Why do we believe death comes in threes? Well, because it often does

Several days ago I was informed that "Bingo Joe" from the Senior Center had recently passed.  I actually knew Joe long before joining the center in 2023, he lived in my apartment building.  

I'd often see him downstairs in the lobby, just kicking back and chillin'.  I'd say "Whaddya know, Joe" and he always smiled and nodded at me.

At the center, I only saw him on Mondays & Fridays when he arrived to call the Bingo numbers after lunch.  I have to tell you, the Bingo crowd is a FAR different crowd than the regulars that are there daily.  A few minutes before noon, the players show up with their various doodads and such, and mark their spots while people are still eating.  We knew to high-tail it out of there before Bingo Joe started calling out numbers at 12:15 sharp.  

One time a couple years ago, my friend Geri was explaining Aetna Medicare to me, and it was 3 minutes to Bingo.  Bingo Joe quietly came up behind Geri and began scooting her chair back from the table while she shouted "Hey, Hey!!  I wasn't done!"  Bingo Joe said "You are now!"   RIP Joe. 

A few days after learning of Bingo Joe's demise, I learned of the recent passing of Sil Confortini.  I haven't seen Mr. Confortini since 1979, but remembered him quite well.

Mr. Confortini was my junior high school Social Studies teacher in 1973-1974.  Truth be told, there's not a lot of things to share about Social Studies, but I remember him always dressing very well.  Always crisp dress shirts and modern ties, and a hint of aftershave.  His son Dean was in my class, we graduated together.  Dean always came to school dressed well too.

Mr. Confortini in the early 1970s, precisely how I remember him

One thing I remember clearly, I had his class at 6th period after lunch.  As he would go on about things like Brazilian exports, I would sometimes get a little dozey.

One time he suddenly stopped lecturing and said "Mr. Morris, I wish you would stop using my classroom for your nap times."  No one laughed, the other kids just turned and looked at me.  I was so embarrassed!

Mr. Confortini graduated from Jefferson Morgan High School in 1949, went to college, returned and taught there for 36 years.  He died of natural causes, a few weeks before his 96th birthday.  That is quite a life.

Finally, I just learned of this one yesterday while getting a haircut--it affected me the most.

This is not a recent picture of Denice.  Her hair was mostly gray like mine, and she wore it pulled back in a ponytail and wore glasses.  She worked at Kuhn's for as long as I can remember, often in the small office near the registers where I would buy stamps or get money for my apartment building's laundry machine.  

I don't want to sound mean, but I always assumed Denice was in her early to mid-70s.  She was slender, but a heavy smoker and in the last year had developed a bad cough.  Last Friday while working, she had a sudden heart attack and dropped to the floor.  When the paramedics arrived, she was already dead.  She was only 62 years old.

She was a wife and grandmother, and had 3 adult children.  I was just talking to her on Wednesday, two days before her passing.  I said her cough was sounding better and she said it should be, she'd had it since December.  It's difficult to believe she's gone... at least she didn't suffer.  

Three people I didn't know well, but still knew well enough.  I just felt compelled to share something.  Thanks for reading.

Goodbye Pennie, Hello Neighbor & Lesson Learned

Can I get something off my chest?  When I applied for Medicare Advantage a couple weeks ago, I was told when the card arrives to call Pennie (Pa Health Insurance Marketplace) and disenroll from my current Insurance plan, but ensure it lasts until Sept 30.  Medicare doesn't begin until October 1.

I got my updated Advantage card yesterday, so I called Pennie.  I spent the next 11 minutes identifying myself by answering 'Yes', 'No' or punching various numbers on my phone.  It was trying my patience, but I get it--they REALLY want to ensure someone isn't posing as me.  I finally get a computer voice saying "The next agent will respond to your call.  There is a current wait time of 7 minutes."

Cue the godawful wait music.  TWENTY TWO MINUTES LATER, Abu from 'The Simpsons' says (in the heaviest Hindi accent possible) "Hlu entarrour fooro dodos if yor su-chill shoity."  

I said "I'm sorry, can you repeat that?  I can't understand you."  He repeated it.  I repeat myself.  I get the same nonsensical response.  I said "This isn't working, can I speak to someone else?"  I hear more gobbledygook.  I said "I'm sorry I don't mean to be rude but I CANNOT UNDERSTAND YOU."   He begins speaking in tongues again.  I sadly hang up.

I realize we all need to eat, we all need to live, most of us need to work.  But for a customer service line for Pennsylvanians who pretty much speak English only, why must they outsource it to people with the heaviest accents this side of Bangladesh?  I worked with several people from India in my career, have had several doctors too.  They all had accents, but spoke well and were easy to talk to.   

I called Pennie back a couple hours later, went thru the same 10 minutes of AI prompts, was told there was a 1 hour wait time, would I like to be called back, I said yes.  AI said "Great, you will be called back within one hour."   No one called back.  I eventually figured out what to do on the Pennie website.  SO GLAD I AM DONE WITH PENNIE.

A couple mornings ago, I was sitting here watching tv when I began hearing chainsaws outside.  I looked out my living room window and saw one of those white trucks with a giant arm on the back, stretched up to the sky.  Someone was cutting the top branches off the tree across the street.

I've lived in my apartment 8 1/2 years and have never seen the second house across the street from me.  It had giant hedges that separated the houses, and a tremendous tree in front that hid the house and went way above the rooftop.

It took 9 hours to chop everything down.  (They returned the next day and got rid of that remaining trunk and pile of wood.)  

I realize this isn't a good picture, it's reflecting my vertical blind.  I should've taken one of the sidewalk below while it was going on.  It was lined with people in my neighborhood, all holding their phones out, taking pictures.

