Coffee heat rising

Did She Do It On Purpose?

She killed my mother: no question of that. But…did she do it out of stupidity? Or out of malice?

I grew up in Saudi Arabia, where my father worked for ten years as a harbor pilot for ARAMCO, steering tankers and freighters in and out of the port at Ras Tanura. The country was as Third-World as a country could get, a marvelous incubator of toxic disease.

One of those diseases was amoebic dysentery, a gawdawful and potentially fatal infestation with the local germs that lurked in all the food…especially in fruits and vegetables. Anything that we ate had either to be fully cooked (as in cooked to mush!) or soaked in Clorox to disinfect it.

Well. My father worked with a guy who wasn’t too bright, and said guy had a wife who was even less bright.

And she just didn’t get the message about sanitizing ALL the food.

One evening they had us over to their house for dinner. I was in the kitchen watching and playing around — at the time I was about ten or twelve years old. There, I observed that our hostess didn’t bother to sanitize the cabbage she used to make our salad. She even handed me — a little kid! — pieces of this unclean produce, which I scarfed right down.

Fortunately for me, I had pretty strong resistance by that time, after spending nigh unto ten years in the bowels of Hell. But…my mother did not.

She ate that salad, and shortly thereafter came down with a roaring case of amoebic dysentery.

She damn near died of it. Years later, I learned that there was a moment when her doctors thought she very probably would die.

But she didn’t. After weeks in the hospital and then in bed at home, she eventually recovered.

Sort of.

She never really fully recovered. But she went on with her life.

A truncated life.

The upshot of the unholy infection and its ungodly treatment was that some time later she did develop an abdominal cancer.

And yes: that killed her.

Understand: The wives who were brought to Arabia with the men working for the Company were required to sit through a lengthy course in how to prepare food safely, and how otherwise to protect their families from the diseases to which simply living out there would subject us.

That idiot woman knew not to serve up unsanitized produce! Yea, verily: She knew to soak those greens in Clorox and rinse them well before making a salad of them. 

Interestingly, neither her husband nor her young son would eat the stuff. “Don’t like cabbage,” we were told.

I believe she deliberately tried to make us sick.

She could not have not known that the produce had to be mightily sanitized before it could be served to people who were to eat it.

Given that fact, it’s my belief that she purposely served us unsanitized cabbage in the hope that it would sicken us.

And it worked. It sickened my mother enough to do her in, ultimately.

Did she do it on purpose?

Could be. But…on the other hand, there’s an outside chance that she truly didn’t know what she was doing. My father regarded her husband as one of the stupidest men he’d ever met. So…who knows? Maybe they were a matched set. Maybe she really was so stupid that she didn’t bother to sanitize the produce before serving it up to her guests.

Maybe.

Doesn’t matter: Stupid or cunning, the upshot was the same. She killed my mother.

Swampy-Dampy Day!

Ruby just dragged her human back into the house, after a circumnavigation of the ‘Hood. Gosh!  What an icky morning!

Be glad — be very glad — that you don’t have to work outside in Arizona’s heat and humidity. It is just sticky out there right now.

Ohh well. Ruby and I successfully traipsed around the neighborhood, with little ill effect. Wunderground says we’re enjoying 56% humidity…egad! Does that REALLY mean more than half the air out there is water?

😀  Hope not. But sorta suspect that’s the case. We have 81 degrees with rain showers predicted for this morning.

What, dear Gawd, is on the calendar for today? (Gets up and traipses back to the office…)

Nothing! Hallelujah, brothers and sisters!

Hmmm…it’s Sunday. Thank goodness I no longer have to get up, throw on some decent clothes, and fly down to the church to sing half the morning.

No kidding: I do miss the choir. A lot. But on a day like this, I’m mighty glad not to have to go out into the traffic and the weather.

….ohhh goodie! Just to make the morning, my son sends an email reminding me that we’re traipsing out to the Mayo Clinic (again!!!!!!) tomorrow morning. 

Boyoboy, could I do without those junkets! No doubt he feels even more strongly about that: the Mayo is a good 40-minute drive from here, meaning a trip out there and an hour wasted talking to doctor about essentially nothing consumes half his working day. And since he’s contrived to get my driver’s license negated, he ends up having to drive me out there.

To me, it feels like such a waste of time. (Imagine how it feels for him!!) Their doctors never have anything to say that makes the slightest bit of difference for my condition….whatever that condition may be. They seem to have no clue. Basically, they’re charging me for getting old.

Makes Christian Science look better and better….

Mayo Junket

Another endless drive this morning: to and from the Mayo Clinic, on the northeast side of town. This, conducted by my excellent son, who kindly drove me out there and back.

He admires that place no end. And truth to tell: there isn’t any better here in the Phoenix area. Quite possibly, not in the Southwest.

But….

But y’know…sometimes you don’t need The Best for a minor ailment. What you need is someone who will treat you as though your IQ registers in the triple digits. And by & large, that ain’t the case, out there on the tony far side of north Scottsdale. In my experience, if you’re female and middle-aged, they treat you like a moron.

Ohhh well. 

By the time we got out there (it’s almost an hour’s drive from our part of town), the crazy-making peripheral neuropathy was beginning to fade. Same could be said, eventually, for the even more crazy-making ear whistling.

No treatment was prescribed, and now that I’m home and the weeeeeee is subsiding, I’m feeling about 70% better.

So…alas…  That translates to a wasted trip for my son, who took half a day off his highly demanding job to drag me across the Valley. Now I feel really bad for getting him to haul me out there — though it was his idea. He would hear nothing of my trekking as far across the west side to visit my beloved Young Dr. Kildare.

