs. HM's Heart

Friday evening, I got food out of FRIG II's freezer to prepare Farmer H's supper. He was having fish and waffle fries. He was offered mixed vegetables with cheese melted on top, but turned them down. "Nah. I had vegetables for lunch." Because, you know, having vegetables twice in one day would be senseless, and only a feat attempted by somebody who DON'T KNOW NOTHIN'!

Anyhoo... that meal used up the rest of the waffler fries, but I had fish left in the bag to put back in the freezer. I opened the door, and IT WAS DARK! The light bulb had burnt out between me getting out the fish and putting it back. I told Farmer H.

"Huh. I don't have no idea where that light is. Or what size. I guess I'll have to take a look at it." Which of course he jumped up and did, right? WRONG! He kept sitting in his recliner. Then ate supper. Then came to the kitchen for dessert. Then went to bed.

The next day, I brought Pony out for a Saturday of game-playing. I mentioned the dark freezer, because I figured The Pony would be getting ice. Farmer H came home around 5:15. Went straight to the recliner.

"Dad? Do you want me to see what kind of light the freezer needs?"

"You can."

The Pony looked all around. The bulb was not visible. I'd already been looking a couple of times. The Pony pulled out the big bin that holds the ice cubes. The light was behind there. The Pony unscrewed it, and took it to Farmer H in the recliner.

"Huh. I'll have to see if I can find one."

As I type, this is Tuesday afternoon. FRIG II's freezer is still as cold and dark as my heart. Farmer H DID move that burnt-out bulb from the table beside the recliner to a cap lying in a box on the chair by the kitchen door. 

It's still there. I figure today is not the day I'll be getting light in FRIG II's freezer.

Something Has Been Eating At Me

It's my own teeth! I noticed when it happened, but I had no idea of the aftermath.

Farmer H came in Friday evening, and asked if I hurt my face. Since he was born without a funnybone, I was pretty sure he wasn't pulling that old joke where he'd then add: "Because it's KILLIN' ME!" So I said that no, I didn't think so.

"Well, your lip is all bruised."

"Oh. You mean right here? IS it? Because last night, I bit my lip inside right there. So I guess it's just showing the bruise on the outside now."

Indeed, when I looked in the mirror, it was a frightening sight. More frightening than usual!

I zoomed in close so you didn't have to bear the full horror of my scarecrow hair and wrinkly face. This is actually my left lip corner, but the phone camera reverses it when I take my own picture. It's like I'm looking into the mirror.

The Pony noticed on Saturday. We went in Country Mart that day. I went to get scratchers on Sunday. Nobody said anything to me. I'm sure they were curious. But maybe they thought I had been in a fight, heh, heh, and didn't want to take a chance on me opening up a big can of whoop-rumpus on them!

Anyhoo... it's not like I was even eating something good when this happened. Just an apple. A nice crisp red Sugar Bee apple. Oh, and since then, with the swollen area, I have chomped down about a dozen more times. No wonder it's taking a bit of time to heal.

I'm not letting it curtail my activities. Those scratchers aren't going to buy themselves.

The Gong Shower

The Pony was coming out Saturday. I got ready early to drive to town and pick up bananas, The Pony, and Chinese food. It was about 8:20 when I turned off the shower faucet.

GONG!

What in the Not-Heaven? What WAS that? Not a noise that I've heard around the Mansion. Not recently, anyway. Yet it sounded somewhat familiar. I ran through a list of possible sources. 

Was that the front doorbell? It hasn't worked for over 10 years. Farmer H never remembers to put a battery in it. We don't get random visitors. It's a private road. The salesmen don't sneak up in here anymore, and the delivery people just leave stuff on the porch. Besides, the doorbell has two tones. DING and DONG. This wasn't quite a DONG. After I got dressed (thankfully, to anybody who might have been driving by), I looked out the front door. There was no note or package.

