Letters From Heaven Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely, but rather to skid in sideways yelling "YAHOO! What a ride!"
"When I am no longer here and can not comfort you or touch you or wipe away your tears, remember that my soul will gently caress your heart through the soft breezes of springtime."
P. Schultz
It began with a slight irritation, the kind you experience when the tag on your shirt rubs against your neck, except this was just below the waist-line on the upper buttocks.
It progressed to a full-blown rash looking spot about the size of a fist, except this "rash" didn't itch. It was very tender, almost like a bruise. Over the period of a couple of days, it became down right painful.
When the second and third spots appeared, one above the knee on the inner thigh, the other on the shin-bone, I figured it was time to check it out on the old trusty Medical website. What I found came as a surprise!
I had heard of this disease but I had absolutely no clue what it was, where it came from, how it was contracted or what the treatment was. I always thought it was something that old people got, not young'uns like me. But after a visit to my little Korean doctor around the corner (this was Tuesday so I was in luck), it was confirmed ...
Shingles.
However, since I never do anything the normal way I wasn't surprised when, after he looked at the rash (now in four different places), he had a very puzzled look on his face and excused himself for a moment. When he came back into the room, he had his own trusty medical book.
He opened it to a page with a diagram of the human body and all of the nerve tracts; he touched one of the rash areas, looked back at the book and then followed what should have been a nerve tract; he then did the same thing with another rash area.
When he shook his head and said something like "Hmmm, very interesting" and my response was "What??" he explained that normally (key word here), shingles follows a single nerve tract. My case was following four different nerve tracts.
*sigh* At least the treatment is the same for all four ... a quick shot in the butt and a prescription. The good news is that once you've had shingles, the chance of a recurrence is very slim.
The bad news is that I can't wear a dress to the retirement dinner Friday evening because I have this ugly rash on my left leg!
Dear LFH: I am a day late but i couldn't get into very many blogs yesterday, or this morning for that matter, here is my question. and it is related to herbs, IF to men are having an argument, is it possible for both of them to be wrong?
Dear Jerry: Don't worry about not being able to get into blogs. It seems to be an on-going problem around here. However, if you're late a second time, you will be penalized. Just remember that. Now, as to your question ... as I pointed out to Herb, do you really think a woman has to be present for a man to be wrong? This applies anytime, any place, and matters not how many men are involved. Anytime there is more than one man in the same location at the same time and there is an argument, the rule applies.
Dear LFH: I was just wondering if you were given a choice to own cows...how many would you want and why?
milkshakes and steak, Sharkbait
Dear Sharky: Well, this is quite a thoughtful question. You have to ask yourself though ... does any body really "own" a cow? Are they not individuals? Are they not entitled to the same freedoms as say, chickens? Or cats? Can we ever truly "own" another breathing, living, warm-blooded beast of burden? But to answer your question, I would have to say that given the chance and the choice, you bet'cha I would own cows! I think I would probably want about half a dozen cows. One for milk, one for cheese, one for hamburgers, one for milkshakes, one for steaks and of course, one for short-ribs. Next question.
Okay, I'll bite ... raise your hand if you see this entry!
I realize that BD is having some issues with servers.
I realize that computers are extremely touchy.
I realize that SISO is not the computer's fault.
But ... damn! I'm getting very bored with re-reading the same entries over and over and over. Not that I do that (actually read them over and over and over).
I suppose I needed a break from blogging any way. And this week has turned into a good time to take that break.
Steph is better but is still coughing her lungs out (I expect any day to find body parts somewhere between her room and the kitchen);
Mike (Tom's boss) passed away Saturday evening (we knew it wouldn't be long after he quit going in to the office). The services are tomorrow afternoon;
We have a retirement dinner/roast to go to Friday evening;
Saturday is Tom's granddaughter's first birthday party;
Steph and I have a ton of shopping to get done as soon as she's well enough to venture out ... she's not going home until we have some fun ... and we're not going to have fun until she's well. I figure she may be here for Thanksgiving.
Which means she may very well be here when Michelle and my grandbabies visit at the end of the month (if they figure out when and how they're getting here ... since my dear son-in-law does not fly)!
So that's my update as of right now. I'll check back in soon. And for those of you who left questions for the mailbag, rest assured.
Well, sister-friend Stephanie finally made it to Texas Tuesday evening after a long, tiring drive from California and only one speeding ticket.
