I have come to the conclusion that I am the only one who reads this blog. That's OK. If nobody is reading, I can rant, rave, scream to the page, and I will be the only one who knows I sound like a lunatic. And I suppose lunacy is best kept private. Other people might find it disturbing.
BE WARNED.
IF YOU'RE A MEMBER OF THE MEDICAL COMMUNITY, THE FOLLOWING WILL MOST CERTAINLY OFFEND YOU. DEAL WITH IT.
Paid bills today. Right now I owe the hospital about $3,000 for a brain surgery (technically, pituitary surgery), radiation and a slew of chemicals that didn't work. I think I shall call the billing department Tuesday and ask them to put me on the life insurance plan. By that I mean, since they didn't come close to curing me, they can leave me alone until I die a slow and progressively painful death and my husband will pay them with the life insurance he collects.
Does it make sense to anyone out there that we have to pay for services that didn't work? If I take my car to a mechanic, and pay him for a service that falls apart, he has to take the car back and do it right because I've already paid him for the service. If a lawn service tears up your yard, do you pay them? So why are hospitals and doctors any different? OH, NOW I remember, they call it PRACTICING (she said, slapping her surgically invaded forehead). I guess it really doesn't matter whether or not they get it right. They get paid ANYWAY!
My hospital even has the nerve to call itself "non-profit." Right. They just spent at least six months redesigning and resurfacing and re-everythinging a damn parking lot. They couldn't even get THAT right the first time.
(Actually, I don't think there was anything wrong with the parking lot, but "non-profits" can't show a profit, so they have to spend it on something, right?)
Now, they're having such fun collecting from me and my insurance company, they want to send me to ANOTHER hospital that they think can help me. They should have told me in the beginning, "We don't deal with this disease often enough to be effective. We think you should go somewhere that is better equipped to handle this case." But no. They sucked up all the resources I have, and NOW they want me to go to either Mayo or Vanderbilt University. Hell, there's room enough for everybody on this gravy train, right?
Wrong. I can't afford the bills I have now, and I don't intend to pile more onto my debt load to pay more medical professionals who may or may not be able to find their asses with both hands. While insurance may cover the medical stuff (as long as the insurance company considers it "reasonable and customary,") it will not cover the cost of getting there, or the cost of a motel room for my husband for GOD knows how long while a bunch of doctors and med students stand around scratching their heads. Oh, and when the insurance company pays the amount that it does consider reasonable and customary, I'M responsible for any amount over that, but you don't know what's reasonable and customary until you get your EOB from the insurance company and the bill from the hospital/doctor/lab/insert your own health service provider here. Now, if my insurance company pays what's reasonable and customary, why am I charged for what's unreasonable and not customary?
What a racket.
I think next time I see a doctor, I'll just sit on the table, tell them to stick a toothpick in my belly button, and if it comes out clean, I'm done.
Sunday, May 29, 2005
Sunday, May 22, 2005
The Jackass
Occasionally friends send me funny emails, and if I like them enough, I save them. This one is long, but it still makes me laugh. Enjoy.
This is for all of you who occasionally have a really bad day, and you just need to take it out on someone! Don't take that bad day out on someone you know, take it out on someone you don't know!
Now get this. I was sitting at my desk, when I remembered a phone call I had to make. I found the number and dialed it. A man answered nicely saying, "Hello?"
I politely said, "This is J.D. Johnson, could I please speak to Melissa Lewis?"
Suddenly the phone was slammed down on me! I couldn't believe that anyone could be that rude. I tracked down Melissa's correct number and called her. She had transposed the last two digits incorrectly. After I hung up with Melissa, I spotted the wrong number still lying there on my desk, 555-8863. I decided to call it again. When the same person once more answered, I yelled "You're a jackass!" and hung up. Next to his phone number I wrote the word "jackass," and put it in my desk drawer.
Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills, or had a really bad day, I’d call him up. He'd answer, and I’d yell, "You're a jackass!" It would always cheer me up. Later in the year the phone company introduced caller ID. This was a real disappointment for me; I would have to stop calling the jackass.
Then one day I had an idea. I dialed his number, then heard his voice, "Hello." I made up a name. "Hi. This is the sales office of the telephone company and I'm just calling to see if you're familiar with our caller ID program?" He went, "No!" and slammed the phone down.
I quickly called him back and said, "That's because you're a jackass!"
A few weeks later, I was waiting to park at the mall and an elderly lady took her time pulling out of the parking space. I didn't think she was ever going to leave. Finally, her car began to move and she started to very slowly back out of the slot. I backed up a little more to give her plenty of room to pull out. "Great," I thought, "she's finally leaving." All of a sudden this black Camaro comes flying up the parking aisle in the wrong direction and pulls into her space. I started honking my horn and yelling, "You can’t just do that, Buddy. I was here first!" The guy got out of his Camaro completely ignoring me. He walked toward the mall as if he didn't even hear me. I thought to myself, “This guy’s a jackass.” There are sure a lot of jackasses in the world.
Then I noticed he had a "For Sale" sign in the back window of his car. I wrote down the number and I hunted for another place to park. A couple of days later, I'm at home sitting at my desk. I had just gotten off the phone after calling 555-8863 and yelling, "You're jackass!" (It’s really easy to call him now since I have his number on speed dial.) I noticed the phone number of the guy with the black Camaro lying on my desk and thought I better call this guy too. He answered the phone and said, "Hello."
I said, "Is this the man with the black Camaro for sale?"
"Yes, it is."
"Can you tell me where I can see it?"
"Yes, I live at 1802 West 34th street. It’s a yellow house and the car is parked
right out front."
I said, "What's your name?"
"My name is Don Hansen."
"When's a good time to catch you, Don?"
"I'm home in the evenings."
"Listen Don, can I tell you something?"
