I Guess I'll Survive (Part 1)

Time for me to be the star of this show again! Farmer H will just have to heal and stop doing dramatic things. I had my own doctor NP appointment on Thursday. It was a follow-up for after I completed the therapy for lymphedema. After all that, NP didn't even want to look at my legs!

I had asked the nurse if she thought he might want to see them. You know, that's the point of the visit. She said she didn't know, but that I should probably wait and see when he came in. No need to take off my leg wraps in case he didn't need to look. She said she could tell, even from looking at my wrapped, pants-clad legs, how much they had changed. She said they looked great.

My other issue was to talk to NP about my blood pressure medication. I told him first thing that I had been having dizzy spells, and that I had stopped taking the 10 mg lisinopril. NP said, "That's probably why you're dizzy!" I don't think he meant it as a joke. But I DID explain that first I had cut it in half for two weeks, and the dizziness was not as frequent. And that I had been off it completely for a month, and the dizziness was better than when I took a half. Also, that I'd been taking my blood pressure in the evening, and it was 120/60 most evenings. Once it had been 118/58. And that the previous evening, it was 125/62. Also, that I had lost 30 pounds (intentionally) since my last appointment. And I was wondering if my other med needed to be adjusted.

Here's where it all goes to Not-Heaven! I explained that I did not mess with my Toprol XL 50 mg pill. I know you can't just stop taking a beta blocker. And I also know that I shouldn't cut it in half, because that would negate the extended-release feature that the XL stands for. NP agreed. He said he was going to change my prescription to Toprol XL 25 mg. And check my TSH levels for my thyroid, to make sure I wasn't being "overserved" with my levothyroxine 150 MCG. (Which turned out to be fine, with my blood results in the normal range.)

I left with an order for bloodwork. My next appointment was already scheduled for December. I met up with Farmer H in the waiting room, and we waited for my turn. The phlebotomist was a really nice gal who was in and out in less time than it took me to walk back to her cubicle. And completely painless!

We left with Farmer H having time to get to the Senior Center for lunch (meatloaf). All I had to do was wait for a text from my pharmacy that my levothyroxine and Toprol XL were ready. 

The Universe laughed...

If It's Not One Thing, It's The Farmer

I have been worried all week about Farmer H. You may recall that his surgery was on August 13th. On Monday, August 24th, he declared upon arising that he couldn't take it anymore, and he was calling his urologist as soon as the office opened. He says he can't pee, and that his belly hurts, and he thinks he has an infection, or something is wrong.

"I really hope I have an infection. Because they can just give me pills for that."

The office told him the urologist was in surgery all day (this is not the guy who did Farmer H's surgery), but that the nurse practitioner could work him in at 1:30. He drove himself up there, even though I volunteered The Pony. Who did not know until later that Farmer H was having problems.

Anyhoo... here's the story I got from the Farmer's mouth:

"I peed before I left here, and as soon as I got there. They called me right in at 1:15. The NP said she wanted to test my bladder to see how completely it empties. She said there was four ounces in there. I told her there shouldn't be! Because I just peed. But she said four ounces isn't that big a deal. I'm still getting rid of the urine. But they don't want it to keep sitting there and get stagnant, so I need to drink at least 64 ounces of water a day. Which I've been doing, I think.

"Told her it burns when I pee, and I cain't hardly go at all if I'm sitting down. She wouldn't give me an antibiotic. She said the rapid test didn't show any infection. And they send the other one off, and it will take 3-4 days for the results. The doctor wouldn't want to have to change treatment, depending on the results. She said to get some over-the-counter cranberry pills. And she gave me three more days of them pills that make my pee orange, to take away the pain when I pee.

She didn't seem worried that it was anything wrong."

All week Farmer H continued to pee often but not a lot each time. At least it was coming out. I think he's trying to rush his recovery. When he looks it up on Dr. Google, it describes his symptoms. And says most people return to normal withing 3-6 MONTHS. While others may take 12-18 MONTHS!!! 

I feel bad for Farmer H. I guess he's just going to have to learn to be more patient about his recovery. One of his buddies had this surgery, and said it's the best thing that every happened to him. That his wife used to complain about him getting up so many times in the night. But now she complains that he pees too loud when he gets up.

I'm afraid this surgery has not been the miracle cure that Farmer H was expecting...

