or sick comedy. I don’t know which.
One if my many maladies is I have arthritis. It seems to rear it’s ugly head in colder, more humid weather.
Fortunately, I live in a (mostly) dry desert. 😛
I went to the grocery yesterday, and reviewed the over-the-counter preparations. (A through G?)
Most were made of menthol, along with some kind of delivery system – cream, aerosol, etc. I already have some Icy (something) at home. For me, it doesn’t work as advertised, it just burns. 😦
Then I saw this cream made with emu oil. Another preparation which had been recommended to me. Preparation E?
I happily spent the $12 and took the 4 ounce jar home.
Remember TRIOPENIN? From SNL? The pill bottle of pain medication impossible for the elderly person to open, eventually ending in a hammer breaking the bottle?
I thought it was real!
This simple jar with a simple screw-top lid. Instructions state do not use if the safety seal is broken. If I could unscrew the lid, I could verify the seal was intact, or not!
Banging the jar lid on the counter. Pounding the lid with the jar upside down. Submerging the top of the jar in hot water to make it expand. Vice grips and a large ‘C’ clamp.
I began wondering if some teenager superglued the lid shut, as a painful prank?
EVENTUALLY, some combination of the efforts above prevailed, coupled with prying between the jar and the lid with the sharp edge of a Buck-type knife.
THEN, of course, I had to remove the safety seal. No, it had not been molested.
And, I finally got to the emu-oil preparation. Initial trials are moderately successful. We will see about the longer term.
I’m now wondering if ALL the jars are similarly sealed?
not this brand
FTC – I purchased the cream, then had to painfully wrestle with it, just to get it open. That should be enough for you.
Thanks to your generosity! The electronic controller for our lift chair is here, is installed and actually WORKS!
The chair now not only lifts the operator, but can recline fully to horizontal.
This means Judy will have a place to sleep and recover following her shoulder surgery.
She will also be getting an ‘ice jacket’ which is to help with the pain.
We cannot say thank you enough!
But trying, nevertheless.
With my knee being ‘iffy’, and The Horrible Chair, just going downstairs can be a challenge.
And, when my roommate having breathing difficulties and sometimes staying in bed, it’s up to me to be (as my Father would label himself) the chief cook and bottle washer!
That is, take care of the livestock and fetch medicines, water, soda and food for the ‘infirmed’.
I’ve no complaint about so doing – after all, it was my roommate who saved me from possibly having to live on the street with my income decreased and I lost my home.
The ‘problem’ (and this is a joke, folks) is the livestock in question sometimes makes it difficult to do chores. Because, they, too, want attention.
Or just to be in the way!
The first hurdle is (are?) the stairs. I know, not livestock. But just going down them can be painful. And sometimes the kitten (Belle) plays the ‘can I trip him on the stairs’ game. (Does this count as a second hurdle?)
Hurdle Two – the Cage. (In no way resembling Star Trek-TOS episode!) We have taken to giving the livestock the run of the downstairs. We used to pen up the older dogs in the downstairs bath-as a makeshift kennel. And that worked for many years. But, as they have aged (both 16 now), their hearing and vision has diminished. And D.J., especially, gets scared in the dark when he cannot move about freely. This wouldn’t be a problem, except he starts barking. One yelp every eight seconds or so. ALL NIGHT. Or until he finally falls asleep. The yelping resumes when he awakens – even at 0300! Letting them go free gives them enough ambient light to patrol the downstairs and see enough not to bark.
Unless, of course, a stray cat appears in the back yard. No plan is perfect.
(Back to the cage) We have a ‘cage’ kennel we have used for Lola (the puppy-now two, but forever nicknamed as such) which also is just the right size to block the dogs from going upstairs. They are supposed to use the designated paper by the back door, but sometimes they like to sneak to the upper landing. And we don’t like that.
SO, I’ve descended the stairs, and prepare to move The Cage out-of-the-way, when Gracie becomes involved. She likes to sit on top of said cage and add an addition three or four metric tons to it’s weight. HER nickname is BAC – for Big Ass Cat! Plus, she can be kinda snotty if asked to move and might hiss at you!
Gracie aka B.A.C.
