Tag Archives: health

Would You Rather….Nope.

Everyone.  And I do mean everyone, has something that makes their stomach roll.

Something that really gets your goose.

Makes your stomach lurch.

Lord have mercy, I’ll do anything but that….

It’s your, “Would you rather….” kind of moment.

When people have this discussion, the talk can turn into the ridiculous and gross.  You know what I am talking about, we’ve all been in those drunken bar talks….”Would you rather eat shit or drink piss?”  or the typical “Would you rather bungee jump or play chicken with a train?”  or the oh so dull, “Would you rather eat a cricket or a roach?”

What I’m referring to are the oddities in our lives, that to others are absolutely normal.

Example number 1: Down the street from our house are two large Asian grocery stores.  We ventured through the first one and after wandering up and down the aisles purchased a large amount of fruits and veggies.  Next we went across the street to the competition, to check out their set up and see if they had anything different.

While we checked out the produce section, my better half motions for me to come over to the fresh fish counter to see something.  I head his direction and he points to something in a large basket.  I look down and there are about 7 enormous bull frogs sitting there looking up at me.

I don’t know.  There could have been 4 frogs.  There could have been 12 frogs.  There could have been one frog.  Doesn’t matter.  I’m terrified of frogs. All I know is they were huge, like the size of basketballs.  They were dark green.  And they were ready to jump.  Of course, I would too, if I was in a basket for sale in a market…

I ran away so fast, my feet didn’t touch the ground.   I ran straight across the produce department.  Down past the paper products.  Down past the noodles.  Stopping in hot sauce.

Frogs scare me.  Big frogs.  Little frogs.  Green frogs.  Yellow frogs.  All frogs.

I haven’t been back to the store since.

Example number 2:  Every day walking into the office I pull open the front door to the building and the handle is sticky.  Why?  I’m going to come down there with my Clorox wipe and clean off the handle, but in the meantime….how did the handle get sticky exactly?

And when did it become a public disgust to touch the public bathroom door handle to exit?  Did Ralph Nadar do a report on handle germs?  Now there’s usually a trash can immediately next to the bathroom door to capture the paper towels that may or may not make it to the can upon doing their final duty of being a door grip.

And if there isn’t a trash can, people just throw the towel on the floor anyway.

Here’s the thing though…how many people are using toilet paper to actually OPEN THE STALL DOOR?  You want to talk dirty handle?  There’s the dirty handle, people!

SIDE NOTE:  If you didn’t know already, women’s restrooms are disgusting. Filthy.  I’m not kidding.  Don’t let women fool you.

Example number 3:  Traveling or hanging around in packs of people leads to one thing.  Sharing things.  I’m not good with sharing things.  There’s a reason I opted to come into this world as an Only Child.  I don’t play well with others.  Unfortunately, sometimes things get shared whether you want to or not.  It starts at a young age and continues through life.

Two words.

Lice.

Scabies.

Count my lucky stars I’ve had neither.

Although, I am pretty certain if I had either, I’d be trying to figure out how to apply said banishing cream with wood spoons while administering vast amounts of Vodka.

When you’re a kid and someone gets lice, everyone puts their coats and book bags in trash bags at school before putting them into the coat closet.  Not sure if that how it works today.  But in the “olden” days that’s what we did.  Then you go home and have your parents check your head for the lice and pray to the heavens you don’t have any.

When you get older, you can get scabies.  So here’s the thing.  You can’t put your coat in a trash bag in the coat closet, cause you own the coat closet.  And the living room.  And the bedroom.  And the kitchen.  And the bathroom.  What the hell?  The only thing I can think is one of two things.

  1. Torch the place and start over.
  2. Seal it up and bomb it with a scabby bomb.

I mean really, what are your options?  I don’t know where you get scabies.  I don’t want to know but it sounds like an version of Aliens and well, that movie scared me.  When we went to Universal’s Halloween Horror Nights, that was the one haunted house that scared the hell out of me.  Damn aliens.

