Communiques from the E-World... Fascinating Stuff? Scary, Sometimes...!

Memoirs of a Geezer!

Reflections and Observations -- A Bright Passage from the Fantasies of Youth 

to Illuminations of Advanced Maturity!

This Episode:      Communiques from the E-World...  Fascinating Stuff?  Scary, Sometimes...!


I get terribly important messages via electronical media. I suppose we all do! For example, I got an E-message from the world's oldest living porn star! It contained, or suggested to divulge, certain "secrets" that allow the aforementioned to remain active in his chosen profession! I didn't read it, preferred not to assimilate the alleged "secrets."

In the full bloom of "Geezerhood," I continue to enjoy employment in my two professions as free-lance writer and marketing aficionado (sort of!?). I receive lots of E-Correspndence, some of them desirable, many that actually relate to my work! But...  so I shouldn't have to do any real work for the rest of my life, a great glut of such E-Notes offer "fabulous wealth-generating" opportunities. Here's an example:

"Joel, for gosh sake, don't be a fool!:  (Typically, senders have the cheek to call me by my given name! What? Do they think we're intimate chums already?!!) What's the matter with you?  You're passing up $397.00 a minute with this once-in-a-millenium chance! Only four spots remain!  Don't miss out! Watch this 'brief and informative' video now... Do it, for pity sake!!  Do It Now!!" (Apologies. I may have paraphrased just a little...) 

I've been tempted to watch one of those videos, but they're so long and tedious. And at the end, I'm certain they'll want great heaps of money via one's credit card or electronic funds transfer or money order or ACH or "I can easily suck it out of your account if you'll just give me your routing and account numbers... Trust me!..." or maybe, "Meet me on the corner of 37th and Babble and hand over only $632.57...  and you, you lucky stiff, can be one of the chosen! A brand new billionaire in minutes!! I'll be wearing a Tyrolean hat and lederhosen..."    So far I've demurred!

I think the E-World is on to my plunge into"GeezerHood." Probably the presumption of decrepitude!  "Joel, we've been trying to reach you! This pill unlocks the power of your brain." Some E-notes offer to make me "Erect on Demand."  One's headlined, "BootyBox!" I'm afraid to open that one. "Meet hot elderly singles near you!" "This is the end of Viagra...  Don't take it again..."  Or, "Five signs that you'll die of a heart attack soon...  but don't be alarmed, just take these miracle capsules...  Ten easy payments...  You'll outlive your sea turtle!!..."  

I'm not sure if they're trying to frighten me to death or cure me of something I may have contracted and not be aware of... They seem to be disappointed and angry if I'm not dying of something profoundly horrible!!  

Oh!  And they have brides from foreign countries for ancient geezers.  Doesn't matter if you're half dead, only that you have the cash to import a few and marry them! (I wonder if they send along interpreters?) 

Yes, and of course I really enjoy the telephone pitches...  Here's one (Mobile phone chirps loudly!):

Me:  "Yes, hello."
Biff:  "Joel, this is Biff!  How are we doing, today?"
Me:   (I don't reply)
Biff:  "Wouldn't you like a great deal of money to pay off your student loans! How are you

today, by the by?"
Me:  "I'm old.  I'm highly educated. I don't want any money for more schooling."
Biff:  "You could be a dental hygienist...  clean teeth!  A plumber! Plant engineering, medical records coding, technical stuff..."
Me:  "I'm self employed.  I don't want to be a plumber.  My back hurts...  no interest in tooth cleaning; people have smelly breath!"
Biff:  "Betcha you'd make heaps more money!... Tree surgery? Uber? big bus operator?...  You'll qualify easy!"
Me:  "Do you have brain surgery by correspondence?"
Biff:  (click!)

There are certain programs SweetHeart and I really enjoy on television.  We have cable. We tend to gravitate to PBS, science and animal programs. British programming... good mysteries. We don't have nor do we want "premium channels." Doesn't matter...  

