Amidst the Mists, pt 1 of Part 3

    He was sweating again, and gasping, and he was in a hot place. He

hoped he hadn’t died yet, as that was a bad sign if he was, when

suddenly sound was all around him, as overwhelming as the heat.

       Maybe not though, as the heat felt and smelled steamy rather than ashy.

They probably didn’t have water to make steam in the bad place. Unless

somebody was melting a snowball? (What did that mean?)

    Voices, and people were moving around. A mix of male and female voices,

as well as children’s voices more distant. He knew the voices, and was

satisfied they were NOT dead people, so he must not be either.

That was a good thing. 

Maybe?

    He tried to take in a deep breath, but somehow choked on it,

and, good lord did it hurt! Breathing wasn’t supposed to hurt

living people, although sometimes it did.

If they were sick or something.

He stopped choking and managed a swallow of air that (still) left him panting. 

At the sound of the breath, the voices rose, and congregated closer to him,

speaking quickly to one another and doing things to him, although he was

unsure of what they were doing.

    Whatever it was they were doing, it did ease the squeeze from breathing

and his breaths were not so loud and raspy now.

    The panic over breathing calmed, and he began to make more sense

(if one could call it that) of his situation.  He was lying on his back, propped

up on pillows. He was covered with at least two quilts or blankets. (They weren’t

effective.Despite the hot and humid room, he was cold, cold, cold.) He wished he could put his arms and hands under the covers and pull them up around his neck, if not over his head. 

    He thought the thoughts, but nothing changed. His arms and hands were still

lying beside him on the outside of the covers. How very strange that they weren’t

doing anything. 

He managed one deep breath. That was better. 

    There was a bitter taste in his mouth. Some medicine they had given him?

The taste was familiar, although he couldn’t name it. Probably something he

had given others when his plants and concoctions had been the only

medicines available. 

That was a long time ago. He’d lost interest after Mark was killed, plus they’d

had a doctor by then, for all the good she’d done. 

Aha! That was one of the voices. The lady doctor. She was probably the one

who kept picking up his hand by the wrist and holding it for short minutes

at a time.

“His hands are so cold,” the other female voice said. She was sitting on the

bed (?) next to him, holding his other hand, fingers entwined. 

He liked that. He liked the holding, and he liked that her hands holding his

were warm. Her voice was warm, too, and worried. 

She shouldn’t be worrying about things right now. 

Actually, she shouldn’t be worrying about anything. Didn’t he take care of

everything for her? For her and – and what? Or who?

    He struggled to hold onto the thought, but it slipped away from him,

like the vapors filling the air.

catching up

I've been busy this week. Like most weeks (or days, months, years)p, it's been a mixture of good and bad events, actions, and emotions
The bad concerns medicines -- prescriptions. Another time, I will post details about this battle. The writings I have done on the subject are more like rantings and I sound like a lunatic. Never mind that that's a good description -- I mean something different. But first we can't renew my husband's meds, and then it turns out I can't get mine, either. No one will say why. I don't have a problem with complying. Someone just needs to tell me exactly what I have to do to comply.

The good thing was being able to help my daughter. Supplied some of life's necessities while she is off work. I took her to the doctor. I took her to the store.I took her to the school to get Hailey enrolled in school. Hailey was mad when she wasn't allowed to stay at school.

Our new little man got to go for his first ride in Mammaw's red car. While we were in the store, I was pushing the cart and holding the baby. Tam came and rescued him from me, saying I couldn't do both. I had to laugh at her. I got him a bouncy seat that sometimes he likes and sometimes he doesn't.

Hailey came home with me from that day out, and immediately had me get out the calendar and show her when it would be library day and she could go home.
When she went home, she went all through her house and came running back to the front room crying. "My baby brudder is gone! He's gone!"Mommy and baby had gone out with a friend. It didn't bother her that Mommy was gone, but what heartbreak that baby brudder was missing!