"Yes."
"Don, you're a jackass!" And I slammed the phone down.
After I hung up, I added Don Hansen's number to my speed dialer. For a while, things seemed to be going better for me. Now when I had a problem I had two jackasses to call. Then, after a while of calling the jackasses and hanging up on them, it just wasn't as enjoyable as it used to be.
I gave the problem some serious thought and came up with a solution: First, I had my phone dial Jackass #1. The man answered nicely saying, "Hello." I yelled "You're a jackass!", but I didn't hang up.
The jackass said, "Are you still there?"
I said, "Yeah."
He said, "Stop calling me."
I said, "No."
He said, "What's your name, pal?"
I said, "Don Hansen."
He said "Where do you live?"
"1802 West 34th Street. Its a yellow house and my black Camaro's parked out front."
"I'm coming over right now, Don. You'd better start saying your prayers."
"Yeah, like I'm really scared, Jackass!" and I hung up.
Then I called Jackass #2. He answered, "Hello." I said, "Hello, Jackass!"
He said, "If I ever find out who you are..."
"You'll what?"
"I’ll kick your ass."
"Well, here’s your chance. I'm coming right over, Jackass!" And I hung up. Then I picked up the phone and called the police. I told them I was at 1802 West 34th Street and that I was going to kill my gay lover as soon as he got home.
Another quick call to Channel 13 about the gang war going down on West 34th Street. After that I climbed into my car and headed over to West 34th Street to watch the whole thing. Glorious! I got to watch two jackasses beat the crap out of each other in front of six squad cars, a police helicopter, and a television news crew!
This is for all of you who occasionally have a really bad day, and you just need to take it out on someone! Don't take that bad day out on someone you know, take it out on someone you don't know!
Now get this. I was sitting at my desk, when I remembered a phone call I had to make. I found the number and dialed it. A man answered nicely saying, "Hello?"
I politely said, "This is J.D. Johnson, could I please speak to Melissa Lewis?"
Suddenly the phone was slammed down on me! I couldn't believe that anyone could be that rude. I tracked down Melissa's correct number and called her. She had transposed the last two digits incorrectly. After I hung up with Melissa, I spotted the wrong number still lying there on my desk, 555-8863. I decided to call it again. When the same person once more answered, I yelled "You're a jackass!" and hung up. Next to his phone number I wrote the word "jackass," and put it in my desk drawer.
Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills, or had a really bad day, I’d call him up. He'd answer, and I’d yell, "You're a jackass!" It would always cheer me up. Later in the year the phone company introduced caller ID. This was a real disappointment for me; I would have to stop calling the jackass.
Then one day I had an idea. I dialed his number, then heard his voice, "Hello." I made up a name. "Hi. This is the sales office of the telephone company and I'm just calling to see if you're familiar with our caller ID program?" He went, "No!" and slammed the phone down.
I quickly called him back and said, "That's because you're a jackass!"
A few weeks later, I was waiting to park at the mall and an elderly lady took her time pulling out of the parking space. I didn't think she was ever going to leave. Finally, her car began to move and she started to very slowly back out of the slot. I backed up a little more to give her plenty of room to pull out. "Great," I thought, "she's finally leaving." All of a sudden this black Camaro comes flying up the parking aisle in the wrong direction and pulls into her space. I started honking my horn and yelling, "You can’t just do that, Buddy. I was here first!" The guy got out of his Camaro completely ignoring me. He walked toward the mall as if he didn't even hear me. I thought to myself, “This guy’s a jackass.” There are sure a lot of jackasses in the world.
Then I noticed he had a "For Sale" sign in the back window of his car. I wrote down the number and I hunted for another place to park. A couple of days later, I'm at home sitting at my desk. I had just gotten off the phone after calling 555-8863 and yelling, "You're jackass!" (It’s really easy to call him now since I have his number on speed dial.) I noticed the phone number of the guy with the black Camaro lying on my desk and thought I better call this guy too. He answered the phone and said, "Hello."
I said, "Is this the man with the black Camaro for sale?"
"Yes, it is."
"Can you tell me where I can see it?"
"Yes, I live at 1802 West 34th street. It’s a yellow house and the car is parked
right out front."
I said, "What's your name?"
"My name is Don Hansen."
"When's a good time to catch you, Don?"
"I'm home in the evenings."
"Listen Don, can I tell you something?"
"Yes."
"Don, you're a jackass!" And I slammed the phone down.
After I hung up, I added Don Hansen's number to my speed dialer. For a while, things seemed to be going better for me. Now when I had a problem I had two jackasses to call. Then, after a while of calling the jackasses and hanging up on them, it just wasn't as enjoyable as it used to be.
I gave the problem some serious thought and came up with a solution: First, I had my phone dial Jackass #1. The man answered nicely saying, "Hello." I yelled "You're a jackass!", but I didn't hang up.
The jackass said, "Are you still there?"
I said, "Yeah."
He said, "Stop calling me."
I said, "No."
He said, "What's your name, pal?"
I said, "Don Hansen."
He said "Where do you live?"
"1802 West 34th Street. Its a yellow house and my black Camaro's parked out front."
"I'm coming over right now, Don. You'd better start saying your prayers."
"Yeah, like I'm really scared, Jackass!" and I hung up.
Then I called Jackass #2. He answered, "Hello." I said, "Hello, Jackass!"
He said, "If I ever find out who you are..."
"You'll what?"
"I’ll kick your ass."
"Well, here’s your chance. I'm coming right over, Jackass!" And I hung up. Then I picked up the phone and called the police. I told them I was at 1802 West 34th Street and that I was going to kill my gay lover as soon as he got home.
Another quick call to Channel 13 about the gang war going down on West 34th Street. After that I climbed into my car and headed over to West 34th Street to watch the whole thing. Glorious! I got to watch two jackasses beat the crap out of each other in front of six squad cars, a police helicopter, and a television news crew!
