Hospital tricks
We all love shortcuts. Here are a few to try, the next time you have to go to a hospital’s emergency room. 1) At the check in desk, ask them how long the wait time will be. If it’s longer than having your house repainted, how bad do you really feel? 2) To get quicker service in an ER, come in through the back door instead of the front. Ambulances and helicopters trump everyone that drove up. Of course, that requires your being injured bad enough to require back door delivery. I can’t solve all your problems for you. 3) The words “chest pain” and “dizzy” will get you seen quicker. If they think you’re lying, though, they will put you in the back corner till you rot. 4) Don’t eat or drink anything while waiting to be seen. Tests have to be done when you are empty and dry. 5) Never specifically ask for pain medication, and never/ever ask for medicine of a particular type or strength. If you do, you’ll be labeled a “drug seeker,” and will still be in the waiting room when the housekeeper comes in the next morning to clean up. 6) Be patient, and don’t threaten the desk crew. Your life is in their hands – literally, and they know it. 7) Lastly, and this goes for places besides ER waiting rooms – If you push and hold the floor number button at the same time you are pushing the close door button, most elevators will close up and get under way immediately, leaving others running toward you with their arms flailing about. What fun!
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Gizzard Man
I recently stood in line at the grocery store, waiting behind a red-faced man who was returning some fried chicken gizzards. He was livid about said gizzards, and was quite impatient with all the other customers who were wasting his time by buying postage stamps and money orders. I really thought he might have a stroke before his turn came up. When it did, he threw down the package and ranted about having paid for chicken LIVERS, and receiving GIZZARDS instead. “I can’t imagine anybody being so stupid,” he railed, “as to not know the difference between livers and gizzards!” I found myself thinking that anyone who eats either chicken livers or chicken gizzards probably doesn’t have the most discriminating palette, anyway. She refunded his purchase – I swear this is true – a whopping $1.05! As I stepped up next and tried to comfort her, Gizzard Man went up to another employee and starting ranting to him. Now picture this – this clown discovers the problem, turns off the COPS show he’s watching, climbs into his truck, drives clear back to store, smelling the offending fried chicken innards all the way there, to get back $1.05? He spent three times that in gas to just have something to complain about. Some people ought never to have been born. I think scripture says something like that.
I recently stood in line at the grocery store, waiting behind a red-faced man who was returning some fried chicken gizzards. He was livid about said gizzards, and was quite impatient with all the other customers who were wasting his time by buying postage stamps and money orders. I really thought he might have a stroke before his turn came up. When it did, he threw down the package and ranted about having paid for chicken LIVERS, and receiving GIZZARDS instead. “I can’t imagine anybody being so stupid,” he railed, “as to not know the difference between livers and gizzards!” I found myself thinking that anyone who eats either chicken livers or chicken gizzards probably doesn’t have the most discriminating palette, anyway. She refunded his purchase – I swear this is true – a whopping $1.05! As I stepped up next and tried to comfort her, Gizzard Man went up to another employee and starting ranting to him. Now picture this – this clown discovers the problem, turns off the COPS show he’s watching, climbs into his truck, drives clear back to store, smelling the offending fried chicken innards all the way there, to get back $1.05? He spent three times that in gas to just have something to complain about. Some people ought never to have been born. I think scripture says something like that.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Spring
Spring is my favorite season. I like to see things waking up, turning green, coming back to life. I don’t understand how autumn, when everything is dying, can be anyone’s favorite time of year. I love being warm, and despise being cold. Part of being tall is having poor circulation to the extremities, which means numb fingers and toes when I’m outside. I hate that. I also don’t like wearing a knit cap to keep my head warm, then taking it off and having my hair look horrible. I don’t carry a comb or brush with me, so I hope that doing my hair once in the morning lasts me for the whole day. I feel sorry for women that always have to redo their hair, but I am glad that they do it. Another great part of spring is that I’m a guy. For guys, spring means power tools – mowers, blowers, edgers, weeders, sprinklers, etc. Most guys are happy when they tools to play with, and spring does that for us. It smells good and feels good to get oil, gasoline, and grease all over ourselves. Men were made to smell like petroleum products. Women were meant to smell like perfume and cookies. God set us up like that. I don’t question it, I just go with the flow.
Spring is my favorite season. I like to see things waking up, turning green, coming back to life. I don’t understand how autumn, when everything is dying, can be anyone’s favorite time of year. I love being warm, and despise being cold. Part of being tall is having poor circulation to the extremities, which means numb fingers and toes when I’m outside. I hate that. I also don’t like wearing a knit cap to keep my head warm, then taking it off and having my hair look horrible. I don’t carry a comb or brush with me, so I hope that doing my hair once in the morning lasts me for the whole day. I feel sorry for women that always have to redo their hair, but I am glad that they do it. Another great part of spring is that I’m a guy. For guys, spring means power tools – mowers, blowers, edgers, weeders, sprinklers, etc. Most guys are happy when they tools to play with, and spring does that for us. It smells good and feels good to get oil, gasoline, and grease all over ourselves. Men were made to smell like petroleum products. Women were meant to smell like perfume and cookies. God set us up like that. I don’t question it, I just go with the flow.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Caffeine
I recently gave up pop for Lent. I’m not Catholic, but seeing if you have the discipline to give up something you like is an interesting exercise. Since I quit pop short-term, I’m considering making it a permanent deletion. Having more money in my pocket, and less chemicals in my body, seems like a good idea. I am cheating a little, though, by drinking more iced tea than ever. I can make tea at home, but can’t produce diet Dr Pepper in my kitchen. Years ago, I had some minor success with making homemade root beer. I quit that, though, because root beer doesn’t have caffeine in it. That’s why Mormons avoid pop, but drink gallons of root beer. For them, Mountain Dew is “right out” (Monty Python). I truly love caffeine. It is the one thing I will admit being addicted to. Caffeine is Magical Stuff. I tried to quit caffeine a couple of times, but the constant yawning was embarrassing. “No, you don’t bore me. I just haven’t had any pop yet, today. OK, you do bore me – but only a little.” I don’t understand the point of coffees and teas that are decaffeinated. Neither taste that good naturally, without being doctored up a little. They are acquired tastes, to give us a delivery vehicle for caffeine. Most of us did way too much caffeine in our college years, but the body can shunt more abuse when we’re young. If caffeine was your only abuse in college, you did far better than most.