Another group shareable….pink eye.  I have had Pink Eye, in both eyes at the same time, and that was about one of the most disgusting things ever.  Crusty, slimy, yellow, oozing, sticky and blurry experiences ever.  Nasty.  Nasty.  Nasty.  Sick.  Not to mention, it was one of my “more un-cute” weeks at work.

I don’t like sharing.

Example number 4:  Moving ahead, there are definite things where it may not turn your stomach, but it does for others.  Like Mothers can wipe their baby’s butt no problem.

I have a 20 pound fat cat, who sometimes has fat flaps on her ass, if we don’t monitor her diet.  Yes.  She has these little peanut sized fat flaps on her ass, where shit accumulates.  Her ass needs to be cleaned.  I can clean her ass.  If I don’t, she gets cat diaper rash.  Some folks may have an issue with that.  Not me.  Time to wipe your butt, Wiggly.

Mucking out farm animal barn stalls….I got that.  Cow, pig, goat, sheep, chicken, turkey manure….check…got that covered.  No problem.  There are days when there is nothing I’d rather do more than shovel poop.

Bodily fluids aren’t fun. Even your own.  If you have ever had the Norwalk virus, AKA Norovirus you know what I mean.  Tends to hit large packs of people.  Schools get it, the traveling public get it.  I got it.  The problem with it is you can’t keep anything down – not a sip of water, for days.  One sip of water and you’re in the bathroom going in circles trying to decide if its coming out your ass or your throat first.  In the end you’re on the toilet holding the trash can on your lap.

Example number 5:  A friend of ours was house sitting, which is very common in Alaska.  The house came with a cat named Simon.  Apparently, while Simon loved his owner, he was not a fan of anyone else.  Simon, from the photos I had seen, was a lovely long haired ginger.  Just lovely except his eyes were glowing, but I chalked that up to the camera and reflection of the flash.

His house sitter thought otherwise as Simon had her cornered on the stairs on day and made her late for work, by several hours if I’m not mistaken.

Long story short….it was known Simon had a few matts of hair that needed to come out.

It was a challenge.  I accepted the challenge.

Enter….the Cat Whisperer.

With brush in hand.  I walked the house looking for Simon.  Everyone was certain I would be wearing an eye patch by the end of the evening, like Captain Sparrow, if not a peg leg to boot.

Upstairs under the bed – no Simon.

Behind the couch – no Simon.

Curtains – no Simon.

Tension, filled the house as you could hear him growling from his mysterious hiding location.

I sat on the floor in the living room and ever so slowly….here came Simon from across the room.  Lured by the international cat sign for “come here kitty.”  He climbed into my lap and after a few moments, I brought out the brush.  Shocking to everyone, brushed out the two large mats around his neck and happily Simon continued on his way.

Same with our wild turkeys.  Many say, “they’ll kill you!”  And I simply say, “It’s all in how you present yourself.”  If you put out you’re terrified, they know.  We’ve have a group of 40 wild turkeys surround us and they’ve been nothing but gentle and kind.

However, put me next to a lama and I will go the other way!  Shifty eyes…and they’re taller than me.  Not to mention they seemingly like to follow me.

Example number 6: Thank god for doctors and nurses.  Now there’s a bunch of jobs I couldn’t do.  Maybe it’s because you have to be a touchy person and I’m not touchy.  Maybe it’s because you have to like body parts and well, I don’t need to be about your feet or your ya-ya or bend you into various shapes to fix your spine, or continue to ask if A is clearer or B?  One word – dentist.  Nope.

Being a doctor is a special breed of person.  Patience, lots of patience.  Apparently when I saw the line in heaven for patience, because I have bad eyesight, I thought it said PATENTS and didn’t get in line for any.  Therefore, I have none.  Hence, being a doctor or nurse was not an option for me.  But I’m very thankful for all of those folks who saw the sign and got in line.