Dirk:  "Joel, how are you today.  This is Dirk. Do you have cable television?
Me:  "I'm happy with what we have, Kirk."
Dirk:  "It's Dirk. I can save you big money. When are you available for an installation?"
Me:  "Never. We'll soon be leaving the country."
Dirk:  "I could be there tomorrow morning.  Eight-hundred-fifty channels! Endless football... Three DVR's... A nifty dishy antenna...  very attractive...  How do you like your hamburgers?"
Me:  "Are the first two years free, Kirk?"
Dirk:  "Dirk!"  (A long pause...) 
Me:  "Kirk??...  Hello?..."
Dirk:  (click!)

Well, one mustn't grumble. I get several offers every day to make me enormous gobs of money

for doing practically nothing and I never have to leave home until I'm dead. Pills for ED and brain re-generation, walk-in tubs, fashion apparel like pre-destroyed jeans, Depends, hip replacements, hair re-growth formulas, re-finance deals, sweepstakes, free money from the government, travel the entire world for pennies!, clinical trials, oils, ointments, balms for sagging jowls, green juices, Dr. Fungus, crepey skin stuff, Gummy Dope chewies...  Doncha just love it??!! Keep those E-Cards and E-Letters coming! Wonderfully entertaining, and anyway, hardly anyone I know calls anymore!... (Probably too busy with their own E-stuff!) 

I'm hoping somebody'll telephone and offer me one of those, "Hey Joel...  Make $542.00 a day without ever leaving your bed!  All you need is a computer or a flippy smartyphone... Work just maybe 10 or 15 hours a week. No need to view a long tedious video.  It's easy!  It's fun!  We'll even pay all your startup fees!! How much do YOU want to make every day of your right now humdrum, boring and tedious life?  Excitement, Joel, big money!! Are you ready to sign?..."     

Humbly Submitted, 09-23-17 -- Joel K.

     






  

   

Disassembly and the Medical Profession!...

Memoirs of a Geezer!

Reflections and Observations -- A Bright Passage from the Fantasies of Youth 

to Illuminations of Advanced Maturity!

This Episode:      Disassembly and the Medical Profession!...

"Where are the Simple Joys of Geezerhood..."  Remember that great tune from the play,

Camelot (...a bit of poetic license here!)?  So?  What's become of those simple joys?  As we reach a venerable age, you know, like genuine Geezerhood, aren't we supposed to be inundated with "simple joys"?  Lots of leisure time... Unremitting respect from the young... Stable health that

would enable us to bask in the warm sunshine of wise maturity, able to enjoy a simpler lifestyle in peace and comfort? Fah!! We're too often treated like swine to the slaughter!   

Here's the problem!  Modern medicine has apparently conspired to cure our ailments by removal, disassembly! Complain about a source of pain and a doctor might remove your spleen, a lung, a bowel or a pancreas or something...  other vital members!! When my father was in his dotage, he started losing his members, meaning toes and other things! I don't wish to make light of our health care industry and the injuries and diseases upon which it must focus, nor to accuse it of disassembling bodily organs for the mere sake of practicing medical disassembly!  However, the medical profession, like any other, requires occasional fun-poking!  

Sadly, it's not all fun and riotous humor. For example, SweetHeart, my best friend and dearest companion was recently diagnosed with a 5 cm mass of carcinoma in her right kidney. Following a biopsy, a stent placed in the connecting ureter and lots of discomfort, all experienced on a Monday and throughout the following three days, she underwent a "procedure" -- meaning surgery, of course -- to remove the affected kidney the following Friday. (Today's medical professionals love to use euphemisms...  e.g.  "Some discomfort"... "a small incision is all that's required"... "Laparoscopic surgery, also called minimally invasive surgery (MIS)"... "Bandaid Surgery"(?!)... There was a bladder scan and a dye-injected full-organ CT scan that preceded the biopsy. For poor SweetHeart, it was all like undergoing a one-person battle against a horde of frenzied barbarians wearing fur-rimmed metal hats on stampeding and snorting horses squirting venomous mucus-covered darts with every gallop!! 

"Whatever it is
that's causing you
discomfort, it has
to come out!!"