Nothing To Call My Own

It's really hard to have anything of my own around this Mansion. Farmer H takes everything! EVERYTHING! He's done it for so long, and so often, that it's almost become a joke. Nothing is safe from is clutches. He helps himself. If it's in the Mansion, he feels entitled to claim it.

You know he was taking my Tide squares that I use to wash my leg wraps and their compression socks. I bought that kind of detergent especially for that reason, because it has no bleach, like the regular powdered Tide we use. Any space he sees open in FRIG II is where he puts something away, like his snacks or Diet Mountain Dew. Even if it's a space just made because I set something out for him to use, and will be returning it. Now he's been using my OPC (Old People Chair), saying his recliner is painful the get out of.

"Can I have NOTHING of my own in this house? Why do you have to take EVERYTHING!"

"It's just a chair. You ain't sittin' in it right now."

"No. But you'll wear it out! I need it to sit in for my leg pumps. You'll wear out the automatic control thingy. Or you'll get grease all over the arms from your snacky hands. Or make the back discolored from your sweaty head. Look at your recliner! I don't mind if you sit there a couple hours when you get home. But not all the time I'm not in it!"

That's another thing. I have my little box of stuff on the table beside my OPC. The other day, Farmer H spilled his bottle of water on the table.

"Don't worry. I got it cleaned up with these little pieces of paper towel."

"MY paper towels? That I have there for cleaning my glasses? CAN I HAVE NOTHING OF MY OWN IN THIS HOUSE???"

"HM. It's just paper towels. You can put more in here."

Even when we're not in the Mansion, Farmer H takes my stuff. He drove swove me to my regular doctor appointment on Thursday. Came inside to wait with me. I was out of the appointment, and waiting for the lab. I handed Farmer H the printout I had from the visit, with my vitals and what was discussed and the date and time of my next appointment. It was four stapled pages. I didn't bring in my purse. The lab technician called my name.

"Here. Hold this for me so I don't have to carry it."

When I came back out, my paperwork was rolled up into a tube.

"CAN I HAVE NOTHING OF MY OWN???" I had to hiss-whisper this time, because of witnesses.

I Didn't Mean To Jinx Fave

Well. This is unfortunate. No sooner had I put out my concern that Fave might be replaced as the favorite lottery ticket seller by that right-side machine at 10Box... than Fave disappeared! Not like the Statue of Liberty by David Copperfield (YouTube 3:47). Or some prankster who tosses a blanket in the air and then dodges behind the wall to fool a pet. 

It took Fave a whole day to disappear.

Fave was working her shift as usual when I bought scratchers at 4:30 Thursday at the Gas Station Chicken Store. But when I went back Friday, around 2:30, Fave was not there! Her shift starts at 2:00, and she has mentioned that she needs to be there by 1:30. Yet there was NO FAVE! The older lady was working. The one who's there weekday mornings. I wondered if maybe Fave was just running late. Man Owner was also there behind the counter, but that's not unusual. I think he leaves between 3:00 and 4:00.

I don't want to jump to conclusions. When Fave is missing on a Friday, I always hope it's because she won a big jackpot on one of the tickets I gave her Thursday. Maybe she's just silently saying, "Take this job and shove it." Or maybe she's on her way to the city to cash in her winner. That's the best case scenario. I don't like to think of another thumb-chomping dog issue, or another gunshot wound over that dog, or a boyfriend falling off a roof. Or an unfortunate separation from her cashiering job.

Where, oh where, has my lucky Fave gone?

Fave Beware!

I'm not saying that Fave, my favorite cashier at the Gas Station Chicken Store, is in danger of being replaced. But those lottery machines at 10Box are giving her a run for our money! 

You may recall that a couple weeks ago, I got a $200 winner out of the left machine, and a $100 winner out of the right machine, ON THE SAME DAY! 

Last week, a 10Box employee who always asks me if I've won anything was standing at the right machine. I got tickets out of the left machine. I told her of my good fortune. Because she likes to know, and so she would know that buying those same tickets might not be the best option. She usually doesn't buy the $10 crosswords anyway. She likes the high-dollar tickets. In fact, she was buying a $30 ticket that day.

Employee stepped aside to scratch her ticket. "Huh. Just a $40 winner."