In Honor of Final Exams
The not necessarily well-prepared student sat in his life science classroom staring at a question on the final exam paper. The question directed: "Give four advantages of breast milk." What to write? He sighed, and began to scribble whatever came into his head, hoping for the best:
1. No need to boil.
2. Cats can't steal it.
3. Available whenever necessary.
So far so good - maybe. But the exam demanded a four-part answer. Again, what to write? Once more, he sighed. He frowned. He scowled, then sighed again. But suddenly, he brightened. He grabbed his pen, and triumphantly, he scribbled
his definitive answer:
4. Available in attractive containers.
1. No need to boil.
2. Cats can't steal it.
3. Available whenever necessary.
So far so good - maybe. But the exam demanded a four-part answer. Again, what to write? Once more, he sighed. He frowned. He scowled, then sighed again. But suddenly, he brightened. He grabbed his pen, and triumphantly, he scribbled
his definitive answer:
4. Available in attractive containers.
Saturday, May 21, 2005
Male or Female Brain?
Your Brain is 53.33% Female, 46.67% Male |
Your brain is a healthy mix of male and female You are both sensitive and savvy Rational and reasonable, you tend to keep level headed But you also tend to wear your heart on your sleeve |
Thursday, May 19, 2005
Can't believe I didn't win
I just can't believe I didn't win Powerball last night. Nobody else did, either, but I spent my dollar, and I really expected to have a $129 million return. (about a $40 million return after taxes). I guess I'll have to settle for a larger jackpot Saturday.
Actually, buying a Powerball ticket, for me, is spending a dollar on a multi-million dollar dream. It is spending a dollar for the opportunity to imagine the possibility (however slim) of never worrying about another bill or partial payment for the rest of my life. Never worrying about a $500 or $1,000 car repair, or any other unexpected expense. The chance to dream about taking care of people who have taken care of me forever.
Of course, while I love to imagine those things, I conveniently do not dream about the problems that must come with having so much money. That part just doesn't figure in to my $1 investment.
For now, since I didn't win, and I have not yet purchased a ticket for the next Powerball drawing, I will limit myself to thinking about how to make these dreams come true with some ingenuity, some hard work, and maybe some entrepreneurial spirit.
Actually, buying a Powerball ticket, for me, is spending a dollar on a multi-million dollar dream. It is spending a dollar for the opportunity to imagine the possibility (however slim) of never worrying about another bill or partial payment for the rest of my life. Never worrying about a $500 or $1,000 car repair, or any other unexpected expense. The chance to dream about taking care of people who have taken care of me forever.
Of course, while I love to imagine those things, I conveniently do not dream about the problems that must come with having so much money. That part just doesn't figure in to my $1 investment.
For now, since I didn't win, and I have not yet purchased a ticket for the next Powerball drawing, I will limit myself to thinking about how to make these dreams come true with some ingenuity, some hard work, and maybe some entrepreneurial spirit.
Monday, May 16, 2005
Credit card companies move FAST
And so it begins. At the urging of credit card companies and their cohorts, the federal government takes a step to make it more difficult to file bankruptcy. Now I read that major credit card companies are doubling their monthly minimum payment requirements. Why? Because they can. They'll make their money back, because those people who can no longer make the minimum payment will be forced to default, and their interest rates will double. And they can't file for bankruptcy because it won't matter. You'll never get back on a level playing field.
There are a lot of people living from paycheck to paycheck, myself included. And yes, I have significant credit card debt.
I accept most of the blame for this, but some of the blame has to go to the credit card companies. They make it SO easy. They know how much you make. They know how much you owe. They access your credit report to decide if you're creditworthy, and if you have a few dollars left over at the end of the pay period, they flood you with credit card offers with 0 interest for a period of time, and promises of low interest rates after that. So occasionally, you apply for one. You might want to make a major purchase, or you might need an expensive car repair that you can't afford otherwise.
But mostly, you're responsible, and you spend Sunday afternoons shredding mail that has too much of your personal information printed on it, so no one else can use those "special codes" on those offers with your name to apply for credit.
The good news is, if you can afford the higher minimums, and don't use your credit cards, you can get out of debt sooner. The bad news is, if you're living paycheck to paycheck like I am, you have to figure out a way to afford the new minimums.
Sorry, folks, I have enough to worry about. I'm juggling already, I have medical bills coming in fast and furious, with a lot more of that to look forward to this year. And now I need to find a second job when I live in a town where a lot of people have a hard time finding a first job. Boy, am I looking forward to a bleeding ulcer that will bring in YET MORE medical bills.
I'm NEVER voting for another Republican again. EVER.
There are a lot of people living from paycheck to paycheck, myself included. And yes, I have significant credit card debt.
I accept most of the blame for this, but some of the blame has to go to the credit card companies. They make it SO easy. They know how much you make. They know how much you owe. They access your credit report to decide if you're creditworthy, and if you have a few dollars left over at the end of the pay period, they flood you with credit card offers with 0 interest for a period of time, and promises of low interest rates after that. So occasionally, you apply for one. You might want to make a major purchase, or you might need an expensive car repair that you can't afford otherwise.
But mostly, you're responsible, and you spend Sunday afternoons shredding mail that has too much of your personal information printed on it, so no one else can use those "special codes" on those offers with your name to apply for credit.
The good news is, if you can afford the higher minimums, and don't use your credit cards, you can get out of debt sooner. The bad news is, if you're living paycheck to paycheck like I am, you have to figure out a way to afford the new minimums.
Sorry, folks, I have enough to worry about. I'm juggling already, I have medical bills coming in fast and furious, with a lot more of that to look forward to this year. And now I need to find a second job when I live in a town where a lot of people have a hard time finding a first job. Boy, am I looking forward to a bleeding ulcer that will bring in YET MORE medical bills.