Last night when I was taking my trash downstairs, I ran into the transgender person who lives in the first floor apartment across from that house.  He was standing outside smoking and asked me if I noticed the trees were gone.  Er... yes.  

He wasn't happy.  He pointed behind us and said "That's my window.  I hope they enjoy the view."  😐

Finally, I recently saw a story where a man was found dead, face down on his kitchen floor.  When they rolled him over, they discovered a kitchen knife and a box of (thawed) frozen hamburger patties.  

Apparently he'd been trying to pry one free, only to force his knife too hard and pushed the blade into his chest.  I'm sorry, I know this was a grisly thing to share but it was a real wake up call.  I'm a big fan of these frozen hamburgers, and often do the same thing.  I've learned my lesson.

I suppose my reading room is now my writing room

One nice thing about writing a personal blog is the ability to go back and find things I've shared, when my own memory is fuzzy.  For instance, on May 24 I posted a blog titled "A Big Setback" where my daily discomfort level from long covid had really escalated, and I was letting everyone know I may not be around for awhile.

Looking back, I was wrestling with a lot of oral inflammation and only eating very bland things when my gallbladder ruptured 2 weeks later on June 7.  That week in the hospital, after the two surgeries and on a liquid diet, I had to keep asking for low sodium broths because my covid-related BMS (burning mouth syndrome) was making me hypersensitive to any spices or salt.  

A week or so after I returned home on June 20, the symptoms began to let up.  And when my friend Kim went with me to Mercy Hospital for a post surgery follow-up on June 25, my covid symptoms had greatly reduced.  I confided to Kim I was feeling pretty optimistic.  I posted a photo of us on my blog, and my sister told me I looked like my old self.

Of course, the long covid symptoms returned that weekend.  They lasted a week, winked out a couple days (allowing me to meet up with some friends from the senior center for lunch, my first outing in 8 months) then returned again on July 17.  

These last couple weeks have been tough.  Lots of inflammation in the eyes, burning in the left side of head and mouth, and that heavy, strange smell of diesel fuel and decayed flowers. 

For the past year, I've been avoiding all videos and articles pertaining to long covid.  But these past couple weeks left me wondering if there's any kind of answers yet.  Nope.  Medical experts claim the US has 10 million documented cases, the UK has 2 million.  They said the real numbers are probably double that.  They also claim LC comes with 300 different symptoms and remissions are common, giving many sufferers false hope.  

Most sufferers remain in isolation, and say they've lost their jobs, family, friends.  At least I can't lose my social security.  Still, I read my blogger friends weekly adventures and wonder when I'll be back out there again.  

My senior center has a restaurant outing on August 12; I asked to be included, fingers crossed...

When I was first hit with this in early 2024, I had a busy calendar and hated the thought of canceling anything, especially a Titanic exhibit.  I never dreamed I'd still be missing out on things 2 1/2 years later.  

For now at least, I'm blessed to still have people in my life I enjoy spending time with on the phone.  My friend Diana in West Virginia, my sister Shawn, my friend Pen who I've known since grade school, my dear friend Kim (who I refer to as Kimba, she's a two-time cancer survivor and white lion).  They've all spent hours with me on the phone, and I would be lost without them.

To the readers out there who read my posts and leave comments, thank you.  You really matter too.  I feel bad, I came in here to do some reading on my tablet and the next thing you know... I need to wrap this up, my bottom is numb.  Until next time. 😌

Medicare Advantage is here--and it's a small world after all

Here it is, my "Welcome to Medicare" letter from UPMC Health Plan and Medicare Advantage card.  Two weeks ago I spoke with Virginia, an independent Medicare agent and it couldn't have gone better.  

Virginia said I could come to her office, she could come to my home, or we could have a Google Chat (like Facetime) on our tablets.   

I elected to do the online meetup, though I still ran in the bathroom and shaved and combed my hair before we got things started. 👨

She asked me how old I was, I said I was turning 65 in 3 months.  She told me the first thing I had to do was go to Medicare.gov and enroll.  She could walk me thru it, but we wouldn't be able to continue until I got my card in the mail.

I said I applied for Social Security in January, which automatically enrolled me in Medicare and I already got my card a couple weeks ago; did she need the number?  She said "I have a feeling you're going to be my easiest client today."

I told her I had several Medicare Advantage plans already selected from 3 different insurance carriers:  Aetna, Highmark, UPMC.  She asked if I had any recent medical history and I said boy, do I.  Two operations in June, one on my liver's bile ducts and then a gallbladder removal.

She asked if I knew how much my out of pocket costs were, after insurance.  I told her $880.00 (including ambulance).  We determined that Medicare thru UPMC was closest to my current insurance plan--and my familiarity with UPMC hospitals made them the preferred choice, so I wound up going with UPMC for Life HMO Premier Rx.

After we did the electronic signatures and everything, Virginia asked about my ice pack (I was occasionally holding against the side of my face) and asked if I was suffering with a migraine or allergies.  I told her I had long covid, a chronic inflammatory condition.  She said "I'm so sorry!  My sister-in-law has long covid!"

That's when the conversation got interesting.  Her sister-in-law got LC in 2022 and was forced to take a leave of absence from her job as a school teacher.  After 2 years, she was hardly any better but was close to 60 so she retired early instead.  

Like myself, Virginia's sister-in-law gets hopeful days here and there, but the relapses just keep coming.  She doesn't see an end in sight.  I told Virginia it does feel hopeless at times but you have to believe it will end sooner or later.

One thing I appreciated, Virginia complained her glasses were bothering her nose and she had to get a new pair soon.  I said I did too, mine fit fine but were 8 years old.  After we hung up, she called me right back and told me to hold off on those glasses a little bit longer, I'd be getting a Flex Spend card soon I can use towards them.  Works for me.

