Benadryl, Broken Noses, and a Busy Day

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Today started out busy, and judging by my calendar, it’s only the beginning.

I had two doctor appointments today—one at 10:00 a.m. and another at 3:00 p.m.

My first stop was my oncologist’s office for an iron infusion. They usually take about two hours, so I figured I’d have plenty of time to get home, eat lunch, and make it to my physical therapy appointment.

Well… that was the plan.

The infusion ended up lasting nearly three hours, which turned my carefully planned schedule into a race against the clock.

Before the infusion, they always draw blood to check my iron levels and determine if—and when—I’ll need another treatment. Then comes the fun part. They hook me up to a small IV bag of Benadryl.

They use Benadryl to offset any reaction I may have to the infusion.

I don’t know about everyone else, but Benadryl absolutely knocks me out. I’m talking “you could redecorate the room around me, and I’d never know it” kind of asleep.

I had brought my Kindle to pass the time, but after the Benadryl started flowing, I don’t remember making it past the second page.

A lady sitting next to me was receiving three bags of chemotherapy. I knew I’d been asleep for quite a while when I woke up, and she was already on her third bag.

When I finally came to, my iron infusion was almost finished. I did my best to stay awake long enough for the nurse to remove the IV. Truthfully, I could have happily curled up in that recliner and taken another nap, but I had places to be.

Downstairs, I stopped to pay for parking. An elderly lady ahead of me was having trouble with the payment machine. Her card wouldn’t work, and she didn’t have another card or any cash. I asked her to cancel the transaction, scan her ticket again, and I paid for her parking.

Four dollars wasn’t going to make me go broke.

My good deed for today.

She thanked me several times before heading on her way, and then I paid for my own parking.

My physical therapy appointment went well, although concentrating wasn’t exactly easy with all that Benadryl still floating through my system. I think my therapist took one look at me, decided I wasn’t going to set any personal records that afternoon, and let me go home about ten minutes early.

Tomorrow will be another busy day. I’ll have to miss my Tuesday morning Bible study because I’m taking my dad to the doctor to have his broken nose checked after his fall.

He’s already informed me that he has no intention of letting them reset it.

According to him, he broke it as a kid, it’s been crooked ever since, and he doesn’t see much point in making it straight now.

At 87 years old, I guess he’s decided that a crooked nose has become part of his identity. Who am I to argue with that?

When Did Getting Older Become a Banking Fee?

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I’m 62 years old, and until now, I’ve never really felt like I’d been discriminated against because of my age.

I’ve been with the same banking institution for more than twenty years and have never had to pay a monthly service fee. The fees have always existed—I just never found myself in a situation where they applied to me.

When I started working for my last employer back in 1986, the bank was running a promotion that waived all service fees as long as I remained employed there. Over the years, the bank changed ownership several times, but they continued to honor that agreement.

One of the requirements for avoiding the fee was having at least $500 a month deposited electronically into the account. That wasn’t a problem since my entire paycheck was direct deposited every two weeks, and it was well over the minimum.

I retired in the summer of 2018, so the direct deposits stopped. Somehow, though, the fee waiver continued. I wasn’t asking questions.

About six months ago, I received a notice saying the monthly service fee was increasing from $10 to $15. Curious, I called the bank to ask why I had never been charged the original $10 fee. They searched my account, couldn’t find a reason, and simply told me not to worry about it.

So… I didn’t.

That worked out fine until Thursday of last week.

I noticed that beginning in May, I had been charged the new $15 monthly fee. Once again, I called the bank. Once again, no one could explain why it had suddenly started.

The representative did explain how I could avoid the fee. Here were my options:

  • Have at least $500 a month deposited directly into my account. I’m retired. My income comes through my financial advisor, and they don’t use direct deposit. Could I change that? Maybe. Do I want to untangle all of that? Not really.
  • Maintain a minimum balance of $1,500. I’m on a fixed income, so that’s not very realistic.
  • Be between the ages of 17 and 24. Well… I missed that window by about 38 years.
  • Be a current or former member of the military. I appreciate those who have served, but that doesn’t apply to me.

So, unless I’ve overlooked something, if you’re a retired senior citizen on a fixed income, your option is to pay the $15 every month.

Could I switch banks? Sure. But anyone who’s ever changed banks knows it’s about as much fun as a root canal. Every automatic payment, every subscription, every bill has to be updated. And if you’ve ever had your debit card hacked, you already know it can take months to get everything straightened back out.

