Health Updates

Yeah, I know: nothing for a week and then two posts in one day? What's with that?

All three of us have news today. Rich's rib is improving noticeably, enough that he's thinking returning to work is a possibility by Monday. That's if, of course, his boss will take him back. In that kind of lower level job, I'm sure he's used to a lot of turnover and is cynical about anybody's excuse for not showing up. Then too, there's the paycheck which still hasn't shown up, and by now another one, though partial, is due.

Steve had his angiogram yesterday. Happy 4:30 AM wake up call, whee. I was supposed to pick him up afterwards, estimated to be 12:30. It's a 30 mile trip each way, so planning is required. Unexpectedly, I got a call to pick him up by 9:45. Something about using his wrist.

Huh?

Contact is kept very brief so no questions were asked/answered as he was hustled out the door and into the car. Just the "Here's the instructions, there's an Rx but you can start tomorrow, bye," kind of stuff. And Steve was groggy and still in pain from the procedure, so I waited to ask what they'd meant.

Details came out piecemeal. He didn't need a stent, just a statin. Hence the Rx, and could I drop it off for him please? (Of course, and grab ice cream while there.) Must be one of the few medical places still using paper rather than emailing prescriptions to the pharmacy, and I know they had the information as I was sitting next to Steve when he gave it over the phone the previous day to them.

The wrist part meant that they didn't go in through the groin as planned, but up through a vessel in his wrist. (Apparently he has very good ones.) That bandage can't come off until later today, so I'm presuming artery, not vein. Meanwhile there is a lot of pain, bruising, and swelling in that arm, still even today. I'm not convinced that was a good trade-off.

Anyway, they aren't concerned about his heart. They are about his breathing. And I'm left concerned about how often his heartbeat drops between low 50s and 40. I will be nagging periodically about having somebody pay attention to that. So this is not over, just another stop along the way.

I say that because I'm aware of the difference a pacemaker makes. As it happens, that's my medical news of the day. It was time for my annual pacemaker check. There is a piece of equipment in my bedroom that periodically uploads information from it to whatever destination needs it, so I don't need to do what my folks both did, making an appointment monthly to connect with a landline to the doctor to make sure theirs were still working properly. However, I do have to go in annually to my cardiologist to have it evaluated and make any changes needed to make my life better.  Today was that day.

I walked in with my pretty "Peace" mask, anticipating a check-in and sitting down for a wait. Instead, I was greeted and sent straight back, with the receptionist commenting to the technician, "I told you Heather was dependable!" Inquiring, I found out that his 5 (!!!) previous appointments had failed to show up. Or call. That begs a few questions, like are they among the 440+ people in this zip code who've caught the virus, and are they still using their pacemakers? Or, say, air? Have they just gone north and can't/won't fly back?

After checking it out, he informed me that I have 9 1/2 years until this will need to be replaced. I'd put it on the calendar, but mine ends in 4 months.

On my way out I stopped at their scale. I'd been going often enough to make that a regular stop to monitor myself, following my progress on a dependably accurate piece of equipment, the kind where weights are slid across their bars rather than needing to program them in order to read the number. In other words, something even I can use. I'd figured, with all the time I haven't been exercising, still finding chocolate sources powerful enough to overcome any efforts at "won't power," and noticing that certain pieces of clothing here starting to bind, that I'd likely put on 10 pounds over the summer.

I lost two!

Of course, the surprise and elation were quickly replaced by the sobering realization I was in fact simply replacing muscle with fat. Meaning before too long, I need to talk myself into heading back to the pool, which in turn means finding a way to talk myself into believing it is a safe activity. We're still having record highs here (113 today, tomorrow...), so walking out along the streets is out of the question for a while yet. The weeds in the yard need pulling but I'm leaning - literally and figuratively, balance issues taken into consideration - towards hiring it done by our regular crew.

And, of course, the weight loss could possibly be the result of a couple months of involuntary blood donation from those omnipresent bed bugs! Quick, tell me: do I look pale?

A Man Of Honor

I had those words engraved on Daddy's tombstone at Fort Snelling National Cemetery, where he and Mom have their ashes interred. He earned his spot there after serving in WWII. He was raised to be honorable, and lived his life that way. No big splashes, no celebrity, just steady, enduring, unflagging, quiet honor.

He's not the only soldier in the family. My brother Steve served in Viet Nam. My son Paul served in the national guard. One of our ancestors came over from France to fight in our revolutionary war. The earliest ancestor the family can trace stood and fought with William Wallace.

