We’ve been having a funny sort of week. If you have been waiting on tenterhooks* for my report on the yoga class, it does not begin until 1/29. That’s why you haven’t read about it. Walking the dogs, housework, and work in the garden, have been my ‘exercise’ this week.
Monday, I visited my gastroenterologist Dr. H. Probably because I only saw him twice before and he worked on my insides, he did not remember me. However, David had mixed up the message and told me I had an appointment with a Dr. Friendly so I was pleased to see Dr H.
Dr. H told me two years ago he was quitting medicine if the new health care law came into being. Under the new health care rules I am obliged to see him, whether I have a problem or not, to ensure continued renewal of my prescription for Carafate which binds bile and keeps it from eroding my stomach.
Mostly the visit went like this:
Do you get any exercise? Yes, I walk my dogs, do housework and some work in the garden. Even in winter? Even in winter.
While he grumbled and struggled with his computer, entering information about my visit, we discussed the new health care law requiring doctors link patients records via computer, and how the whole project seemed a disaster and not much good to patients. He asked me if my GP used a computer, then proceeded to ask me other questions.
I remembered most of what he told me on my last visit, for example, that I had a “leaky valve” in my stomach. He was reading from his notes, and he complimented me on my memory. Well yes, its pretty difficult to forget a leaky valve and why I am taking Carafate.
He told me he agreed with my primary care physician that one should have two colonoscopies in five years, but that Medicare and most insurance companies won’t pay for it unless you have one of the indicators you are a potential cancer risk. No big fan of colonoscopies, this is fine with me as long as I get my Carafate. Apparently, the leaky valve does not qualify me for a second colonoscopy within the next three years.
Tuesday, David had physical therapy for his “old” hip. He says it hurt so much he broke down crying. He told me he asked his surgeon if this was as good as it gets. Dr R did not answer him. David, who has always been optimistic, now is not. David says he knows he will be having hip surgery within the year. This will be joint replacement number 3. We both dread it. The worst part is the rehabilitation afterward. Also, he still suffers with bursitis pain in the “new” replaced hip, and we worry about his heart condition.
That afternoon, a funny looking fellow who talked out of the side of his mouth banged on the front door and asked if I wanted him to cut down the “dead tree” in my yard. I told him the tree was not dead, merely dormant.
To top out this wild day, the Post Office delivered a new real estate assessment from the county. The value of our house has increased again. This means higher property taxes this fall.
Today, five large packages arrived. As it was 24 degrees last night, I freaked thinking they had erred and sent me live plants. But no, the packages contained ‘Long Tom’ pots for pepper plants I plan to grow this summer, or did until I read about the invasion of the stink bugs who love pepper plants.
The last box was a hanging basket. The birds ruined my other hanging container, pulling the hemp matting loose from the frame, to use as nesting material.
All the boxes were packed with weird molded ‘stuffing’ (not horrible peanuts) which completely encased the pots. After I struggled for a half hour to release one pot from its protective covering, David told me there was no more room in the trash bin or blue recycle bin. I told him I would open one box per week until the stuffing was gone. Just as well they sent me the pots in January. Meanwhile they are stacked in the dining room and David’s shop. He made more room for me by hauling his loud-speaker/public adress system to Goodwill.
That’s all, and its only Wednesday. If it gets anymore exciting around here, I don’t know what we will do.
*tenterhooks have been used since the fourteenth century for weaving textiles.