Fat Fingers

Posted: August 14, 2024 | Author: | Filed under: Current Events, I"m Just Saying... | Tags: , , , , | 1 Comment

I think our government might be trying to kill us through the health insurance industry.  I’ll give you an example.

It was refill time for our prescriptions.  It took two years, but we finally have our meds synced up so they are ready at the same time.  This means only one trip every ninety days.  It saves us gas, headaches and stress to only have to battle the lines at the pharmacy every three months.

When we both got emails from Walgreen’s that everything was ready, we hopped in the car and drove to the drug store.

As the cashier piled up bags of pills onto the countertop, Bill asked if they got the new dose on his thyroid meds, which the doctor had changed from .25 mgs a day to .5 mgs a day.  The clerk looked at the label on the bag and confirmed the new dosage, then continued to ring up one script after another – four for me and three for Bill.  Yes, getting older sucks!

We got home and started unpacking all the pill bottles and consolidating them with our remaining supplies.  When Bill got to his new thyroid prescription, he noticed it only contained 48 pills, not the 90 the doctor prescribed.  “What the… , “ he exclaimed.  “This only has half of what I need.  Why would they short me and not say anything?”

“I don’t know, hon.  I guess we better go ask.”

So, he printed the prescription order from Walgreen’s website that showed a quantity of 90, grabbed the bag that contained the pills and we got in the car and drove back to Walgreen’s.

When we got up to the counter, Bill asked the cashier why he was shorted on his prescription.  “Because the instructions were for you to take four a week,” the young man behind the cash register said.  “So, 48 pills is a 90-day supply.”

“But why would you arbitrarily change this prescription without checking with the doctor?” Bill asked, trying to remain calm.  “It called for 90 pills.”

“Because we have to follow what the instructions say, not the quantity,” he said with a shrug.

“But what if the instructions are wrong?”

“That’s the rule, man,” the kid replied with another shrug and walked away.

I led a fuming Bill from the pharmacy, through the store and out to the parking lot.  Once we got back in the car, I suggested he email our doctor to make sure we heard him correctly when he said he was upping the ‘daily’ dosage.  Which is what Bill did as soon as we got home.  He received a reply back from the doctor later in the day and, sure enough, our doctor admitted to making a mistake.  It should have been one pill every day, not four times a week.  He said he sent a new prescription to the pharmacy. 

We returned to Walgreen’s the next morning for a third time in two days to see if we could somehow resolve this.  Bill approached the pharmacy technician who was standing behind the pharmacy’s Information window.  “Is there any way I can get my prescription filled correctly?” he asked, placing the pills that were still inside the sealed prescription bag on the counter.

“Well, this says four pills a week.  So, 48 is correct,” she replied.

“No, it’s not.  My doctor sent a new, corrected prescription.  I’m supposed to take one every day, not four times a week.”

“That may be, but we can’t fill a new one until this one expires sometime in mid-September.  Then we’ll archive the incorrect one and keep the new one on file,” she concluded with a shrug.

“But it hasn’t even been opened.  Can’t you take it back?”

“Sorry, no.  It’s paid for and you left the store with it.”

“But I’ll run out of pills a month before the next prescription is ready.  And by the way, who decides to arbitrarily change a prescription without checking with the doctor if there’s a discrepancy?  Is this a Walgreen’s policy?” he asked.

“The insurance companies make us follow the dosage instructions, not the prescribed quantity.  It’s out of our hands.”

“So, nobody checks with the doctor?  I could get a prescription that called for 90 blood pressure pills but the instructions said take four a day so I’d get 360 and then die because my heart stopped because no one thought to check with the doctor because the quantity didn’t match the dosage?”

“I guess so,” she shrugged.  “Like I said, it’s out of our hands,” she concluded with a sigh and a head shake as she disappeared into the rows of shelving within the pharmacy.

“And off your conscious too, I guess,” he muttered with a huff as he turned and we walked away.  “Whatever happened to personal accountability,” he shouted over his shoulder.  “I’m guessing the whole healthcare system would be a lot happier if us old farts just stopped complaining and died.”

As we walked down an aisle towards the front exit, I thought I heard applause coming from the folks still waiting in line to get their prescriptions filled.

