Has anyone else done this? I'm giving it a go

Have you heard of this?  Getting prescription meds over the internet without seeing a doctor first?  A couple weeks ago I was watching a news story about online pharmacies, and how 95% of them were bogus--selling questionable or phony drugs.  I couldn't help but wonder if any of them were legit.  And how did this work, anyway?

I've been taking 10mg Amlodipine daily since 2019.  I'd gone to the hospital for a kidney operation, and they informed me there was a problem, my blood pressure was too high.  They put me on two meds, monitored me for a couple days then did the surgery after.

I was then prescribed amlodipine, which came with side effects like swollen ankles and dizziness when I stood up.  When I complained about the swelling, they gave me a smaller dosage but my BP numbers shot right back up.  I went back on 10mg.

In 2022, I checked into the hospital for a 2 day drug screening to try other BP meds.  They were unable to find an equally effective drug.   They would write me a 3 month prescription, sometimes with a refill for another 3 months, then require I come in to renew the prescription.

In 2024 when I got long covid, my pill supply was shrinking and I had no refills left--I was in too much pain to leave the house, my primary care physician would only say "I'm sorry but you have to come in to get your prescription renewed" so I took my remaining 1 month supply and cut them in half to make them last 2 months.  Smart, huh?

Then one day soon after, I was feeling better and went to the senior center to see my friends.  A nurse was there checking people's BP numbers.  She did mine and said "You need to go to the hospital right now. Your blood pressure is in heart attack or stroke territory.  I mean it, go now."

I called my PCP, he saw me the next morning and I stopped chopping my pills.  My BP was back to normal in a couple days.

So here's my current story.  I called my PCP a couple weeks ago to see about getting a refill.  He said he already did this over the phone 3 months ago, for my next refill I had to come in.  I told him I couldn't, I was sick with the flu.  I asked if I could have a Facetime appointment like I do with my neurologist.  He said sorry, it would have to be in person.

That's when I began checking out online pharmacies prescribing drugs, and found the one above (TelyRX).  I asked AI about them and got this:

TelyRx appears to be a legitimate, U.S.-based telehealth platform and online pharmacy, featuring LegitScript certification, HIPAA compliance, and a 4.9-star rating on Trustpilot. It offers FDA-approved medications without prescriptions, but requiring a review by a licensed U.S. doctor. Users generally report fast, reliable service.

At first I said "No way.  I get my prescription at NO COST thru my current insurance plan."  TelyRX is charging me $49.00 for a 90 day supply--but they were offering a 20% discount on my first order, and an even bigger discount on refills.  

It's actually a bargain, as my doctor's office is in West View.  It's $35.00 to get an Uber ride there, another $35 to get a ride back.  My PCP is $25 for a standard visit. 

So it would cost me $95.00 to get my refill the traditional way, or TelyRX who is sending my prescription in the mail for $44.00.  I know I can't do this forever, but if this can save me the hassle (and added expense) of going to the doctor for now... why not?   In several months I'll be switching from private insurance to Medicare, and hopefully a new doctor with a closer office.

I still don't get how this is legitimate though.  TelyRx asked my height, weight & age.  They didn't ask for my medical history, or how much I take of the drug.  I had to sign a declaration that it's a prescription drug I already take, the Amlodipine is only for myself and I would use them in a responsible manner.  

These just arrived in the mail ten minutes ago.  I asked if I could get a six month supply instead of 90 days and their doctor approved it.  Let the pill popping begin.

This is a day of independence....

I was sitting here this morning, watching Wizard of Oz and eating my breakfast, and around the time the Mayor of Munchkin City said "This is a day of independence, for all Munchkins and their descendants"  I got dinged by my bank app that two direct deposits had been made to my checking account.  

One was my Federal tax refund (which came surprisingly fast, I just submitted my taxes a few days ago) and the other was my very first Social Security payment.  Am I really going to get that every month for the rest of my life?  Sweet!

I just saw something on the news the other night that the average social security payment is $2,071.00; so at $1,994.00 mine would appear to be $77.00 below average.  

But for someone like myself who early retired at the age of 54, I'm fine with that.

Anyway I'm sure this is tacky on my part, sharing these numbers; I'm not boasting about the amounts, but genuinely surprised I am considered old enough by the government to get social security.  (I was eligible 2 years ago, but held off until my monthly amount was close to $2000.00)   I swear to God, when my long covid isn't acting up I feel like a 14 year old kid inside.  

In fact, the last week or so I've been watching these paranormal videos on YouTube late at night and I'm starting to develop a fear of ghosts again, doggone it.  Do you believe in ghosts?  I'm not saying they're the spirits of dead people, but there's some strange things going on out there being caught on all those digital cameras... 💀

Alright, I'd better stop yapping and get dinner started, I'm having chicken tenders, leftover scalloped potatoes from Sunday and roasted broccoli.  Thanks for letting me share, that's all!  😊

Going fishing, a woozy head, a humble apology & what happened Desi?

Friday morning I awoke early and made a cup of coffee, then got right to work installing that new toilet seat I bought on Thursday, so I could do a quick photo-blog about it.

In hindsight (no pun intended) I'd like to offer an apology for posting a blog yesterday about my new toilet seat.  I have better things to write about and ruminate on.  It's just been something I've been after myself to do for a couple years, and was glad I finally got around to getting it done.  But I didn't need to write a blog about it for crying out loud, who wants to see my throne anyway?   So... I'm sorry.

It wasn't too soon after posting it, I was sitting in front of my tv and eating my breakfast and watching a show about the Amish, my left temple & eyeball began to build with pressure and pain.  Left me with no choice but to head into the bedroom, shut the door and lie down until noon.  I cannot shake the symptoms of this long covid.  It flares up every day, sometimes in the eyes, sometimes in the sinuses and mouth, and when it does it makes it difficult to eat or drink anything besides warm coffee.   

I should be sorry for sharing all that too, but truthfully I'm not.  I only share this stuff on my blog or with one person, my friend Diana.  It's not as awful as it was 2 years ago, but it has still put a halt to normal, everyday living.  