I'm NEVER voting for another Republican again. EVER.
Sunday, May 15, 2005
I'm not dumb, but
Ok, it took me a while to figure out how to post a photo. It seems that in bloggerbot, you have to type some kind of caption to enable the "publish" button. So, I typed my name. I really just wanted it in the profile, but eventually enough posts will push this picture away from the front page, and it should remain in the profile. That's OK. Oh, and like most people, I picked the picture I liked best. When I find a new one that I like best, I'll post it. Until then, I look like what you see here. Ok? Let's just leave it at that....
This was fun
You Are From Neptune |
 You are dreamy and mystical, with a natural psychic ability. You love music, poetry, dance, and (most of all) the open sea. Your soul is filled with possibilities, and your heart overflows with compassion. You can be in a room full of friendly people and feel all alone. If you don't get carried away with one idea, your spiritual nature will see you through anything. |
Tomatoes looking good!
The tomatoes are looking good today. My hostas (which were planted before I moved in to this house) are HUGE and gorgeous. The Romas are looking very healthy, as are the Sweet 100's (cherry tomatoes). The sandwich tomatoes are looking a bit puny, but I think they'll spring back. The mint and zucchini I planted yesterday are perky today, withstanding the transplanting nicely.
I also added a counter to the site today. Quite exciting. It's free, from sitemeter.com. Very cool. Makes me feel a bit more techno-savvy, while in truth, I know only enough about computers, blogs and websites right now to be dangerous.
"Scent of a Woman" with Al Pacino is on in the other room. The Tango Scene is coming on. Gotta go now.
KG
I also added a counter to the site today. Quite exciting. It's free, from sitemeter.com. Very cool. Makes me feel a bit more techno-savvy, while in truth, I know only enough about computers, blogs and websites right now to be dangerous.
"Scent of a Woman" with Al Pacino is on in the other room. The Tango Scene is coming on. Gotta go now.
KG
0 comments
The first thing I do when I open this page is search for comments. So, I filter through the postings, reading a continuing string of 0 comments. But, it's blogworld, and people read what they like. Either 1) they don't like the postings (unlikely, since people are more apt to respond to things they don't like); 2) My self-absorbed ramblings are boring as bad daytime TV, therefore they don't care about the postings; 3)Nobody sees them.
I'm guessing 2. Yet I remain undaunted. I shall continue to post. Today I met some interesting people and did some fun things. I searched at Westlake's Hardware, Hy-Vee Grocery Store, a roadside farmers' market and finally Wal-Mart for Zucchini plants. Although living flora actually sprout vocal cords and begin screaming when I come near, I am attempting to plant vegetables - and have them survive my tender loving care - in ground freshly tilled by my Dad. We started small, about a two-and-one-half-foot strip of ground that runs parallel to the garage. I'm not a great judge of distance, but it may be about 18 feet long.
The day Mom and Dad came to till the ground was a Tuesday. Dad's an engineer, believe me, the line where the tilling ends is STRAIGHT. Mom planted some chives near the garage door, and some surprise lilies on the other end. Last weekend, I planted 12 tomato plants. This weekend I planted 4 zucchini plants at the far end between the tomatoes and the surprise lilies; then I planted a spearmint plant and a peppermint plant between the chives and the tomatoes. People say mint plants come back year after year. I hope they take over the entire yard. It would smell wonderful after mowing, wouldn't it? I also bought 12 tomato cages for the tomatoes I planted last week. (can't let those wiley little buggers escape the yard, you know).
The zucchini came in a six-pack. Since I only had room for four, I'll take the other two plants to work Monday, and maybe someone else will want to plant them.
I'm confident I planted the plants too close together. But they're so small right now! If I'm diligent and keep them pruned, maybe they won't spread too far, assuming they live. Maybe next year we'll till a line next to the fence. We'll need to do it a bit earlier. There are other plants, including a peony bush, in that area. Maybe we could dig up the other plants and move them somewhere. I would LOVE to plant some morning glories along the fence. I'd actually love to plant honeysuckle there because it smells so nice, but it also draws bees, and my neighbor hangs his laundry out by the fence. I don't think it would be very nice to make him have to deal with bees while he's doing laundry.
At the roadside Farmers' Market, I found a little stand selling baked goods. I bought my husband a small loaf of banana nut bread, and I bought myself a sugar-free raspberry muffin. Bruce said the banana nut bread was really good. I did not share my raspberry muffin with him, it was heavenly. The man said all of their muffins were sugar-free, but very good. He said he was diabetic, but he was the quality control, so he had to test the recipes for taste before they decided to sell them. "Most of them are made with fat-free ingredients, too," he said, "except I haven't figured out how to take the fat out of the bacon-cheese muffins." I'm diabetic, too, so next week, I'm going back to his booth to get a couple more muffins - Maybe he'll have blueberry, too.
After I did the plant shopping, I met Bruce for lunch at a Chinese restaurant we like. They have a mongolian bar, where you can pick the raw items you like, and the guy stir-fries it for you on a big round table. I can have a whole plate of stir-fried vegetables. I like to have him cook Bruce's first, because he likes his hot and spicy. I like mine very mild, but if he cooks mine second, my vegetables pick up just a little of the spice. It's just right.
Then we came home. I didn't feel very good, but planted the zucchini because I didn't want to put it off. When we were done with that, I needed to come in and rest. I put on comfortable clothes, laid down for awhile and promptly fell asleep. I felt much better when I got up.
Then Bruce's office called. Bruce is a computer tech at a tannery. They make blue leather (yes, the color blue), from cow's hides. I'm not sure what was wrong, but he had to go in and make a computer work so they could make more blue leather. While he was gone, I turned on a Hugh Grant movie, made a gallon of iced tea, and rearranged some coffee in the kitchen.