President* Bone Spurs would call them all "suckers." He frequently denigrated John McCain for getting shot down, denying his heroism, not realizing his true heroism was in refusing to leave his POW prison until all his men were released also, despite his being tortured, when he was offered a chance to leave without them. When President* Bone Spurs stood with John Kelly at Kelly's son's military grave, he dishonored  the soldier's sacrifice. He literally cannot understand the concept, or any human interaction which is not transactional. He's all about what's in it for himself. Always.

One thing Trump is not, in any way whatsoever, is a man of HONOR.

My father was the quiet parent. For many, many years, in my ignorance, I thought Mom was the parent, he was just there. What he gave us wasn't preached, just shown by example, and learned as others talked of him. He made an even bigger sacrifice than serving in war, at least in society's eyes. In 1934 his father died from an infection before antibiotics were available. There were younger siblings and a widow still needing support, so my father left college in order to go to work to help support them. Without that degree, it took him until 1941 to be able to make an adequate income to be able to marry my mother, and even then it took her father's assistance to get him a factory job to bring his earnings high enough. His siblings were businessmen, educators, people in positions of status and generous income, while we grew up the poor branch of the family. Through the years Daddy had such careers as running a resort and being a real estate agent. Mom worked as well, in secretarial positions that would now be labeled "Executive Assistant."  No glamour, no fancy status, no riches, but we always had what we really needed.

Perhaps the only decent thing President* Bone Spurs has done in his life is given me a truer appreciation of my father. He did what was needed, did it without complaint, and did it for us, with love.

Instead... Babylon Five?

Too much politics. I'm talking about the lies, lies, history rewrites, hypocrisy, lies, flag humping, hate and fear spreading,  ad infinitum. Even a hurricane seems to be a respite right now. Been following an online thread about what people are doing instead of watching the RNC  covid-spreading party on the White House lawn.

I'd really rather watch Rachel Maddow in this time slot. Unfortunately she's busy watching the convention herself, letting us know - in case we've forgotten - just what's true and what's not. I pity her, but at least she gets paid for it. I don't. And I'm not watching. I do really resent, however, not having Rachel until tomorrow. Well, I hope she'll still be on tomorrow. She might need a brain bleaching after these four days.

Since I can't have Rachel, and Steve's "Deadliest Catch" current favorite is getting old, I've been musing on what I'd actually like to watch. DVDs have come up in conversations a couple times today, once in the context of selling some off. I happen to have collected a couple hundred movies, now all sitting in albums to ease storage needs for space. They've been there since we moved down. A couple have actually been watched.

So, knowing roughly what I have there, what would I really like to watch? Really, what would I like to watch once  more before deciding to try to sell them off myself? One thing presented itself. Only one.  "Babylon Five". I have the full five years of it. Nobody's replaying it on cable TV, a great of a series as it is. I kinda get that: it's complicated and takes some time and patience to pull the characters and plot lines together. Even watching (some) episodes after seeing it all once, new details fit into place, and knowing the resolution lets you hunt for the clues which didn't seem important the first time through. (So that's why Sinclair....) And Ivanova never fails to come up with the best line in every episode. Like Jessica Rabbit, she was written that way.

OK, I recognize the irony of watching a series about politics to avoid watching politics, but it's some of the best ever science fiction. And it was the intricacy of the politics in "Dune" that turned me on to science fiction after high school samples of must-read-tripe turned me off of it for, I thought, life. I gave my 1st husband one chance to find me a book to change my mind, or get off my case about reading the stuff.  He at least got one thing right!

Tomorrow seems like a great time to go dig the "Babylon Five" out for one last good immersion.

How Are The Mails?

First, a disclaimer. We are completely satisfied with our mail carriers. That's plural because they seem to rotate two or three through the neighborhood on a regular basis. The mail always gets where it's supposed to go, the outgoing mail gets picked up, they knock o the door to let us know a package awaits, and they are unfailingly polite and informative those (rarer now) times when we address them.

However....

I mentioned days ago about a letter that took 3 days to travel across Sun City.

Rich is still waiting for a paycheck which was due to be handed to him on Friday, but accidentally got mailed instead, from3 miles away. His wait is something a little bit less than patient.

I ordered a pair of 3M's extra large window insulating film after the previous packages contained something smaller than advertised, back on August 12. The order shipped the 14th, from some little town in northern Florida. Tracking information held steady with "in transit" until this morning. Now, on the 26th, with Hurricane Laura about to wreak havoc along it's travel path, tracking has informed me that the package has ... wait for it ... left Jacksonville!

Two weeks to get out of Florida!

The next usual spot for a Florida package to show up in tracking information is Dallas.