Was it something from my phone? My phone has never GONGed. It has a tone for incoming texts and emails. More like a PING, with an accompanying BUZZ for texts. That definitely wasn't it. Still, I checked my phone, which was lying beside the sink, and there was nothing on it.

Was it some sound from the pipes? I've never heard that before. Sometimes a GURGLE after Farmer H has had the water turned off for something.

Was it from something falling on a hard surface? Only the bathroom and laundry room have ceramic tile. The rest of the Mansion has carpet, or linoleum in kitchen and second bathroom. Nothing was out of place.

Was it the dogs doing something on the porch? Did Pepper whack his head on one of the giant metal wagon wheels that I detest? Such a noise would surely have rendered him unconscious, and there were no dogs on the porch when I looked out.

The Pony came out, and we discussed scenarios. The Pony also went to push the front doorbell, and only silence resulted.

"Could it have been this bell hanging by the kitchen door? Here, I'll clang it." CLANG! "Was that it?"

"No. The pitch was lower. And there wasn't the vibrating sound. Just a single GONG!"

We may never find out. It's almost as if whatever used to play tricks around here knew that The Pony was going to return...

So Capricious, The Universe

I had a plan on Friday morning. I know it takes me three hours to go through my leg pump and shower routine. I had checked the program guide to see what would be on TV while I was captive in my recliner for an hour. There was a good crime show on at 10:00, about a kidnapped 12-year-old boy.

My timing was impeccable. I had put in a load of laundry before the shower, and switched it to the dryer after. I was into my leg pumps, all plugged in, at 9:56. I reclined my OPC (Old People Chair). Turned on the pumps. I was watching the beginning of my show, when they introduce the victim and the suspects. At 10:01, my show stopped. There was a notice on the screen that said COMPLETE SIGNAL LOSS, due to weather.

The Universe, it seems, also had impeccable timing. All that effort for nothing! I picked up my phone to check Show Me Cash numbers for The Pony's draw ticket. The MOLottery app started to load, but went nowhere. Just the screen showing that it was MOLottery. I couldn't close it out to do anything else. I figured my internet was down as well. But I couldn't close this screen. Couldn't shrink it. No way to get to anything else, such as to call The Pony or send texts. A restart would also lock up with a firmware reporting thingy that takes forever on a good day.

Well. I was reclined and pumping, with nothing to entertain me. I figured I might as well have a nap. But I couldn't fall asleep. Time ticked slowly. At 10:16, the TV showed that DISH was acquiring signal. It finally finished. Then it was loading the program guide. THEN my show came back. I was able to see the last half hour. Still, you're not as invested as if you'd been given a peek into the lives of the people at the beginning.

Seeing how The Universe was being cantankerous, I was prepared in the evening. I had checked the futurecast radar, and knew that a storm was likely to hit us between 8:30 and 9:30. That's usually when I'm having my supper, and watching YouTube channels. So I got my own supper ready right after Farmer H's. I was sitting down to eat by 7:15. Finished by 8:15.

At 8:30, Farmer H went to look outside. While he was on the porch, the TV went off. As did my internet. No problem! I just played some solitaire. Farmer H went to take a shower and go to bed. I heard the TV come back on at 8:55. I started getting ads during solitaire, so I knew my internet was back.

But wait! The Universe could not be outsmarted. An alert blared from my phone. Our area was under a tornado warning. I went to the living room to search for a TV meteorologist. Found one! She had the radar, showing the leading edge of the storm with rotation. And said it would be in Sis-Town in 16 minutes, and Hillmomba in 8 minutes. I called The Pony, who does not have network TV. The Pony said the town tornado sirens were going off.

Luckily The Pony found an app with a local weatherman and radar. And kept me informed, because MY TV WENT OFF, due to weather.

We both survived the storms. So I would say that we both won over The Universe.

Stay Away From Ham-Handed Farmer H

If Farmer H was a Seinfeld character, he would be Poppy. You'll understand why after you finish reading.

