I’ve got a long list of physical complaints and life-threatening hoo-hahs.

Hello. It’s a quiet January afternoon, I just finished a bath and hygiene session with my hospice C.N.A., and I’m feeling fresh and peaceful even though most of the time my life is fraught with health-related chaos.

I think Wal-Mart and Costco were ransacked over the holidays.

So. It’s late Thursday night, Sam is napping, and I’m lying here like a slug trying to decide what I want to eat whenever Sam wakes up because I’m really, really hungry. (Correction: I’m really, really STARVING.) Tonight my bedtime snack possibilities include: 1) a can of baked beans; 2) Jif peanut butter and a plastic spoon; 3) two sugar-free almond cookies with milk; and 4) Great Value chicken noodle soup with a bag of Miracle Rice. This afternoon I received a six-pack of Miracle Rice — a zero-carb, 10-calorie rice replacement — that I ordered from Amazon a couple of days ago. I love this shit!

I won’t live until the end of 2020. It just isn’t possible.

Good afternoon, boys and girls … and happy New Year’s Eve! It’s 6:30 p.m., I’m watching the Thin Man movie marathon on TCM and Sam is asleep on the sofa. I’ll try to be brief about my health complaints today. They include: 1) my knees are killing me and I’m stiff as a board; 2) my taste buds are completely destroyed, which means everything tastes like wallpaper paste; and 3) I can’t think of anything else right now so I’ll just post the following graphic …

I’m having those burning bladder spasms again, every time I pee.

Good morning. It’s Monday, 4:28 a.m., and I just finished (at last!) taking all of my bedtime medications. Sometimes I can really get off-schedule. I take a million prescriptions every day, and unless I’m completely prepared to swallow a large volume of pills I tend to put it off. (Like right now, for instance.)

Ooh! Zazzle is having another half-price sale on greeting cards.

I woke up today at 4:30 p.m. — after an 11-hour nap! — shrieking for Sam to bring me a cane even though I haven’t been able to stand up since May 2018. That’s mighty damn weird, right?

I swear to God, even my HAIR hurts.

Lordy, lordy … it was the week from hell around here. I can’t even begin to describe it, but I’ll give it my best shot because that’s probably why you’re here, right?

Sam went pie-shopping today. He was a man with a mission.

Hello, people! It’s 11 p.m. Thanksgiving night, and our stomachs are hung by the chimney with care. Wait … wrong holiday. I’m confused. The problem is, Sam and I didn’t see hide nor hair of a turkey today … nor stuffing, nor gravy, nor lumpy mashed potatoes, nor cranberry sauce, nor pie of any kind whatsoever. We didn’t see hide nor hair of ANYTHING today … although Sam had a breakfast burrito for lunch and I ate a small plate of leftover chicken egg foo young around 4 p.m.

Tonight Sam had to yank out my catheter again.

Hi. I’m squinting at the clock (it’s about 12:45 Monday afternoon) and I just woke up. While I take my breakfast meds — a fistful of pills that includes Gabapentin, two Hydrocodones, Metoprolol and three Lasix tablets — with a strawberry meal replacement shake for elderly diabetics, I would like to include some prose, with a more serious turn, that I failed to add to my most recent Howdygram post due to being sidetracked by Errol Flynn movies at the last minute. (That’s one of the longest, and most awkward, sentences I’ve ever written.)

Sam is considering a new career specializing in catheter removal.

It’s been a whole week since my last stab at a Howdygram post. Seven days. And if you’re wondering why, it’s because I’m recovering from another “decline” … my third decline since August. Therefore I’d like to take a couple of minutes to discuss this with you, okay?

We survived our wild and stormy night, as evidenced by the fact that I’m still typing.

SUNDAY, 10/20/2019, 11:10 P.M. Hey. Thought I’d start a quick post tonight so you’ll know that Sam and I are all right. A couple of hours ago there was a SUBSTANTIAL TORNADO here in the Dallas metro area! The twister developed at Love Field (the smaller of Dallas’ two airports) and traveled for 17 miles east and slightly north, heading straight for Mesquite … the location of Howdygram headquarters. According to a news report on NBC.com, there’s been a lot of structural damage to commercial and residental buildings, downed electrical lines, injuries from flying debris and broken glass, and a large area of the city is currently without power

A senior citizen food review and fabulous free fonts valued at $710.

Good morning, boys and girls. It’s a few minutes south of 2 a.m., Sam is in bed, and I’m enjoying a little quiet time with the Howdygram and iced tea. My sleep schedule has been a little whacked-out this week so I’m hoping I’ll be able to conk out for a few hours before sun-up. We’re expecting lots of commotion around here today, for instance: 1) a 10 a.m. visit from our maid; 2) my hospice C.N.A., Beauty, at 1 p.m. for a bathing and hygiene session; and 3) Sharon, my hospice L.V.N., for a routine checkup between 1 and 2 p.m.

Please hold a good thought for Sam. I think he’s getting sick.

Hi-de-ho, everybody. It’s 9:25 p.m. Wednesday night — the shank of evening! — but Sam is already in bed. How come? He doesn’t feel well! He was sniffling and coughing today and said he felt unusually tired, so about half an hour ago he decided to toddle off to bed for some uninterrupted sleep. I’m fine out here in the family room. I’ve got a big glass of pink lemonade and a burst of creative energy to work on the Howdygram. All’s well, but please hold a good thought for Sam. I don’t want my caregiver to get sick!

Introducing The Applesauce Diaries.

SUNDAY, 2:59 A.M., 10/13/2019. Good morning, y’all. I’m trying to wind down after the night from hell. Indigestion again! My stomach started churning last night around 7:30 but none of the usual remedies worked for me. These included all of the following …