Tea Party, Anyone?

I have tried to stay away from politics and other distressing news, but a friend forwarded this article that deserves sharing. It's irreverent, long, full of expletives and arcane economic jargon, probably biased, and I don't care. It sums up my collective disgust with the idiots we elected in Washington and the idiots who are managing our money and being blessed for their incompetence with our tax dollars. So here you go, if you have the stomach for it:

http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/story/26793903/the_big_takeover/print

I also liked Jim Jubak's column this week, entitled It wasn't a bailout, it was a heist; and it's still going on.

And I hear rumblings, even here in the hinterlands. People are PO'd, organizing "Tea Parties" across the country. Even in Tennessee, where we generally just mind our own business, and let the madness play out on the two coasts without getting too worked up about it, seven rallies are planned for April 15 across the state. If you happen to have your pitchfork handy and want to become part of the rabble at the gates, check it out at:

http://www.officialtaxdayteaparty.com/index.html

When I was in college, we were sure the "Revolution" was just around the corner. Of course, the revolution was perceived as being some version of socialism/communism, where we would all come to our collective senses and just get along. We were actually taught by our professors that Marx was right, that the workers of the world would unite, and that "from each according to his abilities, to each according to his needs," was a good way to run the world. I started to get a clue when I quit school after my junior year, and went into factory work to organize my fellow proletariat. That's when I discovered that most of my colleagues were interested in some form of the America Dream, not the Brave New World of Collectivism. They wanted to get ahead, make something of their lives, and garner the blessings of capitalism in the form of a better life for their kids.

I went back to college the next year, somewhat chastened in my zeal for socialist utopia.

My final epiphany was when I became an elected official on the local school board in my forties. That's when I discovered the sheer insanity of bureaucratic institutions, the venality and self-interest of my fellow board members, and the hypocrisy of "progressive" intentions as applied to practical, real-life applications, affecting real people (children and parents, trapped in a government-run coercive monopoly) in a supremely negative way. Add to that a collective cover-your-ass mentality that actively discouraged objective evaluation of the consequences of any action or program, and my transition to anarchist was complete. Okay, maybe Libertarian. On a good day.

Since the current political and economic hierarchy seems determined to destroy what is left of liberty and initiative in this country, I find it ironic that I may yet see the "Revolution" in the form of taxpayer revolt against failed socialistic models.

Bring it on.

Requiem for the Loch Ness Carp and Otter News

We have finally ascertained the whereabouts of our fleet of grass carp in the pond. When it rains (as it is now), the carp "parade" around the pond, nose-to-tail. The largest one however, known around our house as the Loch Ness Carp, is nowhere to be seen. This 3-foot long monster must have suffered some fatal mishap while we were gone, during the drought, or perhaps just died of old age. We have been discussing (ad nauseum) whether we should replace it with a 10-inch youngster when the Farley Fish Farm truck comes to town, or just continue with the three we have.

Do the others miss the L.N.C.? Do they even comprehend that one of their number is missing?

There are problems. When we walked quietly down yesterday on an otter-spotting mission, a large great blue heron lifted off the pond. I'm getting a little tired of putting fish in the pond, only to have them eaten by herons, or now, otters.

We didn't see the otter, but Echo immediately sniffed out its bathroom on the bank, and proceeded to roll in otter poop. Lord, that is some majorly stinky poop! Probably because of what otters eat, i.e. our fish.

So the walk turned into a dog-washing event, and the whole day was shot to hell.

So that's where all our fish went...

The big news of the day is that Bill saw an OTTER in the lower pond this morning!

He ran up the driveway to get a camera, but by the time he got back down, Echo had chased it off. The dog was ever so busy, doing the required sniffing and peeing on every spot where said otter had touched the ground.

But this explains a lot of things: the giant splashes I occasionally hear, but when I whirl around, all I see is ripples; the lack of fish this year, not altogether explained by last year's drought.

First, coyote howls at dawn last week. Then an otter in the pond. What's next? Lions, tigers, bears?

Oh my.

Spring Begins

The birdies are building nests in the eaves, the peach trees are blossoming, and I have bug bites on my arms. It must be spring!