We can be thankful in the extreme that some cancers are eminently treatable, even curable, in this modern era of medical science in which we are privileged to live!  SweetHeart, after seeing her GP to determine that blood in the urine was not caused by a Urinary Tract Infection (UTI), was referred to a urologist, a terrific specialist with an excellent reputation in his field.  I should mention that our much loved and outstanding GP has never steered us afoul in the referral department.  (I was seen by a heart specialist, for example, who removed nothing from my anatomy!  Oh...  I did see a gastrointestinal MD who removed my appendix, but only because he was "in there" untwisting a nasty brute of a bowel...  a prime example of expedient medical disassembly!) 

But, who am I to judge or complain. My closest encounter with medical training was occupying a desk in a biology lecture for a, then, dental student friend of mine who had other important matters to which he wanted to attend. The professor frequently looked at me rather askance! I believe he knew me for the interloper I was! However, to my undying gratitude, I learned a few things about streptococci, knowledge forever stored in my personal medical lexicon!! (Sometimes we're truly blessed and don't realize it until much later in life.  Oh, and my friend paid me a dollar!!)

I should also point out that, as a youth, my tonsils were disassembled. I played a good joke on the medical profession on that occasion! My mother was told not to give me anything to eat or drink several hours prior to the "procedure." Unbeknownst to mother, I drank a large glass of milk. Upon having the ether pumped into my small person, I bubbled over, necessitating an emptying and re-application procedure. What a good laugh on the medical guys, eh??!!  

Medicine can be a fertile source of amusement for some. My brothers-in-law for example. SweetHeart and I are in California visiting friends. We lose a wedding ring, convinced it fell into a vent filled with an army of dust rodents and other horribly toxic and hairy stuff. Both of us reached in, holding our noses and breath, but to no avail. Returning home, we noticed our entire bodies covered in red pustules!

SCABIES!! Holy human excrement! Scabies!! I went to see a crack dermatologist, Dermis Bumpimple, MD. I hauled out my most private appendage and attempted to hand it over. He eyed me and my appendage with utter disgust and said, "I'm not touchin' that thing!"  

"But," I stammered, "what about an examination? Don't you have rubber gloves, maybe a medical appendage tongs?" He offered a prescription and ushered us quickly out the door. The story had my brothers-in-law consumed in mirth for hours. On another occasion, returning from a pre-marital holiday in Colorado, I made an appointment with a GP, Dr. Eustus T. Fyreblanks. I had what I described to him as a broken testicle. I displayed the full majesty of my private region. He asked, "How long you had that rash?"

"I don't know," said I, "I've had a history of fungus in that area, like 'athlete's crotch,' " I quipped, trying to add a note of humor to the uncomfortable proceedings.

"Here," he said, handing me a prescription, "spray this on your feet and your crotch'll clear up."  The brothers-in-law were convulsed over that one. I don't recall that we ever actually took care of the broken globule part!! But, I suppose the doctor may have given me a pill or something!

Needless to state, and returning to the more serious nature of this writing, cancer is scary as hell, and we never want any of the people we love having to hear that sort of dire pronouncement from medical doctors. The turn to humor, however, trying to make light of the thing, is a coping mechanism, a device or tool we humans tend to use to some advantage, to remove or at least lessen the fear. To cite an example, I suggested to SweetHeart,

in order to ease the discomfort of having to explain her recent weight loss to a certain party, "Organ removal is not the best means of reducing!" The party of the second part seemed to be put at greater ease, made apparent as she chuckled merrily, if nervously.

In the end, we have to acknowledge that cancer is, for now, an un-arrested thief that steals our parents, much-loved relatives and dear friends, way too many of us, often far too soon, without regard to age or value to those left behind. The big and happy "however" part is the increasing rate at which medical science and we humans generally are able to defeat cancer, at least certain forms of the dreaded thing. For that, we are grateful beyond words!! I've had SweetHeart in my life for more than 50 years; we plan to be together for many, many more to follow, and no snot-nosed slug of a cancer is going to stop us!!!  Thank You.   

(Special Note of Dedication:  The perpetrator dedicates this posting to his Beloved SweetHeart who underwent a major medical procedure with calm acceptance, great dignity and exemplary courage. I hope she'll forgive the tangential digressions, but in the end will know that the essential aim of this writing is to express my growing love and admiration, attempts at humor thrown in just to soften the overall theme. SweetHeart is my ultimate hero!) 

