Thankful…

As Thanksgiving approaches, there doesn’t seem like much to be thankful for this year with ‘Winter is Coming’ fuel shortages, war, pestilence, inflation, climate change and all the other stuff we are worried about.  Take self-centered me, for example – my newish bikini razor broke and I couldn’t find the receipt.  I took out all my receipts and had a mini meltdown.  All the numbers on the receipts blurred and I became panicked – about something that cost less than $20.  I really struggled to find my sensible head but wonky head was in control.  As always, I calmed down eventually, but I was shaken.  The unimportant broken razor was just the catalyst for how I am feeling.

I am not alone but my worries are ridiculous and magnified by my mental illness.  The city of Kherson in Ukraine has just been liberated from the Russians who destroyed all their infrastructure as they left.  Yet, the residents were smiling and thankful.  Perspective always helps to settle my mind so I make sure I read the world news every day.  My aunt in Ireland told me that the government has asked local authorities, businesses and households to ration energy use and Christmas lighting displays.

Inflation makes us anxious in the US but it is running at around 85% in Turkey.  It’s a post pandemic global issue and the US is about average compared to other first world countries.   I just received a check from the UK for £1000 – once converted, it was only $1000.  That’s never happened!  The fact that I was fortunate enough to receive a check for $1000 should have made me thankful…  As a child I was so happy to receive a $20 note in a birthday card from aunts in the USA.  The concept of money was beyond me but I remember the excitement of going to the Rutherglen Post Office to change it into UK pounds.

Last week I wrote a draft post about having chronic fatigue but then the clocks changed back and I am not tired all the time.   Two weeks ago, I could not walk around our circular street without being exhausted.  We had Covid in the summer so perhaps that’s part of it.  The ugly truth is that it is nearly always my aggravating mental ill health that causes or exacerbates my other physical complaints.  It has been a stressful health year for us but nothing out of the ordinary for older people.  Maybe ageing is stressful?

Twitter might be bankrupt soon and Meta, aka Facebook, is failing.  Have we finally realized that social media is a potentially toxic entity, especially when managed by ethically dubious people? I have usually lived in small communities and when I heard a tantalizing piece of gossip, there was that initial thrill.  Then I assessed it and hopefully made a sensible decision about repeating it.  In a perfect world, I would not have repeated it but I am human!  Is there anything more fun than sharing a juicy titbit with a friend over coffee?  These days, there is less ‘wife swapping’, and more ‘he is in a wheelchair now’ tales.  There is a difference between salacious gossip and keeping a community connected.

Most of us are now personally affected by climate change.  This summer was just too hot and I struggled.  It affected my mood being unable to go out for a walk because of the heat or dangerous UV radiation.  Some of my neighbors got up at 7 am to take their dogs out but I just couldn’t manage that.  Last week winter arrived and it was 40 F today but it was 82 F yesterday.  That’s a huge change for big critters and little ones.  Teddy and I talk aimlessly about living somewhere more temperate but remember how much we disliked the cold in northern Europe.  Nowhere is perfect.

I remember bitterly cold nights in Scotland, as a child.  Window panes frozen with delicate patterns.  On the worst nights every blanket or eiderdown was used on the beds – with winter coats atop.  Back then, I didn’t have such an aversion to cold.  We had very old flannel sheets that we used in the winter.  They were darned, as mine are now.  Electric blankets weren’t commonplace so we put rubber hot water bottles in the beds, moving them from the middle to the bottom before slipping into bed.  Heaven!  My flannel sheets are so old that they feel a bit rough on your skin – maybe I could sell them as a body exfoliation product?  This summer, I bought expensive new flannel sheets on sale.  Once you go ‘Lands End’ you can’t go back…

Last week, I told the pharmacist that I was going to kill my husband and I think she believed me.  We finally switched to Affordable Health Care aka Obama Care from our work sponsored medical insurance.  Teddy spent months planning it so the transition would be smooth.  My bill for cheap, generic medication was $92.  What the heck?  The insurance wasn’t working because I had the wrong birthdate on the policy.  We assume that it was a Scottish accent problem…  The worried pharmacist did a magic trick with coupons and reduced the bill to $13.   Teddy was working at the wolf sanctuary so I didn’t want to call him in case he had another cardiac event. 

