Life and Death

Last week, DH had the week off. We did a lot of work around the house. We also did a few fun things. As a result, I wasn't doing much writing.

This week, between writing sessions, I'm prepping for next month's Kickstarter, or Witchstarter since it's  in October. I jokingly said that this one should go more smoothly that my first one since all of mine and DH's parents are dead now.

So, Murphy laughed hysterically and decided to do something about that.

Three people I'm close to who have long-term health issues got suddenly worse.

I'm so angry right now. Angry at the health system because doctors, PAs, nurse practitioner, etc., aren't given the time they need to deal with patients. Angry that people at insurance companies think they have the medical knowledge and experience to make healthcare calls. Angry that health care is for profit. Angry that the president is trying to make sure no one has any insurance.

I could go on, but you get the drift. Here's the thing. You can do everything the health care professional tells you to do, and things still don't get better. But the patient will get the blame.

For example, I get a lot of crap from docs about my diabetes. First off, I'm on more expensive medications because I can't tolerate Metformin, one of the cheapest medicines on the market. I swear, if there's a VERY RARE side effect to the med, that's what will happen to me. In the case of Metformin, I end up with explosive vomiting and diarrhea within three days, to the point I start suffering from severe dehydration. Others that I can tolerate were taken off the market for their side effects, in other people even though I never exhibited those particular side effects.

So, yeah, I'm venting right now. Because in all three cases, things were misdiagnosed. And they probably wouldn't have been if medical professionals weren't turned into money making machines.

Shit can happen, but this is shit that could have been avoided.

Health, Loss, and Fascism

It's been a rough week. Watching the disintegration of the American legal system while fighting a severe bacterial infection has not been fun.

I swore oaths to uphold the Constitution of the United States of America three times in my life: when I was sworn in as an attorney in Texas, when I was sworn in as an attorney in Ohio, and when I was sworn as an attorney in to the Eastern District of Texas Federal Court.

To watch the total disregard of our rule of law by the clown circus in D.C. is heartbreaking and rage-inducing at the same time.

Maybe the chaos is why I started writing more stories in The Enchanted Bakery series.  I needed something humorous in my soul to get through this week.

But what happens after Easter?

There are already men on the streets snatching people in broad daylight for saying the things we are all thinking. Unmarked planes are carrying people to other countries.

"But those are illegals!" I hear some of you cry.

Are you absolutely sure about this? There's rarely any evidence. Even fewer court records. So the talking heads are spinning these people's stories any way they see fit. This is exactly why the current adminstration is denying independent reporters access to government briefings. Heaven forbid anyone question the god-king!

The American legal system isn't perfect by any means. But it stood as a beacon of the possibilities of a fair system. There was a time I truly believed total fairness could be achieved.

Not any more.

While I was on my road trip at the end of March, a friend asked if I thought the U.S. was becoming fascist. My answer was "We already are."

I'm just not sure how we can stop it without a tons of blood shed in the process. But I do know hate isn't the answer. That's how we ended up here in the first place.

Home Again

The last two days have not been the best for my mental and physical health despite the Beckster and some lovely South Carolinian medical personnel taking care of me.

Tuesday morning, I woke up at 3AM with a UTI. I get them when I'm super-stressed. It doesn't matter if the stress is bad or good. Yeah, I know those are relative terms. But the last time I had a UTI was the day after my father-in-law's funeral. And I was having fun on my Tour of the Carolinas until everything caught up with me on the last full day in the South.

As I said above, the ladies at the urgent care clinic I went to were absolute dolls. I got in and taken care of. The PA assigned to me checked in regularly, especially when they discovered the testing machine had malfunctioned. They got a machine from another facility lickity-split because they couldn't prescribe antibiotics without confirmation.

While I waited for the prescriptions to be filled, I grabbed breakfast and gassed up the car. By the time I headed back to Becky's, less than two hours had passed.

Despite my plans to write and the antibiotics kicking in, I still felt like crap, so I took a good three-hour nap and a shower before she got home from her spin class. I had to skip the evening's martinis, but we got take-out from a delightful little family own restaurant.

On Wednesday morning, I woke feeling reasonable better. The drive from from Columbia, SC, to Northwest Ohio would only take nine hours, depending on the number of pit stops I made. Most of it is a straight shot up I-77.

Or it should have been.

A tractor-trailer crash brought down power lines across the interstate near Exit 124. I-77 was backed up for miles in both directions. The alternate routes were also backed up. You can't take three lanes of interstate traffic down to a couple of two-lane roads and not have delays.

Or in this case, a four-hour delay.

I didn't get home until after 11PM.

Just ahead of a major thunderstorm system that peeled shingles off the roof of our shed, overturned the decorative cistern next to our patio, and knocked over several neighbors trees. The official weather report says we had a 70 mph straight-line gust, but a neighbor and I speculated we may have had an F0 pass through from the sounds and the amount of damage.

But I'm home now. Two puppies are very pleased to have extra pets and cuddles again. And DH is happy that he no longer has to eat his own cooking!

A Tough Day

I've reached the age where losses happen on a regular basis. DH and I lost all four parents within a five-year span. Friends and relatives are passing, no longer from accidents, but from health issues. And that's not counting those who died during the pandemic.

DH and I met with an estate planning attorney on Wednesday. It was a tough discussion as we planned through worse case scenarios. Murphy hasn't deigned to cut us a break since we met. I sincerely doubt he will do so now.

And, as if to prove his point, I've gotten bad news from people I care about today. There's nothing I can do to change their situation. Nothing I can really do to help except to listen.

It's not death itself that I fear. It's the potential pain leading up to the final moment. I don't wish that pain on anyone. Not my worst enemy. Not even Tribblehead.

If my gods or Murphy or whoever runs this cockamamie universe will grant me one wish, please let me go fast and relatively painlessly. I'd like to go out to mow or stand up to head to dinner and keel over, where I'm gone before my body hits the ground. That's how a few of my grandparents and great-grandparents died.

And a bit of me wishes for less pain for the people I've heard from today. No pain is impossible at this point, but a little less would help these people to manage their affairs before the final moment.

I also hope everyone reading had a bit of peace, too.