Obviously she was pretty exhausted so it was a very early evening. She was also sick. She was sick when she left Maine for California but said she was getting better and then caught "it" again from the grandkids.
I gave her no choice. I told her she was going to the doctor first thing yesterday morning. I told her I'd take her to my little Korean guy right down the street. Which is where we headed around 12:30 yesterday afternoon.
He closes at noon on Wednesday. Did I know that? Of course not ... I don't get sick on Wednesdays. So, we headed out to find another PrimeCare-CareOne-WalkIn-Clinic-type place and after driving around for an hour, finally found one (between closing early on Wednesdays and being closed permanently, it turned into more of a chore than we imagined!)
Three hours later, watching four patients come and go aftershe went in, I finally went to the counter and asked if they had lost her. It was the only smile I saw from the receptionist the entire time ... and then it was more of a small smirk.
"She'll be out in a few minutes," was the reply I received.
"Great. I know how you guys tell time ... I'll be outside in my car thawing out. You must be hanging sides of beef in the other room, as cold as it is in here." The smile-smirk disappeared.
Anyway, the "it" that Stephanie supposedly caught from the grandkids turned out to be pneumonia. She was, according to the doctor, about two days away from being hospitalized. Instead, she got a shot in the butt and two prescriptions.
Not real sure just what this is going to do to our girls night out but I can guarantee one thing ... I'm sticking to my little Korean guy around the corner. Not only is his office much more comfortable, he smiles.
I have alway had an extremely high tolerance for drugs. Some people can take one or two Advil and it knocks them out (Tom); Give them half a Tylenol PM and they're gone for at least eight hours (Tom); A Vicodin will erase a entire day (Tom); And just sniffing the bottle that held Ambien will be enough for those butterflies to flutter about (Tom).
When I had dental surgery years ago, the surgeon didn't want to take that last minute chance that I wouldn't be knocked out so we "experimented" with a few different drugs in the weeks prior to the surgery. I already knew from an "experiment" in high school that Seconal made me sicker than a dog so we crossed that off the list right away.
First we tried Valium. It did nothing. Next came Xanax. Nada. Ativan ... nope.
Finally, we tried Halcion. The instructions were to begin with half a tablet, wait thirty minutes and if nothing happened, take the other half. At this point, I should be in la-la land but in case I wasn't, I was to wait another thirty minutes and repeat those steps until I was.
Saturday afternoon. I took the first half. And waited. Took the second half. And waited. Repeated the process. And waited. After the third full round, I remember thinking "this is ridiculous" and walking into the living room to make some phone calls.
That's all I remember until the next morning when I called the surgeon and said "I think we have a winner!" When he asked how many I had to take and I told him, he was amazed. He told me that one whole tablet would have knocked out a full grown man. Two would have put an NFL linebacker out of the game. Three ... well, I seemed to have the constitution of a horse!
I don't remember the surgery later that week, but apparently I had a great time. I was insistent that I needed no help walking up the stairs even though my feet were no longer connected to my brain. In the middle of the procedure I insisted that I had to use the bathroom (which was outside the office and down the hall). I jumped up out of the chair, strolled through the waiting area, blood and saliva dripping down my chin, cheerfully greeted the waiting patients, and whistled my way down the hall.
Since I haven't had a full nights sleep in so long, I've been wondering if Halcion is still on the market. But after taking half a Vicodin last night for a headache and sleeping almost all night, maybe I should forget it.
I have a feeling my tolerance level might have dropped a bit. From what I (don't) remember though, that Halcion was a lot more fun!
I am so glad that sister-friend Stephanie is going to be here soon. At least she is supposed to be here ... I heard from her Saturday evening and she was in Blythe (for those who haven't heard of Blythe, it's considered the armpit of California. At least to those who don't actually live there. And then again, they may feel that way too).
Anyway, I did not hear from her last night so I have absolutely no idea just where she is today. I'm hoping it's somewhere between Blythe and here.
She doesn't know it yet but at some point during her visit, we're going to get together with Jules. I'm guessing this get-together may be a real fun-filled, possibly dangerous experience (not in the bodily-harm-dangerous-sense, but more of the boy-am-I-in-trouble-dangerous-sense ... anybody who reads Jules on a regular basis will understand).
And since I don't drink, or at least not to the extent that I once did, and I have a guy who will be waiting at home who doesn't drink at all (that's right, we are not inviting him to join us), remembering the evening will be a definite plus.