Today I am again getting ready to go into battle, with doctor's offices ( foe me ) and government agencies ( for Rex ) and pharmacies and their assistants or techs. These people have been the most helpful to me in my quest, but they are powerless without orders.
Bolstered by Hailey hugs and baby brudders bounces, Mammaw is battle-ready again

Let us hope that this battle can be one, short of death.

Meth Madness

Once again, the Authorities are going overboard. A recent news story reported the confiscation of meth making materials from a home with small children. No one was arrested, no one was charged (yet), and the report included the information that  no apparatus for making meth was found.
The news story concluded with a picture of the (presumed) confiscated goods. A plastic bucket with a brush, some plastic or rubber gloves, and a whole bunch of cleaning supplies.

My brother remarked that they wouldn't have confiscated anything for a box of Nyquil and a bottle of Drano. Maybe, maybe not. Small town police departments have a way of deciding guilt first, then looking for proof.

Anyway, anyone can have a lot of any or many things, depending on how or where and when they shop.
We get one check a month -- not welfare, if it matters to you. So, I try to buy everything I need, or may need, at one time. This includes 2 boxes of mucinex-d type medicines and 2 boxes of Alka Seltzer Plus. Both are dr reccommended for my husband, who has COPD. He can take the mucus tablets 4 times a day if needed, but 2 x seems to keep that problem at bay. The alka-seltzer plus helps, as well as helping with hydration. But that's relatively unimportant.

 I also buy Thera-flu and Benadryl and sometimes generic children's dimetapp.
Plus I buy toilet bowl cleaner and occasionally Drano.

I'm not making meth -- I'm budgeting.

Other budgeting strategies include buying in bulk, especially at shopping clubs. One of my niece-in-laws has been an intense couponer, which also can result in buying in bulk.

Is she making meth? Am I making meth?

No, but apparently, if the authorities come into my home, or hers, we run the risk of having our responsible spending confiscated and our names going into public record for suspicious activity. Because we shop smart.

Law makers are once again responding to lawbreakers by making it more difficult for the law abiding to just live their lives.

Perhaps the popular definition of insanity should be legislated, and then --THEN -- someone will have the legal right to say That Does NOT work.

Lower the numbers; raise the profits

This is the latest strategy of the health industry. Everybody is sick and needs us -- and our products. Whenever the numbers start to decrease, we'll go back into our laboratories and jiggle some statistics around and we can PROVE that a lower number for the same high-number illness is just as bad for you. Therefore, the lower number indicator means you have the higher number illness and you MUST have our medicine to survive.

I've seen this happen with hypertension. It happens every few years. People, I am sorry to tell you this, but no one has normal blood pressure anymore. It is either low or high, according to the professional experts. The parameter for normal has become so narrow as to be nonexistent.

It's been happening about every five years with diabetes. Numbers that were low-normal just a few years ago are now borderline high. Diabetes can now be diagnosed by one high reading in a doctor's office, instead of making a patient undergo that intolerable glucose tolerance test, or instead of tracking the blood sugar levels over an extended period of time.

I read a study yesterday that says that  "over 60% of people are obese"

Now, I'm not a scientist, nor have I studied health. Another thing I am not is a math genius. But I vaguely remember things about averages and norms and suchlike. When something is in the 60% range, that, mathematically, means it's pretty much the average, the norm.

Just because someone educated drew a line on a paper and said everyone above this line is sick doesn't mean they are. 

There are still doctors who go by the older numbers if their patients aren't in distress. They are few and far between and often work in isolated, rural areas. They don't go along to get along with the insurance companies. They ask "Why?"
When they ask "Why?" they become estranged and ostracized.

They generally don't want to practice that kind of medicine anyway, so they go to where they are over-needed and where they are listened to.


What really bothers me about medicine by the numbers is that it leaves out the element of change. Evolution, or mutation, or whatever you want to call it. Humans began as five-foot tall bipeds who could live thirty years.

