Hello...

   The phone rings.It's from an unfamiliar number, but I answer it anyway.(Yes, I know it's not the thing to do) The male caller says, in an accented voice, "Hello, Mrs. Schroder, it's Jab...''' I interrupt, "Sorry, not interested." The caller. in a more plaintive tone, "Mrs. Schroder, don't you remember me? It's Jabbar."  Shades of the past, it was Danny's old soccer coach, Jabbar. From Afghanistan, I recall.  He lives in Delmar now and is trying to get in touch with his old championship soccer team. Danny was star goalie.  I should have known the call wasn't from one of those computer-repair centers. They have accents, but their names are always Bill or Tom  or Mike. 

NYC

One cold winter day, and the 4 of us, including Gus, were in NYC, under the Castro Convertible sign. Probably in Feb. 1972 or so. I can't remember why we went or what we did, though I think we must have stayed over. Will  have to look in my old----very old---journals.
 (I look like a frozen munchkin and Dorothy looks like a model. Dave looks pretty good too. They both loved the camera, especially the guy in the middle.)

Safe at home?

Could it be that if I don't go far from home
    Or if I stay inside and lock the doors
    And not watch television
    Or read the newspapers,
And if I don't ask any questions
Or try to come up with any answers,
That it will pass me by.

Organ Recital

So now I'll need to find an interstitiumologist.  It's cited to be the largest organ in the human body. It's all over, everywhere in you. Like under your skin,throughout your body. How it's escaped detection  all these years is remarkable, must be a stealth organ. Implications for further study of causes of cancer et al are far reaching, so let's rule whoever funded and researched that grant to be saviors. All media outlets are giving full coverage. For now. And, by the way, the coyote on the museum doorstep has been released into the wild.

Op Ed

Medical Malfeasance

    I won't go so far back as a missing (later shredded) X-ray report which was a potential difference between  life and death, or to a print out of a report that sighted an artificial heart valve. Those were some years ago.  I'll cite only the events of the past year:
      July:   Instead of a scheduled simple ultrasound for a kidney stone follow-up, I was handed a blanket, led down the long hospital  hallway to a treatment room where I was told to prepare to be there for at least 3 hours.  I had to rebel. Nope, wrong person.
     November:  Wrong readings on ultrasound report with ominous findings led me to undergo major surgery.  Pathology report showed no such finding.  Oops!
    February:  Routine follow up office visit morphed into my being handed a pill and cup of water prior to office surgery, a cystoscopy, whatever that is. Oops!
    March------I'm so angry this time I can't even talk about it.
   
 
         

Ah-monds

  I think I saw this commercial last night on TV, but I was more than half asleep, so am not sure I got it right. A man is driving his car and his passenger keeps telling the silent driver how much he likes "ahmonds."   He keeps repeating the name of the nut over and over again. Finally, the picture shows him being booted out of the car: as the car is moving away, the driver yells out---"It's ALmonds!"
   I can relate.  I harbored the same impulse for about a dozen years when I drove a fellow worker to our annual conference in Syracuse. The drive took us about 3 hours, and she, in a rather self-satisfied manner, displayed the conditions of obsessive-compulsive disorder.  When she wasn't engaged in actual conversation, she would talk to herself:  "That folder goes here.  I'm going to put my smaller purse into my larger totebag. I'll charge my phone when I get to the hotel. I 'll check on my daughter later."  Several hours of memos to self. She was a very nice person, as was I , so  I knew I would never kick her out of a moving car. But the thought did cross  my mind.
   *****I saw the ad again, when I was more awake.  That is, my eyes were open this time. The person ejected from the car was the driver, who couldn't take it anymore, not the annoying passenger.  I suspect an edit somewhere along the line---no one can show violence toward another in these hypersensitive times.

The Lying Truth---Everybody Does It.