(Checks weather forecast map.)

Yep, optimism reigns. I'm absolutely positive... that fall will arrive before I have a chance to keep the summer heat out with another layer on the windows!

I wonder if those things float. Or maybe they can get opened up, turned into sails, and fly here on their own?

*    *    *    *    *

By the way, not hearing from our granddaughter with covid. Hope she's not too sick. Heard an expert on virus numbers quoted as saying with the few tests being taken these days, the daily reported increase of around 40,000 new cases is much more likely to be 200,000! Schools are shutting back down, colleges are kicking students out after large parties, and reported numbers are starting to get squirrely, bouncing up and down. Sturgis is over, and because apparently nobody can bother to stay home or follow precautions, 350,000 more spreaders will reinfiltrate the country with another surge as well.

But, but. but Trump says........ Please, all those fans of his out there, take him at his word that it's all over and go shake his hand in thanks, give him a good hug, and with all your enthusiasm, share the last breaths in your deluded bodies. After all, he's got hydroxychloroquine, oleandrin, miracle untried vaccines, and Putin to keep him safe. Right?

An Excursion And A Chewing Out

The day finally came: Steve and I decided to plan a short trip north on I-17 up to the Sunset Point rest stop, and then back home. Nevermind the 114 degree temperatures, the nasty air, and the fact that my car AC is finally getting serious about announcing it needs a recharge. You know, every couple minutes it pops itself off so the fluid that remains can pool in its reservoir again so there's enough to work again. (Memo to self....)

A simple trip always, it seems, turns into something more complicated. No exception here. We started with breakfast at Mickey D's, then a trip to the post office. Steve had ordered online a printer compatible with his laptop, as well as a toner cartridge. The (refurbished) printer wouldn't recognize that such a thing as a toner cartridge existed within a block of it. Advice from a pro - after Richard gave up in frustration - was to buy a new brand name toner cartridge rather than a "compatible with" version. Was the fault the toner or the printer? Saturday was a trip to an office supply store for that. Result: 2 presumably perfectly fine cartridges, 1 non-responsive printer.  After a little back and forth with eBay, and much juggling of ways to get the printable return label they sent to his computer to be recognized by my printer, the printer got repacked, thoroughly taped, and put in the car, heading to the post office.

Heavy sucker. Lot of pushing across the floor in 6 foot increments as the line moved. Free return though.

On to the freeway to head north, both of us, at various times during this trip, found that we were unable to breathe enough to be able to converse during the trip. I think we were inhaling the O2-depleted air downwind of California's fires.

Along the way, we noticed spots where rain had actually fallen recently, and green abounded. Later we also noted that miles and miles of prickly pears, while still green, were cardboard thin and often the pads were floppy. Somehow the rain hadn't gotten the message. Kinda like at our house.

Upon arrival, we turned east rather than west at the bottom of the hill at the exit. An earlier fire, the Bumblebee Fire, had wiped out nearly everything in view up to the road on the east side, and possibly extended past the tops of the mountains. We'd brought cameras, and wanted pictures. Nothing survived except at the very edges. Prickly pears were brown, flat, and stacked, pad collapsed on pad upon pad along the ground. Trees were gone. It was so bad that the very ground had holes in it all over, presumably where whatever roots had been spread under it had all but vaporized. We had to watch our steps.

Five minutes was more than enough. This far up and away from the city was still not far enough to cool down. We crossed under the freeway and took the ramp up to the rest stop. Steve was exhausted and his knee in pain from his walk, so I was the only one getting out for shots from the other, untouched side.

By the time I'd taken three shots, I was ready for a confrontation. There was a cluster of 4 covidiots taking up lots of space for their photo ops with each other, all female, all about my age, all more expensively dressed, and none with a mask. Sure, they were outside, but the walks are narrow enough it's difficult to space 6' from another person, much less a clump.

Let me add what helped contribute to my ire at this point. The morning news had another! story of cops killing a black man, 7 shots, in Wisconsin, while his back was turned, he was getting into his car, with his 3 kids in the back seat watching the whole thing. More details were added later, that he had  been stepping in to try to intervene to stop two women in an altercation. When the cops showed up, he - possibly believing they were better equipped to deal with them - turned away to go to his car. Latest info is he is in the ICU. Of course a cell phone caught the event. Rioting ensued during the resulting protest. Nothing at all good there.

It has now been determined that those worst hit by the virus are what "Trumpanzees" feel are the "right people." A deplorable segment of RepubliKKKans think that the number of deaths (somewhere between 176,000 and 180,000+) is just fine, thank you. Those "right people" are living in blue states, and mostly black and latino. Newest leaking news is that Jared and Trump Co. decided to halt testing and whatever else would help slow the virus just to try to win this fall's election. Kill the Democrats!

