I’m sitting here writing next to my best friend of late. My best friend being a box of Kleenex. My third box, to be exact. Nearly 195 supposedly ultra soft facial tissues have been my constant companion since I contracted Covid 2 1/2 weeks ago.
I guess I’m officially an old lady now since a sure sign is when one stuffs a Kleenex up a sleeve or keeps it within reach in the car. I always wondered why that was. Do old ladies get runny noses more often than young ones? Perhaps. But in my defense, I plan to go back to being Kleenex-free once this awful illness decides to leave my body.
It appears nothing interesting happened this week so I posted this blog from 2018 out of desperation…
I’m driving along, again wondering what I should blog about this week. What can I write that you might want to read? So I thought, I wish something interesting would happen so I don’t resort to posting a previous blog out of desperation. Word of advice:
Recently I’ve undergone some procedures: a bone scan for oldies like me, a pap smear, mammogram…all the fun stuff. So I’m getting my pap when the doctor says, “I see you have osteoporosis.” What? Appears my bone scan showed I’d graduated from soft bones to full-fledged-about-to-crumble-bones.
Oh the joys of being short, small-boned and Caucasian (risk factors for osteoporosis).
Then the next day I had a mammogram even though, as I’m pushing 63, they suggest doing it every 2-3 years. They can suggest all they want; I get one every year.
So a while back, I wrote about my attempt to get in shape and lose the poundage I gained after nearly a year of being sedentary (damn old back). Being a couch potato didn’t suit me much. But when just about every step felt like what I imagine a lightening bolt to the back feels like, the thought of exercising never entered my mind.
And you know what goes along with being a couch potato? You guessed it. Eating, that’s what. During the height of the pandemic, I, like millions of Americans, ate more than my fair share of potatoes.
So with my lack of mobility, those spuds headed directly for my thighs. And stomach. And hips. Pretty much everywhere except my ankles. Those were unscathed, thank you very much. But then I got an epidural for my back, which didn’t help much. Months later I got another and lo and behold, the pain was gone. Strike up the band!
You know those commercials advertising drugs with inventive medical names like Farxiga and Otezla? What about the ones they tout but never actually mention what they’re for? What’s that all about? I suppose they want us to guess.
Okay, I’ll play along. Let’s see…a couple is strolling through a flowering field, hand in hand on a beautiful spring-like day. Is this a pill for allergies? Doubt it or wouldn’t they just say so?
Well, he’s looking at her lovingly. Maybe it’s a drug for erectile dysfunction (like we need more of those). Hmm…but she’s also looking at him with a twinkle in her eye, so perhaps they’re pushing a pill that enhances female arousal (now we’re talkin’). Continue reading →
I’m sitting in my home as I write this and I assume you are as well. Sitting in your own home, that is. Not mine. What?!You’re not? Well then, what the hell are you thinking? Or a better question might be: Are you thinking? Anyway, I’m not here to berate you for completely ignoring every virologists recommendation that we “shelter in place” to limit the spread of the Coronavirus. (Although apparently I just did.)
Are you sheltering in place?
Now don’t get me wrong; I haven’t completely sequestered myself either. Other than visiting the store, which I’ve only done once (because I tend to shop like 5 other people live with me), I’ve left only to tend to some ferals. Can’t exactly let those kitties starve. Therefore, my forays into the theater parking lot, into the field next to Target, and behind the college dumpsters are considered “essential activities.” Life saving stuff, my friends.