And he’s probably right. YDK has moved his practice to Sun City. Eeep!

Gotta tellya: during the time my parents lived in that place, we came to understand that a Sun City doctor defined incompetence and lack of caring. Things may have changed out there — I surely hope they have! But our gawdawful experience with the Sun City medical establishment permanently deflects me from seeing any doctor who practices out there!

So. I suppose sooner or later I’ll have to find another doctor here in town, unless I want to keep making that horrendous trek across the city to visit the Scottsdale Mayo’s docs.

Make that “later than sooner.” Can’t cope with it just now.

Escaped from the Mayo

Okay..well…I guess I’m not quite ready to shuffle off this mortal coil. That notwithstanding, a visit to the Mayo Hospital does little to persuade me of that. LORDIE, how I hate hospitals, and how I hate that one in particular!

By the time we left that sylvan realm, my angry son and I were speaking to each other more or less politely. Sorta. So there’s some hope that we’ll get back to normal in a day or three.

Miserable experience, though.

***

How much longer do I have in this sylvan vale, really? 

Well…that’s no easier to tell for me than it is to tell for anyone else. My guess is, if I don’t get any sicker than I am (which isn’t very), we’re looking at five to ten years. But if I follow in the family Tradition of Extreme Longevity, it could be another twenty to twenty-five years.

Twenty-five: no, I would not expect. But twenty: that wouldn’t be very surprising. Women in my family have lived to advanced old age…and without medical care, because they were Christian Scientists.

Sometimes I think that the very reason they lived into their dotage was that they stayed away from doctors and hospitals.

Today’s experience at the Mayo was enough to cause you to hear the sylvan call of the Other World, that’s for damn sure. All afternoon with a needle stuck in my arm, miserable hurting scared annoyed pissed in the dark as to what was really happening… How CAN i count the ways….?

Well, I never want to go back there, that’s for sure. But since the Mayo is the best medical facility in the Valley — very possibly in the whole state — this surely was not my last adventure in those parts.

Ugh. Maybe I should convert to Christian Science…

Cross and Crown emblem

Hubs of Hades, Redux

Three-thirty in the afternoon. High, magnificent white clouds off to the north…but nary a sign of rain here in the Valley. Wunderground says we have 114 degrees; humidity 11%; precip zero.

That, my friends, is another way of saying “hotter than the hubs of Hades.” 

The hapless woman my son hired to babysit me — he thinks I can’t take care of myself alone anymore — is bored out of her mind. The reason I’m unlikely to get hurt while I’m sitting around all day by myself is that…

* I go noplace;
* I do nothing;
* I sit around watching the dog as she does nothing.

Oh, well. If that’s how he wants to spend his money, far be it from me to contradict him.

Haven’t persuaded the poor lady to drive me to any stores or other amusements, mostly because I don’t need any new provisions and surely do not want to go out in that unholy heat.

What to do? How to deal with this new headache?

Well…

1. Make a list of things that need to be done (or at least can be done) while I’m under her control.

2. Be nice to the poor soul. She’s probably as terrorized as I am about this whole wacky thing.

3. Since my son has cut off my driving privileges, get her to drive me to stores (even those within walking distance) at least several times a week.

4. I walk a couple miles every day, for exercise. See if she would like to come along on these walks, after the weather gets cool enough that we could leave around the time she gets here.

Godlmighty, this fiasco is making me crazy. Pretty clearly, I’ve passed a milepost on the road to senility. And some major changes are going to have to be made to accommodate that. The big hope — the big stumbling block — the big screaming nightmare…is that I’m not yet so batshit that I have to be locked up in an institution.

I hate, loathe, and despise communal living. Hated every minute of living in the college dormitories. And that is NOT the way I want to wrap up my life.

This job will be made tougher for our New Lady by the fact that I refuse to pay for television. I will be DAMNED if I’m gonna pay to have advertising shoved in my face. Plus about 90% of what’s on TV is just not worth paying for.

So…that means she doesn’t have any pap to amuse her when she’s here. She must think I’m even crazier than I am. And she must be excruciatingly bored.

So…THAT means we’ll have to come up with things to do and places to go while she’s here. Better confer with her along those lines: mostly to find out what she likes to do and figure out when and where we can go for those things.

Also must ask my son if he thinks we should go ahead and pay for cable TV, so she will have some drivel to watch while she’s here. I’d just as soon not have brainless blah blah blah emanating from one of the rooms, but…if that’s what it takes to keep some poor soul in our employ, I guess I’ll have to get used to it.

{sigh}

Guess I’ll have to get used to the whole damn fiasco!

I Want My Mother Back

She was murdered, y’know. My mother was.

She was murdered by the tobacco bastards.

They got her hooked. And she smoked and smoked and smoked and smoked herself right into the grave.

So the evil greed-masters did her in.

Oh, well. We all have to die of something, eh?

She lived long enough to see her grandson. Briefly. My son was born while she was hammering at death’s door…there in her bed floating on drugs and soaking up pain. When I brought him to her, a newborn infant, and showed him to her as she lay on her deathbed, she took one brief look at him, shrugged, and said “Meh!”

Nope. She didn’t care that she had a grandson. She was too damn sick to care.

There ya go, folks! That’s what tobacco does for you. Makes you not care one thin damn about the people around you.

A lot has happened since that grim evening. My son is now a grown man with an excellent degree and a fine job. I’ve made myself unemployable by getting my own degree, a Ph.D. I’ve written books. We’ve traveled around the world. My son landed an excellent position in the insurance industry. Life has gone on.

I just wish her life had gone on, too…

Ohhhh well. You can’t have everything, eh?

So much evil in this world. So much of it manufactured for profit…