Mono

Posted: August 7, 2024 | Author: | Filed under: Friends and Family | Tags: , , , , | 1 Comment

My ten-year-old granddaughter, Morgan, got mononucleosis.

When soccer stopped for the summer, Morgan decided she’d like to try swimming.  Jamie and Ryan found a local girls swim team she could join and took her back and forth to practice three days a week at a nearby public pool.

The first part of July, Morgan got sick and couldn’t go to practice.  She didn’t get upset about it because, during a conversation over Father’s Day dinner at our house shortly before she got sick, she announced she hated it.

“Really?” I asked.  “Why do you hate it?”

“Because it’s boring.  All you do is swim up and down the lane.  That’s it.  Up and down.  Up and down.  It’s boring.  And the water stinks.”

“Well, that sounds pretty icky,” I replied.  “Nothing fun about swimming in stinky water.”

“I know, Nana,” she said.  “And you’ve gotta wonder how come it stinks.  It can’t be anything very good, that’s for sure.”

I laughed and agreed with her.

A week or so later she spiked a fever and it continued for several days.  Jamie took her to the doctor and they drew blood to run a few tests.  And, a couple of days later, the results came back that she had mononucleosis.

When Jamie called to tell me the test results, she commented, “I can’t imagine where she got it, but Morgan says she got it from the pool.  And I believe her.”

“So, no more swim team in the stinky pool?” I asked.

“Nope.  That’s over.  And, you know, even after the fever seemed to break, I just couldn’t figure out why all she wanted to do is sleep.  I guess this answers it.  I’m just happy it isn’t Valley Fever.”

“Boy, that’s for sure.  At least Morgan has always been good about sleeping when she’s tired.  She never fights it.”

“That’s true,” Jamie replied.  “When Morgan wants to go to bed, don’t get in her way.  Hopefully, she’ll get over this pretty quickly.  And I think we’re lucky that Liv didn’t get it.”

“That would be bad.  She’s enough of a drama queen without having mono to add to her repertoire,” I laughed.

“Plus, the doctor would have to sedate her to draw blood.  It would not have been pretty.”

Woofer

Posted: July 31, 2024 | Author: | Filed under: I"m Just Saying..., On The Home Front | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment

Bill and I were done watching the morning news and it was time to pour a fresh cup of coffee and move to the office to check email and peruse social media. 

I sat patiently on the couch as Bill exited the Sling app and turned off the TV.  A digital message suddenly flashed on the sound bar right before the television shut down.

“Bill,” I said, “you need to check your woofer.”

He gave me a blank look and replied, “What?”

“Your woofer.  You need to check it,” I repeated, pointing to the TV and the sound bar that rested in front of it.

He stared at me for a beat or two, then announced, “Honey, I’d need to lose about fifteen or twenty pounds before I could even see my woofer, much less check it.  In fact,” he continued with a chuckle, “I don’t think I’ve seen my woofer for at least ten years.”

Once I stopped laughing, and could talk without spitting and sputtering, I said, “The sound bar, Bill.  It said to check the woofer on the sound bar.”

“Interesting,” he murmured.  “I had no idea the sound bar was even familiar with my woofer.”

I broke up again as he wiggled his eyebrows at me.  It didn’t help.  Finally, I choked out, “Can you check out the sound bar?  Please?”

“Well, I guess I can handle that.  What am I supposed to be checking it for?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe to make sure it’s still woofing?” I said, cracking up all over again.

Back to Lab Land

Posted: July 24, 2024 | Author: | Filed under: Out and About | Tags: , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

It was time for our bi-annual wellness check and that meant a trip to the lab to fill some vials with blood.  Oh, hooray!

Bill and I got there Tuesday morning at 8:30, hoping the normal 7 AM crowd was gone and it wouldn’t be as crowded.  Wrong.  We stepped up to the check-in desk, gave the nice lady our lab orders and waited a minute while she input the information.  When she finished, she asked, “What time is your appointment?”

Time?  Appointment?  What happened to walking in, signing in, and going into the lab to have blood drawn?

“We don’t have an appointment,” Bill said.  “Since when do we need one?”