It's still pretty cold at night, but the days are starting to warm up nicely. The peas are poking up in the raised beds, and the seedlings on the dining room table are germinating.

I try to spend a good portion of each day outside (hence, the bug bites), soaking up the sunshine and enjoying the cool breezes and greening smells on the wind. I hear woodpeckers pounding away up in the trees.

I like this nature stuff. It's like being on a never-ending camping trip.

Good Movie

It has been SO long since we've been to the big-screen theatre and seen something really astonishing. Last night, Bill and I trekked off to see Slumdog Millionaire, which by all accounts and awards, was this year's best film.

It was fabulous. Both of us came out of the theatre saying "What a good movie!" The writing was superb, the scripting and pacing were just right. I kept thinking as I was watching it, "why, this is an Indian Forrest Gump!" (Without the American 50s-60s-70s-80s soundtrack of course).

And it succeeded in my first rule of movies: I have to care about what happens to these characters.

The hero had a purity of vision and clarity of purpose--and he prevailed. The evil guys got the consequences of their nefarious deeds. The characters had enough humor and complexity to do the unexpected occasionally, just like real people.

Back in November, when I was staying at Brother Jerry's, he was reading movie reviews to us over breakfast and announced, "this is it, this is going to be the hit movie this year!" He told us the title and the plot, and we all cynically said, "no way, you've got to be kidding." But he was right.

It was clever, beautiful, horrifying at times, emotional, and uplifting.

No Pain, My Gain

I'm off this morning to Kingsport for another session with Mr. Acupuncture.

I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS IS WORKING!!!!

Over the past 6 days, my heretofore agonizing pain has been gradually fading into the distance. I had a completely pain-free day yesterday--no spasms, twitches or even a threat of a twinge.

I am amazed. I am chagrined. I may just have to put my carefully tended skepticism on a shelf to gather dust along with liberal politics, laissez-faire childrearing, and other discarded ideas of my past.

Notes on Rural Life

It's been raining now for 3 days, and the crew is getting surly. Bill and I planted daylilies on his newly-cleared slope, a cherry tree down by the pond, and poked down all the peas that have popped to the surface, but these activities are just a holding pattern for when the sun comes out, hopefully today. Echo emits great sighs of boredom. Bill is even tired of watching the History Channel.


We found our pilfering rodent in the tree yesterday, presumably looking for "his" glove:

This is one of those strange "white-nosed" squirrels that we've only seen since we've lived here. He has a great bushy tail, hidden in this photo, that he flicks imperiously at us, while scolding us noisily for some imagined outrage.

Down the road, the cows have staged a coup, tipping over their steel hay corral. I actually saw one yesterday, shouldering the offending barrier up and over his back, while munching contentedly on the exposed hay.

And then there was the birthday. I am so glad we stayed home and ate lobster I cooked myself. Whenever we go out for lobster, I always feel like there should be more, as in "where's the rest of my lobster?" I ate lobster until I couldn't lift my fork anymore. Bill bought me a cake that says it all:

It was a very happy birthday.

Add to that several days that have been nearly pain-free, and I'm a happy country girl.

Happy Birthday to me

Today is my 56th birthday, and I get...a big red nose!

I have a pimple the size of Ohio, right on the very tip of my schnoz. I look like a circus clown. It feels like it's taking up the entirety of my visage. It stretches from ear-to-ear. It is a reminder that no matter how old I get, I still enjoy the blessings of youth...in the form of acne.

Swell.

Perhaps I will just go back to bed and ponder the profundity of my middle-aged wisdom, matched up with the biggest zit on the planet, landing on my honker in the night.

Why didn't I think of THAT?

Head smack! After going round-and-round on the pain carousel, it took my favorite Dr. Anderson to point me in the right direction. We had a pleasant visit (I got to see the baby pix AND the real-life baby, so adorable!), a non-eventful exam with no unpleasant surprises, and when she noticed how much pain I was in, she sent me to an acupuncture clinic down the street.

They took me in right away, without an appointment, did a 2-hour workup and treatment, and I walked out with about a 50% reduction in agony.