I got a set of glass cannisters Friday at work. We're building a Habitat for Humanity house, and along the way we're having some fundraisers so we can buy something nice for our Habitat family. A couple weeks ago we raised $700 with a silent auction. That was fun. Now, we're having "Payday Garage Sales." On payday, we bring "garage sale" type items, put "garage sale" prices on them, and other employees can browse and buy. I saw this cannister set and decided I really needed it. In the tallest I put long noodles (accidentally mixed fetuccini with linguini, but Bruce didn't care), and I filled the other three with one of my favorite things: Coffee. I put Red Wheel Creme Broule in one, Gevalia Mocha in another, and my favorite Gevalia flavor, Papua New Guinea, in the third. Then I got the coffee pot ready for tomorrow morning. I didn't set the timer because I never know when we'll get up on Sundays.
Dear God, I really am rambling. Here, I shall beg forgiveness from any reader who expected more from this post. No, you won't get this time back. I shall sign off now, as I have reinforced in my mind the reason I continue to see "0 comments" at the end of each post...
KG
I'm guessing 2. Yet I remain undaunted. I shall continue to post. Today I met some interesting people and did some fun things. I searched at Westlake's Hardware, Hy-Vee Grocery Store, a roadside farmers' market and finally Wal-Mart for Zucchini plants. Although living flora actually sprout vocal cords and begin screaming when I come near, I am attempting to plant vegetables - and have them survive my tender loving care - in ground freshly tilled by my Dad. We started small, about a two-and-one-half-foot strip of ground that runs parallel to the garage. I'm not a great judge of distance, but it may be about 18 feet long.
The day Mom and Dad came to till the ground was a Tuesday. Dad's an engineer, believe me, the line where the tilling ends is STRAIGHT. Mom planted some chives near the garage door, and some surprise lilies on the other end. Last weekend, I planted 12 tomato plants. This weekend I planted 4 zucchini plants at the far end between the tomatoes and the surprise lilies; then I planted a spearmint plant and a peppermint plant between the chives and the tomatoes. People say mint plants come back year after year. I hope they take over the entire yard. It would smell wonderful after mowing, wouldn't it? I also bought 12 tomato cages for the tomatoes I planted last week. (can't let those wiley little buggers escape the yard, you know).
The zucchini came in a six-pack. Since I only had room for four, I'll take the other two plants to work Monday, and maybe someone else will want to plant them.
I'm confident I planted the plants too close together. But they're so small right now! If I'm diligent and keep them pruned, maybe they won't spread too far, assuming they live. Maybe next year we'll till a line next to the fence. We'll need to do it a bit earlier. There are other plants, including a peony bush, in that area. Maybe we could dig up the other plants and move them somewhere. I would LOVE to plant some morning glories along the fence. I'd actually love to plant honeysuckle there because it smells so nice, but it also draws bees, and my neighbor hangs his laundry out by the fence. I don't think it would be very nice to make him have to deal with bees while he's doing laundry.
At the roadside Farmers' Market, I found a little stand selling baked goods. I bought my husband a small loaf of banana nut bread, and I bought myself a sugar-free raspberry muffin. Bruce said the banana nut bread was really good. I did not share my raspberry muffin with him, it was heavenly. The man said all of their muffins were sugar-free, but very good. He said he was diabetic, but he was the quality control, so he had to test the recipes for taste before they decided to sell them. "Most of them are made with fat-free ingredients, too," he said, "except I haven't figured out how to take the fat out of the bacon-cheese muffins." I'm diabetic, too, so next week, I'm going back to his booth to get a couple more muffins - Maybe he'll have blueberry, too.
After I did the plant shopping, I met Bruce for lunch at a Chinese restaurant we like. They have a mongolian bar, where you can pick the raw items you like, and the guy stir-fries it for you on a big round table. I can have a whole plate of stir-fried vegetables. I like to have him cook Bruce's first, because he likes his hot and spicy. I like mine very mild, but if he cooks mine second, my vegetables pick up just a little of the spice. It's just right.
Then we came home. I didn't feel very good, but planted the zucchini because I didn't want to put it off. When we were done with that, I needed to come in and rest. I put on comfortable clothes, laid down for awhile and promptly fell asleep. I felt much better when I got up.
Then Bruce's office called. Bruce is a computer tech at a tannery. They make blue leather (yes, the color blue), from cow's hides. I'm not sure what was wrong, but he had to go in and make a computer work so they could make more blue leather. While he was gone, I turned on a Hugh Grant movie, made a gallon of iced tea, and rearranged some coffee in the kitchen.
I got a set of glass cannisters Friday at work. We're building a Habitat for Humanity house, and along the way we're having some fundraisers so we can buy something nice for our Habitat family. A couple weeks ago we raised $700 with a silent auction. That was fun. Now, we're having "Payday Garage Sales." On payday, we bring "garage sale" type items, put "garage sale" prices on them, and other employees can browse and buy. I saw this cannister set and decided I really needed it. In the tallest I put long noodles (accidentally mixed fetuccini with linguini, but Bruce didn't care), and I filled the other three with one of my favorite things: Coffee. I put Red Wheel Creme Broule in one, Gevalia Mocha in another, and my favorite Gevalia flavor, Papua New Guinea, in the third. Then I got the coffee pot ready for tomorrow morning. I didn't set the timer because I never know when we'll get up on Sundays.
Dear God, I really am rambling. Here, I shall beg forgiveness from any reader who expected more from this post. No, you won't get this time back. I shall sign off now, as I have reinforced in my mind the reason I continue to see "0 comments" at the end of each post...