Well, I almost didn't blog about this (it's boring, I know).  But I'm glad I did---when I was inspecting my Medicare card to see what to gray-out before sharing, I noticed it said "NO PCP SELECTED" on it and I did give them my new PCP, Dr. Cole.  I just called and reported this, they said "Someone messed up, you'll get a new card in 10 days."   Not exactly a great start, UPMC!

Here's Dr. Cole's photo.  He's a handsome devil, but very smart and very kind.  I like him a lot.

Gallbladder Chili, hope for nicotine & a couple other things

I know they've been around awhile, but aren't freezers remarkable things?  Back on Sunday, June 7 I made a small pot of chili for dinner.  But while it was bubbling away, I was fast losing my appetite and didn't know why.

I wound up letting the chili cool, pouring it into a container and putting it in the freezer.  3 hours later, I was in an ambulance, headed to the hospital for a blocked bile duct and emergency gallbladder surgery.

It's been hidden in the back of my freezer ever since, along with a frozen Italian roll.  I'd forgotten about them until last night when I was trying to make some room in there.  And seeing as how it's Thursday, and Soup Day in the Teepee... I wonder how it will taste.

Okay, it's delicious.  I just keep thinking, when I made this chili I had a gallbladder.  Ah well!

Yesterday my sister texted me and said she'd recently learned that GLP-1 drugs have been helping people with long covid.  I contacted my doctor's office and left a message, a couple hours later they returned my call and said Dr. Cole would discuss it with me early Thursday morning.  

Last week I had 2 relatively good days, Tues & Wed.  I was able to attend that Senior outing for lunch at the Old Sewickley Hotel.  But since then, the symptoms returned with a lot of inflammation in my temples and around my eyes, and pain in the jaw & mouth.

Dr. Cole is a young doctor, but honest and knowledgeable.  He told me he would not prescribe a GLP-1 for me for long covid symptoms.  He asked me if I'd gained a lot of weight since my last visit (last Sept) and I said I'd lost almost 20 lbs. since last summer.  He said "You probably have a high BMI but not enough to qualify.  Douglas, you have a history of issues with your pancreas, kidneys & liver.  Those GLP drugs put you at a higher risk for further complications."  

I told him about NHS studies of low-grade nicotine patches helping some with their long covid symptoms and he said "Can't you try upping your dosage of acetaminophen?  Those patches are for smokers and can adversely affect people with hypertension.  If you want to try them it's up to you, but you'll need to monitor your blood pressure."  Will do.

After I got off the phone with him, I put my first patch on my left underarm.  Here goes nothing.

It just occurred to me, today is my dad's birthday.  He died nearly 27 years ago and would've turned 90 today.  It's hard to believe he's been gone so long.

Finally, have you seen the movie "Obsession" that was released earlier this year?  Made on a shoestring budget of $725,000 it earned over $400 million at the box office.  I said awhile back I was done with horror movies, but saw the film was playing on Peacock this past weekend and curiosity got the best of me.

The movie is about a young man who has a secret crush on his friend & co-worker Nikki.  One day he buys a "One Wish Willow" stick at a novelty shop and wishes Nikki loved him more than anyone else in the world.  So what happens when his wish is granted?  It both is and isn't what you'd expect, but I found it brilliant as it was horrific.  

The next day, my niece Sophia texted me and said she'd heard I seen it, and would I recommend it.  Her boyfriend Luke wanted her to see it.  I warned her it was very good but wasn't pretty.  She told me later she did like it, but covered her eyes a couple times.

Speaking of pretty, here she is with her young man Luke.  All I can say is... my goodness.

Doug I don't believe it... well friend, you better believe it

Do you know what this is?  It's my last incandescent light bulb, a 60 watt GE Reveal.  Way back in the summer of 2011, the news reported the US was going to stop manufacturing these types of light bulbs effective January 2012.  The next day at work, a couple people were talking about it and my friend Candace said "You better stock up, they'll be gone sooner than you think."

And then one night I got off the bus after work and saw a sign in CVS window, a 'Final Sale' on GE light bulbs.  For years I'd been buying the Reveal bulbs, they were the perfect tone of white/not too bright.  I went in, grabbed a cart and put around 30 4-pk boxes of light bulbs in it.  Every 60 watt Reveal they had in stock.

I almost did a blog about this 15 years ago, but when I saw the top of my linen closet filled with light bulbs, I thought it looked a little crazy.  Still, as everyone flocked to the newer bulbs I rubbed my hands together and went "Heh heh!"  and continued using my old school energy-inefficient bulbs.

Around 4 years ago, I stopped using them in my bedroom to make my inventory last longer for my living room.  And now, I'm down to my final bulb.  So until this one burns out, I will get to hold onto that old timey incandescent glow just a little while longer.

Speaking of the bedroom (and my lamp in there), do you see the denim floor pillow on the right?  I bought that pillow way back around 1990-91, when I lived in my first apartment in the city.  My sister Shawn often drove up for the weekend, and we'd go to Waterworks Mall, do some shopping, see a movie, sometimes have dinner there too.  

There was a Pier 1 Imports we always visited and where I got that pillow--they had some cool stuff.

I don't use the pillow regularly--only when I get a backache.  I'll take a book and sit on the floor and prop myself up against Old Blue.  It's very dense but squishy soft.

Over the years I've wiped it down with a damp washcloth, what else can I do?  It's not like I can throw it in a washer.  And then 2 days ago I was wiping it off and my washcloth snagged on something--a pull tab for a zipper.  I've owned this pillow 35 years and didn't know I could remove the cover.