Now that we’ve made it down the stairs, and moved the cage, there’s the kitten, again. No, she’s not gone away. If I walk past The Horrible Chair, she will jump up on the seat and demand tribute! Which means flopping over and belly rubs! (the cat, not me) I must admit this is not much of a trial, and rubbing the belly of a purring kitten is quite pleasant. 😛
She can continue with an additional trial, following me incessantly and meowing tiny mews, until I either fill up the water, the food, or change the cat box. She always lets me know. But every time I walk by The Horrible Chair I must pay! 🙂
Okay, okay! I know. Animals are a blessing, and three (or four) interactions with them first thing in the morning is great! (Except for the B.A.C.!)
And four is not twelve. Perhaps I need to rethink this. But The Three or Four Challenges of Hercules just doesn’t have the same ring to it. 😛
I’m disabled. For a number of reasons, including lymphoma. I don’t make much money on disability. I’ve an old, beater car, without working A/C. I rent a room in which to live. I’ve no romantic relationship in my life. I have chronic pain issues. They will never get better.
Sometimes, as above, I whine about these things. The holidays do not help.
But, The Universe usually doesn’t let me sit on the pity pot too long…
Some time back, I reached out to a friend-of-long-ago on Facebook. And, he never responded. Oh, well. He was a college classmate, who became my boss (for a time) then a good friend. And we lost track of each other because of Life.
I was always a little envious of him. In college, he was in good shape, having just left The Marines. He
was handsome. Sparkling blue eyes, a shock of black hair, chiseled jaw and a permanent five-o’clock shadow with a blue/black beard undertone. He kinda resembled the adult cartoon character Archer. And his wife was gor-geous! (Maybe that was the most envious part?)
Well, I finally heard back from him on Facebook!
We all have our ‘stuff’. He is no different.
He’s divorced, and NOT friendly with his ex. (I am with mine.) He, too is on disability, brought about by his military service. He has a type of chronic leukemia. Not necessarily lethal, but in need of regular treatment. (Which he now receives).
And he told me he had been homeless for ELEVEN YEARS!!!
He is now working with other homeless veterans to help them get back on their feet and find places to live.
And to think I was whining earlier…
I hope to update today’s quote, funny and beauty later.
(Things appear to have been resolved. We now take you back to the original blog, which is already in progress…)
as recently posted by The Queen of Snark (in part)
(…) In the wake of the Istanbul bombings, the people in charge of wrapping the world in foam padding are trying to figure out more ways to make us perfectly safe. Apparently this will put a security checkpoint at the edge of the airport grounds to screen you before you get to the security checkpoint inside which will screen you to get on the plane. It’s screeners all the way down!
…and if they move screening back to the airport access road, they set off a truck bomb in the traffic jam rather than a backpack bomb in the terminal.
The reductio ad absurdum of this, of course, is to avoid creating the security bottlenecks that make such target-rich environments by putting a TSA checkpoint outside every front door in America.
(and here’s the money line)
There’s just no practical way to nerf the world.
Yes, my friends, he is still here. Hanging on.
My blogfriend Wirecutter posted the following:
USA – -(Ammoland.com)- Liberty advocate, citizen journalist and self-described “smuggler” Mike Vanderboegh talked about his health, his blog and the principles of the “Three Percent” movement in an exclusive interview with this correspondent, recorded in late May. The audio file, converted to a YouTube video, is presented at the end of this introduction.
The file is a bit rough, and I need to take responsibility for that. I make no pretenses of being a videographer, and had never tried to record a Skype call before, which is how we did the interview. Since that doesn’t have a recording feature, free software was used which did not record video. Due to inexperience and lack of proper equipment, I was getting a reverberation loop or whatever you call it whenever Mike spoke — his voice going into his laptop microphone and then coming back out from his speakers after a fraction-of-a-second lag made the whole interview seem like a wasted effort. Fortunately, my son and his friend have both the software and skills to take the repetition out, so there are only a few instances of garbling. And in this case, it’s the message, not the presentation, that’s significant, and that comes through loud and clear.
Below is the video on youtube. Please share this everywhere. Send it to your friends, share it on facebook, share it on your firearms forums and tell them to start paying serious attention around the 9 minute mark.
Here is a man who is giving (has given?) his life for the American Principles on which he stands. He has traveled the Nation, at great personal expense, to debate issues of civil rights and liberties now largely lost to the American electorate.
My past couple of posts have asked you to take action. One was about letting BIGGOV know we won’t stand for them blocking rights of Social Security recipients. The second was asking you to send a message to the Troops, of thanks, via the USO.
Today, I have a third request. I asked this once before, back in January. Mike Vanderboegh has given so much to the cause of Liberty. Please help his family to deal with the many hits to their finances because of his declining health.