Then I called healthcare.gov (pause for a joint sigh of despair) but it was okay.  I had to swear on my first-born cat’s life that I was not committing a felony and sold my soul to somebody.  It will take a few weeks for it to be sorted and it was not the end of the world.  So, with that in mind, this is what am I thankful for –

• I have healthcare of any type
• There is enough money for food
• We can heat or cool the house
• My illness is manageable
• I live in a democracy
• Thrift shops are my happy place
• Loving friends and family
• There is a roof over my head

Let’s keep our wishes simple, our gratitude real and be generous with time or money for those who have less than us.  That can be rescued wolves or homeless people.  If you don’t feel good or need help, share it with someone you trust.  It’s not necessary or normal to be happy all the time.  Keep some perspective about real world problems.  Be kind to as many species as possible.  Mother Earth will thank you!

The Chicken Murder…

Feral chickens in Ybor

It’s Friday, the global market is falling apart so let’s have a laugh and get down to basics. As soon as Teddy got his job offer, I raced to the internet to book a short trip before he started work. It had to be somewhere hot, not raining and preferably with wildlife – so Tampa it was. In the next week I will give you a step-by-step tour but I just want to share this story.

We went to the old town of Ybor in the center of Tampa to look at the architecture and museum. I noticed all the chickens on porches of houses and businesses. It reminded me of Key West where you are not permitted to harm them. After we spoke to the museum ranger, she confirmed that it was much the same in Ybor. When the Cuban immigrants moved here they brought the practice of cock-fighting, so they banned any mistreatment of the chickens. Now they are feral, like pigeons, but much prettier.

The ranger went on to tell us that she was leading a party of museum guests (including children) when they heard a blood-curdling scream from outside. They all ran out to see a red tailed hawk blissfully eating his lunch (a young chicken) in the tree with blood dripping down into the courtyard. The city folks were traumatized but I almost fell on the floor laughing. It would have been a perfect opportunity to show that chicken nuggets don’t come that way and that the cute little baby hawks need to be fed, too.

On a more serious note, I am quite knowledgeable about animal husbandry both from living on a farm, having grandparents who were farmers and working in animal sanctuaries. I rarely eat meat and always try to eat happy meat. In Scotland, our butcher used to accompany all his animals to the slaughterhouse and then brought them back. On the chalkboard would be listed which animal you were eating today. This is why you should give thanks for every animal that has died to feed you. It was much the same in Egypt. One day you are living on the farm, next day you go for a little trip, someone chooses you and snap you are in chicken heaven. That is a much better life than most first world chickens.

Since I took such delight in the chicken murder, the ranger took us aside and told us about her sister in New York who is a teacher. They had a biology project where they children cared for a caterpillar that pupated and finally emerged as a beautiful butterfly. The children were so excited to gather in the playground to release the butterflies. As soon as they did, a flock of blue jays came and ate every single butterfly! Can you believe that they got counselors in? What the heck is wrong with parents today – you should tell your children where there dinner comes from and then there might be more vegetarians around. Again, it was a perfect opportunity to show pictures of fluffy little baby blue jays that also needed fed…

Teddy and I did wonder if the blue jays gathered at the school every year for the lovely buffet lunch that was provided by the kind children. 😉 HAPPY FRIDAY!!! Stop worrying about your stocks and shares, you could have been born a chicken – LOL!

“Oh yes, she’s back…”

Happy Hibiscus

I have missed everybody and it’s great to be back. I’m not very good at following advice that I would give someone else but this time I did the sensible thing and took a break from everything. Work, blogging, socializing – if I had a cave I would have gone to stay in it.

My slow recovery and continued pain from the eye surgery was contributing to my low mood but fortunately my regular eye doctor has provided huge relief by inserting little collagen stoppers into my leaky tear ducts so that some liquid stays in the eyes. He said I had striations from the dryness which was causing pain up to the scale of 10. When I started researching my eye problem, I reduced a variety of factors that were contributing to my chronic dry eye. I cut back on my essential medication to a manageable level, stopped taking the painkillers and anti-histamines. Then I cleaned my diet – more Omega 3s, less caffeine, less alcohol and more vegetables. I walked every day for 3 or 4 miles and was vigilant with eye drops and cleansing.

