Tag Archives: Humor

TRY THIS AT HOME?

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Suddenly, I wake at midnight struggling for breath.  After an hour of tossing and turning, I turn on all the lights and pace, certain that will kickstart my breathing.  When that fails, I march outside in 29- degree weather, confident the cold will startle my windpipe open.  By the time I call 911, two hours later, I’m so breathless I can’t form words and sound like a barking seal.

Within minutes, both an ambulance and fire truck arrive.  Several, young men strap an oxygen mask on me and whisk me to the hospital.  Despite my protestations, they try and fail to start an IV en route.  It will eventually take six, misdirected stabs from four different people to complete the task. The cost of this 5-mile ride to hell?  $1628.49.  They even charge for the IV which they fail to insert and which I don’t actually need.

Once in the emergency room, I am COMPLETELY IGNORED.  Apparently, if you’re breathing and not bleeding, you’re fine.  For almost 8 hours, doctors and nurses pass my open door without seeing me madly waving my arms.  I have to beg for water and yell out to passersby—including the cleaning crew—to please unhook me from the machines so I can pee, only to find no toilet paper!

Finally, I’m wheeled into my room where only a threadbare curtain separates me from my 80-year-old, incontinent roommate.  She defecates in a plastic tub just as my dinner arrives and they clean her with washcloths from our bathroom.  The smell makes me gag so I pace the halls to regain my composure.  However, several, different staff tell me to return to bed, “in case you fall.”  Seriously?  Later, I’m woken every 2 hours to have blood drawn and vitals taken.  These fatuous interventions only add to my sleep deprivation.  At 5:30 AM, a cleaning crew actually turns on ALL our lights to empty the trash cans!

My diagnosis?  “Laryngeal paroxysm: a rare but frightening disorder of the vocal cords.”  The bill for this 32-hour nightmare?  $18,000!  Any wonder we have a health care crisis.?  A night in jail is infinitely nicer!  Trust me, having experienced both, I know.  Some advice?  Keep oxygen handy and don’t call 911 if you can help it.  A friend joked, “You should have stabbed yourself with a pen for a homemade tracheotomy and saved yourself the nightmare.”  He has a ‘point;’ ballpoint no doubt.

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LIFE’S LOVELY LABYRINTH

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I stumbled upon this labyrinth last week and decided to walk it.  Oh, what temptation there was to head straight to the center!  But as I took the circuitous route, passing places I’d been but now from a different perspective, I realized how well it parallels life:  There is only one way in and one way out.  What matters is what you make of it along the way.  Lucky me, I’m still making it.   

In Australia, where I was born, I turn 70 today. Having spent years putting down roots, I now want to shake them loose.  I don’t want things to dust, just people I can trust; the freedom to change my mind on a dime; to travel so lightly that you can blow on me and I’m gone.  My body has begun its slow descent.  What doesn’t ache (and what doesn’t ache?) accepts its’ stiffness as if it were always this way.  I think of myself as much younger for surely this face can’t be mine? It’s not the one I remember.

What I remember, of course, makes stories to tell and I’ve yet to tire telling them.  (Just ask my friends).  I no longer tolerate idiots but have developed a soft spot for fools.  No one can guilt or goad me into doing anything.  Obligation, familial or otherwise, has long gone to the dogs.  Yet, I’ll do most anything for a friend.  Love itself means nothing that it did before.  It is high on laughter and low on anything less–for anything less is nothing at all.  Connection is everything.  Eye to eye, face to face, hand to hand, heart to heart.  Everything.    

I’ve grown less confident in the future—not because of the environment, politics or the economy but because I have so much less left of it.  Today, when I got my pneumonia shot, the pharmacist said, “The best part of this shot is that you won’t have to get another one for 10 more years.”  ‘Yikes,’ I thought, ‘By then I’ll be 80!’  

There are many things I still want to do.  I used to have 70 years ahead of me to do them. Not anymore.  Fortunately, my many failures and disappointments have made me tough enough to carry on.  And my tears, which happen often (and even writing this), remind me I’m not dead yet!  So, picture me going round and round life’s circle with a big smile on my wrinkly face.

I WANT WHAT SHE’S HAVING

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Recently, I asked one of my teenaged clients, “What do you think almost everyone I see has in common?”  

“They’re all crazy?” he replied. 

“No,” I said.  “They all compare themselves to someone else who has something they don’t.”  

“Even you?” he asked. 