Paypal to email@example.com*
Check, money order, cash, etc. to Mike Vanderboegh, PO Box 926, Pinson, AL 35126.**
Thank you for your kindness.
(And, now for something completely different – as promised)
22 VETERANS COMMIT SUICIDE DAILY
Even ONE of these heroes making this choice is unacceptable! (Day #10 of 22)
It’s a cereal; it’s a board game. A defunct television series.
It also is what it is.
My favorite line from the James Bond books, is ‘M’ (the head of MI-6, Admiral Sir Miles Meservy) telling Bond when he complains about receiving an assignment change, “Things change, 007.”
And that might be one definition of Life. Things changing.
Of course, the best part are the good changes – grand nieces ascending from 6th Grade, and another graduating High School. Others having birthdays. A dear friend’s birthdays and their elder daughter getting her doctorate!
That dear friend (Bob Hall) being unable to be present for his daughter’s doctoral degree.
Daily dealing with issues regarding aging, illness and finances – both my roommate and I.
Friends, relatives and acquaintances becoming severely ill. Some almost certainly in their way out, others hanging-in-there, but…?
And some already gone. More than I ever expected.
Even some leaving voluntarily, but still present. Apparently, friends no longer. 😦
“Things change, Guffaw.”
I haven’t needed a fictional intelligence department head to tell me.
I already know.
Things are as they are.
This just in. Ray Carter passed this morning.
Puts my whining in perspective.
I’ve been ‘disabled’ since I was age 12. Legg Calve’ Perthes disease destroyed the cartilage and bone in my right hip, and was starting to attack my other hip and both knees. After much failed experimentation, ‘they’ were able to stop the advancement. ‘They’ decided the best course of action was to cast me, fusing my right leg at the hip. In 1966.
So my right leg is substantially shorter than my left, and fused at the hip.
I’ve lived my life this way. I’m used to it.
And, anyway, a hip replacement is elective and expensive.
In spite of this (in my youth), I ran, played, jogged, walked, took Kenpo karate, lifted weights…all manner of things!
Sadly, this disability kept me from joining the military or becoming a cop. Childhood dreams dashed.
But, in spite of my limitations, I never felt, well, disabled.
Yes, sometimes ‘it’ got in the way (like needing leg room to drive – straight leg, and all), but it never kept me from most things. I usually avoided wearing ‘Ed Sullivan-the really big shoe’* when I was younger, because I thought it made me look crippled. Which I was.
And I rarely felt sorry for myself. Well, sometimes.
But Life brought the addition of a serious car accident, diabetes and lymphoma, all potentially more lethal.
And Diffuse Type B Cell Lymphoma is listed as the ‘official’ reason for my Social Security Disability Income.
As of age 58.
And I am still here, now approaching age 64. Wearing ‘Ed’ more often.
My roommate J. has been having her own health issues for many years. They needn’t be enumerated here. Surgery pending on some. Suffice it to say we don’t get to gun shows much, anymore. Too much walking.
But she never asked for one of those disabled mirror hangers! I obtained one a while back, and we kept in in her car, as she does most of the driving, her car being in better shape then mine.
She finally remembered to ask her primary care doc for the form to get one! And got hers!
This meant I got to have and use mine for the first time the other day!
It’s official – I’m a gimp!
*Ed Sullivan was an entertainment reporter who hosted a TV variety show, from 1948-1971. He would announce he had a really big show, but pronounced it as shoe – hence the pun.
(My doctor, after examining my head(!)
correction – My EYE doctor, after my eye exam! 🙂 )
Part of my annual medical exam involves a visit to the ophthalmologist. You know, the guy who dilates your pupils to see what he can see.
Being a diabetic, there is always a concern. Diabetes, as it limits proper blood flow, can cause neuropathy (which I have) and even diminished flow to the eyes, which can cause blindness! Even with my ‘good’ blood work numbers.
I don’t like having my pupils dilated, and even more so do not like paying for the privilege. My eye doc does take Medicare (which I am on, due to my being disabled). Of course, every year there is the deductible.
And, it is the beginning of a new year.
So, I’d been putting it off until I could cobble some funds together.
My regular physician – knowing my predilections in this matter – sent a referral to the eye doc, who set up an appointment, and they called me with the date and time.
So there’s no avoidance…
Good news! They take payments! There is no sign of diabetic damage in either eye! AND my prescription hasn’t changed.
Until next year…