“Oh, it’s a new policy.  We’re encouraging people to schedule their appointment ahead of time.  The walk-ins go to the end of the line.  Right now, I can sign you up for our next opening at 9:30.  Do you want to wait here or come back?”

“Wait?  For over an hour?” Bill said incredulously.

“How about this,” I replied.  “How about we make an appointment for tomorrow and we’ll come back then.”

“So, you don’t want to wait,” she asked once more.

“No, we don’t want to sit here for an hour.  We’ll come back tomorrow morning,” I replied.

So, we made an appointment time for each of us and left.

The next morning, we were once again standing at the check-in desk.  “Oh, hi,” the nice check-in lady said.  “You’re back.”

“Yup, we’re back.  We have an 8:50 and a 9:10 appointment,” Bill said with a smile.

“Well, you’re all checked in,” she informed us, “so just have a seat and they’ll call you.”

A few minutes later, the door to the lab area opened and one of the phlebotomist poked her head out and called out, “Harry?”

Four seniors popped up from their seats, sort of like elderly Whack-a-Moles.

“Larry?” asked one.

“Mary?” asked another.

“Harry?” asked a third.

“Evelyn?” asked a fourth.

Everyone in the waiting area stared at Evelyn.

“Yes, Harry,” the phlebotomist confirmed.

All four began hobbling toward the open door.

“No, no,” the phlebotomist yelled.  “Just Harry.  Harry Duncan.”

A group sigh could be heard from Mary, Larry and Evelyn as they made their way back to their chairs.  A few minutes later, another phlebotomist stuck her head out the door and called out, “William?”

Bill looked at me with a grin.  I looked back at him with a confused expression since I had the earlier appointment time.  As he began to stand, a man walked by, waving at the phlebotomist standing in the doorway.  “William here.  Ashfield.  William Ashfield,” he announced proudly.

“That’s right, come on back,” the phlebotomist said with a smile as she led him through the door.  Bill sat down with a dejected look on his face.

My appointment time of 8:50 came and went, as did Bill’s 9:10 time.  They called Mary back and shortly after that, Larry, followed eventually by Evelyn.  I nudged Bill and said, “So much for making an appointment.  Seems like it’s working out about the same as when they took walk-ins.”

A half an hour after my ‘appointment’ time, my name was finally called.  As I walked toward the doorway into the lab area, I was passed by an elderly gentleman pushing a bright blue walker.  He stepped in front of me and said loudly, “I’m Matt.  I’m here.”

I rolled my eyes and looked at the phlebotomist.  “Hi.  I’m Patt and I’m here too.  I’ll take door number one.”

Matt looked confused and the phlebotomist just laughed.  “Pretty soon sir, but not yet.”

I just love my visits to Lab Land.  Almost as much as preparing for a colonoscopy.

Guardian Angel

Posted: July 17, 2024 | Author: | Filed under: Current Events, I"m Just Saying..., Politics | Tags: , , , , | 1 Comment

I have no words for what happened Saturday, July 13th.  Wait, that’s not totally true.

Someone, something, a higher power, a guardian angel, God, was watching over President Trump as he spoke to the Pennsylvania crowd last weekend.  Despite the neglectful way security was handled, in spite of the shoddy coverage to protect him, he still survived with bravery and defiance.  A couple of millimeters twist of his head was the difference between life and death. 

I believe he was protected by something greater than us.  There are signs and then there are blaring announcements.  An angel watched over him for everyone to see. 

We need this man to bring our country back to its former place in the world – a nation that is strong, secure, and respected.  We need someone to make us feel safe again and I believe Donald Trump, along with his VP, JD Vance, are the men to do it.

See What Sticks

Posted: July 10, 2024 | Author: | Filed under: Current Events, Politics | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The June 27th debate debacle finally exposed Biden as the cognitively impaired senior citizen that he is.  It’s been a whirlwind of excuses to try to cover up the obvious and hopefully to get us to stop believing what we saw and heard and start believing what the far left wants us to believe.

Poor Joe was tired after his overseas trip.  This was a trip that took place almost two weeks before the debate.  I used to travel internationally and it never took me two weeks to get over jetlag.  And, he has a big old bed on Air Force 1.