I’ve left a message with my financial advisor, and I’m hoping they might have a solution that doesn’t involve jumping through flaming hoops.

Some people might wonder why I’m making such a big deal over $15 a month.

Here’s why.

When you’re living on a fixed income, $15 isn’t “just” $15. That’s $180 a year. That’s groceries. That’s medication. That’s gas in the truck. Those dollars matter.

Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but it seems like banks should reward customers who’ve remained loyal for decades instead of making them feel like they’re being penalized for getting older.

When Plans Change in an Instant

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It doesn’t matter how carefully you make your plans—one phone call from one of your parents can change everything in the blink of an eye.

I had planned on going fishing today. It had already been a challenge just getting ready. I had a meeting Thursday night, so I wasn’t able to load my kayak until I got home late. I loaded everything else beforehand, leaving only the kayak for when I returned.

We’re also down to one vehicle right now, so after my physical therapy session, I needed to take my wife grocery shopping. Then I had to drive across town to exchange my shoes before I could even think about heading to the water.

Then the phone rang.

It was my mom.

She told me my dad had fallen outside. According to her, there was blood everywhere. She had already called 911, and the paramedics were on their way to take him to the emergency room.

I left the house immediately. I got to the ER so quickly that I actually arrived before the ambulance did.

A short time later, my mom and my nephew arrived, and Dad came in around the same time. He had a pretty nasty gash on his forehead that had cut open a blood vessel. He also broke his nose and badly bruised his right arm.

My sister arrived shortly afterward, and then came the waiting. Anyone who has spent time in an emergency room knows that waiting is just part of the process.

After about two hours, I knew Dad was stable and being well cared for. Since there wasn’t much more I could do, I left to attend my meeting.

A couple of hours later, after the meeting ended, I called to check on everyone. Thankfully, they were already back home.

I called Dad again this morning, and I’m happy to report that he had a good night. He’ll see a doctor on Tuesday to have his broken nose evaluated. I offered to take him, but my nephew may be able to do it. We’ll know for sure in the next couple of days.

Days like yesterday are a reminder of how quickly life can change. One minute you’re thinking about fishing, and the next you’re sitting in an emergency room with your family.

I’m just thankful the outcome wasn’t worse. At 87 years old, a fall can be life-changing. God was watching over Dad, and for that, I’m incredibly grateful.

A Calendar Full of Red

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My cat Sophia must have decided I needed the extra rest because she let me sleep until 6:30 this morning—an hour later than my usual wake-up call. I don’t know what got into her, but I’m not about to question a miracle.

My wife had a physical therapy appointment today, so I didn’t get much accomplished before it was time to chauffeur her to the appointment at 11:00. While she was with her therapist, I stayed in the truck. I used the time to go over my upcoming Bible study lesson. It was a productive way to pass the time.

I had planned to take my new shoes back to the store because the longer I wear them, the more my right foot hurts. I was hoping I could simply exchange them for a 7E width, but after doing some research online, I discovered that width isn’t available in the current style. Since my wife also had another appointment later in the day, I couldn’t make it to the shoe store. That means I’ll have to make a special trip tomorrow and hope I can find a pair that actually fits.

I have physical therapy in the morning, and afterward I’ll head across town to the shoe store. Once that’s done, I’ll come back home, pick up my wife, and take her grocery shopping.

After we get back, I’ll start loading what I can for Friday’s fishing trip. Unfortunately, I have a late meeting across town, so I won’t be able to load my kayak or fishing rods until I get home around 11:00 that night. Thankfully, it only takes a few minutes to load everything, so I should still be able to get to bed early enough for my 4:00 a.m. alarm.

I looked over my calendar for the next month, and it’s covered in red. I mark all of my appointments—and all of my wife’s appointments—in red so they stand out. Right now, there’s something scheduled at least three days every week, and several days have two appointments. Retirement sure wasn’t supposed to involve this many waiting rooms.

I’ll be glad when my wife gets her car back. Sharing one vehicle has made scheduling everything a lot more complicated. I know it’s only temporary and it couldn’t really be helped, but it has definitely added a layer of inconvenience to our daily routine. Hopefully, things will get back to normal soon.

If the Shoe Doesn’t Fit… Send It Back!

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Going to the shoe store has become one of my worst nightmares. Not everyone sells the shoes in the width that I need. In fact, there are only two stores in the Birmingham metro area that sell shoes in my size.