After the head stuff died down somewhat, I put on my shoes and combed my hair and made a beeline for the door.  We're supposed to get a couple inches of the white stuff Sunday night, but on Friday it was 60F outside with big 50 mph winds and I wanted to be a part of it.  I headed up the street to the church for the start of this seasons Fish Fry, but  it was only 2pm and they didn't open their doors until 4, so I got this slab of fish at the deli instead.  Doesn't it look good?  It was sizzling in the container on my walk home.

Finally, I wanted to share this:

Why does this make me sad?  This is a recent photo of Lucie Arnaz hugging her brother Desi Arnaz Jr.  The caption said it was a "rare" public appearance by Desi.   

Lucie was born in June 1951, making her 74 years old.  Desi was born in January 1953, making him 73.  I don't know what Desi's been up to, but he looks like a hermit.

I think this struck a nerve with me because just recently, a couple weeks ago, I began watching Here's Lucy on the Roku Channel.  Do you remember this show?   It aired Monday nights at 9pm on CBS, from 1968 to 1974.

It starred a wailing fiftysomething Lucy, a bellowing sixtysomething Gale Gordon, and Lucy's smirking, eye rolling kids Desi & Lucie as Craig & Kim Carter.  Sometimes the kids came across a bit square--"My brother owns all your records, Mr. Wayne Newton!"  but they usually played their rebellious teen parts well.

When I was a kid, I was fascinated with this pair--I knew they were real-life siblings and thought they were groovy.  I watched the show (when I could) just to see them.  Sometimes it would just be Mom & myself still up, and she'd say "Honey, isn't there anything else on tv?  That broad (Lucy) gives me a headache."   But sometimes we'd talk about Lucy's kids, and wonder about their famous lives.  

I don't know where I'm going here... it just makes me sad to see Desi looking so alone, and so old.  I'm getting my first social security check this week and that's nice.  But I'm getting old too, and that's not so great.  At the risk of sounding mean, I don't want to look as old as Desi here in a few years time.  I am definitely never growing a beard.

Silly but True Stories, Vol. 3: All I need now is a shawl and a Tweety-Bird

Recently I told my friend Diana that it was time to start living vicariously, and when she asked what I meant by that, I said that after years of eating only Corn Chex I was going to try every flavor of Chex cereal available at the market.

Wheat Chex, Chocolate Chex, Honey Nut Chex, Peanut Butter Chex, Cinnamon Chex, Blueberry Chex.  (There's also a Strawberry Vanilla Chex, but it's not at my store.)

I have to say I enjoyed both the Chocolate Chex and Peanut Butter Chex cereals very much.  

It was only after I finished both boxes that it occurred to me, why didn't I have a bowl of both cereals mixed together?  "Hey, you got your chocolate in my peanut butter!"  "Well, you got your peanut butter on my chocolate!"

Remember those old Reese's Peanut Butter Cup commercials from the '70s?

Anyway, the Blueberry Chex was last on my list.  After having a bowl, I called Diana and told her I felt sort of funny.  She asked what I meant.  I said I had an overwhelming urge to wrap a shawl around my shoulders, buy a tweety bird and take up knitting.  The cereal made me feel like Granny from those old Warner Bros cartoons.

Diana asked what the ingredients of the cereal were.  I said "The others are hearty corn or wheat.  This one is rice lace, dusted with Blueberry Powder and Rosemary Extract.  If that doesn't sound like little old lady ingredients, then I don't know what does."

While Diana rolled her eyes, I shivered and told her I had to go.  I wanted to make a hot cup of tea and watch my story, then look at old photos and organize my pill bottles.

Not wanting to be a Grannydug again anytime soon, I went back to my regular Corn Chex (and Grape Nut Flakes, that's been my favorite since I was 12).  But a couple days ago, I was at the store in the cereal aisle, and saw the Blueberry Chex, and told myself "Just buy the darn cereal Doug, it's not made for grannies only."  

I headed up front and got in Jessie's aisle (the 21 year old checker who likes to tease and call me 'Boomer', I wrote about her before here).

Jessie smiled at me, and asked how my day was going.  She's a nice young woman.  When she got to the Blueberry Chex, she said "Oh, you'll really like this."  I said "Do you like it?"   She said "No I've never tried it.  But it's the only cereal my grandmother eats, she loves it!"  

My Life (right now) in numbers

Yesterday I woke up around 6am with my teeth chattering.  It was really cold in here.  I got out of bed, stumbled into the living room and turned on my tv to the local news & weather.  They were reporting it was zero degrees, with a -15 degree windchill.  Brrr!  I hopped over to my thermostat to turn on the heat and--waitaminute--it was already running.

But it was only the unit's fan.  When I put my hand over the main vent, I just felt cool air.  Uh-oh!  I looked at my handy digital thermometer on my bookshelf (right).  The temperature in here was 48F.

A few years ago I would've stressed.  But I've been living in this building for 7 years now, and this happens once or twice a year at least.  (We have a weird central heating system where only random apartments on random floors are affected.)   

I fished out my little electric heater I bought last year for such emergencies, and waited for an email from Steiner that said they were aware of the situation and were on it.  I got the email an hour or so later, and my heat was back on later in the day.

At lunch I was telling a friend on the phone about it, and she said I should look for a new place.  A little later I was talking to my sister who said "I love your apartment".  I don't love it, but I DO like it very much.  I wasn't even upset when they announced my rent was going up to $920.00 effective April.  Want to know why?   

1. Studios in my building are renting for $925 and one bedrooms (like mine) are going for $1020.  
2. My old apartment is renting for $925.00 but isn't as nice as this one.  And the rent there doesn't include any utilities.  My current place includes heat, water & trash in the rent.

So, it doesn't look like I'll be moving anytime soon.  This temperamental place is my home.

I'll be turning 65 this year, on October 31 to be exact.  I'll be switching over from Obamacare to Medicare.  Since Trump and his nefarious administration ended those extended ACA subsidies, my insurance premiums went from $121.22 a month to $281.52.   That's a 233% increase.