It was difficult, but I managed to unzip and remove the denim cover and soaked it in some Tide and cold water.  The water turned yellow in a couple minutes.  The pillow insert inside was surprisingly white and the manufacturer tag read Pier1 Imports 1990, 100% goose down.  

Anyway, I guess Ol' Blue is good another 35 years!

I saved the best for last.  This one's a biggie.  Back in 2012, DC Comics announced Paul Levitz had written a GINORMOUS BOOK COVERING THE DIFFERENT AGES OF DC COMICS.

For you non-comic experts out there, older comic books are broken down into 3 ages:

The Golden Age, from 1935-1956

The Silver Age, from 1956-1969

The Bronze Age, from 1970-1984

I began reading DC comics in the late sixties, and stopped collecting them in 1984.  I still read reprints on occasion, no interest in the current stuff.

Anyway, I wanted this book--at the same time, I didn't want it.  Where the heck would I put it?  Fortunately, DC came to their senses and re-issued the book in a smaller format, broken up by the ages.  But they were still LARGE volumes and weigh 10 pounds each.

So look what I bought 15 years ago... love those foil covers.

I paid $59.95 each for them back in 2011-2012, and they've been in my closet all these years.  They've also become collector's items, the Silver Age book with the Flash on it?  It retails for $455.00 now. 

Believe it or not, mine are in mint condition.  They're still in their plastic shrink wrap.  (That wasn't my intention, I just never got around to opening them.)

And finally, here was a nice little surprise.  When I was removing these from their paper sacks for this blog post, I was surprised to see each book had an alternate cover on the reverse.  Nice.  😎

On my way to the Senior Center & the old Sewickley Hotel

Here is yours truly, Wednesday morning at 9:30 am and on my way out the door.  I was catching a bus to the Senior Center (my first time there since last September) for an hour's visit and then to Sewickley, to have lunch with the old crew at an establishment known as The Hotel.

It was so awesome seeing Bridget (one of the ladies who works at the center) and "Pat in the Hat", an 86 year old regular slash volunteer who hugged me and couldn't have been nicer.  As glad as I was to be there however, I was surprised how quiet it was.  I only saw the handful of people that were going on the lunch outing.  

Unfortunately, the friends I am closest to--Melvin, Gerri, Deb, Mary & Evvie--were all no-shows, darn it.  

I was glad when "Paul the Playboy" walked in though, and soon after Dennis too, who couldn't have been funnier or nicer.

Anyway, there's not a lot to tell--we got to the bar/restaurant (more bar than restaurant) and sat at some pretty sticky tables for some burgers and overpriced pickled tacos.  I am not complaining though, I was glad to get out and be with friends again, for the first time in months.

The Sewickley Hotel is no hotel.  It's a lounge, a bar.  (But in a pretty hoity toity neighborhood.)

After they took our orders, Dennis high-tailed it out of there to check out the liquor store nearby.  He returned with a 1.75 liter bottle of Jack Daniels Honey Whiskey.  I guess some things never change!

Here was Pearl's order, a large Navajo frybread with shrimp toppings.  I wanted this too, but there were only a couple left and Pearl bought both (one to take home for her daughter who lives with her).

Here was my order, a trio of Barbacoa (shredded beef) soft-shell tacos with a lot of pickled cabbage.  I can't say I was in love with them, but they were very fresh, and different.  I was really hungry for something different.

When I was on my way to the men's room I came across this wall of Native American chiefs and headdresses.  I was really tempted to try one of those on!

Finally, on the way home, Dennis (who was pretty soused from his double Bloody Mary and Alabama Slammers) was incensed that the bar cut him off.  He slurred "I'm glad we went there Doug, but whoever heard of a bar turning down business from a paying customer?  We won't be coming back!"   Speak for yourself, Dennis!

Yes he drinks his share, but has a heart of gold and I enjoyed spending time with him.  The End!

A moment of mourning for Dana

Dana Faulk

A couple days ago, Dana Faulk, 55 was at a red light when the driver behind him began revving his engine and honking his horn, and yelling out the window.  He didn't think Dana was close enough to the traffic light.

A passenger in Dana's car said Dana was confused and didn't understand why the man behind him was yelling "to drive the %$#@^* up".

Dana ignored him, and when the light turned green proceeded to drive slowly on Corliss Street, a single lane road in each direction.  The driver behind him, Joel Ingram, 41 waited until there was no oncoming vehicles then drove up alongside Dana and shot him in the head, killing Dana instantly.  He then sped off.

Thanks to surveillance cameras at the location and various witnesses, police located Ingram at a gas station an hour later and arrested him.

Joel did not have a license for the gun he was carrying, and several people said he announced his intentions at the traffic light--what he was going to do to Dana once he caught up to him.  A legal expert said those threats could be used by the prosecution to charge him with first degree murder.

Joel Ingram, one less monster on the road

This local news story really struck a nerve with me.  He took Dana's life so casually, and in the process has probably thrown away his own.  Of course most of us have tempers too.  But to do what this man did--shoot and kill an innocent man for some perceived slight--his reasons are truly lost on me.  

This takes me back to 2009, when I was in a similar situation.  I was driving back to Pittsburgh one Sunday evening, after spending the day at my sister Shawn's house.  (Shawn, her husband Jim and my niece Sophia live 65 miles south of me.)

I always got on I-79 North, rode it for an hour to the Emsworth/Sewickley Exit, then another 15 minutes on Route 65 aka Ohio River Boulevard, first to Emsworth then to my neighborhood Avalon.

(Route 65 is jokingly known as a speed trap by locals.  The Avalon police seem to patrol it pretty well, especially on the weekends.)