So you see, everyone has something they think twice about and would rather not encounter.  Think about all the possibilities.  Here’s just a short list to get you started:

  • eating off of public utensils.
  • trying on bathing suits – really how many others have tried on that same one
  • rotten fruit
  • bird loose in your house
  • limp, lame, sweaty handshakes
  • pop a zit
  • greasy head prints on the subway windows
  • green snot
  • food spitters, and I’m not talking babies
  • hair in your food (pet hair, your hair, stranger hair, any hair)
  • spider on your toilet paper roll – surprise
  • someone sneezes into their hand then extends it for a handshake
  • a dentist with bad breath
  • the constant cougher next to you on the plane
  • when your better half asks, “does this make me look fat?”

Yet there are folks every day that go out and face our fears head on, challenge our stomach rolling, rather not do that moments and attack them with a gleeful smile.  To them, it’s normal.  Nothing out of the ordinary.  It’s life.  Go forward brave souls, we all have our moments.

 

 

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New Gynecologist – One Way to Start Your Day.

When you move, you need lots of new things.

New house keys.
New way to get to work.
New utility company.
New curtains.
New stuff in general.

You also get the bonus, if moving far enough away from your current location,
a new cha-cha doctor.

I’m not talking about a dance instructor either.

First of all, the one thing I can’t get over in my mind, is
WHY?
WHY?
W H Y?
Would a man want to be a gynecologist?

It’s not like the female nether-region is a beautiful thing to look at.

Who wants to look at those?

All.
Day.
Long?

After his 50th one, would he not be bored?

No doubt, the next time his lover wants to strip down and have a passionate love making session……he is going to have one of several thoughts:

Eh, I’ve seen better.
Ugh, I don’t want to see another one.
Wow, if they were all as lovely as yours.

I don’t get it.
Which is why I always go with the female gyno.

Besides, she gets the whole concept of having a coochie.

Thank you.

So today I started my day with a visit to my new obgyn.
Excellent. Can’t wait.

First off, I tried to find someone close to my office.
Check. Under 6 miles away, however in Boston that could still be 30 minutes of travel time.

Second, had to be female.
Check.

Third, had to have a good reputation.
Check.

Fourth, I had to be able to pronounce their name.
Check.

There is nothing worse than someone saying, “What’s the name of your doctor?” And the only thing you can say is, “Well, it starts with a SK….”

I turn on my WAZE app – and The Terminator – directs me to the front door of the new doctor’s office. He avoids traffic congestion so I traveled this morning through some neighborhoods that were overflowing with mansions. Tiny, winding, two lanes, through the woods kind of area….and enormous….gargantuan homes. Big enough to hold a medium sized fortress of warriors if necessary. Beautiful.

The downside to this morning’s drive is that I had NO IDEA where I was going and I’m sure the people behind me were very much screaming, “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?” I’m literally dazed and confused.

Sorry folks, keep calm, I’ll make up my mind in a moment. Okay, it may be two moments. Stand by….I’m waiting on The Terminator.

With fifteen minutes to spare, I arrive at the office.
I’m always late, so this fifteen minutes is obviously a mistake.
OR
I didn’t actually get lost on the way over!

Up to the office I go and check in.
They give me the standard clip board to respond to the various questions.

Do you smoke?
Do you take drugs?
Do you drink?
Do you wear a helmet?
Do you have any allergies?
Do you wear a seatbelt?
Do you drag race?

Yes, seriously, it asked if I wore a helmet.

When they asked me in person, I said, “well, not in daily life.”

Then into the health questionnaire I go….hang on to your hats.
There must have been 100 possible health issues.
At the top it said the usual: check mark if you have / had any of the following:

Acid Reflux
Acne
Aging
Aggravation
Arthritis
Anemia
Angina
Anxiety
Ass issues
Asthma
Athlete’s Foot
Avian Flu
.
.
.
.
.
.
Back Pain
Beetlejuice Complex
Binge Eating
Bird Flu
Blisters
Bloating
Bone Spurs
Bound feet
Bruising
Belly Dancing Fetish
Bulimia
.
.
.
.
.
Heart palipatations
Heart failure
Heart murmer
Heart weakness
Heart attack
Heart value complications
Heart disease
Heart worms
Broken heart
Hemorrhoids
Hearing loss
Hot single last-nerve complex

You get the picture. It was all you would think they’d ask and then everything else.