I have a sneaky suspicion that between Stephanie and Jules, I should have several days worth of entries. Not to mention sore jaws from the laughter.
Any one out there who is close by and would like to join us, feel free to email me for the details.
Dear LFH: What side of the bed do you sleep on? (If I'm standing at the foot looking at you.) :P
Dear Miss Deirdre: First of all, if you're standing at the foot of my bed looking at me, one of us is in big trouble! Aside from that, I attempt to sleep in the middle. However, I am usually out-voted by a man-person, a 50-pound dog and a 13-pound cat. In which case, I generally end up on the floor. On the left side.
Dear LFH: I saw this on Tammy's...I'll ask you a different question tho...um...if you could be any animal in the world what would you be and why?
Dear Harmonia: Well ... nothing like cheating, huh? Okay, so I stole the idea from Tammy and you stole the question I asked Tammy! I suppose turnabout is fair play. I personally would be a cat. But not just any cat, mind you. I would be Stephanie's cat. Her cats are allowed to do anything! Trust me on this one. I know from personal experience.
Sincerely, LFH ****** Abby from FunnyGirl2 wants to know:
Dear LFH: Here's something I've been wondering lately: Should I have that mole on my nose removed? Oh, sorry, just talking to myself there for a minute. Here's a question for you: If your house were on fire, and you had to leave in a jiffy, what would you grab on your way out?
Dear Abby: Absolutely! Get rid of the mole! It's very distracting, not to mention that I've heard it plays havoc with your love life. But that's another story. Now as to your second question (which by the way, I'm letting you get away with this time only because you didn't know this was limited to one question per person), the very first thing I would grab on my way out is my own ass! After that, I'd have to say probably the other animals.
Sincerely, LFH ****** From Herb over at Herb's Place comes the following:
Dear LFH: If a man speaks in the forest and there isn't a woman around to hear him, is he still wrong?
Dear Herb: Well, there's no doubt this question came from a man. There's also no doubt that the answer is Of Course! There's no need for a woman to be present for a man to be wrong! Next question?
Sincerely, LFH ****** Miss Cellania over at Miss Cellania's Place always comes up with the technical stuff:
Dear LFH: What is the air speed velocity of an unladen swallow?
Dear Miss Cellania: Pretty much the same velocity as a laden sparrow. Unless of course, there's a jet engine in it's way. Then it pretty much just becomes a bunch of feathers. Which has a zero velocity.
Dear LFH: If you could take back 1 thing in your life that you've done, what would it be?
Dear "Name": Easy one! I would take back the trade I made last week on my fantasy football waivers. Stupid move! I traded my Kansas City Defense for St. Louis ... and what happens? Kansas City shuts out the 49ers, while St. Louis gets their butts kicked! It almost cost me the game but fortunately, my ...
Oh, did you want something serious? Wow! Um. Hmmmm. Well. Uh. Yeah. Lemme think. *sigh* Can I get back to you on this one?
I decided to steal this from Tammy since I'm tired of trying to think of something to write and I'm really tired of bitching about stuff (as I'm sure you are tired of hearing me try to think and bitch).
So, here's the deal ... Ask me a question. Any question. It can be personal, curiousity, something in general or even totally out there. Whatever you want to ask. And I'll try to answer it to the best of my ability.
Mark Foley claims he was molested as a teenager. So what does he do? He becomes a U.S. representative and sends "lurid" emails to young boys, supposedly while he was drinking.
Charles Carl Roberts was despondent over the death of his premature baby nine years ago. So what does he do? He walks into a school room and executes five young girls and then kills himself.
Now, I'm sorry people, but I don't care what trauma you've been through in your life. You still make your own choices. And blaming something from your past does not justify this type of behavior.
Jesus H. Christ! If every person who had a traumatic childhood went out and killed someone or became a child predator or a child molester or mother killer or father raper, can you imagine what would happen to our society?
By that justification alone, I should be able to rob banks, kick dogs and little children, run over pedestrians who take too long to cross the street, shoot my next door neighbor and expect to be forgiven by all ... because I didn't have a wonderful childhood.
I just have no patience or understanding of this way of thinking. Nor do I feel sorry for those who claim they are oppressed, they have no chance, they are forced into a life of crime and violence. Get real!
How much more do you want? Nothing in this life is going to be handed to you, no matter what you think your deserve. You're given many more opportunities than the average American female. It's all in what youdo with those opportunities. Look around. Others have made it. Get off your lazy butt and do something for yourself!