So this one Sunday I turn off I-79, take the exit and as soon as I pull onto 65 a car pulls up behind me.  He gunned his engine a couple times--I knew he wanted me to speed up but I was sticking to the speed limit.  

Now he was getting angry and was on my tail, right on it.  He also had his high beams on and was honking his horn.  This went on for over a mile and as I had nowhere to turn, could only keep driving.  I was a nervous wreck.

Suddenly, an Avalon police cruiser seemed to come out of nowhere and pulled into the lane ahead of me, while blue lights began flashing behind as well.  We were both getting pulled over.  I was so relieved!

The officers in the car ahead walked back and told me to hang tight.  They conferred with the officers in the back, then one of them approached my open drivers window and said "The couple behind you say they know you, and were only trying to get your attention.  Is that true?"

What!  I could see them in my rear view mirror.  The man was standing outside his car, next to 2 officers.  His passenger (his girlfriend or wife or whatever) was still in the car, staring in my direction with a sort of pleading look and shaking her head.  I told the officers absolutely not, I never saw them before I got off that exit.     

He said they figured that but were still obligated to ask.  When I asked if the driver was going to get ticketed, the officer said he was under arrest for reckless driving.  He took down my personal info, than told me I was free to go.  

Dana's death has me sitting here thinking "What if no police had shown up that night?  What would've happened to me?"   I wish poor Dana had gotten the same rescue I did.  

The kindness of some people, the meekness of others & my own red kryptonite

 A few days ago I was surprised to get this in the mail.  A Get Well card from the folks at the Senior Center, who apparently found out about my recent stay at Mercy Hospital.  It was a really sweet gesture, as I haven't talked to anyone or been back to the center in several months (since my long covid relapse last September).  

It was so nice to see some of these names... they really are a wonderful group, both the seniors and the ladies who manage the center.  Monday I was walking home from Kuhn's, and a white SUV pulled up alongside me on the street, honking it's horn.  I looked thru the passenger window and almost didn't recognize my friend Mary.  She rolled down the window and yelled "Get your butt in this car--now!"  Too funny!  Love her.

(By the way, I've known Mary since April 2023 and she's always had red auburn hair.  After this past Christmas however, the last time I saw her, she decided to stop coloring her hair and is now fully gray.  And it looks really, really nice on her.)

After I got in, she caught me up on things at the center and with herself.  Our mutual friend Evvie, another one I miss very much, hasn't been to the center because of glaucoma and cataract issues.  I pray she gets that resolved soon.  And Mary has moved out of her old place into a condo just a couple blocks from me.  Wow.

A picture of Pat's 85th birthday from last summer, there's my friend Mary in the stripes and my old pal Dennis in the back

I told Mary that I contacted the center last week and asked to be put on the list for the restaurant outing for "Rosa's Cantina" on July 15.  It would be my first outing since last summer.  

I've been getting days here & there of lesser long covid symptoms, which gives me hope, unfortunately these weird relapses won't quit.  I'm in the middle of one right now.

Have you ever heard of red kryptonite?  We all know how green kryptonite can kill Superman.  There's also white kryptonite, blue kryptonite, jewel kryptonite, gold kryptonite.  But the red stuff will cause Supes to tingle all over--after that, anything goes.  It can turn him invisible, shrink him to the size of a housefly, turn him into a giant, a super-baby, you name it.  

That's what long covid does to me.  I never know when or how it will strike.  The night before last I was sitting here sipping a cup of coffee and eating a cookie, and suddenly began smelling long covid.  (Burnt hair, old flowers, mildew.)  A mild prickling sensation began in my face.  A sure sign something bad was coming.  

The next morning, the bottom right of my face was terribly swollen.  It looked like someone had given me a fat lip while I slept.  It will take 2-3 days to go back to normal.

This past weekend while people were celebrating the Fourth of July, I was coming close to getting kicked out of the Tiffany.  We lost our AC on July 3, and with Pittsburgh dealing with a week long heat wave of temps reaching 100F, by that night my apartment was 90F.

Steiner was slow to respond but it turns out only 2 people called and complained about the lack of AC; myself and a woman on the 6th floor.  I knocked on several of my neighbors doors and asked if they were suffering from the heat (oh yes) and did they call in and report the issue (oh no).

One neighbor said he didn't want to cause trouble as his lease was coming up.  Another said she was afraid of putting a target on her back.  Another said she knew someone would report it... eventually.  I told them "You have to speak up.  You don't have to be mean about it, but if only 1 or 2 tenants say anything, they won't treat it as an emergency."

Geez, I feel like I'm living with a flock of sheep here!

My sister Shawn was kind enough to offer to drive up Saturday morning and bring me back to her house for the weekend, and I was sorely tempted, but I felt I had to see this through.  I'd been pretty irate with Steiner over 2 days, telling them we needed a certified AC repairman, we had older people living here, I know it's a holiday but we need this resolved right now, etc.  

I just hope I didn't put any targets on my own back!  And hopefully I won't be seeing these numbers in my apartment again for a long time.

As I approach 65, here's 25 things I'm noticing about myself

As I approach 65...

1. The earlier I'm going to bed at night.  When that 11:00 news comes on, I am ready to hit the hay.   

2. The more I prefer a hot breakfast (like eggs or oatmeal) over cold cereal.

3. The less I like swearing--hearing it or doing it.

4. The less I let other people's politics bother me.  I lost a couple good friendships over Donald Trump a few years back and regret it to this day.  

5. The less I like television sitcoms.

6. The warmer I like to be.  I used to run around (in my apartment) in my bare feet in the dead of winter.  Now I wear socks year round.  

