ARCHIVED POSTS
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October 7, 2017
ADVENTURES ALONG THE MORTAL COIL
DOCTORS DID THIS TO ME
I promise myself sometimes, not to write so much about getting old. But you know it’s just so funny, and there’s just so much material that I find it hard to resist.
Let’s face it. Getting old is a hoot or at least it should be. And it goes without saying that growing old sure as hell beats the alternative.
So I’m not complaining, even though this has been one of those months when everything seemed to fall apart. My wife and guardian angel is always nagging me to go see the doctor, which I hate. But then I have to remind myself that every day I enjoy now is because she pushed me to see a doctor at points in the past.
So this month, I went to see the cardiologist, the dermatologist, the vascular surgeon, the sleep specialist, and a physical therapist.
The cardiologist gave me a clean bill of health – sort of – after a restless night hooked up to a monitors with sensors pasted to my body that left me with a rash.
The dermatologist sprayed me so vigorously with liquid nitrogen that I had open wounds along my arms and across my face. That will teach me not to go out without my sunscreen on.
The vascular surgeon recommended some knee-high pressure stockings for my varicose veins and a device for putting them on that can only be described as … well you can decide for yourself what it looks like. More on that later.
The sleep specialist sent me home with an overnight monitor that showed my oxygen levels were too low, and I was failing to breathe several times an hour. He gave me a pressurized air mask to wear throughout the night, every night, probably for the rest of my life. We’ll see about that.
I threw out my left knee and went hobbling around for a couple of weeks until it became so painful that I had to get a cane and a knee brace. My knee is getting better, but the doctor says I may still need a painful cortisone shot. My brother-in-law, who lives in Arizona and packs a gun everywhere he goes, warned me that he got such a shot in his knee and it hurt some much that he threatened to kill the doctor if the doctor didn’t pull out the needle and let him limp home.
My wife says I’m a sissy and that pain is part of life and that women understand that much better than men do, which just proves that not all sexists are male.
Despite the problems, I am feeling much better and happy as hell to be on the other side of it – at least for now. Of course there’s still the possibility of the cortisone shot lurking someplace in the near future, but I’ll cross that bridge when I come it.
Despite what my wife may think, I am not a sissy. I’ll even leave my gun at home.
Do you have a dissenting opinion or any opinion at all on the subject? Contact me at george@georgeleecunningham.com and let me know. Meanwhile, you can always subscribe and get an email reminder of blog postings. Your name will not be shared and you may cancel at any time.
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PUTTING ON YOUR SOCKS, THE HARD WAY
GETTING OLD IS FUNNY
We have a device in our home that we keep in the closet, out of sight, until it’s needed. But once a day, we haul it out, mount it on the kitchen counter, and use it to put on my new, very-tight compression stockings. With the Doff N’ Donner stocking device you simply put the sock on the device, roll it up using the easy flexible, liquid-filled sleeve, then roll it onto your foot and leg. It works very well, and it makes putting on tight stockings much easier.
So why does it make us laugh every time we take it out and set it up? I have no answer to that question. It just does.
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September 8, 2017
THE ESPRESSO EXPRESS, ITALIAN STYLE
ESPRESSO IN THE BACKYARD /Photo by Carmela Cunningham
I love my wife, but she does this thing that drives me nuts. Her birthday was coming up and she says, “you know what it would be nice to have? An espresso machine so we can brew our own espressos and lattes.” And I say, “that’s great honey. Why don’t you go and buy one?”
But that’s not good enough for her. She wants me to buy an espresso machine for her. I just don’t get it.
We don’t have separate bank accounts. My money is her money and vice versa. But, she wants me to go out and buy an espresso machine for her. I’m not only supposed to buy it, I am also supposed to pick it out, purchase it, then wrap it up in festive paper and give it to her on her birthday.
I don’t even want an espresso machine. And, since it’s her birthday, shouldn’t I be the one to pick out the gift – no matter how lame it might be? And that’s kind of the point. I do pick out lame gifts that she kind of looks at, politely smiles, and shoves in a drawer someplace never to see the light of day again. But, I love my wife and if she wants an espresso machine, I want her to have one.
So this year, I give in. I shop around online and buy an espresso machine – determined to get something that will please her, even though I’m not really a huge fan of coffee, much less espresso.
What I could have gotten her was the Mr. Coffee 4-Cup Steam Espresso System with Milk Frother, EMC160 for $35.99. Obviously not good enough for my baby. What I finally settle on is the DeLonghi ESAM3300 Magnifica Super-Automatic Espresso/Coffee Machine. It was fancy, sleek, Italian, and many times more expensive than the Mr. Coffee 4-Cup Steam Espresso. But that’s OK, if it makes my baby happy.
It was a complicated transaction. Since I couldn’t have it delivered to our house, I had my niece Bailey order it and have it delivered to her house. And she very kindly agreed to wrap it for me, since when I wrap gifts they end up looking like some wadded up mess of tape and paper that you find in the back of a hoarder’s closet. And being a good niece, Bailey even bought a gift of her own – a set of two glass espresso cups – elegant tiny little things from which one might sip while sitting at some outdoor café on a narrow street in Roma.
The instructions that came with the machine consisted mostly of little tiny pictures. Some with a circle and a line through it, meaning don’t do this. I hate little pictures like that. It’s like don’t brew an espresso with the machine balanced on the rim of the tub while you’re taking a bath. It may sound old fashioned, but I come from a generation that actually read words rather than tiny hieroglyphics.
Luckily, the machine also came with a 28-minute CD containing a video.. This means I had to watch the entire video in order to figure out how to work the machine and how to program it. Push down one button to put it in a program mode, push another one to set the program, then a third one according to how hot I want my espresso.
In order to make the experience as excruciating as possible, the video is backed by one of those computer-generated music scores – the kind of thing that can suffice either for an instruction manual on fly fishing or a porno film in which the pool cleaning guy seduces a lonely housewife. The secrets of the machine are explained by a monotone narrator who talks like an elementary school teacher trying to explain vowels and consonants to a muddle-headed third-grader
After hours of study, I was finally able to make an espresso, which I think tasted bitter and disgusting, but which my dear wife found delightful. And really, that’s all that mattered.
Next step: cappuccinos, café lattes, café macchiatos, café mochas, and café Americanos.
And one more thing. After all the frustration and work to get my baby’s Magnifica Super-Automatic Espresso/Coffee Machine actually working, I’ve decided that I’m going to become an espresso drinker myself.
I’ve got too much invested not to.
Do you have a dissenting opinion or any opinion at all on the subject? Contact me at george@georgeleecunningham.com and let me know. Meanwhile, you can always subscribe and get an email reminder of blog postings. Your name will not be shared and you may cancel at any time.