I actually felt guilty for paying such a low amount in 2025.  Does the higher amount make me feel better?  No, that's an awfully big jump!  But I know Medicare (Parts A & B) are around $202.00, so if I can find a good Medicare Advantage plan that doesn't charge extra... 

I just got my 1099-INT & 1099-DIV forms for my personal investments.  In 2025, I earned $10,872.00 in interest & dividends.  (It gets deposited automatically in my bank account.)  

That may not sound like a lot, but I live pretty comfortably on $30,000 a year.  And now, starting in February, I'll be receiving Social Security.    

Y'know, the dumbest thing I did in my life was take up smoking the summer before I turned 19.  (I didn't quit until my mid forties.)  The smartest thing I did was take the money I'd been saving for a house and put it in the stock market in 2003 when my girlfriend at the time dumped me for another guy.  

I don't think there's anyone out there reading my blog under the age of 50, but if there was, I would tell them to get their money into the stock market as soon as possible.  Just call up Schwab or Fidelity or Vanguard and ask what the minimum amount is for their S&P or Total Stock Market Fund.  It's a lot easier than you think.

Finally, after umpteen years I decided to retire my old banner below.  The older I get, the less I looked liked that photo of myself from 2011.  

I'm still not sure how I feel about my new one, it's not a great photo (I have a 2 day growth of stubble and my eyes have dark circles) but I'm just keeping it real, folks.  Thank you for letting me share, and I hope everybody is staying warm out there!  

Older men who live alone and don't exactly cook want Thanksgiving dinner too

Before...

Ready to eat; I was almost surprised how tasty everything was

This turned out better than expected, I really enjoyed that turkey & stuffing.  I was going to watch tv while eating, but there were big swirls of snow flurries outside my dining room window, so I enjoyed that instead.

Later on with my dessert (I'm not a fan of pumpkin pie)  I did enjoy an awesome movie--the 1993 tv movie A Walton Thanksgiving Reunion on DVD.   Happy Thanksgiving, everybody.  

Three bus trips in three days--I just want to make a couple observations

I've been a busy guy this week--not only have I left my place every day this week, I left it three times in a row to take 3 bus trips in a row.  

Here's my first observation--the bus sign across the street from my apartment building.  I MISS THE OLD BUS SIGN WITH BUS NUMBERS ON IT.  God forbid you don't have a smartphone to scan this sign to see what buses stop here!   Are we just assuming everyone owns a smartphone now?   I feel like I'm being dragged against my will into the future.

Second observation--I caught this bus (and a transfer downtown) to UPMC Presby in Oakland to meet with my neurologist and get 2 new CT scans done of my head.  The bad news is, I'm still dealing with cranial inflammation from post-covid.  The good news is, compared to my last scans, the affected areas have reduced by 70%.   

Here's what I really wanted to share--I had a headache the whole time I was there because my brain kept trying to decide if my nurse was a male or female.  He/she was white with shoulder length hair, a sort of masculine face but with makeup, a sort of masculine body but with a bosom.  

When I asked nurse their name, they said "Thomya".  I said "Oh okay.. Tonya."  Nurse said "No, not Tonya.  Thomya."  I said "Tommy."   Nurse said "No.  T-H-O-M-Y-A."   I said "I'm so sorry, is that a male or female name?"  Thomya said "Hehe!  Neither, I hope!  I was born with male parts but I don't identify as male."  I said "Oh okay, sorry about that Miss Thomya."  Thomya said "Hehe!  I'm not a miss!"

THEN WHAT ARE YOU.   Jiminy Cricket!

The next day (yesterday) I took the bus downtown To PennDOT to renew my driver's license.  Actually, I renewed it online 3 months ago, but they didn't send me my new license in the mail.  I got a camera card that required me to go downtown to their office.  When I called and asked why they sent a camera card instead of a new license, I was told "If your last photo-ID was considered unsatisfactory, we require you to come in and have a new photo taken."   Darn it.

So after getting up early, going downtown and waiting a half hour for my turn, was called up to one of the windows.  The woman asked me several questions in a very tired voice, then told me to stare at the blue dot while she took my photo.  When I saw it and frowned, she asked me if I wanted another photo.  I said yes.  When I saw it and frowned again, she said "Do you just want to use the photo from your last license?"

I THOUGHT IT WAS CONSIDERED "UNSATISFACTORY"!  I said no, as long as I was required to make the trip downtown I want a new picture!  

And finally, earlier today I took the bus up the street to Lincoln Barbershop for a long overdue haircut.  The shop is only 1/2 mile from my apartment, but I'm still dealing with plantar fasciitis and it's too long a walk for me.  I knew with two barbers there'd be at least 3 people beside myself, so I took a handful of Mike's 5th Avenue candy bars with me.

I said "Remember the old days when new dads would hand out cigars in the waiting room after their kid was born?  Well. my social security starts in 2 months so I thought I'd hand these out instead."

They were all very thankful and I got a great haircut I'm very happy with--The End!

One minute you're 40, the next you're applying for Social Security

The other morning when my brother Steve texted to let me know my nephew (his son Stevie) was getting married, and I asked how old is Stevie now and Steve said he turned 40 in September... weren't we all 40 just a few years ago?

Thinking back to 2001 when I turned 40, I headed into my kitchen and looked through the junk drawer and there it was--the pin I bought for the lapel of my coat, after the events of 9-11-01.  I remember that day like it was only a couple years ago, I'm sure many of you can say the same.  I was sent home early from work that day, as downtown Pittsburgh was ordered evacuated.  I got a ride with my ex's mother (who saw me standing at my bus stop and honked at me to get in, then yelled all the way home about our military, President Bush and trash tv).  

I spent that entire day glued to my tv, watching the same events play out over & over.  I can even remember what I had for dinner, leftover spareribs from Sunday.  A day or two later I was headed to work and saw these flag pins at a newsstand I passed on my way to the office, and bought one for my jacket.  

I don't know why I'm sharing all of this, I just can't believe how quickly the years have passed since I was 40.  I want to tell my nephew "you're going to be 64 before you know it".

Speaking of 64, last Saturday (November 1, the day after my 64th birthday) I was sitting here watching an awful documentary about Bigfoot, and thought "Well it's as good a time as any to apply for Social Security" so I went online to my SSA account.