7. The less I want to watch the local or national news.

8. The more I like to soak/doze in a warm, sudsy bubble bath.  

9. The less I like perfume or cologne on people.

10. The shorter I like the hair on my head.

11. The less I can tolerate loud movies or violence in movies.  Isn't there enough noise & violence out there?

12. The less embarrassed I am to talk about or show my body.  I almost asked my barber last week if she wanted to see my gall bladder scar.

13. The less I care about social media or trends.  What's an influencer?  Who cares?

14. The more comfortable I am with people 5-10 years older than me than people 5-10 years younger.

15. The less I know what younger people are listening to these days, music wise.  Taylor Swift... that's all I know.

16. The more I miss funny, beautiful actresses like Madeline Kahn, Teri Garr, Catherine O'Hara, Jill Clayburgh, Mary Tyler Moore.  I can't believe they're all gone. 😔

17. The easier it is for me to use words like "dear", even though I sound like a Mrs. Beasley doll.  "Thank you Kimberly, you're a dear."

18. The more patience I have for people like my special needs neighbor Sally who likes to tell me what she had for dinner the night before, condiments included.  She's a hoot... and a dear.

19. The less patience I have for salesman who knock on my door (like T-Mobile) who "just happened to be in the neighborhood" and want to check my internet speed.  I'm shutting the door now!

20. The less I can remember everything in my past.  I came across this picture in some old papers awhile back and have no memory of how I got it, or who took it.  On the back of the photo it says "Michelle Phillips and Doug Morris, lunch at Warner Center 1993."

I recognize my coworker and myself of course, but who had the camera?

21.  The less I mind living like a hermit.  (In fact, I worry sometimes I like it too much.)  When I was younger, I couldn't imagine spending the weekend alone.  Now I can't imagine otherwise.

22.  The luckier I feel every day I don't have cancer--as far as I know.  Mom & Dad both died from cancer and never made it to 65.

23.  The more attraction I feel towards chubby people.  Well, birds of a feather...😉

24.  The worse my handwriting is becoming.  I guess that old saying "if you don't use it you lose it" is true.  My mom had beautiful handwriting up until the day she died.

25.  The more I like my gray hair.  I wear it like a badge of honor!  

I reckon milestones are like gallstones; they come in all shapes and sizes

A couple days ago I called my barber Roe and asked if she could fit me in.  She said to come on up, and while it took a bit longer to get there (about 35 minutes vs my customary 15 minute walk) I still made it there and back on my own.  That's a half-mile trip each way and the most I've walked in 20 days.

When I got home, there was a letter from the Federal govt in my mailbox.  I thought "Uh-oh, Trump has declared another war and I've been drafted."  Fortunately I was wrong and it was from Medicare.  

I got my Medicare card, which means I've reached the government's benchmark for being classified a senior citizen, effective October 1.  

To be honest, I'm going to miss my ACA health insurance; not only are my premiums $45.00 cheaper a month than Medicare, I think I have better coverage too.  

Now I have to figure out if I want a Medicare Advantage plan.  It looks like I don't really have a choice.  Medigap coverage (keeping traditional Medicare and getting a supplement to cover the 20% Medicare doesn't pay) is outrageously expensive.

Are you on Medicare Advantage?  Do you like your plan?

At least I have insurance.  I've been getting pre-insurance "DO NOT PAY" medical bills for my 2 recent surgeries and 8 day hospital stay and home rehab visits, we are talking tens of thousands of dollars.  The gall bladder surgery alone was $22,700 and my ambulance was $1662.00 before insurance kicked in.  My final bill for that ride is $85.93.  Whew!

On another positive note, I went 4 days in a row with reduced long covid symptoms.  

I was all set to say 5 days, unfortunately my LC reared its ugly head an hour after I got up this morning.  But for the last few days I've been waking up feeling pretty normal.  So the LC may not be gone just yet, but for something that's been ongoing since last September (with zero let up) this break in symptoms seems pretty significant.

I hope I'm not jinxing things by speaking up too soon, but 4 consecutive mornings of relative calm?  I can't help but feel hopeful.  

Still debating whether I should attempt this "nicotine patch" therapy.  I think I'll wait a couple more days and see.

Finally, this isn't important in the slightest but it's still a milestone.  This is my 800th post.    

Back in 2006 when my friend Ross suggested I start a blog (we belonged to an online message forum and I enjoyed sharing stories about coworkers, weekend cooking, etc) I said I'd give it a try but probably wouldn't write more than a dozen posts total.  Who'd want to read about my humdrum life anyway?

Well, to the few out there that do it's been a great motivator.  Thanks everybody.  😏

There is something to be said for old friends and real healing

My friend Kim H and myself, home from the doctor

The day after I posted my blog about spending a week in the hospital, an old friend (Kim H, who reads my blog) contacted me and said "What can I do to help? Pick up prescriptions from the pharmacy, go shopping for you, cook some meals you can warm up later, take you to your next appointment... let me know."

My gosh, she is one of a kind. 

Here's the story on Kim.  We became friends back in 1988 when we both worked downtown at the Allegheny County Dept of Aging.  She had just gotten married, I had just started working at the agency, but we were close in age and clicked right away.  I left Aging in 1998 for greener pastures, and we stayed in touch with Christmas & birthday cards and the occasional phone call or email.  But we haven't gotten together in many, many years.

Anyway, I thanked Kim for her generous offer but when you've lived alone as long as I have you want to take care of yourself.  Several days into things however, I realized I wasn't doing so well.  That's when I made my first home grocery order, and contacted Kim and asked if she would go to my doctors office with me for my 10 day post-surgery followup.  She said of course, and that's us there at the top, home from the doctor on Thursday.