   Well, probably not everybody. When we were of the impressionable age, and learning about morality, it was not the law which would judge our infractions but God himself. With, we reasoned, the aid of his angels. Though they appeared so innocent, they were perfectly capable of ratting us out for every little sin, no matter how venial. Once reported, those sins would remain in our heavenly permanent record until the day we were judged for all eternity. Not wanting to spend any more time in Purgatory than need be, I avoided those occasions of sin and pretty much always told the truth, afraid even to exaggerate because those migrant nuns to our religious education classes told us that too counted as a lie.
   God must have since then attached  a leniency rider to the code for lying, probably due to the population explosion in  Purgatory because now, as I said, everybody seems to lie.  I told a lie when I parked in the space reserved for ER patients:  because I couldn't find another space and didn't want to be late for my appointment. A little kind of whitish lie, but that paled compared to the administrative lying inside the medical building.
   The doctor had ordered a stress test, as part of an annual type office visit.  I had not had a stress test in a number of years. Filling out the form before the test, the nurse indicated "chest pain" for the reason.  I told her I didn't have any chest pain and she said they had to put that for the reason. I know---a doctor can't just prescribe what he thinks may be of value for his patients.
    A stress test now traces your cardio activity until you reach what they determine to be your optimal peak heart rate which in my case was pre-determined to be 127. With the treadmill speeded up slightly and adjusted to a slight incline, I reached that goal in less than 4 minutes, and the stress test ended. That was fine with me, though not to brag but I can walk much longer  than that without feeling any stress.  But when I looked at the report, the reason given for stopping the test was patient exhaustion.  Everything has to fit in the model provided in order for our  medical system to function. And I suppose the same applies in  the government, legal and free enterprise systems. I hope there is amnesty for all those previously sentenced to Purgatory, maybe even to Hell.

Doctors in Dreams

     I was going to go to church today; it is Palm Sunday. But I was awake last night and went back to bed and fell asleep until 9:30 so I guess it's too late.
     I dreamt I was sort of meeting Dorothy at adjoining doctors' offices. We weren't sick. She had a work-related issue, and I had some question about Dave. The doctor's baby daughter was on a mat just inside the office door. After a while she crawled off and climbed up onto a high windowsill just beyond where he could see her. I asked if she should be  climbing  there, and he, rather abashedly,  said they were allowing it for now.
    In the next office, I was talking to an employee when the other doctor came into the room and asked if we'd enjoyed the hot chocolate. I said yes, but he looked and said I didn't seem to have had much of it. In truth, I'd had none at all. He left and came back with more chocolate and a great big silver spoon, which he handed to us, the better to stir with, he said.
  When we left, I meant to ask Dorothy if she'd heard from Paddy but we ran out of time.
 

"O" "U" Blurred Lines

   Advising young people, the Pope said to keep "shouting"  not "shooting." Time to schedule eye exam.

Why all the uproar?

I do understand why some people are closing their accounts now, but haven't many posted their personal information on Facebook themselves. Besides, personal information is available many other places. Such as your friendly neighborhood bank.  See below, "Reasons we can share your personal information." Some you can limit, some you can not.
   So, Cambridge Analytica, you know you're not the only one, though maybe the biggest and greediest.

Fatherhood---The Way It Was

Just ask HWL: 
      "Between the dark and the daylight
       When the night is beginning to lower
       Comes a pause in the day's occupations
       That is known as the CHILDREN'S HOUR"
That's the specified time when his children, 3 little girls,  came downstairs from the nursery and enjoyed daddy time with him. And he realized how much he loved them and vowed to keep them in his heart forever.  For sure, easy for him to say.

After school

Sage Advice

I keep being reminded:
 "You go to war with the army you have, not the army you want."