KG
Friday, May 13, 2005
Friday the 13th
Friday the 13th. Lucky day? Unlucky day? I don't suppose it matters much. I love Fridays. I love the SciFi channel lineup on Friday nights. Of course, admission of that fact brings to light the additional fact I have no social life. That's OK, though. It takes me out of my head for awhile.
My Mom was born November 13. I don't know if it was a Friday or not, but I'd call that pretty lucky for me, and pretty lucky for all the other lives she has touched.
I'd like to think of something sparkling and witty to say in this post, but I'm pretty much drained. It's 8:00 in the evening, and I have run out of juice. I think I'll indulge in a diet Dr Pepper, gaze at my bead collection and come up with some ideas for pretty jewelry, and possibly fall asleep at my desk. If not, I might make it to bed and figure out how to pay the bills tomorrow.
Tomorrow is another day. The good news is, I get to find a zucchini plant and plant it in my garden, and possibly some grub stakes, to get rid of the grubs around my tomatoes.
Had a sandwich for supper. Maybe tomorrow I'll stir-fry some zucchini and be healthy for a bit.
Each day is what you make it, right? Doctor still hasn't called. Don't know if that's good or bad. Talk to me, world.
My Mom was born November 13. I don't know if it was a Friday or not, but I'd call that pretty lucky for me, and pretty lucky for all the other lives she has touched.
I'd like to think of something sparkling and witty to say in this post, but I'm pretty much drained. It's 8:00 in the evening, and I have run out of juice. I think I'll indulge in a diet Dr Pepper, gaze at my bead collection and come up with some ideas for pretty jewelry, and possibly fall asleep at my desk. If not, I might make it to bed and figure out how to pay the bills tomorrow.
Tomorrow is another day. The good news is, I get to find a zucchini plant and plant it in my garden, and possibly some grub stakes, to get rid of the grubs around my tomatoes.
Had a sandwich for supper. Maybe tomorrow I'll stir-fry some zucchini and be healthy for a bit.
Each day is what you make it, right? Doctor still hasn't called. Don't know if that's good or bad. Talk to me, world.
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Still Waiting
I'm still waiting for results of MRI and 24-hr. urine test. (Yeah, I know, you're thinking 'Wow. Thanks for sharing that one.') Hope the doctor calls tomorrow. I'm tired of waiting.
Also tired of idiot labs. There's one lab that does several of my tests. They keep sending me bills for things I KNOW my insurance company has paid. Today I got a bill for a blood draw that they said happened Feb. 23. I don't remember having that done, so I will be calling tomorrow to see who the doctor was ordering the test. I'm thinking they screwed up and billed me for somebody else's work. Maybe not, but still, my insurance company would have paid for the work if it had been mine. They are wasting my time by making me check up on them, and I should charge them an hourly wage for it. Their billing screw-ups make me wonder if their lab techs are as incompetent as their billing staff. Lord, I hope not.
Very tired today, but I'm still proud of what I got done at work. I was able to help a girl in another department with their Careers publication, and she didn't have to go through the misery she was afraid of. That made me happy.
Also tired of idiot labs. There's one lab that does several of my tests. They keep sending me bills for things I KNOW my insurance company has paid. Today I got a bill for a blood draw that they said happened Feb. 23. I don't remember having that done, so I will be calling tomorrow to see who the doctor was ordering the test. I'm thinking they screwed up and billed me for somebody else's work. Maybe not, but still, my insurance company would have paid for the work if it had been mine. They are wasting my time by making me check up on them, and I should charge them an hourly wage for it. Their billing screw-ups make me wonder if their lab techs are as incompetent as their billing staff. Lord, I hope not.
Very tired today, but I'm still proud of what I got done at work. I was able to help a girl in another department with their Careers publication, and she didn't have to go through the misery she was afraid of. That made me happy.
Happy Birthday, Little Brother
Today is my little brother's birthday. He is 41. He's the one who got all the looks, and he's a very handsome 41. Happy Birthday, Rusty. I hope the next 41 years are filled with all the best things in life - health, happiness, love, peace and contentment.
And I did NOT push you off the top bunk at Nana's house. I wasn't even in the room...
And I did NOT push you off the top bunk at Nana's house. I wasn't even in the room...
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
Pushing a Peach Through a Straw: Part II
I was very brave yesterday at the MRI. They only had to pull me out of the tube one time, and that was before the test started. I guess I was breathing too much and they were afraid I would pass out.
I even took 1 mg. Xanax about 20 minutes before the test so I wouldn't be too afraid. I guess the panic broke through the Xanax bravery.
Anxiously awaiting results. Worried they'll see the pituitary is bigger, and worried that it isn't and these symptoms are coming from somewhere else. Somewhere worse.
Any other Cushings Disease patients out there - someone with a happy story?
I even took 1 mg. Xanax about 20 minutes before the test so I wouldn't be too afraid. I guess the panic broke through the Xanax bravery.
Anxiously awaiting results. Worried they'll see the pituitary is bigger, and worried that it isn't and these symptoms are coming from somewhere else. Somewhere worse.
Any other Cushings Disease patients out there - someone with a happy story?
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Pushing a Peach Through a Straw
I get to do the MRI today to get a visual on the pituitary. Not an open MRI. I really hate sliding into that machine. And it's hard to stay so still for all that time.
On the up side, I'll probably get to wear one of those highly fashionable hospital gowns as I attempt to fit this peach of a body through that straw of an MRI tube. I should apologize to the technician in advance for any disturbing images this may cause.
On the up side, I'll probably get to wear one of those highly fashionable hospital gowns as I attempt to fit this peach of a body through that straw of an MRI tube. I should apologize to the technician in advance for any disturbing images this may cause.
Saturday, May 07, 2005
Tomatoes Today!