The doctor's appointment went very well.  He removed the last of my bandages, listened to my lungs and heart, checked my oxygen level.  When I told him I didn't feel I was recuperating fast enough, he said "You've been home from the hospital 10 days.  I told you at checkout you'd need 6 weeks to make a full recovery.  Stop trying to be a Steeler."  A Steeler!  I said I was sorry and he said "Mr. Morris, many of my after-surgery patients arrive here in wheelchairs--you're doing great!"

He did make a couple revisions to my recovery plan though.  I have PT & RT (respiratory therapists) coming to my place again on Monday, darn it.  Enough!

I didn't bring up my long covid-nicotine patch idea, darn that too.  I'm going to hold off on that until I'm more my old self.

Afterwards, Kim took me grocery shopping at Kuhn's, then helped carry my stuff upstairs and stayed and chatted for an hour.  We talked about old friends, her grandkids, what our families have been up to.  I enjoyed her visit so much.  

When I was walking her to the elevator, I was thinking how much I'd missed Kim and wished we were closer like the old days.  As the doors opened and she stepped on, she said "I think we need to be better friends and be a bigger part of each others lives again."   She must've read my mind!

A wonderful ending to a great morning.  Kim, if you're reading this... thanks again. 

Meanwhile, life goes on: Thinking out Loud, June 2026

A couple days ago my sister Courtney sent this photo of her & her husband Robert's 3 dogs--Stormy, Shiva & Ace, following her into the basement of their home in Cincinnati Ohio.  For some reason it reminded me of that big dog licking Richard Mulligan's face in the opening of that '80s sitcom "Empty Nest".  

"Life goes on, and so do we... how do we do it is a mystery..."   

I'm sitting here in my customary spot on the floor in front of my couch on a cloudy afternoon, no plans of course (except what I'm making for dinner--a pot of chili) and feeling better than I have been in awhile.

From the neck down, I am healing up nicely.  My four belly incisions from my gall bladder surgery aren't pretty, but no longer hurt.  My stomach's monster swelling has gone down, and last night (for the first time since the surgery) I was able to lie flat on my back at bedtime.  

From the neck up however... the long covid pushes on.  Burning eyes, dry mouth, pressure in sides of my head.  But there is improvement. 

I feel I need to apologize to anyone reading this, as I have a difficult time keeping mum about my health issues.  I've driven a couple people in my life away since the whole long covid thing began, and I'm not sure I'll be able to get them back and frankly I don't think I even want to.  But at the very least I want to thank all the friends and visitors who take the time to come here and read my blog.  I feel guilty sharing so much here, but it sure helps to get it out.  

On a lovelier note, here's a recent photo of my niece Sophia with her beau Luke.  Is it just me because I'm her uncle, or is this young woman as beautiful as I think? 

Heavens.  And speaking of family (and long covid), the morning my whole gall bladder adventure began, I was talking to Sophia's mom (my sister Shawn) who asked if I'd heard about nicotine patches being a possible aid in reducing long covid symptoms.

I did, but never really looked into it until that call.  There's no official studies of course, or documented findings, but some researchers claim 7mg of nicotine daily for 30 days seemed to help a number of cases.  So I figured, why not.

I'm not crazy about the notion of wearing a nicotine patch again (I quit smoking nearly 20 years ago) but at least it's a very small amount of nicotine and right now I'm willing to try anything.   I have an appointment with my surgeon this Thursday (I suppose he wants to review his handiwork) and if everything looks okay, I think I'm going to begin the nicotine patch regimen next week.

Well, that's all I have for now.  After a week of eating oatmeal, bananas & chicken paste I am craving something red.  I'm anxious to see if I can tolerate a bowl of chili without too much inflammation or oral pain.  I normally add a lot of spices to my chili--garlic, ground red pepper, chili powder, etc. but not this time.  My body is way too tender for anything more than ground beef, tomatoes and beans.   Thanks for stopping by, it's much appreciated.

I have Frankenstein's stomach, other weirdness and for 19 things there is a first time

Wednesday morning I got a call from someone named Colleen, my "case manager" at UPMC.  I almost didn't take the call but I'm glad I did, she was knowledgeable and honest.

She had a pretty good understanding of my week in the hospital, and asked what my stomach was looking like.  I said it looked like Frankenstein's stomach, with red slashes and covered in green, blue and brown bruises.  

I said it was also tender to the touch and EXTREMELY swollen. I've eaten so much less since this whole thing began yet my stomach feels and looks like I was 9 months pregnant.

I'm not making this up--I came very close to sharing a photo of my monster belly here but was too embarrassed.

She told me the average patient gains between 10-15 pounds following surgery and a stay in the hospital (from being sedentary and receiving IV bags of various nutrients 24 hours a day).  As for all the swelling and soreness, I have a lot of enflamed organs right now. 

I told Colleen that I was just concerned why I'm not feeling lots better.  A few people have sent me articles or videos on what to expect following gall bladder surgery, people often go home the same day or the next morning, not a week later.  She said "Yours was emergency surgery, not elective.  Plus you underwent two surgeries two days in a row.  And then you got those infections and the pneumonia, so your outcome was different."

I asked her how soon I can begin doing some light exercising again (I always liked to do arm & leg stuff while watching tv) and she said "Nope, none of that.  You can start taking some light walks in 2-3 weeks."   Oh well, I'm still being forced to sleep upright because of breathing problems.

Colleen said I also run the risk of getting a hernia right now, and to avoid picking up anything heavier than a gallon of milk for another 3 weeks.  Easier said than done.

The surgeon wants to do a follow-up with me on June 25.  I hope I'm well enough to go, my dear friend Kim has graciously agreed to go with me.  