Thursday evening, Farmer H got home around 5:30, just as I was getting my soda and cheese and pickles ready for scratching my lottery tickets. He went straight to his recliner.

"Whew! I'm tired. What's for supper?"

"Hot dogs and chips, and a sliced tomato if you want."

"What happened to the shrimp and fries you said I could have a couple days ago?"

"That will have to be Friday, or I'll miss the Big Brother live eviction. They take too long to cook, and you just now came in, and I'm not stopping my tickets now."

Farmer H usually asks for hot dogs. Clamors, in fact. But because I said that's what he was having, his oppositional-defiant disorder kicked in. 

 "I guess you could have a ham sandwich instead. But you can make that for yourself, so you probably won't want it." (Reverse psychology! Of course telling him he wouldn't want it would make Farmer H want it more.)

"Okay. I'll have ham. I'll get it here in a minute."

I sat down at the table with my scratchers. About a half hour later, Farmer H came to the kitchen. I had set out a paper plate, paper towel, spear pickle, the loaf of bread. Plus I had put the package of wafered ham and the lone slice of pepper jack cheese on the top shelf of FRIG II where he could find them. Farmer H set about making his sandwich. I sensed him out of the corner of my eye. Then I turned to watch. He was stuffing the little bit of ham that was left back into the package.

"Um. I don't think I want that ham. You've had your hands all over it, and I know you didn't wash your hands."

"Yes I did."

"WHEN?"

"When I come in."

"No you didn't. You went straight to your chair."

"Oh. Well. I meant to go to the bathroom to go pee."

"Ha ha! That doesn't mean you'd wash your hands!"

"Whatever."

"And I know you were spraying pesticide all day, because Pony said so, and you gave me the bill for it yesterday."

"I washed my hands since then!"

"REALLY? I can't imagine where? Did you wash them while you were watching the porch get built on Lap House?"

"Whatever. There's just a little bit of ham left. I might as well eat it."

"Please do! I don't want it after your hands were on it."

Farmer H put the extra slices on his plate. Then threw the package away, and went out the laundry room to the back porch, where he likes to pee through the rails like a savage. He came back in, grabbed a Diet Mountain Dew from FRIG II, and picked up his plate.

"I KNEW IT! You just peed, and didn't wash your hands! Enjoy licking your pee fingers."

"Whatever."

"In fact, I imagine you are singlehandedly the cause of that cyclospora diarrhea that's spread to 40 states, and not the Mexican lettuce!"

"I might be..."

If you're not a Seinfeld fanatic, here's the reason I imagine Farmer H to be the Poppy character. A little :52 video on YouTube.

Did I Break It ALREADY???

Wednesday marked one full week since my breakup with graduation from OT. One week of being on my own, using my leg pumps daily to replace the 45 minutes of trained leg massage I had been getting twice a week. What could possibly go wrong?

The leg pumps themselves are fairly simple, if you've been given a demonstration by the sales rep, and a couple of crucial tips from your occupational therapist. You pull on the shorts, then the legs. Zip them up so they are snug but not tight. Then plug in SEVEN hoses to the pump, turn it on, and start your hour of treatment.

Here's a picture of the controller/pump. I have it turned on, because there was a glare on the screen when it was black.

OT had told me that one of the #1 hose slots would be blocked off. #1 is for the shorts, which only have one hose. Each leg has three hoses, all coming out from the same hole, which get plugged into their corresponding numbers. They lock in, and you're ready to start.

There they are, all plugged in, in the middle of a session. It doesn't matter which leg's hoses plug into the top or bottom. You can't see it here, but each of the hoses has a number on the connector. It might look like the numbers, but that little white imprint on top of each is just a LOCK sign. They snap down as you put on the duck-bill-looking blue parts, top and bottom. Two clicks.