Science and scientists have had no problem with embracing our growth and evolution from that standard.
Imagine if some nearsighted observer in the Whatever-ithic era said that anyone over 5'2" was an aberration, and had an illness and needed to be treated for it. Maybe had the afflicted eating weeds known to stunt the growth. Would we still be five foot and old at thirty?

No, we would not. Change and growth are not aberrations. At first as those numbers begin to trickle in, they are an anomaly, and yes, worthy of study. Worthy of tracking. Maybe even worthy of treatment, until it reaches the point where there are more 'anomalies' than there are 'normals'.

Once that point is reached, it is the duty of responsible scientists, researchers, and statisticians to take another look at a new definition of normal, a new average. Not to hit the panic button and start name-calling those they are trying to help.

We're not getting sicker -- we're getting different. We're changing, evolving, mutating.

We are growing.

Listen to the Folks.

The FDA has approved two new drugs for weight loss. They are supposed to work well with diet and exercise. Of course, this is NOT for the morbidly obese. If they are that fat, they had better have bariatric surgery before doing anything. (Ka-ching, Ka-ching! Anyone else hear that?)

Now, I had a couple of different reactions to this. According to my doctors and the doctors of everyone I know, the way to lose weight is "diet and exercise."Nothing else. Oh, if you have metabolism issues, they'll prescribe stuff to help with those, but you want to lose weight -- Diet and exercise. And if you don't lose weight, you aren't dieting or exercising. Never mind Tuesday's heat stroke or Friday's collapse -- if you aren't losing weight, you aren't exercising or dieting. Not even if your stomach is complaining loudly because of its emptiness.

There's a lot of things going on in obesity studies and research, and a lot of it is good. A drug or two that will kick start a dieter over a plateau isn't a bad thing. Bariatric surgery for someone who eats until too full is a good thing. It's not going to help much with someone who doesn't eat all that much to start with. Or a grazer.

Until doctors and nutritionists are able to look beyond this whole "Diet and Exercise" combo, they are not going to make any great inroads in battling the obesity "epidemic'.

The old folks had it right. Some folks are born to be fat. It's in their genes. No, that's not just an excuse. (There have been some intriguing research and discoveries into fat genes.) It's not a stereotype, either. Lately research is finding all sorts of things more prevalent among certain ethnicities, even when environment is not a factor.

Treat the genetic type, and how that body works, and you'll be abler to manage the weight.

One concern that's twinned with the obesity concern is that it is the cause or related to diabetes. There is a connection, but the scientists are so wrapped up in finding a cure (or ongoing treatments; much more profitable) that they are ignoring, once again, folk wisdom.

Diabetes is caused by lack of insulin, which the body (is supposed to) produce(s) in the pancreas. That has been the scientific wisdom for just shy of a century.

What if that's wrong?
What if, instead of producing insulin, the pancreas -- still very much a mystery organ -- stores it? What if, like the ovaries, the human body comes with a measured amount of insulin or the base ingredients to turn (stuff) into insulin? What if our modern refined diet is just using up a lifetime supply in a few years?

The old folk used to tell kids not to eat so many sweets or they'd end up with sugar in their blood.
Science came along and said that's silly, that's not how it works. So everyone eats refined sugars and uses up all their insulin and -- voila -- sugar in their blood at a young age.

Insulin is playing a role in the diet/exercise dilemma as well. No one is sure exactly how that all factors together, but they've discovered things like insulin resistance and glucose intolerance and gluco-this and glycemic-that. If they look, they'll probably be able to relate that to ethnic origins -- genetics.

If they look.

But they won't, or very few will. They'll continue to preach "Diet and Exercise" until they've killed all the people they haven't operated on. And maybe even those. Much easier to follow the party line, blame the patient, than take time to know the patient and actually help them.

The old folks had it right all along.
As usual.
That family is  usually fat, and if you eat too much sugar while you're young, you'll end up with sugar in your blood.

Listen to your parents and grandparents, if it's only in your memory. They knew your body and background before doctors knew anything.

Fear of Phobia

I'm becoming, I'm afraid, a borderline agoraphobic.
No, I have become a borderline agoraphobic.
The becoming I'm worried about is the full blown phobia.