On my recent statement it said "At age 64 years your monthly payment is estimated to be $1913.00."  Sounded good to me, so I began the application.  There were a LOT of questions, but nothing too difficult or complicated.

After I gulped and hit submit, I received an auto-generated email that said I should be hearing back from them after 30 days.  It added my reviewer would reach out by telephone or mail with additional questions, and they often do this on weekends or after business hours.  

Curious, I jumped on earlyretirement.org and a social security reddit board, and was dismayed at what I was finding.  A lot of people complaining their applications were on hold for months (for faulty or mismatched information) or outright denied.  

One man neglected to report his first marriage as a teen, people failed to report children they hadn't seen since childbirth, some people attempted to file too early or mistakenly filed for disability, etc.

A retired social security administrator said it took on average 90 days to review an application, not 30.  And this was before the recent government shutdown, so I figured I had a wait.

So imagine my surprise when I got an email from the SSA a week later.  Nothing written, just this image at the right, saying my attention was needed.

Assuming they were requesting additional documents (like my drivers license or birth certificate) I went to the SSA site, signed in and saw "Your application is approved."  And below that:

This only took a week, I guess you can't believe everything you read.  As I requested my payments begin in January, they start one month after your request date.

The amount will drop some when I turn 65 and Medicare kicks in, but that's not for 10-11 months.

I still can't believe this is really happening.  I know I earned it but still... I'm waiting for a follow-up that says they grossly overestimated my monthly amount, or I've been declared an anti-Trumpist and being deported instead.  We'll see!

Thinking out loud, sharing a few words and an apology if needed

This was taken in my little kitchen on Monday November 3, at 2:31 pm.  You can't tell by looking, but the one side of my face is swollen & hurts (the side closer to my words).  My chin & left eye sting, with some aching in my jaw.

It's not horrible, but is still uncomfortable enough to keep me from wanting to go out and do normal things.  I'm convinced it's going to fade eventually, just don't know when.

As I've shared before, this all returned in mid-September (after a 3 hour trip to the dentist) and it's not as bad as it was the first couple weeks, at least.

Anyway, one of the reasons for this post is because I know I've been blogging more than usual, and if I'm making you tired of me, I'm sorry.  It's just that this blog is pretty much my contact with the outside world until I can make a complete recovery and get back out there again.

I also didn't know how much easier it was to create new posts until my older laptop died (along with my 20 year old editor) and I had to start using Blogger's nifty online version.  It's so much simpler, I just wish I had more things to write about now!

I took down a recent post I wrote late Saturday night (I was watching a dreadful documentary about Bigfoot while working on my application for Social Security).  It was pretty boring stuff, but really opened my eyes what a lengthy process this can be.  It could take months to get that first check.

Speak of the Devil (heh) I just got this email from them.

I never thought I'd see the day I'd be applying for social security.  I can still remember getting my very first paycheck in August 1977, I was a dishwasher at the Olde Southern Pancake House.  I made $2.10 an hour and worked my butt off.  To this day the thought of boysenberry syrup still gags me.

Okay that's all I have for now--thanks as always for listening, I should be back tomorrow or the day after with a tasty food post.  :^)  

Who is this man and why did I listen to him talk for an hour yesterday

I have a little bit of a confession to make.  A couple years ago I began following a couple channels on YouTube of child actors from the 1970s, people in their sixties now who were my age then (and I suppose still my age today).

One is Judy Norton, who played oldest daughter Mary Ellen Walton on The Waltons, that aired Thursday nights on CBS in the 1970s.

I just love her--she does a LOT of reminiscing about her years on the show, and of the 6-7 times I've written her, I've gotten great responses every time. 

Another channel I came across recently was a podcast hosted by a couple different guys, Ike Eisenmann (pictured above) and Moosie Drier.   Ike did lots of guest spots on 70s television, and costarred with Kim Richards in the Disney flicks Escape to Witch Mountain and Return to Witch Mountain.  Moosie played John Denver's son in the 1977 movie Oh God and Howard Borden's son on The Bob Newhart Show.

I know, I know--we're not exactly talking big or famous actors here.  But they're both in their early sixties now (like me) and I just feel a connection to them.  I enjoy hearing them reminisce, and they help me remember those years with great fondness.

Anyway, the reason I'm even sharing all of this is because during a recent podcast, Ike was admitting to feeling envy today at other child actor's resumes back then, and Moosie said "But they've never had a documentary made about them."   Ike admitted it was very flattering.  

I looked it up, watched it last night and enjoyed it very, very much.  Filmmaker Dion Labriola, 60 years old, knew very early on what he wanted to do in life.  Draw monsters and make films about them.  And then one day in a teen idol magazine belonging to his sister, he saw an interview with Ike Eisenmann who said he enjoyed drawing things like spaceships and monsters, and hoped to do it professionally someday.

(For the record, as my family and friends well know, I also did lots of drawings of spaceships and monsters back then.  So I really related to this pair.)

Dion became obsessed with Ike and began writing him VERY detailed fan letters of how they should meet, become friends, collaborate on projects, become rich & successful.  Sadly, Ike never saw any of these letters until many years later, when both were middle aged.

It's still a great story though, and a wonderful documentary.  And you can watch it for free on the PBS app.  The End!

House Calls (on a Saturday afternoon, no less)

This past Friday (September 5) with the help of my dear friend Mary, I visited my new doctor in nearby West View so he could look at my plantar fasciitis and also have bloodwork done.  Mary, THANK YOU.

(I regret to say the foot problems have gotten worse since a week ago, and it’s just too painful to walk even with shoes.  I am seeing a so-called plantar specialist this Wednesday at Bellevue Chiropractic.)

Anyway, Dr.Mike told me he once had this same condition (from being an overzealous marathon runner) and wound up tearing the fascia in both feet.  It took him two months to make a 90% recovery.  He said “There’s an old saying, ‘work thru the pain’.  That is wrong.  Do NOT work thru the pain.”  Got it, doc.