As long as I'm doing a health update here, I'm still wrestling with these long covid symptoms.  The left eye and temple inflammation have been subdued for over a week now, but still lots of soreness and weirdness inside my mouth, tongue & gums.  Things like chocolate, salt, tomato sauce are like eating red pepper.  It sucks, but could be worse.

And finally, something I never thought I'd do--I bought groceries online today from Walmart.com.  There was an extra $15.00 added to my bill for delivery & driver's tip, but all the items I requested showed up at my doorstep.  (And no broken eggs.)  A nice convenience but I like my walks to Kuhns.

This past week has been a thing

Before I say anything else, I wanted to thank everyone who expressed concern at my vacancy from these parts.  It meant a lot to see your comments appear on my recent blog post, and to get personal emails from ones like Margaret, Sharon, Robin, Siobhan, Tom... Thanks again everyone.

By Thursday I was showing some real whiskers

Last Sunday (June 7) I'd just finished washing up my dinner dishes, and was here in my living room on my laptop, putting the finishing touches on my next blog.

It wasn't anything too special--some family pics, some chili I'd made, and a radical idea my sister Shawn had passed along for treating my long covid.  Maybe I'll go ahead and post it anyway.

Around 6:20pm, I noticed I was taking quicker breaths.  I thought "Please God, don't let this be a gallstone."  It's usually the first symptom.  I've gotten them on occasion the last 4-5 years.  The pain is off the charts, you pace back and forth and breath hard, but it's usually over in 90 minutes.

So the pain did set in, and I shut off my computer, filled up my hot water bottle (to hold against my stomach, it helps) and basically just stood there as the tsunami started.  It gets so bad, you don't dare move a muscle.  Anyway--90 minutes later it felt even worse.  This had never happened before.  I told myself I'd call for an ambulance if it didn't improve by 11pm.

The view from my hospital bed this past week

I didn't make it to 11pm.  By 9pm the pain was so horrendous, I could barely gasp my name and location to 911.  They had a couple paramedics here in 5 minutes.  Several of my neighbors watched them strap me down on a stretcher while I cried out like a maniac, a couple even followed me and the paramedics outside.   

They couldn't have moved faster in the ER.  Pumped me full of drugs and asked if I had a history of kidney or gallstones.  Yes.  I spent the next 6-7 hours getting chest x-rays, CT-scans again & again, an ultrasound and then an MRI.

The resident physician said "It's gallstones alright, but you have a ruptured gall bladder.  You've got stones everywhere.  We're concerned about your bile duct as well.  You're looking at a couple surgeries here, and if we don't do them soon... those drugs in your system will only help so long."

They moved my bed to the Observation Deck, and Monday morning at 11am  Dr. Singh introduced himself and told me he'd be cleaning out and repairing my bile duct.  (He told me mine had several "scary large" ones.)   I don't want to spend a lot of time on this one.  When I came to, I was in my appointed hospital room, nauseated, dizzy and burning all over uncomfortable.   I pulled back my covers, and was literally soaked from the stomach down in urine and feces.  Boy did I cry out for a nurse, and a young man named Starling rushed in with a bucket of water and suds and assured me this happened all the time.  I later learned the doctor may have poked my intestines which caused the avalanche.  

This looks nice a nice view outside my bed, but I had to give this up and sleep in a chair a couple nights later

Tuesday morning, I was weak as hell (but cleaned up at least) when I met with the surgical team who would be removing my gall bladder.  They told me the procedure would be done laparoscopically.  Several inch long incisions would be made across my torso and belly (4 in total) then using cameras they'd go in and tug that monster out.

What they DON'T tell you is that they pump a ton of carbon dioxide gas into your belly to "swell you up", to have better access to things.  It is very painful and takes 2 months on average to return to normal.

My surgery was on Tuesday at 2pm.  They said it went well but I woke up in such horrendous pain I regretted having it.  They filled me up with IV bags of antibiotics and other solutions, I swallowed dozens of pills, but by Wednesday morning every inch of me hurt and I had a very high temperature, over 104F.  I was informed an infection had set in.

By Wednesday night, I felt like I was drowning.  I couldn't catch my breath.  A pulmonologist was brought in, ordered another CT-scan and said "You have post-op pneumonia."   She gave them new antibiotics to pump into me and said I'd have to sleep upright in a chair for awhile.  Here it is, 4 days later and I still cannot lie down.  

They wheeled in a special "hard seat" leather recliner, I sure could use one of those now.

Saturday afternoon, my surgeon came in my room and said "I know you're not in great shape and Pulmonology wants you to stay here awhile longer.  But I think you can heal faster at home.  We'll send you home with all the antibiotics and pain killers you need.  Do you have an upright recliner similar to this one for sleeping?"  I said I did not.  He said "I'm sure you'll figure something out. "

Mercy arranged for a cab to pick me up, and when it arrived I was still so weak a couple of orderlies had to lift me from my wheelchair and place me inside.  (That cab driver did not look happy.)  When I got home, I apologized profusely for the delay and took 10 minutes crawling out of his vehicle.  It took me nearly 20 minutes to get upstairs.

I shuffled into my apartment Saturday night, shocked how barren & plain everything looked.  I have some healthy savings, this place needs fixing up.  Anyway, I'd give anything in the world to lie down right now but when I do my chest gurgles and I can't breathe.  I sure hope this clears up soon.  I'm just glad I have plenty of groceries in the house (not that I have any appetite anyway).

They gave me a couple of breathing apparatus to exercise my lungs, and told me no baths and no lifting anything heavier than a gallon of milk for the next 2 months.  They also gave me a bag of blood thinners, water pills, antibiotics, Oxycodone.  I refuse to take any more of those opioids.

That's it for now.  Thanks for letting me share my story with you.  I am wiped out.