“Yes, even me.  I would love to be young and strong again, like you.  But I have to remind myself that I already was young and strong once.  Now it’s your turn.”

I have clients in their 60’s who still envy their siblings; men and women who starve/surgically alter themselves to resemble Instagram photos; and others who want to be anywhere but ‘here’ because ‘over there’ looks infinitely better.  It turns out that envy is physiologically bad for your health.  Neuroscientists say that envying others stimulates the brain’s anterior cingulate cortex, which is associated with both physical and mental pain. In the 2018 journal of Social Science & Medicine, scholars studied 18,000 randomly selected individuals and found that their experience of envy was a powerful predictor of worse mental health and lower well-being in the future. 

Ordinarily, most of us become psychologically healthier as we age but envy can stunt this trend.  Although some studies have shown that a little envy might briefly spur our ambition, ultimately, it just makes us sad, anxious or depressed to be who, what and where we are.  Here’s the problem for my clients:  because they don’t want to be where they are, they expect me to teleport them somewhere else.  Unfortunately, no drug or amount of talk can do that.  

So, in this season of giving and getting, let me encourage you to be happy with whatever you get even if you don’t want it.  Try to find peace wherever you are even if you don’t want to be there. Experience has shown me that there is someone out there who wants exactly what you have.  Whatever you do, don’t emulate the 70 year-old client I had last year.  She rushed into my office highly distraught and said:

“I feel so guilty.  I’ve been dating this man for over a year.  He wants me to move in with him and I don’t know what to do.”

“Do you love him?”

“Oh, yes,” she sighed.  “He’s kind, warm, affectionate, super supportive and the sex is amazing.”

“I, see,” I replied.  “So, the problem is?”

“He’s 15 years younger than I am!”

“Go home,” I told her.  “Enjoy what you have while you have it and don’t come back.”

 So far, she hasn’t.

Merry Christmas to her wherever she is. . .and to all of you!

AN IMPATIENT PATIENT

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I’d love to meet the brilliant idiot who first called a doctor’s client a ‘patient,’ because that’s the last thing I am.  Can you remember the last time your doctor was actually ON TIME?  I can’t.  This has nothing to do with the pandemic and everything to do with the endemic, habitual tardiness among those in the medical profession. Once, I sat in the stirrups waiting for my gynecologist for almost an hour.  Finally, I walked out into the hall, half naked with a paper around my waist, only to be told, “Why, we plum forgot about you!”  
 
Now my grandmother brought me up to “Never keep anyone waiting, dear.  Their time is just as important as yours.”  So, unless a sinkhole opens under me, I’m on time.  Yesterday I arrived at 1:50 for my 2 PM with the dermatologist and asked the receptionist: 
“Is Bozo running on time?”   
“Oh, yes, I believe so.”
“You ‘believe?’ Or is he actually running on time?”
“Well, you’re up next!” she replies cheerily.  (Not a lie—but not exactly the truth either).
 
I poll the patients in the waiting room just to be sure.  Three of us have the same doctor, and we’re scheduled 10 minutes apart.  What I don’t account for are the ones already inside waiting rooms.  At 2:20, I’m finally called back, and the nurse hands me a paper gown.
 
“Take everything off except your underwear and put this on,” she commands.
“I think I’ll wait,” I reply.
“What?” 
“Well, last time I sat here almost an hour wearing that flimsy thing and froze.  So, this time, I’m waiting until the doctor is actually coming in.”
 
She wasn’t pleased and left in a huff.  A full 25 minutes later, she returned.
“You can put the gown on now.  The doctor will be right in.”
 
I put it on, then waited.  I got up and paced until I found a warm corner in the room and stood there–fuming.  At 3 PM, he finally made his entrance.
“What are you doing over there?” he asked nonchalantly.
“Waiting for you,” I replied, “Our appointment was an hour ago and it’s warmer over here.”

No apology–nothing. Why would he? This is how he rolls. 
 
 I wanted to say so many things: “Do you think I have nothing better to do than sit in a cold, claustrophobic room waiting over an hour for you?”  “Given your superior education, why can’t you schedule your patients so you actually see them on time?”  “Do you realize that in the last five years you have NEVER been on time for our appointments, not even once?”  Instead, I smile politely.  After all, he holds the hypodermic and scalpel.  I’m just a PATIENT who plans to send him this blog.