For those who are new here, I have Charcot. Charcot is a condition that makes my bones brittle. Two years ago, I unknowingly broke my right foot. It couldn’t be a normal break; it had to be broken in several places. What makes it worse, I didn’t know that it was broken for a couple of weeks. I have neuropathy in both feet, so I have no feeling. I only noticed when my foot was swollen so bad that my foot no longer fit in the shoe.

To make a long story short, I was in a splint for 3 weeks, a cast for eight weeks, and a boot for another ten weeks. My right foot is a 10.5 6E, and my left foot is a 9.5 3E. No, I don’t purchase two separate shoe sizes. I just purchase the larger size, and the orthotics take care of the fitting in my left foot.

So far, I’ve only found one store that sells the shoe that really fits me. It’s a New Balance style 907. They only make that shoe in one color: white. After about a month, the shoes are no longer white but a dingy gray.

Last year we tried to purchase a different-style shoe, same size and width, only to find that it caused massive blisters. I had to send the shoes back.

I went to the shoe store yesterday to purchase some new shoes because the others were falling apart. I purchased another style of shoe because I wanted a color other than white. I finally got around to putting them on a couple of hours ago, and I already know that these will be going back because they hurt my feet.

After spending nearly $200 on these shoes, I expect them to fit a little better and not hurt my feet. They act like they are simply not wide enough. I’m not sure if they make a 7E or not.

I guess I’ll be finding out tomorrow when I take these shoes back.

B

One Day at a Time with Mom and Dad

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Yesterday I got off to a later start than I had planned. I rolled up to my parents’ house a few minutes before 9:00 a.m. My goal had been to get there by 8:00, but I just couldn’t get moving. By the time I had eaten breakfast and made my second round of coffee, I was already running behind.

When I arrived, I didn’t see my parents’ car. Sometimes they park inside the garage, but most of the time it’s sitting just outside.

I unloaded the lawnmower, which takes a few minutes since it’s on a trailer. Once it was off, I moved it onto the driveway to make a few adjustments to the mower deck and ensure it was level.

Normally, by this point, Dad is already outside with me because his driveway alarm lets him know whenever someone pulls up. Since I hadn’t seen either of them, I figured one of them must have had a doctor’s appointment and had forgotten to tell me.

I started the mower and began cutting the grass. About thirty minutes later, I spotted Dad. Evidently, he had been outside the whole time working somewhere in the backyard. He was soaked with sweat. He had been picking up limbs to clear the way so I could mow the yard.

I immediately stopped the mower and told him he had done enough. I made him go inside where it was cool. I stood there and watched until I saw him walk across the deck and into the house. It was simply too hot for him to be outside doing that kind of work.

I mowed for a little over an hour before taking a break. When I went inside, Dad was sitting on the couch. He had changed shirts, but I could still tell he was overheated from being outside. I fussed at him a little for staying out there long enough to get that hot.

My poor mother was sitting on the other side of the room, bent over from the arthritis pain in her neck. She’s been dealing with that pain for several years now, and it just keeps getting worse. Unfortunately, there’s really nothing that can be done. She’s been rubbing Hemp cream on her neck, and it seems to help for a couple of hours, but the pain always returns.

Seeing my elderly parents in this condition always weighs heavily on my heart because I know the day will eventually come when they won’t be with us anymore.

Mom has been living with one kind of pain or another ever since they were involved in that terrible head-on collision back in 2014. She used to stand nearly six feet tall. Today, she’s barely five feet because of scoliosis and arthritis. She’s so hunched over and in so much pain. She refuses to just sit still. She wants to tend to her flowers and keep the house clean, but she’s reached the point where she simply can’t do those things anymore. Most days she ends up sitting in her recliner in the den, wishing she could still do what she once did.

Dad keeps talking about buying a new lawnmower. The truth is, he doesn’t need another mower because he doesn’t need to be cutting the grass anymore. But he refuses to slow down. He’s always got to be working on something. No one can convince him otherwise.

He’s a smart man. There’s a lifetime of knowledge locked away in that brain of his, and every now and then I still have to make a phone call and dig some of that knowledge out. I’ll definitely miss that someday.