I didn’t even have a chance to complete my paperwork before they called my name. It was the helmet question that hung me up. I should have taken a photo.

Into the little room I go to verbally answer the questions that were on the paper. The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me god.

What I’ve discovered is that I should have check marked, memory failure.

In the interview I was expected to remember things that happened 30 years ago. Seriously. Who remembers when they got their first period? What? No clue. When did I first have sex? What age did I learn to drive? What? When was my first obgyn exam? How old was I when I discovered the truth about Santa? I make them up and advise them of such by adding an “-ish” on the end.

How old was your father when he died?
No clue. Sad. But true.

My answer tactic, is……I turn my head to the left, look out of the corner of my eye to the right, squint and say, “65-ish.”

How old is your mother? I turn my head to the left, look out of the corner of my eye to the right, squint and say, “65-ish.” This, I know is a lie…

Because of the next question….

What age did your grandmother die? I know this one, cause my mother says it all the time, “You know Grandmom died at 65, I shouldn’t live this long.” She is obviously older than 65 – The Mother.

You see a pattern here? I also say out loud that I really need to put this stuff down on a piece of paper. I just don’t remember these things. I only have so much space in this walnut of grey matter. I can barely remember my own phone number let alone how old people are….and when I got my first period.

This concluded our historical overview of my life. I was then advised to get undressed and the doctor “will be in really quickly.”

Seriously?

What doctor ever arrives quickly?

Quickly according to whose watch?

Do you mean quick in patient time?

Quick in a doctor’s time who may or may not always be running late, so today they’re closer to on time?

Doesn’t matter…I do the one thing I can do:
I stripped faster than a dancer at a tits & ass club.

Then I sat.
And waited.

Then I realized I had to pee.

In Alaska, they take a pee sample. So I’ve been waiting to go. There was no mention of peeing in a cup.

I open the door and stick my head out into the hall.

Fear not, I have my gown, which opens in the front – wrapped tightly around my body.

I see a young doctor – MALE – down the hallway.

I don’t see my nurse.

So I wait inside the door. Not two minutes later she comes bounding in – scared the both of us. Apparently the young MALE doctor alerted. Good doctor! Good boy!

I explained the previous doctor always took a sample “What for?” was the response. Well, to test whatever it was they wanted to test.

Then she advised me the gown should go with the opening to the back.

REALLY? This is great news!

Down the hall I go, pee in a cup and turn my gown around.

I return to my little room and not two minutes later in walks my new doctor.

The first thing she tells me, while staring me straight in the eyes is she is an instructor at her hospital and she has a doctor in training.

A
MALE
DOCTOR.

Would I mind if he came in for the appointment?

She then said some more things but I couldn’t get past: MALE DOCTOR IN TRAINING.

I had flash backs to all those hospital shows where the esteemed doctor brings in the interns to see how it works. What?

A MALE DOCTOR IN TRAINING.

The interns gather around the bed. Ask crazy questions. Prolong the experience.

A MALE DOCTOR IN TRAINING.

Do I want not only another doctor looking at my YaZoo but a MALE DOCTOR IN TRAINING?

He’s learning. Not leering.

Meh. Blech. Seriously, is it rude to say no?

I finally snap back into reality and advise her, it’s fine but when it’s exam time – he needs to go.
OUTSIDE.

She waves Dr. Jordan into the room.

Oh My God. It’s the same doctor person I saw in the hallway 5 minutes ago.

He is so young. I don’t even think he shaves yet.

I immediately reach back to make sure my butt is covered in the gown.
Check.