Now ask yourself this when it comes to the remuneration we provide to those in other professions. What would happen if a cop showed up an hour late to a 911 call? Or if a kindergarten teacher left a roomful of 5 year-olds on their own for an hour? Those are the professions that deserve our greatest support.

LIGHTEN UP

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Apparently, this is NOT a ballet barre.

There is perhaps no more mournful place in American than the local gym.  Where else can you see a sea of grimacing, grunting faces in various heave-ho positions?  It could be all the mirrors.  I’d be depressed if I stared at nothing but myself, too.  When folks aren’t staring at their anatomy they are deeply involved with their cell phones.  Deeply.  From my observations, the average gym goer spends more time looking at their phone than actually working out.

If you go to the gym, do NOT attempt to converse with anyone, particularly those with ear buds.  They do NOT want to be disturbed from their very, serious business.  Also, do NOT attempt to ‘work in’ with those who have laid sweaty bandanas across the equipment or placed a water bottle at the base.  They plan to occupy that territory for as long as it takes them to do 10 reps, then pause for 5 minutes to look at their phone, do 10 more reps, etc.  They are not in a hurry to work out.  They are, in fact, camping out.  This morning, a man sat on the same piece of equipment while I swam a half-mile.  After I showered and changed, he was still sitting there!

I dare you to go into a gym without your phone and ear buds.  You will get more done in half the time.  You’re also more likely to start up a conversation and burn social calories.  (Yeah, that’s a thing.)  I also dare you to ride a bike without staring at the TV.  Talk about feeling the road.  Distractions are just that.  They keep you from doing the work.  If you don’t do the work you won’t get results.  If you want results, stay out of the gym.  

If you do go, here are some ways to make it fun:

Ask the guy wielding two, heavy ropes if you can, “Double Dutch,” with him.
Ask the 6′ 4″ kid shooting hoops if he’ll take your picture. Explain you’re writing a ‘style’ piece for the NBA.
Pretend to get stuck and ask someone to extricate you from the machine.

But WHATEVER you do make it fun. Life is too short to take yourself that seriously.

USE YOUR WORDS!

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OMG!  Hasn’t life been SO much simpler since we reduced words to three letters?  I checked the AQI this morning and decided not to go outside.  Since I don’t take PED’s, I had to do something so headed to the GYM.  (My acronym for Get Yourself Moving)

FYI, more people stare at their phones there than exercise.  So, while they’re texting LOL’s to their BFF’s, I wait and fume.  Finally I say, “Hey.  I’m getting OBM.  Can I work in with you before I GOP?”  A guy wearing a JDI shirt is sprawled in the middle of the mat doing nothing.  I ask if he would mind moving over.  He doesn’t budge.  RUS?  I say, “Don’t wear a JDI shirt if you’re not gonna DI.” 

I head to my car and pass a woman and her mom having coffee at an outside table.  The mom stares at her phone and says, “Honey, what does EMF mean?”  (Had she not told her, I’d have had to look it up). TMI? In the car, I turn the radio on.  WTF is up with all the commercials?  If you have a UTI, STD, PTSD, BPD, ED or OCD, you’re in luck.  There’s a drug for you.  If you just wanna listen to music, however, you’re SOL!   

Back in the day, cops put out APB’s if you were wanted. You were DOA at the morgue and SOS meant ‘Help!’  Now?  We’re living in a 3-letter world.  OIC.  Don’t believe me?  Consider this:  Ariana Grande’s last song was ‘POV’ and 60 Minutes just did a whole segment on NFT’s.  

FTR, I had lunch today with an older friend who doesn’t own a computer or cell phone.  As she struggled to recall where the Red Sea was, I opened my phone.

“Hey Siri?”  I ask.  “Where is the Red Sea?” 

“It is an inlet of the Indian Ocean between Africa and Asia.”

“Isn’t that cool?” I brag.  She looks askance.

“I could’ve looked it up.  Imagine all the other things I might have noticed along the way.”

Branson and Bezos just zoomed into space; a zillion dollars for 10 minutes of free fall but what did they see ‘along the way?’ Do we really need to spend that kind of money to “realize just how small we are and how fragile Earth is?”  DTS. We’re on the expressway of knowledge but everything is flying by.  Nothing is sticking.  Initialism has become our self expression.

Recently, I helped look after the adorable fellows pictured above.  Oh, how I loved listening to them use their words!  Every syllable was a symphony to my ears.  When the littlest dropped his toy and I said, “Uh, Oh.” He replied: “It happens.” Honestly?  Isn’t life short enough without shortening it even more?  IDK.  I’m thinking of adding all the letters back in. It might just prolong my life.