Parking with Problems Part 11

   This time I need to go into the hospital itself, for some follow-up lab work. I'm told it's easy; there is Valet Parking. I dislike valet parking almost as much as parking garages, but am agreeable to the idea. I drive into the entrance and, since it's early in the morning, spot the rarity of 2 existing spaces in the lot before the entrance to the valet service, at front end of the lot, curbside. I pull in, not too close to the side of the curb; you know how that is. As I'm getting out of the car, a woman who has stopped her car alongside, shouts from her open window for me to move my car over so she can park in the other space. I walk around to the passenger side of my car, see that there's plenty of room, and tell her so. "No, she says,"Your rear tire is on the white line."  That was true, barely so, and I told her the next car over was a few feet from its white line so there'd be more than enough room. She was driving a sedan. She finally pulled in, with plenty of room, and I told her I knew she could do it. She didn't respond in any fashion at all, didn't thank me or anything, just walked into the building.
   After my appt., I walked out the door to see my car was completely blocked in by a line of cars parked parallel to the driveway, behind the row of parked cars, under the auspices of the parking valets. I ask the present valet if these parking spaces are okay to park in. He said yes, they are, but they are so busy today there is no more room in the valet lot, so they had to park out here. He said he'd move both cars which were parked behind me so I could get out. He moved one of the cars and I told him if he'd back my car out, he might not have to move the other.He gladly did so.
     So I drove home and parked my car sideways in the  driveway. Just because I could.

Problematic Parking

   I had occasion to visit the Medical Office adjacent to the former Samaritan Hospital. Knowing parking is always an issue, I drove straight into the Parking Garage, shared by both facilities. When I say I drove straight into it, that's not quite true. I drove up the incline, and through the rather narrow entrance way. Well, almost, because I had to wait while the SUV in front of me took the mandatory sharp right; I watched his vehicle bounce over the curb, that same curb, now marked by a pylon, where I have twice injured the rear tire on the passenger side of my car.
      I drove through a few layers, in the gloomy and oppressive building, and then, since I was early, decided to try my luck on the ground, the lots on either side of the Medical Office. I checked the first lot. It was filled. On to the next, narrower lot. I knew it was futile when I saw one of the lurkers parked mid-lane, ready to zip in any direction if a space opened up.Said lurkers  arrive half an hour early to wait for someone to leave. A patient should be leaving every half hour or so is the rationale. I'm not sure what his intentions are, so I carefully drive around him, glad no one else is there to contest him.
     Resigned, I drive back into the parking garage, and as I round the first turn, I see someone backing out of a spot. Hallelujah.  I pull into the space, which is between two large vehicles. Nobody drives a passenger car anymore. As I go to exit my car, I see a red plaque at front bumper level. It says the spot is reserved for Emergency Room Patients Only. Rats! I don't have time now to look further, so I get out and start to walk out when an attendant approaches.  I have never before seen a  human being in there. That feature is brand new, I'm told. He politely asks me where I am headed, so I say the E.R. He graciously wishes me good luck, and I thank him. I'm now committed to the lying truth, so I enter the E.R., climb 2 flights of stairs up to the hospital level, then the elevator down to ground level, and walk across to the Medical Building. I can't know if the attendant is aware that I parked in a forbidden  spot or if he just wants to know if I have any Medical Office or hospital business.I don't want to mess with being towed or such.
    When I get to my appointment, the tech asks if I'm having a good day. I say I was except I think I'm parked illegally and he said it should be ok. But I tell him I parked in an ER space and the attendant asked where I was going. The tech says, "And you told him you were going to the ER of course."  So, all ended well.


   

It Might As Well Be Spring

Christmas Cactus can't tell.

Gutter Helmet---You suck

The snow is gone from the roof---all but that strip of snow retained on TOP of the helmet. When that accumulated strip of snow melts, it drips straight down. Bring your umbrella if you come to visit.

Party in the Front: Business in the Back

Cryptic

   They were about 6 and 7 years old, waiting for the schoolbus one frosty morning. The bus driver wanted them outside, and near the end of the driveway when he pulled up in front of our house. So I would watch them from  the living room window. I saw the two of them writing on the frosted windows of my car, in busy collaboration with whatever they were scratching into the layer of frost. When I went out later, I read what was still visible on the car window:  "Kill Popeye. Go for Bluto." 
    When they came home from school, I asked them what the message  meant, and where they had found  it or heard of it. Neither of them could or would answer the question. They had no memory of it.