Afterward, they took me into another room to do the bloodwork—I asked the nurse her name, she said “Karen but don’t worry I’m not one of THOSE Karens.”  What a shame that someone named Karen almost has to defend themselves now!

After they finished, they told me they’d have the results in a couple days and someone from the office would schedule another visit or talk to me on the phone.

So earlier today (Saturday) I’m sitting here on my sofa, the phone rings.  I don’t recognize the number, but pick it up anyway.  I hear “Hello Doug?  It’s Doctor Mike.” He explained he was reviewing my bloodwork and didn’t want to wait until Monday to call me.

Uh-oh!!  A woman at the senior center once told me her doctor called her once after-hours—to inform her she had diabetes.  My heart began racing and I said okay, I was ready.

He said “I’m comparing your numbers to 2 previous blood works, one 3 years ago, one 5 years ago.  Your good cholesterol numbers remain stable, your bad cholesterol has decreased.  We see no excess uric acid, nothing indicating possible prostate cancer, your glucose and A1C numbers are in safe ranges so you aren’t a candidate for diabetes.”  

I said wow that’s awesome and he said the numbers were much better than 5 years ago.  He also said “Your liver enzymes were 78 in 2020, making you a candidate for non-alcoholic fatty liver disease.  Your enzymes now is 13, I would’ve been happy with 25.  How did you do that?”   I told him I gave up candy, cake, soda pop, nightly pie and weekend ice cream for the most part.  He said “I think that worked out in your favor.”

So, he wants me to come back in 2 months.  I’m still 30 pounds overweight, still have high blood pressure, still dealing with daily long covid relapses in the side of my skull and now this infernal plantar fasciitis in both feet.  But somehow, my insides are doing better than ever!

I know this was a boring read, sorry about that.  I just had to share the good news with somebody.

 

Not exactly my idea of a fun Saturday afternoon… just a quick update

This isn’t going to be a long one, but a couple people reached out to me about this infernal foot thing and I wanted to include this in my previous post and didn’t.

I still can’t believe this even happened, let alone be ongoing.  This all started a little over two weeks ago (seems a lot longer) when I was walking home from the senior center and my feet hurt like the Devil.  Well, it began in my RIGHT foot and radiated from my big toe.  I wondered if it was gout at first, then maybe a fungal infection when both feet began hurting.  I’ve never had either.

In the next couple days my calves began burning.  Wearing compression socks eased the discomfort, but it still hurt to walk on hard surfaces without shoes. 

The pain radiating from the right big toe decreased, but I still wake up in the morning with an aching right calf—and both feet have a ‘digging, burning’ sensation that only helps if I soak them in a foot bath of cool water, like above.

And that’s how I’m spending this beautiful Saturday afternoon.  Sitting on my couch, binge-watching Season 4 episodes of ‘Eight is Enough’.  Ugh, this show is the pits!  Why am I watching it?  Because when it originally aired in 1979, I was 18 years old and this reminds me of that time.  Oh to be that young again…

Yes, yes… I’m feeling sorry for myself. I spent most of the last 18 months stuck in here, suffering with long covid.  I was just getting out again and now this.  Why?

Anyway, this Friday (Sept 5) at 9:00am I have an appointment with my PCP, and a full panel of bloodwork.  Maybe he’ll discover excess uric acid (gout) or elevated A1C (diabetes).  Who knows.  I just need some answers.

I did call a podiatrist last week who recommended the blood work, but wasn’t accepting new patients when I asked for an appointment.  I left a couple messages with another podiatrists office last weekend, but they never called me back.  Maybe I’ll call them again first thing Tuesday morning, after the Labor Day weekend.

Back to the show… thanks for listening.

Lunch with Evie & friends and some (ugh) barbed wire

This past Wednesday, I went out to lunch with a few people from the Senior Center.  We went to Red Lobster on McKnight Road, and I wasn’t sure I was going to share it here as I blogged our trip there a year ago. 

But as long as we’re on the subject of seniors and the like…

Evie with a quiet smile, we were waiting to be seated

There is a woman at the center who feels the need to confront me every chance she gets.  I’ve been brushing her off, chalking up her meanness to her age or one too many bar fights, who knows.  But I do know she is asking for it. 

This all began several weeks ago, when we went to a restaurant she recommended, the Rockefeller Grille.  She sat at a table across from me, kept trying to get my attention.  Every time I looked her way, she’d say “Having fun yet?  Then why aren’t you smiling?  Smile!”  and prop up both corners of her mouth with her fingers.   

Who is this woman?  I knew she was older than me, and in much better shape.  She had a tough exterior, like those prison matrons you see in movies about women in jail.  We’ll call her Barb Wire.

At our next outing, I’m at the center chatting with Dennis while waiting for our Access shuttle.  Barb Wire comes over and says “Where did you grow up?  City or country?”  Dennis says city, I say country.  She looks at me and says “I think you’re lying.  You’re too soft to be from the country.” 

I shrug my shoulders and ask Dennis if he wants to wait outside with me.

A couple Fridays ago, I’m chatting with Melvin when she comes over to us.  She asks if either of us had ever seen a snake up close.  We both say yes.  She tells us how a snake got in her house once, and she held a broomstick next to it until it curled around it, then she took it outside.

She turns to me and says “I bet you would’ve run out of there screaming like a little girl.  Just admit it.”  

She’s so awful it’s almost laughable!  If I was a woman, I would’ve socked her one.  I tell Melvin I’m going to the mens room to wash up before lunch. 

Getting back to our lunch at Red Lobster this week… I sat in a booth with Evie, Dennis and Wild Irish Rose.

Dennis got the shrimp linquini, Rose got the steak & lobster.  (I got the crispy flounder, Evie got the Admiral’s Feast to have extra for her dinner.)

We’re having a good time, laughing & kidding each other.  Barb Wire gets up from her table in the back, comes over to ours and asks if we heard her fish story.  The time she went fishing at some lake near some prison.

She tells us after she cast her line, a man walked up and asked if he could leave his wallet and wristwatch with her while he took a swim.  She said yes, he jumped in and swam across the lake but didn’t come back.  She waited an hour or so, then approached one of the prison guards patrolling the area.  Yes he saw the man.  He told her the man was so tired after his swim, he walked home.