I don't think that will ever happen. I have too many chores and a granddaughter. That should be enough to keep me getting out on a fairly regular basis. And there are doctor's visits for my husband, and going to the pharmacy, and grocery shopping.

Those things should all keep me going, keep me out and about. I'm not so sure they will. Even if they do, I'm not sure that some of those things count. I don't enjoy them. I don't relish going to Walmart after prescriptions. I don't stop at this store or that and peek and poke and just enjoy myself, just enjoy getting out, even though God knows I rarely get alone time except in the car. Maybe alone time isn't really that important, anyway. I can always be alone inside myself. Inside my computer, or lost in a book. (That's not really alone, though. There are people in those books, and some of them are stupider than the ones in real life. Who'd've ever thought that was possible?)

In some ways, I feel I've been heading that way -- this way -- for all my life. I've never been able to easily or naturally speak to other people, sometimes not even those I know well. I have had my electricity and my water shut off because I was unable to make the telephone calls to make arrangements to pay. (Many years ago; not recently.)

But now I leave reluctantly. Not even my writers group holds the same interest for me, because my life has so changed. For a year I had limited contact with the real world.
I had no telephone and no internet. Because of Rex's hospitalization, and his doctor's and medicines, and having to pay other people gas money, the bills got way behind. So there was little talking with anyone, except when I needed something. That doesn't encourage socializing from either party involved. At least I didn't feel that it did. .

No car -- I had to get rides, or arrange rides, everywhere and anywhere. Few trips were worth the trouble. My writer friends were the ones with the most available help, but my sisters were always there also. The writers happen to live and work closer.
But even with their help, I was isolated and alone, and there's too much to handle alone, but I did it.



I did it all, from the safety net of my home.

I'm afraid, often. I'm afraid to leave because I worry about Rex getting sick or falling when I'm gone. Some nights I can't sleep, because I'm afraid I'll wake up and he won't be breathing. I'm afraid to drive anywhere, because what if I'm involved in an accident and get hurt? What will happen to Rex when someone else brings him that kind of news? Who will take care of him while I can't?
My God, what if I get crippled?
What will happen to Rex if I get killed?

Rex, bless his heart, encourages me to go to my group, and to go to family events, if he knows about them. I usually don't tell him, because he won't /can't go. And I don't want to leave him alone for hours at a time. All the what-ifs come alive when that happens.

I can't let this progress. It must not be allowed to get any worse. Even I cannot live that self-contained. There are chores that must be done, errands that must be run. And what kind of example am I setting for Hailey if I turn myself into the Hermit Grandmother? It's bad enough that Pappaw is already that way.

Thank goodness for summer, for the season of picnics and reunions and weddings. Thank God for sisters and friends and other family who will coax me or bully me out of my little blue hole. They, more than anything I can do, are what keeps me straight, keeps me trying. Keeps me on the sane side of the line,

I can thank none of them enough. Ever.

bone crushing

My husband had to go to the doctor Monday. The office called him and made the appointment. You can bet that set off alarm bells. He has so many health concerns we didn't even know which one to worry about. They did say something about his spinal x-rays, but that really didn't narrow it down a whole lot. Because we have had things show up in x-rays that are not what he was being x-rayed for. An enlarged kidney showed up in chest x-rays.

We were referred to a urologist who saw Rex once, sent him for some kind of test at a hospital that had to have cash before doing anything, and we never heard from that specialist again. Don't know to this day what, if anything, the test determined, in spite of calling and both asking and leaving messages. When our family doctor bulldozed us into this appointment, she felt the matter was urgent. Then, she left the group practice she was with and has apparently fallen off the face of the earth. Could it be his kidneys?

He fractured his spine forty years ago, could it be something from that?

Did something in his lungs show up in the background?

He has osteoporosis. Well, he's had that for a while, but this is advancing, which means getting worse. We've been referred to another specialist, this one out of state. His spinal column is collapsing and disintegrating. The T1 through T4 vertabrae are crumbs, with 'significant wedging' on almost all the rest.