It all helped but the honest truth is that I think most of it was a mechanical problem – the tear ducts were just not working properly. This is common, particularly in menopausal women but the less said about that the better… I am not having hot flashes – it just gets suddenly hot in the sub-tropics. 🙂 With more liquid in my eyes the vision is my post cataract eye is much better and I have super spidey vision with tiny writing. It’s a nice plus in a protracted recovery.

Last weekend I knew I was feeling better because I suddenly wanted to go on a solo trip with our air miles. We have been very thrifty (our water bill has increased from $10 to $10.10!) and it was a relatively inexpensive trip with a free flight and a fantastic Hotwire deal on a historic hotel in downtown Charleston, South Carolina. This week I will be telling you all about it. Sometimes you just need a literal break away.

This red link “Kerry chatting” will take you to a little video of me chatting in my dulcet Celtic tones – I just want to say thank you, literally, for all the support you gave me. It meant so much.

Eye, Eye, Captain

Would you sleep with this woman?

You know that question was rhetorical. Who doesn’t want to sleep with a cyborg in bright pink PJs? For those of you who are new to my blog, I had three bad things happen recently. My husband was laid off from the oil industry, my beloved mother in law died and I unexpectedly needed eye surgery to treat a subcapsular cataract that had formed in my left eye. Everything had to happen quickly to take advantage of our existing health insurance and last week I had eye surgery on Wednesday.

We turned up at the clinic and things proceeded quite quickly…until they couldn’t find a vein. After two attempts, the charming southern anesthetist was called and inserted the IV. This meant that my pre medication, commonly known as a medical margarita, was late in being delivered. The schedule was a bit off and suddenly I was being raced into the operating theater. Before that, I had been asked on numerous occasions which eye it was, confirmed my identity and was reassured that no-one was going to take out a kidney. From previous procedures I knew I wasn’t as Margarita ‘happy’ as I usually am and was a little concerned.

I was taken first to the laser which was going to chop up the cataract and the remains are vacuumed out. Despite the numbing drops and the pre-med I was completely aware of what was happening and could even feel a slight burning at the end of the laser procedure. Utterly terrified I kept completely still and followed all instructions. Then I went across the room to another bed where the new lens was implanted into my eye (until death, I hope). I kept hoping the happy juice would kick in but no….I was utterly aware of everything. It was like torture but with no pain. I felt the various procedures, one by one and although it was fast it felt like an eternity.

At the end, the operating staff said I was a perfect patient. I can only hope I react the same way at my next torture session when China finally invades the US or whatever other scenario the crazy people envisage. The next day I saw my eye surgeon for a follow up and even he looked horrified that I had been quite so awake. They need you to be in a twilight zone so that you can follow instructions precisely but feel relaxed. This was not like Lasik – then I was so happy I thought I could fly.

The very nice silver lining is that my sight has been restored and I am writing this WITH NO READERS! My baby blues still look adorable and I am recovering very quickly. Drove to the surgeon the following day; been out for my long walk with sunglasses and a hat. I have myriad eye drops to take for weeks to come to prevent infection, inflammation and general mayhem. This is America – it cost a fortune but it was done almost immediately and by an excellent surgeon who I could choose. We paid extra to have the laser seal the wound with no stitches which usually means a quicker recovery with less complications and discomfort.

They had to dilate my eye hugely for the surgery and I looked like a Betazoid on Star Trek with one enormous black eye. This photograph was taken the next day and even the surgeon was surprised that it was so dilated. When I was young and frisky, guys used to ask me if my eyes were black but I was just so excited that my pupils dilated hugely. Perhaps they still do…. 🙂

Can you see the mark of Kwok above my eye? It was so weird having one black eye.

Finally – many thanks to all my followers who have been so solicitous about my surgery and other health problems. It has been much needed salve in my current wounds and has helped keep me afloat in a very difficult time in my life. It is hard to imagine the kindness of strangers and those who have become good friends. It is a testament to the goodness of people and I very much appreciate every single comment and ‘like’.

PS My surgeon’s name was Kwok and he marked my eye to make sure they did the left one.