Um… where was this mystery man’s clothes, his shoes?  Did he walk home in his skivvies?  This story is pretty fishy.

She says there was no ID in the wallet, and it took her a week to track the man down and return his items.

If Barb Wire was nicer, she'd look very similar to this person cap included 

She then asks us what we would’ve done in her place.  No one said anything, so I said “Well, if there was no ID I would’ve checked the wallet for cash then tossed it in a corner mailbox.  And added the watch to my collection.”   Barb Wire glared down at me and said “THAT TELLS ME WHAT KIND OF PERSON YOU REALLY ARE!  I WILL NEVER TRUST YOU WITH ANYTHING OF MINE!  EVER!”

We sat there in silence.  Evie asks if I will let her out of the booth so she can go to the ladies room.  I ask Barb Wire to step back so I can slide out and let Evie out.  As Evie scoots across the bench, Wire says “DON’T JUST STAND THERE, HELP HER!  SHE’S YOUR FRIEND ISN”T SHE?”

I can’t take anymore of Barb Wire.  I did tell one of the women who work at the center about her a couple weeks ago, but was only told they’ve gotten complaints from others about her as well.

Now of course this can’t continue… I spent half my life being bullied by classmates, coworkers, family members.  I’m old now and not afraid to stand up to these types.  I do regret answering her lunatic question in the restaurant, and I’ll do my best to steer clear of this person going forward.  But if she comes at me again, I guarantee she’s going to hear it.

Thanks for listening and letting me get this off my chest.  Stay tuned! 

 

So… if you could do it all over again, would you do it all over again?

Here is yours truly from earlier this summer, and younger me from the summer of 1980, a couple months shy of my 19th birthday.  Doug from 1980 appears to be looking at my big belly and saying “That’s going to be me in 45 years?  No way!”  

Yes way, 1980 Doug!  You’re going to be okay until your forties, then look out.  And you can forget about all that hair on top too!

Seeing these photos together reminds me of a great novel I read way back in 1988. The book bears the distinction of being the first hardcover I bought after finishing school and landing my first IT position in Pittsburgh.  I could only afford paperbacks before.

I wanted to build a library which I did wind up doing over the next 30 years, only to donate most of my collection to the local library after I retired and downsized.

Anyway, that first novel I bought was ‘Replay’ by Ken Grimwood.  I won’t tell you the whole story, but it begins with a middle aged man named Jeff Winston—balding, obese, wheezes from years of smoking.  In fact, he’s attempting to catch his breath while taking a shower, while his wife (whom he refers to as “The Shrew”) is outside the bathroom yelling at him, when he suffers a heart attack.

There’s darkness, and when he opens his eyes he’s in bed—in a room he hasn’t seen in decades, his childhood bedroom.  He gets out of bed, amazed how slender he is and filled with vitality, is he dreaming?  Is this Heaven?  This can’t be happening. 

Jeff makes his way downstairs, is shocked to see his dad alive & well after all these years, watching tv.  He picks up the newspaper and looks at the date; it’s the year 1963. And somehow, he’s 18 again.

I don’t want to give away the rest of the story, but after Jeff bets his savings on a couple of big league games (he knew the outcomes) and wins a fortune, he goes to the beach to reflect on his future.  Will the next 25 years be the same as before? 

An attractive young woman approaches, and he realizes it’s his future wife.  In fact, they began dating after meeting on this beach and she asked him for a light for her cigarette.  But this time when she comes up and asks for one, he says “sorry” and high-tails it back to his car! 

Things are going to turn out a lot differently this time ‘round.

Anyway, if you had the chance to do it all over again—wake up in the past and be 18 again—would you?  With all the knowlege you have now?  I’m not sure I’d want to live all those years again, but for a long time I used to play a little scenario in my head; if I could send a letter back thru time to my younger self, would I do it?  What would I write to him?  Could I convince my younger self it really came from the future?

I was a big believer then in ESP, astral projection, UFOs, the whole kit n’ kaboodle.  A letter from my future self, sure why not! 

Well, that will never happen of course.  But speaking of books, there’s a shop on the corner of Lincoln & Balph in my neighborhood that used to sell antiques, and just reopened as a vintage bookstore.  It looks wonderful inside, and the first bookstore I’ve seen around here in years.

Y’know, I’ve always wanted a personal library…

 

SWM, 64 ISO funny, sweet, patient, huggable, slightly mental companion & partner in crime

I’m trying to decide if SWM stands for single white male, sexy white male, senior white male or serious white male.  Don’t I look serious here? 

This sounds a little strange, but here goes.  I was heading up the street earlier, and wanted to wear my lighter green henley.  But I’m color blind and couldn’t tell the difference between this shirt and the dusty purple and dark gray henleys I also own, so I took this selfie. 

I see colors in photos better than in person.  Been that way my entire life.

Anyway, as long as I was posing for the camera… I saw a story on the news this weekend that said online dating was making a comeback, particularly among seniors.  Maybe it’s time I threw my shirt in the ring.  This is my practice selfie.

“Doug, you mean your hat.  You throw your hat in the ring.”   I don’t own any hats!

For the record I like to think I’m chubby in a sexy way and neurotic in a charming way.  I’m an expert at flipping hamburgers, roasting broccoli and making tuna fish salad.  I don’t smoke or drink or use drugs (okay, I did have one wine slushi at the winery) and I may not be religious but I don’t swear either.  Well, I don’t use the Lord’s name in vain. 

I keep a pretty clean house.  I even special-order Spic n’ Span powder in the box!  (If you don’t remember Spic n’ Span in a box, you’re probably too young for this fella.)  That stuff is da bomb!  I know, no one says da bomb anymore.

Anyway, take all that—throw in a few stocks & bonds and in four months I begin collecting social security.  What’s not to love?

 

The dog days of summer, moms, sisters, just doing some thinking out loud

This photo is from early May, 1970.  That’s my younger brother Steve in the red & white stripes (holding a paddleball), my older brother Duke in the glasses and yellow & navy shirt, our cousin Mark over for a visit and holding our dog Bone, my sister Shawn holding our sister Donda-Lin. 

