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Sunday, December 4, 2011

Something Evil This Way Comes and it wears a uniform...

Today, the evil came in the form of a Sheriff's car, singing whistles and lights at me, over the 7th street pass. SHE, actually, a SHE-DEVIL in uniform, cold as ice, stopped me to tell me I'd been going 15 miles over the limit and driving 'all over the place'.  This UNIFORMED ICEBERG  took 20 minutes to write a ticket, had to have a back up car  with her, and then, kept harrassing and harrassing me to leave first.  I told her to just plain leave me alone.  Oh no, says she, I'm worried someone will turn the corner and rearend you.  I say, you couldn't care less about me.  (Plus, I am two houses down from the corner turn.)  You've done your deed, now, go and let me be.  Leave me alone!  She goes back to her car and waits some more.

So I spend the next 20 minutes crying on my own and does she leave?  Oh no.  She stays behind me parked.  Why?  I have no clue.  Nosy, I guess, or she just enjoys harassing 72 year old women. Or, she is just plain EVIL... She gets her back up car with her again and again asks me to leave.  I tell her.  I am not bothering  anyone.  I am parked on the side of the road, so, go and let me be.  I am in my own Valley.  The streets around me are empty and quiet.  I'll pull around the corner if that makes her happy.  (I do that.)  Her back up car leaves but she goes and hides in a driveway and waits and waits until I leave.  It's another wasted 20 minutes.

When I finally do leave, then I see her drive off in the opposite direction from me.  What is this 'ticket-writing game' about?  Playing chicken?

Has this female officer nothing better to do but harass the elderly?

I can only hope that someone will treat an over 70 year old person in HER FAMILY, the exact same harassing, ice-berg manner as she did to me.

She actually ought to consider retirement, considering all the wrinkles her face had.

Thursday, December 1, 2011

Walking daily is important, I have learned.--as well as eating with friends!

Surprising stuff, I keep on learning day by day, as to walking, yeah, just plain walking and its role in keeping the brain active.

Add to that is the discovery that who you eat with and whether you converse and enjoy and help each other.   This sort of behavior ACTUALLY MAKES A DIFFERENCE!  It helps the brain.

And then there is lycopene, a substance in a small number of plants, such as tomatoes, guavas, watermelon, and pink grapefruit. This small group of plants have a power to lengthen life, for some reason.  The presence of this lycopene is a sort of barometer of health--not a cause, however.

End of today's motor mouthing by me.

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Today's launching point was going to the VA

My husband is the veteran, not me, by the way.  

What really got to me was the lack of 'bedside manner', for lack of a better term, on the part of the Doctor.  She spent the time with my husband mostly staring at her computer, and not looking at the patient, my husband, while asking all her questions.  (Because her voice is out of the range that my husband can hear, he asks that I be there, so that he can understand her.)

Ok.  So my husband has the diagnosis of alzheimer's--but he is not dead!  She acted like he was some sort of frozen food, sitting there, unable to do anything, or be anyone.  Yet, she asks the questions anyway towards him, and records them on her computer.  Her lack of care or concern or warmth is so obvious as to make me boil inside.  To her, he is a 'thing' to be tested, poked, proded and recorded--that's all.

I know that there is no cure at present for this disease.  But the patient has feelings!  He is at the very early stages as best I can figure since she tells me nothing.  It seems as if I have to do the fighting for him, for the best care for him, since his doctors seems not to care a whit!  What is with these psychiatrists/doctors?  What has turned them from being people into being pharmers?  Meds are all they seem to know, or tests.  Most certainly they do not know how people feel or care or worry or anything that is people-like.


There has to be someone out there who knows a real psychiatrist, one who spends time and care with the patient.  Help!  gh