After I finished cutting the grass, we were sitting on the back deck when I told him he didn’t need to worry about buying another mower. I told him I’d be more than happy to come up every couple of weeks and cut the grass for him. He seemed to appreciate that… right up until he asked if he could sit on my mower and drive it around to compare it to his old one. Before long, we were right back to talking about buying a new mower.

After everything was finished, Dad and I sat on the back deck talking for several hours before Mom joined us. A cool breeze had started blowing, making it comfortable enough to just sit and enjoy each other’s company.

We talked about life and the choices we’ve made over the years. We talked about my kids and the possibility of grandchildren someday since two of my three children are talking about getting married.

Mom quietly said she hopes she’ll still be around when my children become parents, but she isn’t sure that will happen.

To be honest, I have my doubts too.

But I’m still praying we’re both wrong.

Rolling With the Punches

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It’s been a few days since my last post, and it’s been a busy few days.

You never realize how much you depend on something until you suddenly don’t have it. Since my wife’s car is still with my daughter, we’re down to just one vehicle. That means choices have to be made, schedules have to be adjusted, and everything takes a little more planning. My daughter is still looking for another car, but she’s waiting on the insurance check before she can buy one.

On top of that, life doesn’t slow down. I’m going to physical therapy for my back twice a week, and my wife has therapy once a week. This coming week I also have two doctor’s appointments, and my wife has an appointment on the very same day. I think we’ve worked out the logistics, but if one appointment runs long, it could throw our whole schedule into chaos.

Today was my second physical therapy appointment. Unfortunately, I had already spent part of yesterday doing yard work, so I was pretty sore before I even walked through the door. After an hour of stretching and exercises, I’m even more sore now. The therapist warned me that I’d probably feel it for a couple of days because we stretched muscles that haven’t been worked like that in a while. My next appointment is Monday morning.

Tomorrow I’ll be heading back to my parents’ house to cut their grass again. I’ve already loaded my mower and weed trimmer onto the trailer. Last week I didn’t have time to do any trimming, so it’s really needed now. The biggest question is how my back is going to handle sitting on the mower for four hours. It may take me longer than usual because I’ll be stopping often to stretch and give my back a break. I’d rather take my time than pay for it later.

Speaking of my mower…

It’s about four years old. After I finished mowing my own yard yesterday, I drove it over to my outdoor hydrant to wash off all the grass clippings. I do that every single time I use it. I think it looks better when it’s clean, and maybe—just maybe—it’ll help it last a little longer.

When I finished spraying it off, I climbed back on, turned the key…and absolutely nothing happened.

For the next hour, I started troubleshooting everything I could think of. Eventually, I convinced myself the starter had gone bad. I began pricing replacement starters and quickly discovered they aren’t cheap. I finally found an aftermarket one that appeared to fit my mower, but something kept nagging at me.

“What if it’s not the starter?”

I’ve been down that road before—buying parts I didn’t actually need. I’d hate to spend the money, wait for the part to arrive, install it, and discover the mower still wouldn’t start.

So I called my dad.

He suggested I try one more thing before ordering a starter. I’m glad I listened.

Earlier in my troubleshooting, I had tried jump-starting the mower with my jump box, thinking the battery might be weak. It still wouldn’t even try to turn over. I checked the battery with my meter, and it showed what appeared to be enough voltage, so I ruled it out. Just to be safe, I put it on the charger while I went inside for lunch.

After lunch, I spent a few hours doing other things around the yard before checking it again.

Surprisingly, the battery voltage had actually dropped even lower than it was before I put it on the charger.

Well, there was my answer.

The starter was fine after all—it was the battery.

That meant another trip to the auto parts store for a new battery. While I’m certainly glad it wasn’t the starter, I still wasn’t thrilled about spending money on a battery that I hadn’t planned on buying.

Sometimes life has a funny way of piling things on all at once. Between juggling one vehicle, therapy appointments, doctor’s visits, back pain, cutting my parents’ grass, and now replacing a mower battery, it has definitely been one of those weeks.

Hopefully next week will be just a little less eventful…but somehow I doubt it.

A Morning on the Water and an Evening Under the Fireworks

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I hope everyone had a wonderful weekend!

I took advantage of the few hours I had available to go fishing Saturday morning. I didn’t invite my friend Rick on this trip because I wasn’t sure how long my back would hold up. Since the ablation, I haven’t been able to sit in my kayak for very long before the pain starts bothering me.

