……for real, I’m being down on my knees floor scrubbing, or I’m unknowingly feeling better. Could be Doc’s prescribed medications are doing something for me. My ears have quieted some. I’ve got a whole one piece slug of something or other hanging in my troat way back there. I suspect it sinus drainage. I’ve goofed off very little today. Before I did my afternoon chores I left a wall to wall puddle on the kitchen floor to soak and soften it in here whilst I hayed the ladies outside.
Out of desperation I finally installed the last storm window. Wow, it did a good job cutting down all the fresh air creeping by the back three doors. Then I removed myself from the house to do my chores. Sweetheart steady upon her quest, I should let her in the house, was under foot every direction I turned. Darn cat. I did my best to keep the JD (John Deere) running it’s insisting to stall a number of times. So finicky the cold iron was trying to refuse to run I had to near abandon it to let it warm up in its own sweet time. While the JD blubbered part time, my unable to ever push the choke clear in I carried firewood into the house. And there she was sweetheart under foot some more my every step either in or out of the house. I wish she’d spend as much time down the grade in and under the railroad tie pile of corner fence posts catching and smoking rats.
Half my firewood in the house I went back to the JD. Talk about cold butt stubborn while the JD finally let me use it to feed the ladies it never warmed up for me or anything else for that matter. While the hydraulics hadn’t stopped my using them they remained stubbornly slow all the time I was outside.
Was talking to somebody just the other day about my hospitalizations. Between Frieda, my Brother, and the Pretty Lass down the road, every time one of them had managed to remove me to the horsepistol, each time I found myself incarcerated for a week with no chance for an early good behavior parole. Cheese-ol‘-Pete, then the fun began. Here comes a nurse wanting my history. Usually in the middle of the night when I’m wanting sleep and having no idea what my questioned answer were to? I’d wake up to all sorts of misconstruesions. I was served weird meals. Hospital food is bad enough as it is, without somebody trying to save ones palette from even the more common delicacies known to man. Then here comes a nurse wanting me to take this and that medication. When I question what they are I’m near told it’s none of my business. “You’re to take your medicine following your doctor’s orders.”
In an entirely new element in and under the Horsepistol’s care, I question, “Who’s my doctor?” The nurse tells me, “We’ve a copy of your case file from your primary care giver.” While I may have been in the horsepistol the nurse missed my targeted question. Obviously, my primary care giver and I wasn’t in the same institution. I had naturally assumed a horsepistol staff physician was watching, prescribing, and ordering my medications. Not a nurse. I too was taking an interest in my care and feeding. So, when I asked what the medications were called, what were they for, excreta, excreta, excreta.
“This pill is a muscle relaxant (MR) ordered three times a day.” the nurse had told me.
“Oh whoa! “The hospital doctor ordered this?” I asked.
“No.” said the nurse, “Your Doctor George ______.“
“Now wait a moment!” I spouted. “Some thing is seriously wrong here. Before I take anymore medications! I need to be consulted. It is my life I’m interested in keeping alive.” They had already denied me my medicine box from home. The had cut me off my iron supplements: and, more seriously they had cut off my eyes sight saving Lutein medication. The hospital pharmacy didn’t stock nor carry this mineral or medication. Obviously if the pharmacy didn’t have it (them) I didn’t need it (them).
Now back to the MR. I explained its use. “Doc writes me one month’s three MR’s per-day prescription. That prescription is to last me a whole year, Taken as needed never more than one 5 milligrams (1 pill) a day for charlie-horses and/or cramps. He never intended for me to take more than one of them a day as needed. By your ignorance you’d have me killing myself, over-dosed relaxing my heart bringing on a death, my death. So, I do believe I may be somewhat qualified as to what drugs I may or may not take!” And that was the end to that. Then what pissed me off, when somebody brought me a pill I knew better than to take, it was thrown into a waste basket and I was charged for it anyway.
On another Home front return, after haying the ladies, feeding the cats, and two stretches to bring in three days firewood I was more than glad I was back inside. Making me an apple juice drink to take a fist full of rattlers and a few moments time thawing out, I went back to my kitchen floor. Okay I didn’t finish the whole of it. I’ll admit it. I had also picked up, swept up, daringly, silently filled two extra trash bags for next week’s trash pick-up. Plus if for no other reason other than my saving me a sore back on housemaids knees.
Taking back up today’s activities in and near the kitchen for awhile, Tomorrows activities shall have to include I bring home a replenished can of air. Find and stow, in Ugly, some parts for making fix Ugly’s heater if I can slip it in the neighbor’s shop. I know Ugly does look like a modified race car nor truck. We just wont let anyone else in without hypnotizing their thoughts. BGKC.