CHEAT SHEET FOR THE CHALLENGED

OMG: Oh My God

AQI: Air Quality Index

PED: Performance Enhancing Drugs

FYI: For Your Information

LOL: Laugh Out Loud

BFF: Best Friends Forever

OBM: Older By the Minute

GOP: Go Out to Pasture

JDI: Just Do It

RUS: Are You Serious

EMF: Enjoy Mother F…..

TMI: Too Much Information

SOL: S… Out of Luck

FTR: For The Record

OIC: Oh I See

POV: Point Of View

NFT: Non Fungible Tokens

DTS: Don’t Think So

IDK: I Don’t Know

ALL IN

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“Nothing in life is to be feared, it is only to be understood. Now is the time to understand more so that we may fear less.” Marie Curie (1867-1934)

sky n football

10 years ago, I was so terrified of dogs that I rarely visited friends who had them. Then this little one came home. Skylar weighed less than a pound. She’d been taken from her mother too soon so I had to feed her with a dropper around the clock. We had high hopes that she would be a companion for our children who begged us to get her. Within a few weeks, however, she became my sole responsibility.

Having never owned a dog, I didn’t relish the task. My ignorance was boundless but she was patient with me. The first time I took her for a walk, I put an old cat leash around her neck and almost strangled her. When I dropped a sock out of the laundry basket and she brought it back to me, I thought she had super powers. “Look what my puppy did!” I bragged on Facebook. “It’s called fetch,” my friends replied. Apparently every dog could do it.

Skylar watched my hair turn from brown to gray. She transformed from a rascal who chewed up shoes into an obedient pup who thought sunflower sprouts were a treat. She was there through high school then college graduations, followed us into three, different homes in three, different states and hovered at my side through two, major surgeries. She made me laugh over little things like the face she always made when I brushed her teeth. When I played the piano, she howled along as if we were in it together and we were. At night, if I tossed and turned then sighed, astonishingly, she did the same. Yes, she barked at most everything from falling leaves to FedEx trucks. However, after she alerted me to a midnight prowler, I came to respect her every growl.

I often marvel how I ever managed to live so long before finding such a grand companion. Few humans are as unabashed in both their affections and distresses. Skylar was ALL IN for everything and everyone was a potential friend. For several thousand days, I have held her close against my heart and then, last week, as she took her final breath. The house is pin drop quiet now. Our long running conversation has ended but I will never forget how wonderful it was to have.

 

 

 

STOP….LOOK…LOOK AGAIN

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stop

 On my walk today, I happened upon this sight. It seems a perfect metaphor to our present situation. We’ve been stopped where we are but as we pause, let’s notice the beauty around us. Life will never return to the way it was before. Ultimately that may prove to be a good thing.

 I’m not just referring to the fact that crime has gone down world wide or that the bear population in Yosemite has quadrupled. It’s wonderful that residents in Punjab, India can finally see the Himalayas again after 30 years of obscurity behind air pollution. My real hope for our new future comes from the transformative way my neighbors, fellow citizens, scientists and world leaders have embraced this crisis and are carrying on.

 Health care workers are on the job despite lack of proper equipment and inordinate stress. Scientists are working globally on vaccines and cures. Educators have moved their teaching programs online. Our goods and services are being delivered and everyone is taking disinfection seriously. No longer will my guests roll their eyes when I ask them to take their shoes off at the door. All this creative restructuring may be our salvation.  

 Consider the future of a visit to the doctor. Last week, I ‘saw’ mine on my telephone from the privacy of my bedroom. He called me at the exact agreed on time and I had his undivided attention. After examining me via my handheld iPhone, he sent a prescription to my pharmacy, which was delivered to my mailbox.

 Imagine education if online schooling becomes the norm. Our over-priced colleges may well have to rethink their usefulness. Will students really want to suffer the enormities of overwhelming debt when they can get the same degrees for a fraction of the cost? Might congressmen stay in the districts they represent instead of commuting to Washington?  Can we foresee a time when we value our farmers more than our politicians?

 Although we are now wary of our neighbors we also realize just how much we need them. Experts warn that the coming recession will pale against the impending wave of depression and mental health issues that are likely to follow. As unemployment soars, so will the divorce rate. Maybe that’s a good thing. This has forced us to truly examine those we’ve chosen to share our lives with. Kindness will be king, (along with cleanliness of course). The loss of any life is hard.  The losses now are brutal and devastating.  For now, let’s just put one foot in front of the other and look for beauty anywhere we can find it.        