Our doctor, who is new to us, says he has never ever seen anyone with such an advanced case of osteoporosis.  Especially not so young. Especially not a male.

We discussed smoking, we discussed heredity, we discussed childhood malnutrition. All factors. But, to figure out what to do, he needs to be seen by an endocrinologist. My guess is that they are considering he'll need the IV type treatments. (He was on Fosamax but began having too much bone pain in his hips and thighs, and we dropped that stuff like it scalded.)

So, we're again hanging in Limbo, and I'm bouncing from wall-to-wall maybes.

I'm also looking for information on what to expect if the deterioration continues. What do I need to be especially watchful for? How can I help? What needs to be reported to the doctors? I don't know, I don't know, I don't know.

And I can't find out. There are a few  million definitions of osteoporosis available on the internet. There are a few million treatments being sold, or advised, or encouraged. So far, there has not been one site that answers my questions. Apparently everywhere on the Internet is the belief that calcium, vitamin D and the magic of medicine cures osteoporosis, or at least halts it in its tracks.

Therefore, no one needs to know what advanced severe osteoporosis will do to a middle-aged severely emphysemic man with one big kidney.

I really hate that all the different websites say the same things over and over and over. Sometimes in different languages, but still the same-old, same-old.

In this great Information Age, can no one answer my questions?

Jeanieology

I've found a new way to spend my time and exercise my brain, while I hope for work and stave off health crises. Thanks to two of my sisters, I've been introduced to the addictive world of genealogy.


My sister Rita has long been the family switchboard. She knows who to call, how to inform, and when and where and why of multiple generations. It's one of the things she does.

My sister Jean is the Family Archivist. This is a job she sort of inherited, sort of fell into, and definitely made her own. If she can't tell you about the dead people in the family, probably no one knows. But Jean will try to find out. She's the one for the job. She knows who to ask for help and how to get others interested.

Between the two of them, I've been seduced into the pastime. They became my drug pushers, and Jean has become my supplier, and I need a regular fix.


Everyone grows up with family stories, hearing about odd aunts and whispered about cousins and disappearing uncles. Have you never wanted to solve those mysteries? Everyone has some vague nobility in their lineage, whether it be an Indian Princess, a German Baron, a gypsy queen. Wouldn't you like to find out the truth about that?
 The medical climate today almost insists that if you don't know about these people, you need to find out. Too much disease is being discovered as genetically linked. Too many character traits are being uncovered as symptoms of diseases, syndromes, etc. There is a social imperative to know where and who you came from.

Besides that, it's just plain fun.

Calling All Offices

Another excursion into the telephoning of the doctors' offices. This time to renew one of my husband's prescriptions. Who knew that it could be such an adventure?

First of all, the advisory that if this is an emergency to hang up and call 911. Think I'm safe there. He still has medicine. I'm calling so he won't run out, not because he has.

A few 'push 1's, and I am at the pharmacy line. Found that confusing at first, since I have a pharmacy. I don't need theirs. It's really too far from home for me. But I guess it was the pharmacy call-out number.

I was advised that if I needed to have a prescription refilled, I was to leave 1) Name 2) birthdate 3) name of medicine 4) dosage 5) name of pharmacy 6) pharmacy phone number 7)my phone number. And a partridge in a pear tree. With its shoe size.

The pesky thing about this is that if I had been talking to a REAL PERSON it wouldn't have taken half the time. They have all that information already, because I had a problem before with the pharmacy and the doctor's office had to call and straighten out the matter.

Name: Operator keys into computer.
Birthdate: Operator ascertains the correct patient of that name.
Meds needed: she reads off list and asks
Pharmacy: Still at ???, # on file,
My #: on file.

Instead, a patient has to read unpronounceable pharmaceutical names, a mish mash of numbers, and hope that they are comprehensible.