Yeah! I planted tomatoes today! Four Roma plants, Four Sweet 100 cherry tomato plants, and four of some other kind of tomato that claimed to be good for sandwiches because it had very little juice and/or seeds. All should ripen in 68 to 74 days.
Is anybody out there?
KG
Is anybody out there?
KG
What a Rush!
Hey! I met a lady today who looked terribly familiar. She said I looked familiar to her, too. As we tried to figure out when and where we might have met, she asked me how old I was. I told her I was 43. She said she was 53, and at first thought I might be one of her daughters' friends. It made my day when she thought I might be young enough to be in her daughters' peer group. Just a moment I thought I'd stick in a blog because I'd like to relive repeatedly a moment when someone thought I looked younger than I am.
I probably looked younger tonight because I waxed my face before we left for this party. (One of the symptoms of Cushings disease is facial hair, which I personally find a bit unnerving and disgusting when I look in a mirror - like I don't already have some self-image issues.)
I realize these blog postings are blatantly self-absorbed and frankly less inspired than the verbage one might find on, say, the ingredient list on a can of creamed corn, but if anybody's out there, would you take just a moment to post a comment? Any comment will do. I can make it easier for you if you like. You can just type a number:
1. "Marvelous blog, Karen. Can't wait to read your next post."
2. "You are right. You are ridiculously self-absorbed and probably ugly."
3. "I can't believe the Creator is allowing you to breathe my air."
4. "If you can't think of anything more interesting, I'm moving on to read about Paris Hilton's latest internship."
5. "I'm sure in real life you're amusing and have a sparkling wit, would you mind sharing some of that instead of what I've been reading?"
6. "Clickin' on through."
7. "So, really, what do you think about ingrown toenails?"
8. "Whoooooooo are you (I don't really want to know)."
9. "Why don't you wait to write one of these until you've knocked back a few cold ones and you're more in touch with surreality."
10. "It's like a bad movie that sucks you in because you're positive at SOME POINT, it will become interesting. Then you get to the end and realize you'll NEVER get that time back."
11. "Click this link for a great deal on a M-or-t-gage. We've already approved you for a $160,000 re-fi-nance on your home at -22 percent interest. In fact, we'll pay you to live there if you promise to make an occasional post on your blog detailing the most fascinating aspects of your life."
Thanks, I hope to be back soon - KG
I probably looked younger tonight because I waxed my face before we left for this party. (One of the symptoms of Cushings disease is facial hair, which I personally find a bit unnerving and disgusting when I look in a mirror - like I don't already have some self-image issues.)
I realize these blog postings are blatantly self-absorbed and frankly less inspired than the verbage one might find on, say, the ingredient list on a can of creamed corn, but if anybody's out there, would you take just a moment to post a comment? Any comment will do. I can make it easier for you if you like. You can just type a number:
1. "Marvelous blog, Karen. Can't wait to read your next post."
2. "You are right. You are ridiculously self-absorbed and probably ugly."
3. "I can't believe the Creator is allowing you to breathe my air."
4. "If you can't think of anything more interesting, I'm moving on to read about Paris Hilton's latest internship."
5. "I'm sure in real life you're amusing and have a sparkling wit, would you mind sharing some of that instead of what I've been reading?"
6. "Clickin' on through."
7. "So, really, what do you think about ingrown toenails?"
8. "Whoooooooo are you (I don't really want to know)."
9. "Why don't you wait to write one of these until you've knocked back a few cold ones and you're more in touch with surreality."
10. "It's like a bad movie that sucks you in because you're positive at SOME POINT, it will become interesting. Then you get to the end and realize you'll NEVER get that time back."
11. "Click this link for a great deal on a M-or-t-gage. We've already approved you for a $160,000 re-fi-nance on your home at -22 percent interest. In fact, we'll pay you to live there if you promise to make an occasional post on your blog detailing the most fascinating aspects of your life."
Thanks, I hope to be back soon - KG
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Dying to get well
When I worry about me, I am less useful to all of the other people in my life. Please forgive me, but for the moment, I am worried about me.
I have Cushings Disease. It's a bizarre little disease that affects about 15 out of every million people. From what I've read, the life expectancy of someone with untreated Cushings disease is about five years. I am being treated, but apparently not very well. January 20, 2004, I had pituitary surgery. There was a 1.5cm fluid-filled cyst on my pituitary gland. This fascinating little gland is right behind the bridge of your nose. An Ear-Nose-Throat doctor made an incision between my upper lip and gum, and a pathway to the pituitary gland up through my sinuses. Then, a neurosurgeon went in with a tiny little camera and drained the pituitary cyst. Apparently that didn't do what it was supposed to do. Your pituitary gland, among other things, produces ACTH. ACTH is a messenger that tells your adrenal glands (located on top of each kidney) to produce the steroid cortisol. If you've seen people who are being treated for various illnesses with cortisol, you'll notice they become quite puffy. I have passed puffy, and am just, uh, BOVINE. Try strapping a king-sized pillow around your middle with duct tape and go through an average day. It's difficult to drive, to tie your shoes, and even to make love.
Since the surgery didn't work, I went through five weeks of radiation on my head. Yep, every day for five weeks, I had a mask put over my face, they bolted the mask to a table, and for 10 minutes or so they zapped my pituitary with radiation.
Every few months I get to pee in a bottle for 24 hours, and have multiple blood draws for a variety of tests. My tests show that 16 months after surgery, and 12 months after radiation, I'm not getting any better. You might guess my bank account is less than healthy, too. Hmmm. No stress there.
My doctor now tells me I get to have another MRI. The open MRIs aren't great for head scans, so I get to fit this enormous body into that little tube again and let it take more pictures of my head. If the MRI doesn't show a change in the pituitary, she wants me to go to Chicago to go through the surgery again - this time to remove the pituitary completely.