He introduces himself and I shake his hand.

His hand could compete with a freshmen boy at a dance for the sweat factor.

He was more nervous than a short person in a room of giants.

More nervous than the chicken trying to get across the damn road.

Okay, I’m the naked one here.
Are you certain you want to work in this profession?
There’s nothing to be nervous about – seriously.

I mean, if I fall off this table and you see everything cause my gown will have exposed my entire being – then hell yes….we have an embarrassment factor. Overload in fact. But, no need to worry about it, cause I’m not going to fall off the table.

The doctor and I reviewed how I got here, why I moved, my health, the goal for the day etc. I spoke to both of them. They couldn’t believe my age. When I said, I was very dull, she insisted I was quite entertaining. Alright then. Then I literally thought, “oh if you only knew how entertaining….I have a blog.”

Eventually the young and impressionable and awkwardly placed Dr. Jordan was asked to leave the room.

Breast exam. Check.
Feet up. Check.
Poke. Poke. Poke. Check. Check. Check.

Done.

Really?

Okay. Really?
We’re done?

I didn’t have to sit and wait in the lobby.
No peeing in the cup on demand.
I wear the gown with the opening in the back.
I get nervous learning doctor with sweaty hands.
The exam is focused and no nonsense.
I’m in and out in an hour.

Really? We’re finished. Is this good or bad? No idea, but I’m delighted I don’t feel like someone should have bought me dinner after the whole thing.

Eureka.

Now I need to make a note to remind The Mother to send me a note with everyone’s death dates, causes of death and when they discovered the truth about the Toothy Fairy. Someone has to know these things – either than or its off to Ancestry.com.

Thank Goodness For That

It’s the time of year when we  give thanks for the things we are so grateful to have in our lives.   Granted, many of us share the same thankful thoughts.  Right?

Your list may or may not include:

Family and friends

Lack of family and friends (yes, that can be a blessing)

Health, wealth and social status

Food and shelter

Military protection, doctors and scientific discoveries.

There’s also a segment of us who will be thankful for our educations, pets (if you didn’t already include them with the family as they should have been in the first place), cars, hair stylists, video game high scores and special abilities in the bedroom….or out of the bedroom.

Our list of thankfulnesses (yes, I made that word up) could go on and on with serious things, mundane things, common-sense things and mind-numbing idiotic things.

When it comes to your turn at the family dinner to name one thing you are thankful for this year….throw a curve ball and be thankful for something you normally wouldn’t think to appreciate.  To help you get your creative talents flowing, I offer you my list of unusual thankfullnesses below:

Toilet plungers

Not having to wash clothes in the river

Reflective paint

Double sided tape

Toothpaste

Ear plugs

Chapstick

Not being attacked by domesticated house animals (i.e. dog, cat, lizard, pig, goat)

Flashlights

Tongs

Tape dispensers

Escalators

Elevators

Dental floss

Air conditioning

Cursing that idiot who (fill in the blank here) with severe diarrhea in rush hour traffic

Animals that eat the damn mosquito

Hand sanitizer

Sex toy sanitizer

Air sanitizer

Public pool sanitizer filters

Bleach

Hide-a-keys

Inflatable beach rafts

Costco samples

Not married to or dating an axe murder

Hidden agendas

Invisible ink

Hooker shoes

Rubber

Candy necklaces

Heated toilet seats

Wheeled suitcases

Lint rollers

Glow in the dark condoms

Inventory control specialists

The first person who decided it might be okay to try and eat a King Crab

and lastly……

for now….

my favorite….

Kola Bear farts (they smell like cough drops)

 

If you are desperate please feel free to use one of the suggestions listed above.  It’s only a small sampling of the endless list of available thankfullnesses.

Wishing you a fabulous Thanksgiving and remember, it’s now officially okay to put up your Christmas decorations.  However, if I catch you preparing for Valentine’s Day before Christmas has arrived, we’re going to put you through an intervention.