I recently gave up pop for Lent. I’m not Catholic, but seeing if you have the discipline to give up something you like is an interesting exercise. Since I quit pop short-term, I’m considering making it a permanent deletion. Having more money in my pocket, and less chemicals in my body, seems like a good idea. I am cheating a little, though, by drinking more iced tea than ever. I can make tea at home, but can’t produce diet Dr Pepper in my kitchen. Years ago, I had some minor success with making homemade root beer. I quit that, though, because root beer doesn’t have caffeine in it. That’s why Mormons avoid pop, but drink gallons of root beer. For them, Mountain Dew is “right out” (Monty Python). I truly love caffeine. It is the one thing I will admit being addicted to. Caffeine is Magical Stuff. I tried to quit caffeine a couple of times, but the constant yawning was embarrassing. “No, you don’t bore me. I just haven’t had any pop yet, today. OK, you do bore me – but only a little.” I don’t understand the point of coffees and teas that are decaffeinated. Neither taste that good naturally, without being doctored up a little. They are acquired tastes, to give us a delivery vehicle for caffeine. Most of us did way too much caffeine in our college years, but the body can shunt more abuse when we’re young. If caffeine was your only abuse in college, you did far better than most.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Hello, goodbye
“Have a day,” the cashier quipped as I picked up my bag to leave. I didn’t think about it till I got to the car. What does that mean? Is it too difficult to add one more word – like “nice” or “good?” Since then, several others have generically wished me “a day.” It’s supposed to be witty, I guess, but it irritates me. The reality is we don’t always know how to say hello and goodbye to each other. Mostly we are in too big a hurry to get gone. What’s the point of asking, “Fine, and how are YOU?” if we don’t stay around to hear the answer? Should we change our hellos and goodbyes to “Yo!,” “Wassup,” and “Later?” Do we want to go back to “fare thee well” and “may the devil take thee, then?” The Beatles sang, “I don’t know why you say goodbye – I said hello.” Groucho Marx sang, “Hello, I must be going.” Well, I guess that’s about . . .
“Have a day,” the cashier quipped as I picked up my bag to leave. I didn’t think about it till I got to the car. What does that mean? Is it too difficult to add one more word – like “nice” or “good?” Since then, several others have generically wished me “a day.” It’s supposed to be witty, I guess, but it irritates me. The reality is we don’t always know how to say hello and goodbye to each other. Mostly we are in too big a hurry to get gone. What’s the point of asking, “Fine, and how are YOU?” if we don’t stay around to hear the answer? Should we change our hellos and goodbyes to “Yo!,” “Wassup,” and “Later?” Do we want to go back to “fare thee well” and “may the devil take thee, then?” The Beatles sang, “I don’t know why you say goodbye – I said hello.” Groucho Marx sang, “Hello, I must be going.” Well, I guess that’s about . . .
Monday, March 10, 2008
Reigning cats and dogs
My wife says when she was growing up, if the cat was in your chair then you sat somewhere else. My raising was slightly different. My dad once said we should feed the cat to the dog, then shoot the dog. We all grew up with animals, though, and our lives are the richer for it. I find it tragic to see a child who is afraid of animals. One of my brothers said you shouldn’t be allowed to raise a child, until you have proven you can raise a well-adjusted puppy.
When you are gone for two hours, your dog will greet you like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen. He will also sniff you all over, to determine what experiences you have encountered since he saw you last. If you take a two week vacation, when you come home the cat won’t notice you’ve been gone. “Oh, did you step out for a while? Didn’t notice. The water bowl could use a little refreshing, though.” The catbox became my duty when my wife was pregnant with our first child. “Hey, there’s a disease in there that could kill our kid!” Now it’s 25 years later, and I still have catbox duty. Maybe my dad was partially right after all.
We said goodbye this week to one of our dogs. I still see her all over the house, and keep thinking I hear her walking around. I miss her. Rest well, Mysti. You were a joy!
My wife says when she was growing up, if the cat was in your chair then you sat somewhere else. My raising was slightly different. My dad once said we should feed the cat to the dog, then shoot the dog. We all grew up with animals, though, and our lives are the richer for it. I find it tragic to see a child who is afraid of animals. One of my brothers said you shouldn’t be allowed to raise a child, until you have proven you can raise a well-adjusted puppy.
When you are gone for two hours, your dog will greet you like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen. He will also sniff you all over, to determine what experiences you have encountered since he saw you last. If you take a two week vacation, when you come home the cat won’t notice you’ve been gone. “Oh, did you step out for a while? Didn’t notice. The water bowl could use a little refreshing, though.” The catbox became my duty when my wife was pregnant with our first child. “Hey, there’s a disease in there that could kill our kid!” Now it’s 25 years later, and I still have catbox duty. Maybe my dad was partially right after all.
We said goodbye this week to one of our dogs. I still see her all over the house, and keep thinking I hear her walking around. I miss her. Rest well, Mysti. You were a joy!
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