Okay, it was a little weird, but not at all painful. He put a needle in the top of my head, and one in the middle of my forehead, and a whole bunch right around the scar line and above it in my shoulder. He hooked them all up to an electric stim generator, which produced a mild buzzing sensation, put a heat lamp above me, dimmed the lights and closed the door. I fell asleep to the gentle electric massage pulses. Afterwards, he massaged in some herbal arnica cream, told me what to do at home this week, and sent me out the door. Wow.

This morning, my shoulder is a little sore, as he predicted, but I am vastly, monumentally, better. He predicts that the stabbing pains will get less intense and less frequent. And then, they will be gone. I am hopeful that this is finally the solution I've been looking for!

Another Day at the Doc Shop

Today is my "annual" girl-exam. I'm at the point where I just hope nothing else is found that requires more appointments, more follow-up. A nice, uneventful exam. A totally normal Pap. A pleasant "see you next year," would be so welcome!

This is one doctor, though, that I am looking forward to seeing. I'll get to see pix of the new baby and chat about the joys and concerns of motherhood.

And I think I'll go by the fish market on my way home and buy myself a lobster for my birthday.
A splurge of this magnitude is warranted.

Squirrel Antics

Yesterday morning, Bill was looking out the upstairs window and pointing, "What's that? That white thing with the red spots, is that a fungus in the tree?" I looked and agreed it must be some kind of tree growth.

Later in the day, Bill came in and said, "Pam, your gardening gloves have been stolen!" He found one of my cotton gloves at the base of the same tree, and immediately looked up 20 feet to realize that my other glove was the presumed "fungus."

He got out the telescoping pole pruner, and recovered my glove. I guess I'll have to keep them under lock and key from now on, instead of just lying on the porch.

Thieving rodents...

Lettuce Entertain You

Yesterday was another fabulous day in East TN. I puttered a bit, doing things in fits and spurts, as my energy dictated.

I cleaned the stove. I folded laundry. I cleaned the bathroom sink. I changed the sheets. I sat out on the porch and planted two tubs of lettuce.

These quiet days are a joy. Spring is "just around the corner," and Bill said there are two pairs of wood ducks nesting on our pond. Life just doesn't get any better than this.

Planting Peas

What glorious weather we've had for the past two days! The birdies are all peeping and searching for nest sites. The air is warm and the wind is blowing with the smells of green!

Cousin Jean came for a visit and, with spading fork in hand, turned over my two front beds of earth, chopping up the clods and getting them ready to plant. Bless her! There was no way I could do the heavy shovelling work, but with everything all set, I was able to plant peas with abandon yesterday afternoon.

At 57 days, I should be able to get a crop of peas in and out before it's time to put the solanacious crops (tomatoes, peppers, beans and cukes) in. Peas are great for the soil too--they pull nitrogen from the air, and fix it in the dirt--instant fertilizer!

I made the rows wide enough that I will also have room to sneak in some carrots and beets between the rows, to grow underground while the peas grow above.

It soothes my soul to play in the dirt and anticipate plants growing.

CT Results...sort of...

Dr. DaSilva called yesterday to tell me that the CT "looks" benign, but there's no way to really tell for sure, so he wants to repeat the scan in 3 months to see if the spots (plural now) are growing.

Sigh. I knew this is what they would say. Or, they'd say they didn't find anything, so they would need to do a biopsy. There are no definitive negatives in this business. It's only when they find something bad that they are sure and willing to say so.

So, I'm back in the Land of Limbo, and cautioned "not to worry." You bet. No problem.

I finally got tired of the patches falling off, so I had Bill tape them on. Now, the removal of the tape each morning has irritated the skin to the point where I can't use the patches until I heal.
However, I find I am getting more relief from the anti-inflammatory gel anyway.

Marching on....

First Peeper of Spring

Last night, Bill and I checked out the "new" Mexican restaurant in town (in the same building as our old favorite, El Pueblito), La Parrilla. It was yummy, and mine was downright spicy.

As we got out of the car at the top of the driveway, I heard one solitary peeper (frog, for you urban folk) down by the pond. It was only one, and it sounded a bit forelorn in its isolation, but it is the first sure harbinger of Spring. Yes, the daffodils are starting to poke up through the earth, but the sound of peepers, even just one, confirms it.