Peanuts and Bambi Be-Damned

  The Bambi sheet and the Peanuts pillowcases may have their historic places, but  here we have  the penultimate:   the one and only DEER BLANKET.  Once well-loved, well-used and often squabbled over. It's a BIEDERLACK, made in West Germany, and still soft and fleecy after all these years.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

                     This was the first in the family. In order to prevent its being cut into pieces, ala the decision of Solomon, we acquired 3 more, for a total of 4. Only this one remains in my house. I just looked on ebay , and they're quite desirable. But the Deer Blanket is not for sale.                         

Here she goes again...

...I am called from the waiting room into the exam room. The nurse asks who is with me. I say I'm here alone. In order to comply with the "request," I say I'll drink some water and reach for the bottle in my pocketbook. "Oh you won't need that," she says.  "You have the water with your antibiotic pill." She extends the cup with the water and also the pill. I ask why I would need an antibiotic, as I'm here for a routine follow-up visit. "No," she says, "You're scheduled for a cystoscopy."   " No. I'm not. You must have the wrong chart." She looks at the chart in her hand, asks my name and DOB, saying they match up. I say again that it's wrong and she says she'll go check, and lays the chart on the counter. Of course I look at it and see a different name, Elizabeth, and a different birthday.
    She returns and says the reason for the confusion is that she thought I was seeing Dr. P. instead of Dr. A. She says for me to go back to the waiting room.  I do so and after a few minutes, the name Elizabeth is called. She stands up and kisses her husband before going into the room.
    Now I understand errors resulting from overwork, understaffing, fatigue, (though it was 10:30 in the morning) and repetitive tasks, and am willing to excuse the inevitable mistakes. What I find bothersome is the outright, bold-faced lying in order to cover up their shortcomings. The national pastime.

Address this

136 Main Street Cohoes----used to stop there regularly.

Please interpret

The announcer was reading from a chart-------"Remember to change the batteries in your carbon monoxide detector after no more than 5 years."  I have trouble enough parsing out double negatives, but find this even more incoherent.  When does after the no more than 5 years period kick in?  IN no more than 5 years may seem comprehensible. Would substituting "before" for "after''  clarify the timeline? Confound it!

Oh, well

Instant Downer

Every time I hear someone utter "Easy Peasy"  I feel a little sickened. I don't know why. I don't know if it's an old expression that has found new usage, or if it's of recent coinage. I know I can't stand to hear it.

The Snowy Day

   How does one prepare for a Nor'easter:  plenty of warnings have been issued, so there's no excuse for unpreparedness.  What to do: carry out the usual cat litter protocol, put refuse into outside garbage bins, run the dishwasher, do a load of laundry, fill the birdfeeder, bring in the newspaper, and the mail, which came early today, drive to the post office to get that all-important check sent out, make a few telephone calls while still able (which doesn't accomplish anything because nobody ever answers,)
   So now what?  The snow has stopped, but will start up again with a vengeance, so the reports state. I've seen some schoolbusses pass by, precious cargo to be delivered before the apocalyptic return of snow. 
    I guess I'll just sit here, a pile of blankets at the ready, and wait for the power to go out.

That's what HE said.

   Yeah, the guy who I paid last summer to trim the maple tree in our yard that overhangs the road. Like a lot of old maples, it somehow evolved into having about seven trunks and a lot of dead branches among them. I hate to think of what could happen if a dead branch fell onto the road and caused an accident. So Tree Service was to make sure that didn't happen'
    "We're done," he said, waiting to be paid. I asked what about that high branch over the road side, looking dead and as if it's waiting to fall.
      "Oh that's not dead, "said he.  "That's a live branch and won't fall off."

  Friday there was wind.   These branches did not fall where they lie. A motorist moved them out of the road onto the lawn. I don't suppose he was from Tree Service.

Testing my Patients

  The therapist presented him  with 3 words: steel, kittens, cement.  She asked him to name  the things that were hard. He said steel. She said he missed cement, and noted his failure  on her chart.  He said cement is soft, powdery. It didn't matter. Her answer sheet said steel and cement were hard. I assume the testers don't know how concrete is made. So it goes.
    (We've had a bag of cement in the basement for years, and it is pretty hard, but only because it has absorbed the water that has seeped in over the years.)