Humbly Submitted 02-06-17 -- Joel K.        

           

          



      

A New Wave of Conversation -- Or, Talking Points in the Geezer Age!

Memoirs of a Geezer!

Reflections and Observations -- A Bright Passage from the Fantasies of Youth 

to Illuminations of Advanced Maturity!

This Episode:    A New Wave of Conversation -- Or, Talking Points in the Geezer Age!

Compare it to a fogged glass of memory -- like squinting through a scrim in a stage play -- I try to summon scenes of life from the bloom of youth -- back about two score and 5 or 10 years ago.  It's not easy trying to recall distant conversations, gathered round dining or drinking tables, discussions that so enthralled us.  What topics commanded our attention, those that initiated overlapping, rapid-fire dialogue?  And how do today's conversations with peers compare?  Back then, I know we talked about friends, sports, parties, games, jobs, school, major courses of study, even career ideas, military service experiences, politics, travel, money or the lack of it, and, yes, if less enthusiastically, the future, our future...

If we discussed anything having to do with the state of our health, it usually had to do with injuries incurred during sporting events -- a broken tibia suffered on the ski slopes, a rib cracked playing football or rugby, a "blown ACL" during soccer or rounding second base, a toe smashed by some behemoth lunatic galoot who landed on it in a volleyball match.

The Photo above  has little or nothing to do with this post.
I try to emulate Popeye, as I appear to be striking an
heroic pose aboard a stranded tug boat on Duluth's
Lake Superior shoreline.  The photo does,  however,
illustrate a descent into profound foolishness
that can often accompany geezer-hood!

  

 

And now?...

"Hello!  Is this Mrs. Geezie at the insurance place?...  Does my supplemental insurance cover a chiropractor?...  Uh huh...  Yes...  How about cosmetic surgery, like a jowl tuck...?  OK, yes...  I see.  Does Medicare cover the entire cost of a hip replacement?...  An ankle rebuild?  What?  Can you speak louder?..."

On a recent evening, my wife and I are having dinner with friends.  We'd been to an art museum.  (Doesn't seem that long ago the extent of our cultural enterprise would have been weaving from one saloon to another saloon!)  We stopped for dinner at a fine new restaurant.  Almost trendy.  I ordered a diet brown pop with a slice of lime.  (It's my current beverage of choice.  I get artificially inebriated lately drinking too much non-alcoholic wine-like stuff!)

I begin a conversation.  Our companions are "Yo" and "Glo":  "So, how are we doing?  How's your pain level.  I understand you've been having some trouble in the lower extremities?"

"Yeah, thanks for asking," says Yo.  "It's my shin bones.  I think I have splints, you know, from fast walking on cement or something."

"What are you doing for it," I ask.

"Ach...  what can one do?  I mean, the doctor says 'stay off your legs...  Rest, sit down, elevate your feet...  ice your shins 20, 30 minutes, two, three times a day...  And orthotics.  Do you have orthotics in your shoes?...'  Ah, for pity f-ing sake, I'm walking!  Not running 30 miles through Death Valley!!" 

"Yeah!  I know what you mean.  I get freezing toes on my right foot when I walk in winter.  I bought a mitten for my toes, but I can't find the damned thing.  My toes are always freezing.  Never used to freeze!  Think it's a kind of rheumatism?"

"Listen, my dear.  I going to dash out of here in a moment
so that we can 'beat the check.'  You wait a minute or
two, then you race out...!"
"Race!!??  Are you nuts!!?  I can barely rise!"

"Knees!" Yo announces truculently, like a biblical revelation.  "I got rattling dice in both my knees.  And my shoulder!  Geezus!  I lift a beer bottle and my shoulder erupts in a chorus of crunchy munchies and cracking twigs!"
"Please," I say.  "Don't ask me about knees.  I'm walking up steps in Milwaukee; they can hear me in Cincinnati!"

Glo addresses my wife.  "I think I have a kind of arthritis in my hands.  Really painful, especially when I mop."