Dangerous? I think so. It's damn close to my optic nerve. Damage to the optic nerve (what if my surgeon needs to sneeze while he's picking around in there) means I don't get to see any more. I hurt in every joint, I am constantly tired (because of the high cortisol I don't get much sleep, so it's understandable that I am so tired), I have no strength, I take eight prescription medications a day (yet more of a dent in my bank account), and on the off chance I live for another 22 years, I still won't be able to afford to retire. Ever.
And after sharing all of this, the only thing I can think about is how whiny this must sound. But if anyone sees this, it might help to offer up a prayer asking for ways to help me cope with this.
I have Cushings Disease. It's a bizarre little disease that affects about 15 out of every million people. From what I've read, the life expectancy of someone with untreated Cushings disease is about five years. I am being treated, but apparently not very well. January 20, 2004, I had pituitary surgery. There was a 1.5cm fluid-filled cyst on my pituitary gland. This fascinating little gland is right behind the bridge of your nose. An Ear-Nose-Throat doctor made an incision between my upper lip and gum, and a pathway to the pituitary gland up through my sinuses. Then, a neurosurgeon went in with a tiny little camera and drained the pituitary cyst. Apparently that didn't do what it was supposed to do. Your pituitary gland, among other things, produces ACTH. ACTH is a messenger that tells your adrenal glands (located on top of each kidney) to produce the steroid cortisol. If you've seen people who are being treated for various illnesses with cortisol, you'll notice they become quite puffy. I have passed puffy, and am just, uh, BOVINE. Try strapping a king-sized pillow around your middle with duct tape and go through an average day. It's difficult to drive, to tie your shoes, and even to make love.
Since the surgery didn't work, I went through five weeks of radiation on my head. Yep, every day for five weeks, I had a mask put over my face, they bolted the mask to a table, and for 10 minutes or so they zapped my pituitary with radiation.
Every few months I get to pee in a bottle for 24 hours, and have multiple blood draws for a variety of tests. My tests show that 16 months after surgery, and 12 months after radiation, I'm not getting any better. You might guess my bank account is less than healthy, too. Hmmm. No stress there.
My doctor now tells me I get to have another MRI. The open MRIs aren't great for head scans, so I get to fit this enormous body into that little tube again and let it take more pictures of my head. If the MRI doesn't show a change in the pituitary, she wants me to go to Chicago to go through the surgery again - this time to remove the pituitary completely.
Dangerous? I think so. It's damn close to my optic nerve. Damage to the optic nerve (what if my surgeon needs to sneeze while he's picking around in there) means I don't get to see any more. I hurt in every joint, I am constantly tired (because of the high cortisol I don't get much sleep, so it's understandable that I am so tired), I have no strength, I take eight prescription medications a day (yet more of a dent in my bank account), and on the off chance I live for another 22 years, I still won't be able to afford to retire. Ever.
And after sharing all of this, the only thing I can think about is how whiny this must sound. But if anyone sees this, it might help to offer up a prayer asking for ways to help me cope with this.
Sunday, May 01, 2005
Wasted Time
I made some lovely plans for this day. It is now 11:30 p.m. and I have accomplished little.
When I woke up this morning, I took my usual round of medications. I am not well, but I do function. Part of the reason I function is the eight prescription meds I take each day. This is how I start each day. This morning, in addition to the daily joint pain I endure, I had a "crick" in my neck. The right side of my neck was hard as a rock, and I was unable to turn my head, so I attributed the pain to a (very) tight muscle.
I live with pain daily, so I have many tricks I use to help alleviate it. Stretching usually helps, as does heat. If these don't work, I resort to more potent prescription meds. This morning, my tricks did not work.
I made a wonderful pot of coffee - my favorite - Papua New Guinea from Gevalia. I dined on part of an apple fritter with my wonderful coffee. I did more stretching exercises and applied more heat to my neck, to no avail. So I took a Flexeril, hoping the pain would ease.
I do not care for Flexeril, even though it usually alleviates the pain caused by tight muscles. It takes away precious time by making me very sleepy. In fact, I slept most of the day. I could not plant my tomatoes or zucchini, which will work out fine because it's supposed to frost tonight. I did not leave the house, although I needed to drive across town to deposit money in the bank before it opens tomorrow. I didn't even get dressed until a few hours ago. I did not make it into my office to find out what awaits me in the morning. And the Flexeril didn't even get rid of the pain. So one tiny pill stole my entire day, and didn't even do its job.
Wasted time.
When I woke up this morning, I took my usual round of medications. I am not well, but I do function. Part of the reason I function is the eight prescription meds I take each day. This is how I start each day. This morning, in addition to the daily joint pain I endure, I had a "crick" in my neck. The right side of my neck was hard as a rock, and I was unable to turn my head, so I attributed the pain to a (very) tight muscle.
I live with pain daily, so I have many tricks I use to help alleviate it. Stretching usually helps, as does heat. If these don't work, I resort to more potent prescription meds. This morning, my tricks did not work.
I made a wonderful pot of coffee - my favorite - Papua New Guinea from Gevalia. I dined on part of an apple fritter with my wonderful coffee. I did more stretching exercises and applied more heat to my neck, to no avail. So I took a Flexeril, hoping the pain would ease.
I do not care for Flexeril, even though it usually alleviates the pain caused by tight muscles. It takes away precious time by making me very sleepy. In fact, I slept most of the day. I could not plant my tomatoes or zucchini, which will work out fine because it's supposed to frost tonight. I did not leave the house, although I needed to drive across town to deposit money in the bank before it opens tomorrow. I didn't even get dressed until a few hours ago. I did not make it into my office to find out what awaits me in the morning. And the Flexeril didn't even get rid of the pain. So one tiny pill stole my entire day, and didn't even do its job.
Wasted time.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)