For instance …
SAM IS OUT FOR HIS MORNING WALK. It’s 5:15 a.m., pitch black outside, and Sam is walking in the woods at Samuell Farm in south Mesquite.
I’M PLANNING MY BREAKFAST. As soon as Sam gets home I want Nathan’s Original Batter-Dipped Onion Rings with Sweet Baby Ray’s Sweet & Spicy Barbecue Sauce. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and there’s no reason that meal shouldn’t be ONION RINGS!
THERE’S NO BUSINESS LIKE TOE BUSINESS. On Friday morning at 9 a.m. it’s time for your favorite bedridden diabetic coot’s — i.e., yours truly’s — quarterly toe checkup. My podiatrist is a swell young man with a swell assistant. They cut my toenails, use a little whirling Dremel tool to smooth them out, and always flake off a piece of dead skin from my heel to do a biopsy. Before they get started, however, the assistant always asks what was my blood sugar reading this morning, to which I always reply, “Who cares?” (True story.)
FRIDAY IS “BLOOD-LETTING” DAY AROUND HERE. The hospice is sending a phlebotomist to draw my blood at 10 a.m. on Friday morning, and I’m a nervous wreck about it. Nobody’s drawn my blood since I was hospitalized in 2018, and I have no idea why they’re doing this or what they’re looking for. Of course, Sam doesn’t think I should worry … but I worry about everything!
TIME FOR ANOTHER THOROUGH HOUSE-CLEANING. Our sweet little maid will be here Friday at 11 a.m. (she comes ever other week) to mop, sweep, polish, vacuum and dust. She does a fabulous job, which explains why she’s been cleaning Howdygram headquarters every other week for the last 13 years. She’s a treasure.
MY ROUTINE WEEKLY NURSING VISIT. My hospice nurse (either Sharon or Martha) will be here late Friday afternoon to check my vital signs and discuss various health issues with Sam. Sam is a much better source of information than I am … he can tell the nurse about the days when my skin color was “off,” my lips looked blue-ish, my breathing was difficult, my appetite sucked, and so on. If I didn’t have Sam to notice everything, I’d have nothing whatsoever to talk about! In case you’re interested, Sam checked my vital signs a little while ago. My blood pressure was 77/49 (nope, that’s not a typo!) and my oxygen level was 76% … THAT’S A FRIGHTENING “LOW.” There’s not much we can do with the blood pressure numbers, but Sam raised my oxygen concentrator to 9 liters. In a couple of hours he’ll check my oxygen again, and if I can hit at least 90% — which is considered “low normal” — he’ll re-set my concentrator back down to 8 liters. Both of those settings are actually very high if you consider that I was breathing quite comfortably at 3 liters at the beginning of the year. (I’m definitely not doing very well these days.)
I’M PLANNING MY BREAKFAST. As soon as Sam gets home I want Nathan’s Original Batter-Dipped Onion Rings with Sweet Baby Ray’s Sweet & Spicy Barbecue Sauce. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and there’s no reason that meal shouldn’t be ONION RINGS!
THERE’S NO BUSINESS LIKE TOE BUSINESS. On Friday morning at 9 a.m. it’s time for your favorite bedridden diabetic coot’s — i.e., yours truly’s — quarterly toe checkup. My podiatrist is a swell young man with a swell assistant. They cut my toenails, use a little whirling Dremel tool to smooth them out, and always flake off a piece of dead skin from my heel to do a biopsy. Before they get started, however, the assistant always asks what was my blood sugar reading this morning, to which I always reply, “Who cares?” (True story.)
FRIDAY IS “BLOOD-LETTING” DAY AROUND HERE. The hospice is sending a phlebotomist to draw my blood at 10 a.m. on Friday morning, and I’m a nervous wreck about it. Nobody’s drawn my blood since I was hospitalized in 2018, and I have no idea why they’re doing this or what they’re looking for. Of course, Sam doesn’t think I should worry … but I worry about everything!
MY ROUTINE WEEKLY NURSING VISIT. My hospice nurse (either Sharon or Martha) will be here late Friday afternoon to check my vital signs and discuss various health issues with Sam. Sam is a much better source of information than I am … he can tell the nurse about the days when my skin color was “off,” my lips looked blue-ish, my breathing was difficult, my appetite sucked, and so on. If I didn’t have Sam to notice everything, I’d have nothing whatsoever to talk about! In case you’re interested, Sam checked my vital signs a little while ago. My blood pressure was 77/49 (nope, that’s not a typo!) and my oxygen level was 76% … THAT’S A FRIGHTENING “LOW.” There’s not much we can do with the blood pressure numbers, but Sam raised my oxygen concentrator to 9 liters. In a couple of hours he’ll check my oxygen again, and if I can hit at least 90% — which is considered “low normal” — he’ll re-set my concentrator back down to 8 liters. Both of those settings are actually very high if you consider that I was breathing quite comfortably at 3 liters at the beginning of the year. (I’m definitely not doing very well these days.)
Simple Thing • Big Whale • Hello Milky • Backend • Saferick • Mangotea
Milotte • Createland • Leader Kids • Jelly Boots • Sugary Unicorn
Silly Moments • Hello Summer • Nigthwel • British Columbia
Charlotte Amalie • Summer Blaster
Milotte • Createland • Leader Kids • Jelly Boots • Sugary Unicorn
Silly Moments • Hello Summer • Nigthwel • British Columbia
Charlotte Amalie • Summer Blaster
Ah, … Friday at last! It’s 9:25 a.m. and I’m expecting my phone to ring any minute now announcing that the podiatrist* has pulled up in front of the house. Sam has been asleep on the sofa all night — and he’s still there, actually — so I think I’d better wake him up. I don’t want him to be a complete zombie when the doorbell rings.
SUNDAY, 2:45 A.M., 6/28/2020. To tell you the truth, the last 24 hours of my life have been a nightnare. Even though I slept through most of it, the rest of the time was a screaming bedpan pain festival in three (THREE!) episodes … only two of which were actually productive, poop-wise. I can’t even begin to describe the screeching horror of being rolled onto my left side. I swear to God, they could hear me all the way to the Arkansas state line! The pain I’m referring to involves my right leg, my right ankle and my right hip … and it’s excruciating! Quite frankly, I don’t care if you want to hear about it or not. This is my goddamn blog, and I’ll describe my pain any time I feel like it.
Click here for a complete explanation of my Shit-O-Meter numerical rankings.
Life as we know it will never be the same for any of us.
Thank you for reading this. There’s a big storm moving in and I think I’d better shut down my computer (but only after I eat another bag of Nathan’s onion rings).
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