Can I throw up now, please? Can we arrest them soon, please? Looking back, I see that I suspected this was planned way back in my May 3oth post this year. Not quite 3 months ago. I'm not patting myself on the back. It was too predictable. But the knowledge left me even less tolerant this morning of the covidiots I was watching. 

On top of that, as if that wasn't already enough, was the recent news that world scientists have determined that 80% of ALL people who survive Covid 19 wind up with cardiac damage. 80%! We don't know yet how long lasting it is, and they haven't released data on some of the other organ damage we know the virus inflicts. We do know it happens regardless of how ill one was from the virus. If they caught it, even without symptoms, 80% have heart damage detectable after 60 days.

All in all, pleasant though the outing was, I didn't need much to flip my switch. First, I overheard enough to know that these women were not traveling together. One had to ask where another was from. Phoenix.  Oh-ho, home of a county-wide mask requirement. True, we weren't in Maricopa County now, but wouldn't you think....? Apparently not.  Approaching within 20 feet, I raised my voice (to be heard, not with attitude - yet! Well, not that much yet, anyway) to ask didn't they have masks?

The nearest woman turned around and stalked to within 4 feet of me before I turned away and told her to keep away from me. Yep, attitude began happening. Another woman made shooing away motions with her hands to me. Now that I was far enough away from the first, I stopped and stared at the 2nd of the 4. I was trying to squelch my strong impulse to  yell at her "you must all be Republicans, eh?" but decided that wouldn't gain anything. It didn't need to become political, much as I still believe it was already. I settled for saying to the shooing-hands woman, "You're an asshole," before walking away.

After a brief but very pleasant conversation with a masked gentleman who was walking his adorable black and white shi tzu, had overheard the exchange, and totally agreed with me, it was time to head home. Well, nearly. There was still one stop - nope, two - before the carport.

Steve had to return some shirts he'd also ordered online. The size is the same as every other shirt he's gotten in the last couple years. Unfortunately, these shirts, button down rather than knit, overlapped in the front by over a foot! Before we'd left the house he was on the phone with the company requesting a trade for the same 3 shirts in one size smaller. The company has a local store, not too far out of our way. We picked the drive home for dropping them off, as they opened at 11, not 9 like the post office. The replacement shirts will be here in "a week".  We'll see.

Now that it was going to be noon by the time we got home, a stop at BK was also in order. Pleasant surprise: the price of a pair of Whoppers had dropped by a buck! And still just as yummy.

Maybe we should go somewhere next week....

Oh yeah, the car dealership for recharging the Ac.

Downturns

I realize many of them have been coming on for a while. But it seems that all of a sudden they're here!

Take the trees. It's been a long, record setting hot summer. Still is. Climate change is not kind. We've been watching a lemon tree across the fence. Early summer it was showing a generous sprinkling of yellow leaves. I even contacted somebody who know how to contact the property owner to inquire if their irrigation system had gotten shut off due to a recent power outage. A week and a half ago I noticed the top of the tree was bare while the bottom 2/3 was green, no yellow left on the tree. A couple days ago it stood bare.

This morning I noted that our backyard pine tree, the one that shades our patio so well, One of the main reasons we bought this particular home, is tinting yellow. Its color is just about where the front yard pine was when we had it taken out before it fell into the street, avoiding it crushing any of the variety of vehicles who fought for the only shady parking spot for blocks around outside of garages and car ports. Looks like the backyard tree one will go on the fall to-do list. $$$$

Steve, Rich and I ran some errands this afternoon, giving us an opportunity to observe several miles worth of trees. Almost all the pines are yellowing. Somebody will have lucrative employment this fall and winter, while the area has fewer trees to shade and cool us all against whatever next year throws our way. It's not just the pines, though. Palms are getting hit, just starting to show it. One, a low spreading type like a sago perhaps, had over half of its fronds turned a bright orange! Orange! I've never seen orange palm fronds. They're green. Then they brown. Then their fronds go away in trucks while their remaining tops look like something strangled them while they bush out green again.

Shorter desert plants are suffering, even the ones which should be hale and heartily tucked in against the heat and dryness. A saguaro fell over into the street a couple blocks away - though that's not exactly short. Agaves are browning. Aloes have swapped green for pale reddish brown. Bushes often have just a few green/brown leaves crowning the top.