On spring evenings, the cacaphony of peepers is so loud, it's hard to get a word in edgewise up at the house.

Today is sunny, and has the promise of actually getting warm.

When the poison ivy starts growing, then I'll know we're on our way for sure!

Pain Management Logistics

I think things are getting better on the pain front. Bill notices that I don't yell "Argggggg!" quite as often during the day, and I am sleeping better at night.

There are logistical problems though. The lidocaine patch can only be worn 12 hours in a 24-hour period. That means I have to time the application precisely, or set an alarm to wake myself in the middle of the night to take the patch off. So far, I've been putting the patch on at 9 pm, taking it off at 9 am. But several times I've awakened to find the patch stuck to my pajamas or my pillow, or runched up in a ball under my arm and doing me no good. Either there are adhesive issues, or I'm an active sleeper.

The Voltaran topical gel (anti-inflammatory, usually prescribed for arthritis), is a wonder of relief for the other 12 hours, but it has to be applied four times in a 12-hour period, and I have to wander around shirt-less for 10 minutes after each application. With the cold weather we've been having, that's a problem. And thank heavens I don't have to work somewhere serious--I can just imagine taking four 15-minute breaks a day, standing around the restroom, topless, waiting for the gel to dry.

I've tried doing the patch during the day and the gel at night, but then I don't get the full 4 applications of the anti-inflammatory in while I'm sleeping. I've tried the gel during the day and the patch at night, but this also entails washing and drying the tender area thoroughly so the patch will stick, instead of sliding off the skin that has had the gel on all day. And even then, that's not working all that well. Perhaps I should start showering at night and then try putting the patch on?

So, the medications seem to be working. It's just that trying to figure out how to run my life while doing all of this is a full-time job in itself.

Eternal Vigilance

Is it just me? Does everyone else have a dark cloud of mishap over their heads when they go to the doc?

While waiting for my CAT scan yesterday, I amused myself by reading my own admission paperwork. You guessed it, they got it WRONG. Right there on the lab order was "CT with contrast," when my doctor had clearly ordered a CT without injected contrast dye.

I scooted back down the hall and informed the admissions clerk that it was a mistake, my doctor had specifically told me that he wanted a no-contrast film. Penny got on the phone to Connie, who then proceeded to tell me a bald-faced lie:

"That's the only way the insurance would authorize the CAT scan, with contrast."

I argued with her. Why in the world would the insurance authorize a procedure that was in direct conflict with my doctor's orders? Why in the world would I consent to such a thing?

When I rattled off the name, toll-free number and extension of my insurance company's pre-authorization nurse from memory (I've been down this road before), and told her I'd wait until she confirmed the correct procedure, she quickly backed down and told me she'd get back to me.

I waited. The nurse came out to get me, to put a needle in my arm for the contrast dye. I refused cheerfully and told her that I would wait until someone called my insurance and got the correct authorization, or until someone called my doctor to confirm that the test was to be done without injection.

Bad patient. Non-compliant patient. Their annoyance with me was palpable--I was messing up their schedule. Never mind that whoever had done the pre-auth had coded it incorrectly, and to cover their mistake, now wanted me to just go along with them and have the wrong test done.

It took about a half-hour, but they eventually got their act together and got the right authorization for the right test. I lay down on the machine and held my breath 3 times. That was it. Then I left and went to Fedex to drop off packages, and Lowes to buy a door latch.

But every time this (or something similar) happens, I wonder about patients who: Don't listen to what their doctor says carefully; don't read the paperwork that concerns them; blithely follow instructions without question; don't pay attention to what's going on; blindly assume that all these medical people are smarter than they are.

Once again, the lesson is learned: No one cares more about you than YOU. You have to be the one who is in charge of your own medical follies.

Off to see the CT Wizard

I'm running a little late this morning.

In about 45 minutes, I'll trek over to Kingsport again, this time to check out the "spot" on my lung, via CAT scan.

I'll update when I know something.

Fingers crossed, fingers crossed.