Tag Archives: health

Health or bust.

 

In the midst of a viral apocalypse, it’s hard not to think about your health.

Am I safe? Will I be infected?

And if so, should I be binge watching Netflix… or picking out a granite color and font?

 

 

Thankfully I’m a very healthy person. One might say boringly so.

I’ve never broken a bone.

I’ve never had the flu, an ear infection, strep throat, the measles, pink eye or a cavity.

I still have my tonsils, appendix and wisdom teeth.

Until I was 48 years old, I’d never had the chicken pox either.

And trust me…. when I caught them from the husband because he came down with shingles?

I was not a happy camper.

 

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No, those aren’t pimples….

And if you think it sucked having chicken pox as a kid? Try doing it when you’re almost 50. It’s not only Hella uncomfortable…. but dangerous to boot.

Matter of fact, it was such an oddity to present at that age, all the doctors and nurses stopped by the exam room to take a peek.

 

 

You know all those times in your life when it was nice to feel special?

That wasn’t one of them.

But aside from that week of polka dotted misery, I’ve been blissfully healthy.

Heck, I’d never even been in the hospital until a few years ago…. and naturally, everything that could go wrong?

Did.

Quite spectacularly.

Because if you’re going to screw something up?

My motto is don’t do it halfway.

 

Things I learned while grocery shopping.

 

I ventured out of my lock down burrow yesterday and went grocery shopping for the first time in 21 days. It was quite a learning experience.

I learned Wal Mart has a bizarrely convoluted maze of barricades at the entrance so you can’t use the same door as those who are exiting. They have staff wiping down carts, cashiers wiping down check out lanes and six foot distancing markers on the floors. The one thing they didn’t have?

A single employee wearing a mask.  To which I say…. WTH?

At my second stop, a grocery chain called Shaws…. I learned there are 2 staff members with clickers and clipboards counting customers at the entrance so no more than 75 people can be in the store at the same time. They have arrows for one way aisles, distancing markers at the checkout and a ban on bringing reusable bags from home. The one thing they didn’t have?

A single employee wearing a mask. To which I say…. WTF?

I got hollered at for putting my groceries on the check out conveyor belt too soon, by a cashier who wouldn’t wear a mask. Smarten up people! Half measures are no measures. We need to get on top of this thing…. my local pub misses me!

Other things I learned?

I don’t look good in a mask.

 

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And there’s still no toilet paper.

 

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Anywhere.

There was plenty of deodorant, but no toothpaste…. because apparently clean minty breath is more important than body odor during pandemics.

You want flour?

 

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Sorry, no can do.

Oh, there are full shelves here and there.

 

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But they’re filled with such things as Tumeric pasta and….

 

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Yeah.

There was no shortage of those.

This item was fully stocked as well.

 

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Clearly I’m not the only one who hates cilantro.

I also learned you can’t wear reading glasses while sporting an N95 mask. Nope. If you do…. those little suckers will fog up like the back of your teenage boyfriend’s Chevy van on prom night.

I came home with something I didn’t want or need simply because I couldn’t read the damn thing.

Yay me.

I also learned that if you’re menopausal and prone to hot flashes? You’re not going to enjoy going out in public for the foreseeable future.

The mask I wore is great, it filters out all the harmful particles… but breathing through it? Not so great.

I overheated to a temperature approaching the surface of the sun within 5 minutes…. then turned a bright feverish red and had to finish shopping quickly before I melted into a puddle in the dairy section.

Think I’m kidding?

 

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Nope.

 

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Not kidding.

I’m not sick, just splotchy. Honest!

 

Yes, this is real.

 

Ya gotta love New York City.

My late father worked on Wall Street and I grew up marveling at it’s magic and savoring the myriad flavors of it’s streets.

Now? My heart breaks for it’s citizens. The virus is testing them, but they’ll pull through. They’re resilient.

They’re New Yorkers.

Yes, it’s the city the never sleeps. The Big Apple. The home of Broadway, the Empire State Building and Katz’s Deli…. but what you really have to love about them right now?

This:

Yes.

The New York City Health Department is recommending masturbation.

 

Among other things.

 

 

 

 

 

Oh, Oprah.

 

Last week I was doing what I love most in the world,  kicking back with an ice cold margarita while being hand fed tasty morsels by Bradley Cooper,  waiting in an urgent care clinic for my SIL who I agreed to drive there.

** Warning for male readers – this post is going to go south about halfway through. Literally and figuratively. **

Medical facility waiting rooms are my least favorite place in the world. Crowded, obnoxiously loud, human petri dishes. Breeding grounds for the passage of whatever plague is currently circulating. Worried about mad cow disease or the bird flu? Forget the barnyard…. you’ll catch it here. Had I owned a bio hazard suit, I would have worn it proudly. With triple duct tape at the joints.

 

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As I was sitting in an unobtrusive corner trying not to breath, I realized my phone had died and I was at the mercy of the magazine rack. (Not reading is out of the question. Someone might want to start up a conversation and that’s entirely too much close contact when you’re trapped in a disease ridden incubator from Hell.)

As you know, medical waiting room magazine racks are filled with riveting copies of  Breast Feeding Monthly, How to Avoid Herpes newsletters and Let’s Identify that Secretion Digest.

I figured Oprah’s magazine would be the least revolting choice and grabbed her new issue.

 

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Oh, Oprah…

( Now would be a good time to point out that I detest women’s magazines in general. I have never needed to know how to bake a better bundt, why the soles of my feet are making me unhappy or what to do if my husband is cheating on me with my mother. )

And Hell, I didn’t even get past Oprah’s cover before I was rolling my eyes.

 

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While I have a girlfriend whose husband thinks hers has been on vacation since 2006…

I was guessing this article wasn’t about sex and shuddered to think about the tips hidden inside.

 

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I’d rather you didn’t, but thanks all the same.

The teaser didn’t bode well.

 

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And it made me wonder how mine has survived all these summers without the benefit of expert advice.

 

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There…

Now that’s advice you can use.

I refuse to go into detail about the article, but will post a picture of it for anyone who’s interested.

 

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In a nutshell? Treat Her Right.

Remember..

You heard it here first.

 

 

 

 

Bad idea…. really bad.

 

Yes.

I admit to drinking the occasional Coca Cola.

 

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And yes.

I know it’s not healthy….

 

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Alright, that’s disturbing.

But I probably only drink one or two a month, like dessert.

It’s sugary enough to satisfy my sweet tooth…. and hey.

If it can clean the corrosion off a car battery? It can do the same to my colon. Everybody wins.

I’m not going to get into the Coke vs Pepsi debate…

Because there’s really only one acceptable way to drink Pepsi.

 

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And while I do find Cherry Coke acceptable now and then?

I’ve never tasted another flavor I could tolerate and have to wonder why they keep putting new ones on the market.

It’s Coke.

It has 7,000 tablespoons of sugar per ounce and two cans will put you into diabetic coma. I get it. Now leave it alone and stop trying to invent new ways for us to drink it.

(Please note this does not stop me from trying every single one. Hope springs eternal.)

The latest roll out?

 

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Orange vanilla.

I had visions of a Creamsicle Coke!

It works for martinis… why not Coke.

How bad could it be?

Answer-

Bad.

Very, very bad.

 

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Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.

Pour it directly on your corroded car battery (or filthy toilet) and be done with it.

I wouldn’t have thought it possible to screw up orange vanilla anything, but they did.

Give it a wide berth on the grocery aisle. Tasting like radioactive waste might not be a coincidence…

It’s that bad.