He had a cold.  And it was a very special cold.  No sniffles.  No cough.  No fever.  Just a bit of a scratchy throat, which is also how Biden sounds when he doesn’t have a cold.  Next time I get a cold, I hope it’s a symptomless Biden Cold.

Trump distracted him during the debate by constantly interrupting.  Nope, sorry.  I watched the whole thing and Trump never interrupted.  He was quiet, thoughtful and occasionally looked somewhat incredulous.  But he never stopped old Joe from mumbling and stumbling his way from one lie to the next.

Biden’s doctor examined him and said he was exhausted.  But, according to the White House, Biden only had a phone call with his doctor after the debate, not a physical exam.  So, who do you believe?  Biden’s official mouthpiece or Biden himself, who, according to a recent rally in Wisconsin, can’t remember what year it is and thinks he’s running for the 2020 election as the first black woman?

It was the prep team’s fault.  I guess people with decades of political experience just worked poor old Joe too hard.  Even having the questions ahead of time didn’t help overcome the prepper’s obvious brutality working Joe 4 hours a day, with a nap in-between, to get him ready for the debate.

I guess the democrats are hoping that if they throw enough excrement at the wall, something will stick.  Good luck with that.  We are not the blind, mindless idiots the left-wing politicians and MSM talking heads seem to think we are.  Biden is old, he’s failing mentally, and he’s putting the entire country in danger.  His debate performance only confirmed it.

Hormones

Posted: July 3, 2024 | Author: | Filed under: Friends and Family | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment

Our granddaughter, Olivia, turned 13 at the end of April.  She is officially a teenager and also officially temporarily insane. 

I was talking to my daughter-in-law, Jamie, the other day and she told me that, while Liv was away at church camp, she took Liv’s sister, ten-year-old Morgan, to see the new movie Inside Out 2.  The animated film returns to the mind of a newly minted teenaged girl named Riley, and introduces a new emotion, anxiety.  Then, she related a conversation she had with Liv when she got home from camp. 

Jamie had washed Liv’s sheets while she was gone and, when she returned, Jamie went upstairs to Liv’s bedroom to make her bed.  As she started putting on the fitted sheet, Liv announced with an exasperated huff, “Mom.  Those sheets don’t match the aesthetic of my room.”

“Oh?” Jamie replied.  “Would you’d like different colored sheets?”

“Color?  Color?” Liv shouted.  “Who said anything about color?”

“Okay then,” Jamie asked calmly. “do you want white sheets?”

“Why would anyone want white sheets?” she exclaimed, rolling her eyes.

“Okay, so colored sheets then.” Jamie asked, clearly confused at this point.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Liv moaned, clutching her head and storming dramatically out of the room.

Once I stopped laughing, I asked Jamie what she was going to do about the sheets.

“Keep them.  Liv doesn’t know what she wants, why she wants it, or when she wants it.  She’s like the girl in the movie.”

“She’s operating on pure hormones now.  But, don’t worry, it’ll get better,” I said, trying to sound reassuring.

“Well, that’s good to know,” Jamie sighed.

“But not before it gets a whole lot worse,” I chuckled.

Positively Positive

Posted: June 29, 2024 | Author: | Filed under: Current Events, I"m Just Saying..., Politics | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

It seems the older I get, the more I find to complain about.  I decided I needed to concentrate on writing something positive.  Okay, so this is me trying to sound positive.

Contrary to the outrageous claims tossed around by Biden during the June 27th debate, I’m positive:

I never heard Donald Trump say he wanted to be the dictator of the United States.

I never heard Donald Trump say he plans on eliminating elections and never leaving office once he’s president again.

I never heard Donald Trump say he wanted to eliminate Social Security.

I never heard Donald Trump tell people to inject bleach.

I never heard Donald Trump say he wanted to destroy New York City, the United States and then the world.

I never heard Donald Trump say he would use our military to kill illegal migrants.

I am also positive that I’ve also heard these false accusation made in the latest wave of campaign ads and political soapbox speeches.  And, if any of these falsehoods are questioned, our current, dementia-riddled president and his newest mouthpiece, wacko Robert DeNiro, accuse challengers of being clowns and crazy and stupid, as well as being the ever popular racist, white supremacists. 