Anyhoo... on Wednesday, I was all laid back in my OPC (Old People Chair), about 15 minutes into the session, watching TV. There are pockets in the leg sleeves that inflate in a sequence. Like a little ring of squeeziness that pulses up the leg to the trunk/belly area covered by the shorts. The shorts actually start first to clear a pathway for the leg fluids that will be coming. Then the thighs to trunk. Then calves to thighs to trunk. And around 15 minutes in, the feet start. It's actually relaxing. A couple times I've fallen asleep. The pump shuts itself off when the 60-minute cycle is complete.

Anyhoo... on Wednesday, I noticed that my left foot had begun the contractions, but the right did not. Huh. What wasn't normal. I squinted to see if the right foot was blowing up the little air pockets. I didn't think so. OH NOOOOO! I've only had my leg pumps for two weeks! Surely I hadn't broken anything. I'm very careful in putting them on, taking them off, making sure the hoses don't get caught in the moving recliner, and putting them away in a box when I'm done.

Of course I was fretting. But I didn't want to pause. Nothing was hurt. I could finish the cycle, then worry about what was going on. The contractions go faster through the cycle towards the end. With about five minutes left, I noticed a pattern. When the left foot started contracting, the right calf did the same. Then when my right foot was contracting, the left calf contracted.

AHA! The right leg seemed to be in the normal sequence, yet the left leg started at the calf, skipped to the foot, then skipped to the thigh. I had solved the mystery! I must have plugged in the hoses wrong for the left leg.

Indeed, when I was finished, and unplugging the hoses, I saw that I had Hose #3 in the #4 slot, and Hose #4 in the #3 slot. The next day I made sure they were correct, and everything was back to normal. Whew! That was a relief.

If I'm ever surveyed about what the company could do better, I would suggest putting the numbers on the hose connectors on both sides, so they're more visible. When I'm sitting and plugging in, I can't see over the top to where the numbers are located on those blue connectors.

The Pony Is NOT A Long-Distance Physician

The Pony sent me a worried text on Monday afternoon.

"A friend in Germany is at the hospital with suspected rhabdo. [rhabdomyolysis] Ughhh I wish I'd been more specific that it wasn't a general worry when I'd been warning her that she might've overdone it and been hurt."

"Oh no! I've heard of football players getting it."

"She'll be fine since she's there, but it would've saved a bunch of time if I'd pointed out about being weak and sore. It was a 6-7 on the pain scale when we were talking, but now while she's waiting at the hospital it's a 7-9 after the swelling started. She went to the hospital when she had the dark urine symptom."

"I'm glad she's there now."

"Yeah. Me too. She's been working on exercising and did some overly-ambitious ones a few days ago and had the soreness getting worse, like to the point of spending the night at a friend's place instead of walking home yesterday."

"At least she's in the best place now to recover."

"She'll be fine now that she's there. Just the longer it takes for them to actually treat her. The nurses doing intake didn't seem to know what it was. But she'll get seen relatively soon."

"Did she say that's what she thought her symptoms were?"

"She says she did, yeah."

 "It might be a triage thing. Maybe somebody else with a heart attack, or chopped off a finger."

"I mentioned too that not getting rushed in is a good sign, generally."

"I'm sure she'll be okay."

"Yeah. I'm just worried. Trying not to be too harsh on myself for not saying it sounded like it could be something really serious sooner, when I first had the thought."

"You can't be a long distance doctor. She's where she needs to be right now. So that's a relief."

"Yeah. I know! Just should have mentioned it existed since most people don't know."

"Yes. It's not the first thing you'd think of."

"I knew from papers and people at college. Plus as a warning from someone to look out for with going from low activity to really high activity like after the broken ankle or when I started at the post office."

An hour later, there was an update:

"It's definitely rhabdo, but her doctor said it's nowhere near the worst case scenario. Going to be kept in the hospital overnight. She has enough charge on her phone, and her friend can bring her anything she needs if it goes longer than that."

"That's really good news!"

"Yeah. It's a big relief."

The Pony stresses over things like this. Misfortunes of friends that are not anybody's fault. Sometimes, I just have to say, "No matter how much you'd like to help, you can't save the world."