That’s me in the red shirt in the back, feeling a bit shell shocked and maybe I’m looking at my younger sister with some resentment, I can’t remember. 

Right around the time this picture was taken, Mom & Dad told us that our sister Donda-Lin was getting too big for her crib, and Shawn’s tiny bedroom wasn’t big enough for another bed; so we’d be moving to an older but bigger house in the country.  Everyone seemed fine with it, except for me.

Anyway, I was just thinking that Mom was 29 years old when she snapped this photo.  And with 5 kids.  And she wasn’t through yet.  How she did it is beyond me.

Speaking of moms, my new neighbor Sharon (I’ll be writing more about her in my next blog) told me she’d recently lost her mom, who was 91 years old.  This is such a strange, sad coincidence.  This past month, my friend & former coworker Lisa lost her mom, also in her 90s.  My blogger friend Margaret of Stargazer lost her mom, in her 90s.  My friend Robin from Canada just lost her beautiful mom, also in her 90s.

I can’t help but wonder, is it easier when you lose your mother at such an older age?  I lost my own when she was only 64.  It wasn’t sudden, we knew her end was coming, but it was still far too young for her to go.

Speaking of sisters, my youngest sister Courtney (who isn’t in that photo above, she wouldn’t be born for another 5 years) just turned 50 years old on July 2.  She lives in Ohio now with her husband Robert, and has a pretty successful business doing first aid training in the corporate sector.I can still remember the shock I felt when Mom announced she was pregnant for her—how was it possible?  She was an old lady with 5 kids, she was 34 years old! 

Anyway, Court was delighted to get her “welcome letter” from AARP, indicating she’s officially getting up there in years.  I remember when I got mine 14 years ago and wrote about it here.  Dammit, now I really am old.

I’m also grouchy, I’ve been trying not to talk about it but I’m still dealing with inflammation issues from long covid.  (Right now the center of my face feels like a bad sunburn, and the inside of my mouth is very, very sore.)  I get 3-4 days of feeling fine, then 3-4 days of this crap.

A couple days ago at the senior center, I got a few raised eyebrows when I announced I was meeting up with some high school girls this week for an outing.  I had to clarify that, I’m meeting up with my friend & former classmate Diana, and our former classmates Ruth Ann & Renee, for a visit to a local conservatory and then lunch.

I haven’t seen Diana since 2023.  I haven’t seen Ruth or Renee since 1979!  

At least I HOPE it happens.  I really need this stuff in my face to quiet down.  I’m a real barrel of laughs today, aren’t I…

Well, I know I didn’t have a lot to say or share here but I just wanted to put something new-of-sorts out there; frankly that photo of Connie & myself in my last blog was getting a little old.  I hope everyone had a nice Farce of July, and as always, thanks for dropping by.

 

 

First visit to my new doctor’s office: It still feels like this

This past Thursday I met my new PCP, to hopefully get a new prescription for Amlodipine for my high blood pressure and have my gut examined (it’s been bloated, sore and hard on the right side for 27 consecutive days). 

Oh and maybe some Flomax for my nocturnal bathroom visits.  It’s been difficult and not very pretty.  I need to go standing up, and at 3am I tend to dribble.  Too much?  Sorry!

Before I say anything else, I want to give a big thank you to my friend Mary from the senior center, who volunteered to drive me.  My new doctor’s office is nearer than my former one in the city, but still a couple miles away.  I installed Uber on my phone, was preparing to reserve a ride a couple weeks in advance when Mary said “Why don’t you let me take you.”   Thank you Mary!

I should add that after my appointment, we headed straight to the center.  When we walked in, Mary said “Oh Evvie, look who I spent the night with!”  

Back to my visit—after I got there and checked in, I was ushered into an examination room to wait.  A nurse came in (a very bubbly 50 year old named Jackie, I liked her) and took my blood pressure and weight, and told me to hang tight.

A short time later, Dr. Cool—I mean Dr. Cole entered the room.  Tall, dark and handsome this man looked like he just stepped out of a daytime soap.  His specialty is ‘older people’.

Dr. Michael Cole, who joined UPMC in 2020

He was very friendly, very polite—asked me why I haven’t had an examination since November 2023, and I explained I’d gotten long covid a month after my last exam, and was finally making a real recovery.  But I’d been halving my meds to make them last longer, which caused my BP to spike.  I was on my regular doses again, but only had 7 pills left.

He said “Your BP is 130 over 88—that’s slightly elevated.”  I said “Doctor, 2 weeks ago it was 155 over 111.  I know you’re the medical expert here, but I thought todays was a big improvement.”

He told me he’d send a prescription to my pharmacy right away and then asked if I’d fasted that morning.  No, I had a cup of coffee and a cookie before arriving.  He said too bad, they could’ve drawn blood for bloodwork while I was there. 

I was both angry and bummed—why didn’t someone from his office call and tell me not to eat or drink anything before my appointment?  Now I have to go back in 2 weeks!

He then asked if I had any difficulty peeing, I said during the daytime it was fine but not the 4 times I get up at night to do my business.  He asked me if I’d like to try Flomax for awhile and I said “If you think it will help…”  

Then he began asking about other prescriptions I’d been on, I said like what?  He said like Dilantin and Phenobarbitol.  Um, those were for seizures I had 50 years ago.  He went through my entire medical history and asked if I’d like an appointment with a dermatologist to get my body examined for melanoma.

I said not right now, my priority was managing my blood pressure, and figuring out why my abdomen has been bloated and sore for 27 days straight.  He told me to lift my shirt and let him see, and said “I think you have some gallbladder inflammation, and it’s pushing against your liver.  You have a history of gallstones, it’s probably just a matter of time before you get it removed.”  

Okay, but what do I do now?  From what I’ve been reading, I suspect it’s gas buildup in the intestines.  I’ve been using a hot water bottle at night, it helps.

He asked if I had any hobbies or friends, and seemed delighted when I told him about my blog and the senior center, and our outings to various restaurants and points of interest.  He asked if I was interested in losing any weight, I said I’d like to lose 20 pounds and get down to 215.  He told me to cut back on my carbs and up my activity, then said “I see you’ve lost a little since your last examination.”  