I guess it takes one to know one.

Debate Night Bingo

Posted: June 27, 2024 | Author: | Filed under: Politics | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

It’s finally here, the 2024 Presidential Debate night.  Here’s a handy little game to play to keep yourselves from throwing a chair through the TV screen.

Battle of the Bobs

Posted: June 26, 2024 | Author: | Filed under: Current Events, Out and About | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

As part of our train trip from Williams to the Grand Canyon, we purchased a bus tour hoping to see more overlooks then we could if we just walked around since we didn’t have a car.

The train pulled into the Grand Canyon, directly across from the Park’s oldest hotel, El Tovar, at 11:45, fifteen minutes before our tour was scheduled to leave.  Eight tour buses were parked on the other side of the tracks, opposite the hotel.  We found the right bus and were welcomed aboard by Bob, our driver and guide.  Bob was retired and spending his golden years working at a different National Park each year.  In 2024 it was the Grand Canyon.

Bill and I found seats we liked towards the back, just before the last four rows of seating began in a step-up, raised section.  A couple of minutes later, two middle-aged couples boarded and made a beeline to the rear of the bus.  The apparent leader of the foursome, whose name we discovered later was also Bob, sat across the aisle from us with his wife.  Then he began loudly instructing the other couple where to sit.  As the bus pulled away from the curb, Bob the Guide began giving everyone safety instructions.  Bob the Tourist continued standing, talking loudly, and acting like a rowdy teenager.  And, totally ignoring Bob the Guide.

Suddenly, Bob the Guide stopped talking and also stopped the bus.  He put it in park, stood at the head of the aisle with the microphone in his hand before announcing loudly, “Sir, I need you to sit down and start listening to what I’m saying.  This is important information.”  Unfortunately, Bob the Tourist didn’t seem to be aware that Bob the Guide was talking to him because he continued to joke around with his friends.  Until…

“You!  In the back,” Bob the Guide shouted.  “Sit down and shut up or I’m throwing you and your friends off the bus.”

That got Bob the Tourist’s attention.  He looked around at other passengers on the bus, including across the aisle at us, as though seeking approval or support.  But no one gave him a glance.  I looked at him and whispered, “Sit down.”  He did. 

Bob started the bus and continued his spiel as he drove us toward one of the smaller hotels where we were going to have a buffet-style lunch before the Canyon tour started.  Once we arrived and he parked, Bob the Guide announced the bus would start reseating us in a half an hour and leave fifteen minutes later, at 12:45 exactly.  He then added, as though it was an afterthought, “By the way, this will be the last bathroom stop for two hours.  So, make it count.”

We got off the bus, followed by Bob the Tourist and his entourage.  When they exited, however, Bob the Guide asked them to stay back for a moment as he needed to talk to them.  And, based on the expressions on the faces of the foursome when they finally came into the buffet room, it must have been quite a talk.

The tour bus was full and we all rushed into the room that was set up for the buffet meal.  We got in line and perused the abysmal offering in the metal buffet trays.  One pan was full of rice, another of cooked carrots and a third contained pasta with coagulated and tasteless white sauce.  There was some kind of meat that was either chicken or fish with some corn on top and something that might have been pork, which was stacked like dry cordwood.  There was a small bowl of potato salad, another of Kenowa salad, and a third bowl that contained canned pineapple bits.  Nothing was hot, just warm, including the salad options.

I passed on lunch, drank water, and waited while Bill ate.  Then we both used the restrooms.  I finished first and waited for him outside, near our bus, which was now parked alongside three more buses.  Bob the Guide was talking to a couple of other drivers and complaining about Bob the Tourist.  He was upset because he couldn’t get him moved to another tour bus, which, apparently, he had tried very hard to do.  The last thing he said before they all returned to their respective vehicle was, “If he starts up again, I’m stopping the bus and calling 911.  I’m too old to put up with that crap.”  

As we got underway, Bob the Guide pointed out the Park’s courthouse and jail.  “Any offense committed in a National Park is considered a felony.  And, they don’t mess around up here,” he noted grimly, staring hard into the visor mirror directly at Bob the Tourist.  Bob the Tourist suddenly stopped talking and was very, very well behaved for the rest of the tour. 

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