Ironically, it's been raining. Everywhere else. We had a second night of almost enough falling to coat the driveway before evaporating. The local news shows trees with broken branches dangling, trees toppled into apartment buildings and across power lines, leaving people without AC and no place to go in a pandemic to avoid the heat. We get the leading front of high winds for a tease, but little actual rain to make up for their damage. California had over 650 fires raging from 12,000 - yes, thousand - lightning strikes, now merged into many fewer but larger ones. Our last storm produced 19,000 strikes, leaving us with nothing more than wondering who had the job of counting them all. To be sure, an improvement over forest fires.

I received a letter this week from the homeowners association, a First Notice that I need to remove the weeds from my yard. The only ones left are the patches of spreading spurges, now a sunrise feast for the doves, pigeons, and finches looking for seeds. The spurges are doing just fine, thank you, enough that I was contemplating letting them completely fill the yard as if they were a planned ground cover. Apparently the HOA only recognizes rocks in that role.

Then there is the virus. We're hale and hearty here, so far, taking all the precautions we can to stay home. Mail deliveries... well, they're much slower. I'm still waiting for an order of plastic film for the last two giant windows. When I check the tracking, it's... in transit, no location noted, with the estimated delivery date pushed back another couple days each time I check. Our all getting out today was an anomaly, and half of the stops were to drive up to pick up. The "official" numbers say we are slowing down cases here, but Arizona is still the 7th worst state in the worst country in the world, so we're not letting our guard down.

We now know two people with the virus. Steve keeps in touch with somebody from Minnesota whom I've not met, a woman he worked with years ago. She's now in some variety of nursing home. She is recovering slowly from the virus, but just lost 4 of her best friends to it. At least for her we are hopeful, despite all the latest news about long term disabilities from it.

The second case is much too close to home, one of our granddaughters on Steve's side. Recently graduated - 1 year? 2? - she's working in healthcare, and living with her boyfriend and his family. His mom is a nurse, thankfully. The granddaughter posted on Facebook that she's tested positive and is feeling sick. I decided to reach out to her and offer support as well as getting much better acquainted, so we've been emailing. She has three co-morbidities, including asthma, so we really worry. She describes a constant elephant on her chest, or rubber bands. It hurts to breathe and her inhaler doesn't really help. Plus, no health insurance: missed one signup deadline, next not for a couple months, and just a bit too much income for their state program. Her boyfriend's family assures her that she shouldn't avoid the hospital if/when she needs it, because they will find some way to take care of the finances. I sign off my emails to her with:

"Breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe."

And I hope and worry.

It's nearly impossible not to wonder how many of the people I know but have temporarily - or longer - lost touch with are now either fighting off the virus or have lost that battle, and how that will change by next year. I used to see dozens of people regularly in the club, and only know that some of them have survived thus far because I'm on a few email chains of funny animals or signs or kids' antics that go around and recognize that whoever is sending me things is also still sending them the same ones. It doesn't tell me where they are or how well they are doing or whom they've lost, just that somebody is still sending them things and hasn't heard not to do so. Do we count that as hope? Or think maybe we can get along a little easier with all the other stresses by not thinking about it at all?

Breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Rain?

They haven't started calling this season a "nonsoon"  yet. I understand why. There's been rain north, south, east, west, and all the compas points in between. There's been hail. Lightning. Impressive clouds building up over most of the horizons. Dust storms almost qualifying as haboobs. Something actually measurable fell once at Sky Harbor. Even a precautionary warning or two, though no actual flooding I'm aware of. All variety of warn wet stuff and promises all over the place. Just not here. Only dust for us.

Until last night, that is. I walked out to witness, see if it was really rain and not just more pigeon turds blowing down off the roof, needing to be swept off the sidewalk and driveway. Those hard little round pebbles really hurt under bare feet! But it was really, really rain.

About 50 drops worth!

Plus a little good old rain smell. So we were close.

If only the smell helped the plants survive. Even the agaves - the well established ones - are showing yellow spots on the leaves. Bushes native to these parts are struggling, yuccas d(r)ying back from their tips. The older trees in the back yard are doing OK so far, but I am having to water the recently planted mesquite. Palo verde and desert willow are thriving, and the big pine at least isn't yet turning yellow, the sign the one in the front yard gave a few years back to warn us we needed a tree service. Funeral service.

Nothing more in sight for a while except dirty skies from California fires. Maybe that qualifies as counting your blessings that those aren't close around here, but color me greedy. I was hoping for something wetter along the line of blessings.

Of course the forcast claims we're not seeing any more 115 degree highs for a bit, certainly a good thing. They said that after Monday's high of 115 about Tuesday, too. Also Tuesday about today.

Sigh....