I launched on the river around 5:30 a.m., and by 10:30 I was ready to head back to the launch. I knew that if Rick had gone with me, he would have wanted to stay out all day, and I knew that just wasn’t going to be possible for me.

The other reason I went alone was that I didn’t want to have to track him down when I was ready to leave. Last week, I told him I planned to head home at 2:00 p.m. By 2:30, he still hadn’t made it back to the launch. I finally left without knowing where he was, and that made me feel pretty uncomfortable.

At least until my back gets better, I think my fishing trips will end around 11:30 each morning. That’s quite a change considering we normally stay on the water until around 4:00 p.m.

Saturday evening, we went to my in-laws’ house on the river. They invited us, along with eight couples from their Bible study group, over for a barbecue and the annual fireworks show put on by their next-door neighbor.

I was genuinely surprised by the quality of the fireworks. It looked like something you’d expect to see at a professional display. I started recording about ten minutes after the show began, and it continued for another ten minutes or so after I stopped. My arm finally gave out from holding my phone up for so long, so I had to call it quits.

https://youtu.be/hIVYBx3J-Q8

As you’ll see in the video, we were very close to where the fireworks were being launched. In fact, I think we may have been a little too close at times!

This was also the first time in about ten years that I was able to spend the Fourth of July at home. In years past, I was always away at Boy Scout summer camp. That meant leaving my wife at home with our two cats, who were terrified by the thunderous fireworks our neighbors set off every year.

It felt good to spend Independence Day with family, enjoy some great barbecue, watch an incredible fireworks display, and still squeeze in a few hours of fishing that morning. Even though my back limited my time on the water, it was still a day well spent.

Celebrating 35 Years Together

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Today is our 35th wedding anniversary. Time has really flown by. It doesn’t seem possible that we’ve been married that long.

We spent the afternoon watching Toy Story 5. That’s what my wife wanted to see, and I’m glad we did. If you haven’t seen it yet, it’s well worth it. It has a great message for parents. I won’t give away any spoilers, so you’ll just have to see it for yourself to understand what I’m talking about.

After the movie, we drove to a place called Peach Park. It’s a combination produce market, ice cream shop, and cafeteria. They’re best known for their fresh peaches, peach ice cream, and peach fried pies. Their BBQ isn’t half bad either. We didn’t get there in time for the cafeteria, but we did enjoy some peach ice cream and picked up a couple of fried pies.

On our way home, we stopped at Chick-fil-A and grabbed a couple of chicken sandwiches for supper. We’ll celebrate with a nicer dinner one evening next week.

When we got home, we were greeted by a very unhappy cat. Since we’d been gone most of the day, she’d missed several of her snack sessions and wasn’t too pleased with us. There’s no telling how long she’ll stay mad, but I think we’ll survive.

Thirty-five years have brought us countless memories, plenty of laughter, a few challenges, and more blessings than I can count. I’m thankful God brought Tracy into my life all those years ago, and I pray He continues to bless and keep us in the years ahead.

Here’s to another 35 years. May God bless and keep us.

When Your Body Says, “Enough”

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It’s been a few days since my last entry. Between other family matters and life’s daily responsibilities, I’ve been too busy to sit down and write.

I did get the opportunity to go fishing for a couple of hours last Thursday, but I didn’t have much luck. I only caught two fish before my back started hurting, forcing me to cut my trip short.

Before heading out to fish, I had taken the time on Wednesday to load up my riding lawnmower so I could go to my dad’s house and cut his grass. If my back wasn’t hurting enough after Thursday’s fishing trip, it was screaming by the end of the day Friday. It took me nearly four hours to cut his lawn, and all that bouncing around on the mower certainly didn’t do me any favors.

Saturday started much better. After spending a couple of hours with our Saturday morning men’s group, I headed to Pell City, about 50 minutes from home, for Field Day. Field Day is an annual HAM radio event where Amateur Radio operators practice and sharpen their emergency communication skills. Thankfully, I was able to sit for most of the day, which gave my back a much-needed break.

Then came Sunday.

The pain returned during the church service, and it became so intense that I thought I was going to have to leave and wait it out in my truck. Fortunately, I found some pain medication in my backpack, and after a little while, it started to take the edge off.

In two weeks, I begin physical therapy in hopes that stretching and strengthening my back will provide some relief. I can’t have another RFA procedure for another six months, so I’m hoping therapy will help bridge the gap. Something has to give because I’m growing tired of letting my back decide what I can and can’t do.