Dr. Cole, seriously?  According to your computer display, I am 35 pounds lighter than my exam in 2023—I’d hardly call that a little, sir.

Well, the important thing is I am getting back on track with my health.  Next I need to find a dental specialist and begin the process of bone grafts for a couple of much needed molar implants.  I just hope there isn’t an emergency gallbladder surgery in my immediate future! 

 

Rainy days & turkey days never get me down—as for everything else in the world…

This Thursday morning I awoke (after a really restful sleep, probably the best sleep I’ve had in six months), turned on the local news to confirm all the pitter-patter outside was rain (it was) then saw that Trump was backpedaling on his frigging tariffs and turned the tv back off again.

My retirement account has dropped 140K in value since January, all thanks to that flop-top Mussolini and his MAGA cronies.  I have enough set aside for living expenses for the next 18 months, but this felon has probably put the kibosh on a lot of other’s retirement plans.

But today I was happy, it was “Turkey Flatbread Day” at the Lutheran Center, and I’d be seeing some of my favorite people like Mary, who is a fan of this sandwich as much as I am. 

Waiting for the elevator downstairs after coming home from the center; made a stop at Kuhn’s for some eggs

I was also at the center a couple days ago, but things did not go as expected.  If I share something really honest here, please no lectures—I’m not a kid, I know when I’ve done wrong. 

Every month on Tuesdays, the center has nurses on site who do blood pressure readings.  Before getting long covid 15 months ago, I always got mine checked and always had good numbers.  The other day however was the first it’s been checked in a long while and didn’t go well.

The nurse took my reading, said “This can’t be right” and did it again, and got the same numbers.  She said “Let’s do it old school, with a hand pump and stethoscope” but it wasn’t much better.  She asked if I was on BP medication, I said I was, and she said “You better make an appointment with your doctor then.  Your numbers are very high.”

Here’s what I was hiding:  for the last few months, I’ve been halving my BP meds.  For most of 2024 I was in too much pain to leave my house for extended periods, and my (former) PCP wouldn’t renew my 6 month BP prescription unless I came in for an office visit.

I figured it would be okay to chop the pills in half as I’d lost a lot of weight after getting long covid.  I’m now guessing this wasn’t such a good idea.

I do want to say, I didn’t feel this nurse was doing accurate readings.  She kept putting the cuff over my sleeved arm (it’s supposed to be on bare skin) and kept making small talk with me.  (You’re supposed to remain totally silent during BP readings.) 

Also, this was right after lunch, and that’s a no-no.  Still, I heeded her warning and as soon as I came home, contacted my insurer and set up an appointment with a new PCP at a much more convenient office location than my old one.  I’ll be seeing my new doctor on May 1, and until then I’m back on my regular BP dosage.

I take it at bedtime, and I really think that’s why I’ve slept so well these past 2 nights.  

I was sharing this with Mary today, and she generously offered to give me a lift to that appointment—I was going to go via Uber, but I’d much rather go with her.  

By the way, today there was a new member, Jim—but I have a feeling he won’t last long.  He just moved up from Florida, is staying with his daughter’s family, and kept grousing how awful Pennsylvania is with all it’s hills and cold weather.  Cussin’ Connie finally said “You’re full of shit!  Now shut the hell up!”

After she and most of the other ladies headed downstairs to their exercise class, Jim said to me “What’s her problem?”  I told him he wasn’t exactly making many new friends today.  He said “I’m not HERE to make friends, I want a woman dammit!  Now tell me about this herd!”

Finally, here’s that lunch:  a tasty dish of potato salad (sweet but with lots of onions) and a large square of flatbread topped with sliced roasted turkey, ghost pepper cheese, barbeque sauce & cole slaw.  Trust me, it just works.

 

Getting hoodwinked, sort of—it happens to the best of us, right?

Can I share something mildly annoying that isn’t a big deal, but still managed to surprise me?  But I want to start by sharing something else first.   

I recently bought something online (phone case) that needed to be returned, so they sent me a return shipping label by email.

I contacted the Lutheran Center and asked if they could print the return label for me as I don’t have a printer.  They said sure.  When I went to pick it up, they said “Oh good, you’re just in time for our presentation on senior scams & swindles!” 

I had no place else to be so I said okay.  I sat there and tried to look thoughtful as a retired bank security manager lectured us on different cons and how they target seniors.  I inwardly sighed and thought “This kind of stuff doesn’t happen to me, I’m too savvy.”

Okay, jump to this week.  I drink my fair share of coffee, and for the last couple years have used a subscription service from Keurig.  Once a month they send me my month’s supply of k-cups.  I get three 24-ct boxes and two 10-ct boxes.  With a 10% discount & free shipping, it costs around $45.00.

This past Thursday, I got my order.  Exactly one hour later I get an email notice from Keurig: 

FOR OUR COFFEE SUBSCRIBERS ONLY!  CHANGE YOUR NEXT ORDER TO ‘SHIP NOW’ BY MIDNIGHT TOMORROW AND SAVE 30% OFF YOUR ORDER!!*

I thought “No thanks, I just got this month’s order—and I already have plenty in stock as it is.”   But I couldn’t stop watching that countdown to midnight clock.  You can’t beat an additional 30% discount. 

I changed my May order to SHIP NOW.

So here I am, a couple days later with yet another case of k-cups.  But when I checked the invoice to see how much I saved… there’s no 30% discount!  It’s $45.00, the same price I always pay!

I went back to that 30% email and noticed that asterisk in the promo.  When I read the fine print at the very bottom, it said The additional 30% discount only applies to Starbucks coffee products.

Wait, what?  I’ve never ordered Starbucks products—why did they hide that in the fine print?  To see if yahoos like me would double their order?  Well, they got me.

It’s no big deal, I just have to remember to cancel my next order before it ships automatically in May.  But I still feel like they tried to pull one over on me, a loyal customer at that.  Have you ever encountered a “soft scam”? 

It happens to the best of us, you know.  Even us so-called savvy types.