"Tell me about it," says my wife.  "When I vacuum, my back is pure agony.  And mopping too.  It's that awkward body motion one has to use.  It's a misery!  I could be laid up an entire week!"

"Listen," I say to Yo, "What kind of pain medications do you take?  Ibuprofen, maybe?  Aspirin with codeine?  Smoke a joint?"

Glo jumps in, "I sometimes take a muscle relaxer, but they make me exhausted.  I'm destroyed for a whole day afterwards."  

"Ohmygod," my wife responds.  "Same with me!  I'm a sleep-walking zombie for 24 hours."  

A portrait of the artist
as a young geezer!

So when the hell did all of this happen, for crying out loud??!!  I mean, if someone introduces the subject of football or soccer, the conversation moves almost instantly into injuries suffered during a touch football game, or demonstrating a goalie move to a child,  resulting in involuntary splits -- impossible to reverse without the intervention of a team of medics and a mechanical hoist.  If we're not talking about grandkids, for example, we're a Greek Chorus, chanting agonies, surgeries, joint horrors and doctors who nearly killed us!  

As a young man, I worked in a liquor store run by a family of characters one couldn't possibly invent.  Rose, the elderly sister of the principal owner, shambled constantly back and forth through the aisles, arms folded, haunting the store like an anguished ghoul, announcing every 10 minutes or so, "Oh dear god, how I suffer, how I suffer!"  To which her brother, after every groan and lamentation, responded, "Rose, for god's sake, don't start with me!"  Or...  "Rose, shut the hell up, I'm beggink you...?!"  Sometimes...  "Rose, please, I'm trying to think...  I have a customer here...  We're discussing!"  

At the time, I thought, "If I ever degenerate into caricatures like these babbling lunatics, please, someone shoot me!"  But now -- and I'm still wondering when did this happen, for pity f-ing sake -- I'm there.  I'm "Rose" the roaming zombie ghoul, uttering ejaculations of pain as a knee collapses or a hip sends a bullet of agony into my tortured brain.

Back at the restaurant...  Yo asks, "Who's that old actor who said, 'getting old aint for sissies,' Bitzy or Netty something?"
"Yeah," I say.  "I think I remember.  It's almost funny, if sadly true.  Is she still with us; was this a recent observation?"
"Nah," says Yo.  "She's dead.  Couldn't be recent, unless she's been exhumed to make public service announcements for the elderly."  We chuckle.  

Sometimes I listen to my children and their friends as they chatter happily, noisily about subjects that probably consumed our own range of interests when my peers and I were young.  But, I wouldn't want to go backward; I'm perfectly happy to be firmly ensconced in "robust middle age"...  better known in some circles as "GeezerHood" or "senior status."  I mean, I get nice discounts, lots of them.  And after we play volleyball on Monday nights, I go sit down and change my shoes, while the youngsters take down and put away the nets.

Sometimes, older persons engage in
Fine Whining while dining!  As an
old friend once remarked, "I'm
only happy when I'm miserable...
or drinking!"  

Conversations may have taken a turn toward pills and the grave these days, but I wouldn't trade places with anyone who still gets pimples and embarrassment anxiety.  Good friends of our common generational status share values and history, and we can talk about things that would only bewilder, or bore, those begat a generation or two later than our own.  And besides, "geezer chatter" creates a world of amusement for our children and their children, if they happen to be listening.  It'd be remiss of us to deprive them of such a vast reservoir of potential ridicule, not to mention riotous mirth!

I hasten to apologize to those more advanced in years than I if I seem to be usurping their prerogatives of bruising misery and body pain complaints.  I merely wanted to effect a start, in case I can't somehow articulate a proper amount of verbal or written aging agony a decade or two hence!!  Thank you!  I have to go lie down now...  

(Special Note of Attribution and Gratitude:   The perpetrator of this Blog extends enormous thanks to his great friends, Rob and Sue, and to SweetHeart too!  Thank you for the fine suggestions, for the germs of ideas that led to this post and for your good company, or please accept my apologies, as the case may be!  My love and profound thanks for your patience, understanding and generosity of spirit!) 

Humbly Submitted 12-02-14 -- Joel K.