 

 

 

 

PEACE OUT!!

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PEACE OUT

As someone who’s often made her living entertaining others, this isolationism has been torturous. Yesterday, while standing outside Trader Joe’s in a long line, loud music began pumping in the parking lot. Prince’s, “When Doves Cry” came on and I instinctively began to dance. Now, this is not unusual behavior for me but simply how I’m wired. Even in the dentist’s chair if a song with a good beat comes on, I cannot sit still. (I imagine it’s why I was always on a first name basis with my school principals).

 As I grooved to the music, I became aware that both the person in front of and behind me were visibly wincing. Although they were each six feet away, they acted as though I might somehow splash the virus on them with my outstretched arms. So, I abruptly stopped. Moments later, a van unloaded several people in the parking lot. They looked around at all of us as if trying to decide what was going on. “Don’t worry,” I called out. “You’re in the right place. This IS the audition line for the Rockettes!” Finally. . . laughter.

 Ours is an unprecedented time. We haven’t quite figured out how to handle this invisible terror that blows through our streets. We are told to stay home and then bombarded on the TV by constantly updated death statistics. How healthy is that? Where are the Lassie re-runs? As I walk in my neighborhood now, other walkers actually cross the street to avoid coming too close to me. If I smile and wave, some respond but a few actually put their heads down and seem to hold their breath.

 I have immense empathy for the young people among us who must shut down their energetic, vibrant lives. At their age, I’d likely be building a backyard trapeze and teaching myself to juggle. Yes, this is a tragic pandemic but we must not lose our joy! Let’s help each other get more creative in finding it and count our blessings.

 Here are some of mine:

 1.  My hearing has improved! I can actually hear a sneeze or cough from about 20 yards away.

2.  My house sparkles—even under the washer & dryer.

3.  If I nap, I don’t feel like I’m missing anything.

In the above picture, please note that I have turned my back to you. This is for your protection.

 

SIGNS I’VE TAKEN TOO MANY PAIN MEDS

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pt

Recently, I had my 2nd knee replaced. Considering I’d done this once before, I thought I knew what to expect. Nope.

  1. The first night in the hospital, I’m given a dinner menu. I’m surprised to even have an appetite and attribute my complete lack of pain to a masterful anesthesiologist. Since I don’t have my glasses, I peruse the colorful pictures with deep intent. I finally settle on a lovely, triangular concoction with a fan of white at the plates’ edge. I pick up the phone, dial room service and calmly ask for, “One, white swan, please.” She asks me to repeat myself. “One, white swan,” I repeat louder, thinking she must be deaf. “Um what number might that be?” she asks sweetly. Turns out it was a club sandwich with a white, folded napkin perched next to it.
  2. The next morning I decide to call a friend. I pick up the TV remote, press the center button and patiently wait for a dial tone, which never comes. Instead, the TV magically goes on! Confused, I push the button again and hold it closer to my ear. The TV goes off and still no dial tone! It slowly dawns on me that perhaps I should use an actual phone.
  3. An hour later, my nurse informs me that they, “need my bed and (I’m) well enough to go home.”   “I’m not budging,”  I say. Several minutes later, another enters and says, “It is hospital policy to discharge a patient if the doctor says it’s OK.” (That’s what I get for pretending to feel better than I do.) “No, I am staying right here,” I say firmly. Finally, a third person enters. Before he can speak, I burst into tears and scream, “I am NOT LEAVING THIS BED!   IF YOU DARE SEND ONE, MORE PERSON IN HERE, I AM CALLING THE NEWSPAPER TO TELL THEM YOU’RE THROWING AN OLD LADY OUT OF THE HOSPITAL LESS THAN 24 HOURS AFTER MAJOR SURGERY!”   “Um, I’m just here to get your vitals,” he says meekly.
  4. Midway through my first week home, I develop debilitating nerve pain so intense it leaves me screaming, sweating and breathless. I up my meds. I am now binge watching a bizarrely, imbecilic TV show, which I find utterly compelling.
  5. At 2 AM, I actually thank God for, “not having a third knee because I could never go through this again.” Then it occurs to me that no one has a third knee.

I toss my meds.

P. S. Above is my Physical Terrorist. There is a reason he has a black eye.