"Still. That's more than you spent. And probably more than I'll win on mine!"

Employee stepped over to the left machine as I had moved to the right machine. She stuck it under the scanner to verify her win. "Oh! I didn't win $40. I won $100!"

"That's even better! Congratulations. I know not to buy THAT ticket for a while, heh, heh."

"I really needed that right now. This is great."

Of course I was happy for her. And I knew which ticket not to buy there, in case The Pony wanted me to cash in a winner and get a $30 ticket.

On Wednesday, both machines were busy. An older couple were deciding, and chose a $5 ticket. The customer at the right machine I'd seen before. He's always friendly, and talks to me about the tickets. But all at once, he left and went to the service desk. The Old Couple watched. Discussing how he must have had a good winner.

Indeed. He came back while waiting for the manager to respond to her call up front.

"Here. Let me move my groceries out of your way."

"Thanks. They're fine. Did you have a big winner?"

"$100. On this ten." 

It was one that I buy sometimes, and in fact had planned on getting that day. Not anymore, heh, heh! It actually pays to talk to people. So to speak.

"Congratulations!"

"Yeah. Now let's see if I can win something else." He said as he stepped back to the service desk to cash it out.

The Old Couple was glad to hear the result. They took their cart and left after that. I imagine they were going to scratch at home. I don't remember what I won that day. I think it was $25 on a $5 ticket. Not great, but not bad.

This Leopard Will Never Change His Crooked Spots

Sunday, I had the misfortune of walking into the Gas Station Chicken Store and finding myself behind Public Rumpushole #1. He's the guy with the red pickup truck who parks regularly in my rightful handicap space. And has also been warned by Man Owner (like a lash with a limp noodle) about blocking the gas pumps when he parks there without getting gas.

I even know this guy's real name now! Not that I would type it here to publicly shame him. He is beyond shameless. Anyhoo... his picture was posted one week, because he won the $30 weekly gas drawing. There he was in full glory, smirking smiling, with his name typed above his head. AND, an article in the local online newspaper had mentioned that name one time as a function of his job. Which is something with the local fire department. I guess that's why he feels entitled to park his personal vehicle anywhere he pleases.

Anyhoo... my skin crawls when I see him. I don't care how many times he's held the door open for me (ONCE), I can't even maintain a neutral opinion of him. I think his picture is probably in the obsolete dictionary beside GOOD OL' BOY. He expects favors, and probably bestows them upon others of his kind as he sees fit. We will refer to him as Public Rumpushole #1. Or PR#1. Which is not a cutesy term of endearment.

Anyhoo... I waited my turn. Nobody else was there besides Fave behind the counter. She was printing out his draw tickets. He plays the Cash Pop game, which has drawings several times a day. It's too invovled for me, though I tried it when it first came out. Some people who play a lot do pretty well on it. The game involves picking sequences of three numbers per play, if I recall correctly. PR#1 was spouting off his numbers to Fave, who typed them into the lottery terminal, then printed his tickets.

That in itself was no reason for me to be annoyed or repulsed. He was there ahead of me, and entitled (for real) to use his time for whatever transaction he desired. He was buying a soda and those Cash Pop tickets.

Fave rang it up. It was $21.03. PR#1 gave her a twenty and a one. Then he said what raised my hackles:

"I'm good for the three cents, right? I'll bring it in next time." With that, he reached into the coin dish beside the register, took out three pennies, and tossed them on the counter.

Fave picked them up. And said, "That's what you told me last time. And several times ago."

"Oh, well. You have plenty there."

With that, he walked out. Perhaps strutted would be a better verb.

I really can't stand that guy.

I'm Tired Of Getting What I Pay For

Of all the nerve I have, complaining about BLOGGER! Is it too much to ask that I be able to reply to comments on my own blog? I'm all signed in. I can type the replies. But if I dare to hit PUBLISH, I get a message that says there's an internal error.

What's up with that? Have BLOGGER's innards gone all haywire? A touch of the cyclospora outbreak that's been going around? I didn't even mention lettuce! Or blueberries! BLOGGER has something stuck in its craw, and my replies aren't getting through. Maybe the multiple attempts will come spewing out all at once, and I'LL look like the crazy one.

This has put me off my inclination to type up the daily non-news happenings in and around Greater and Lesser Hillmomba.  :(