Is it really asking too much to have a person handling drug orders? If it is too busy to speak when the call comes in, can't someone just do callbacks to the patient later? Isn't someone going to check the records anyway?

How many people have been put at risk because of this system with its laundry list of things to be left as a message? What if the patient misreads the dosage? What if the name of the drug sounds like the name of another drug?

It worked for me, and it works for most people, I suppose. They probably wouldn't do it if it wasn't effective. But it's cumbersome and time-consuming, and there is a risk of misunderstanding. That worries me.

It should worry them.

Bad Medicine

How do you find out if a minor health problem is a possible health crisis? Where do you look up information on how to tell the difference? When and how do you reach the decision that it's time to stop waiting for people to get back to you and to take action on your own?

My husband has a nosebleed. Now, this is not a big deal -- one can hardly term it a health crisis when the blood is not pouring down his face, his shirt front, his lap. It's not that kind of nosebleed.

I've called his doctor's office. Yesterday they said someone would call me. Today they said someone would call me. The recording that answers their phone say "if this is an emergency, call 911" Please help me, people, I am trying to find out if it is an emergency. Just tell me that, okay?

 Someone advised me to keep calling the office -- she suggested every half hour. It takes twenty minutes to just get past the computerized answer center, and then you have to tell the answerer all the information they have already supposedly sorted you into the category where they should know.
And then they tell you that if this is an emergency, you should call 911 or go to the ER.

I just want to know, need to know, if the problem is serious enough to justify an ER visit, because this is not something that should be done lightly. EVER. By anyone.

Other people have these problems. Mothers with young children, for example. When does a fever, vomiting, headache warrant that trip? How can we know, how can we find out?

There are call centers for some insurance companies. Bethesda Hospitals used to have ask-a-nurse programs.
I used those once or twice. Do you know what they tell you? "Maybe you should go to the ER just in case." And then the insurance company will refuse to pay the bill, or their fair share of the bill, because no one was in actual danger of dying.
The excuse is that no one is qualified to give medical advice by phone. They won't/can't risk the liability.

Why have the program then? What good is it?

This whole situation is an example of the problems in our health care systems. We can't get advice. Doctors don't call. Insurance companies don't pay, even when the insured does what they were told. No one wants to waste anyone's time, working on a patient that doesn't need to be seen, just counselled. But no one wants to offer just counselling.

I just want some advice. Knowledgeable advice. It's up to me to act (or not) on that advice, but I'd still like to have it.

Isn't medicine supposed to be about making informed decisions?

Where's the information?

In the Box

Advertising is weird, and keeps getting weirder. At the least, it is out of touch with how people actually live. And I wonder if the package designers are the ones selling the product instead of the product manufacturers.

I am talking about cold medicines. The monkey on the cell phone, the man watching the movie. Especially the man watching the movie. He coughs so his wife can't hear the denouement, so she runs to the bathroom and takes a BOX of cough syrup out of the medicine cabinet. Then, when the child comes down coughing, she gives him the box.

Wouldn't it be more effective to give him the medicine? How many of us keep cold medicines in their boxes, after they've been used? If we have vast spacious medicine cabinets, we may put the boxed product in there until it's opened, but wouldn't we throw the box away after that? And do we hand off the package to our children so they can self-dose?
(My evaluation of the situation is that people who keep medicine in boxes in their cabinets must be a little on the stupid side. Just my opinion.)

As for the monkey-- well, he's either in his bed on the computer or standing in the cold aisle with his $ell phone. He's choosing his symptoms and picking out which ones he has to choose the proper meds. In the at- home- in -bed ad he then goes out to buy what he needs.

I want that monkey's cold. He can have the one I've had this week. My version of shopping for the cold has been to go into the store and grab something that has worked in the past. Standing waiting for checkout takes all my energy. I ain't standing in the aisle reading labels or applying phone applications.
I'm sick, I want medicine, and I want to go home.

And if the medicine is a bottle in a box, you can bet I'm not going to put the darned bottle back in the box before I go to bed -- without monkeying on my computer!