Margm

Get a ruler, or tape measure, or something and make sure they are six feet apart. Honestly, sometimes I think everyone in the world was endowed with the family jewels. If this is a "friend" Gwen, please find a new one...........after we are allowed out of our houses. All of a sudden Louisiana is at the top of the list of the virus load. Down in these parts we cannot find HB meat, bread, and we have guards over toilet paper and towel paper. Is this woman one of your therapists, or is she just an acquaintance? I don't have to worry about them putting me away now, no one will let me enter a nursing home or medical facility, so I think I might could make up some friends and carry on lively conversations with them. I kind of think I might be doing that soon anyhow. We had NY strip for dinner. I cannot afford NY strip. I even bought Mrs. Paul's fish sticks. I have not eaten them since the kids were little. People are going crazy all over the country, and I doubt anyone would notice me talking to someone that wasn't there. Heck, I have been talking to Billy for nearly five years now. I know what he would say so I answer back for him. Hang in there people, I don't understand all this, certainly don't understand our daily talks with the president but I am much comforted after he finishes because I recognize a fellow that is just as mixed up as I am. I'll bet he talks to himself more than he tweets. twitters, or whatever that is called. These are strange times. Especially when my word salads start making sense. Love you Gwen. I know your not gonna let that bully push you around. We are actually better friends to ourselves than some other people would be.

Kieron, this is beautiful. I'm headed toward my 78th year and I had never heard of this. My daughter would like to do this. My hands shake too bad. I tried getting one of the pretty adult coloring books, thinking coloring would help me, but found I could no longer color between the lines and was so disappointed. If I did not have the hand shaking so bad, I could and would have helped make the simplistic masks the nurses are begging for and certainly our government should provide for these Angels of Mercy. This is really wonderful and I'm going to tell my daughter about it and have her look it up. I wish I could be steady enough to do this, but when I am cooking, I've began having trouble turning over things in a frying pan. Again, these are beautiful. I read up the page and find my thoughts are only on my shakiness. I'm sorry about that. It really is what it is and I should be happy I can still walk instead of talking about my minimal physical stupidities. You have such a beautiful hobby and again, I think my daughter would love this.

Adorable. Of course. Congratulations to all your family.

Did I write that I found it? I went around probably hundreds of sick people to do it. But, I have 8 rolls and 8 rolls of towel paper. They were limiting, this was two stores. Hey, I was getting serious about buying that Romaine lettuce or dryer sheets if I could not find it. Plenty of Kleenex though. I can do without a lot of things, but toilet paper is not one of them. Now I read about your Ally. Oh, I hope everything is okay. I'm so sorry Gwen. Please let us know how she is doing. I'm so sorry.

Gwen, guess it is not the same up in Seattle. We are supposed to isolate, but we have to hit the stores to get something as simple, and necessary as toilet paper. I still cannot understand people standing around in grocery stores fighting over toilet and towel paper. They say the virus is human/animal mix, so they all seem to be affected by "mad cow disease." That is all I can figure. They cannot eat toilet paper. It does not affect the intestinal machinations that would require more toilet paper. Even the Tylenol was gone off Walmart shelves (because we have been warned against any of the non-steroidal's. Plenty of ibuprofen. I can't take anything but Tylenol anyhow so I have plenty. I cannot get out of my mind that little elderly woman fighting with people to leave her shopping cart alone. Toilet paper. Now, it is a very big necessity for me but should just be a regular thing for families like buying trash bags. I cannot wrap my head around these crazy people. Reminds me of the little woman who came into the ER to speak to psychiatrists between 11-7 night shift. One psychiatrist was going with the other psychiatrist's wife and they started a fist fight in front of the elderly woman needing help. She went out the door very fast saying "I'm getting out of here, they crazier than I is." My sentiments exactly with the hoarding of toilet paper.

Life has been crazy for nearly five years. Actually, six if you count my illness the year before we lost Billy. I am totally discombobulated. Can we go back to that big newspaper we got each day and get rid of all the news channels. I had cause to say something was "rough as a cob" and Brianna did not understand. So, I explained to her that in the "olden days" when people had toilet houses,. they would keep toilet paper in it if they had it, but I can remember some grandparents home having the Sears Roebuck catalog hung up with a wire coat hanger holding it up and you could slide a page out. Then I told her that people were corn farmers (and I can remember this) In the picture is my mom, Kelli, my cousin, and my grandmother (and me). That back field for acres and acres was planted in corn and sometimes (can't see it) but to the right was the sugar cane. Anyhow, I told Bri that people used to use dried corn cobs in outhouses and she was horrified that people actually used corn cobs for that. I had to google it and read her people talking about it and she told me "never talk about that again." I don't think I have laughed so much in a long time. (No, I have never). Just wait until I tell her about slopping the hogs and what they threw into that big old container at the door to the outside of my grandmothers kitchen. After they got the bathroom my grandfather took a bath and then he liberally used the talcum powder, which just happened to be the tub cleaner, Old Dutch Girl, or Blue Dutch Girl (all I remember is the Comet kind). We've come a long way baby, and now some crazy errant virus is smarter than us. I actually can sort of understand the mutation of the virus easier than I can people buying all the toilet paper.

Okay, I'm gonna tell you something stupid I just did. Still not worried. Maybe I ought to be. My daughter wrote me on Facebook and it slides in the side of whatever page I am on, so I just answered her on this page. Now do you see how crazy worrying about toilet paper can make me!!!!!!

Karen, I am going right now. I'm actually afraid to go. Gonna tackle it. Will let you know with an addendum to this. ADDENDUM: Nope, no TP at Walmart or Brookshires. I think they are going to fix it for older people to come early in the morning. (How are they gonna do that?) Stocking fellow felt sorry for me and gave me the last three sanitizer wipers. I like the spray on kind but what the heck. Somewhere someone is sitting down with big packs of toilet paper smothered in whipped cream. Geez, what are they expecting? I really cannot come up with a reason for stocking up on toilet paper. I have a good reason to always have them close, but this is more than I can understand.

Doctor told me I scared him. Told the nutritionist I could NEVER get off the low residue diet, discharged me and actually never had a followup. Not only did I scare him, I was socially outcast from him. So, if I had to go it alone, That is what I am doing for six years this month, still in a coma this time six years ago from sepsis. A messy business. I don't mind talking about it. I cannot get too far away from my "necessity" and we have two bathrooms in the apartment. Had to have it. I ate chocolate, not supposed to, and I have crosses on the wall directly across from me 7-8 on the wall. And I promised not to do that again. The pain was terrible. So MiraLax and such just goes along with the colon rupture and the joke about which is the most important organ in the body. If it shuts down, it poisons all other organs. So, talking about it does not bother me but if I was sitting in a quiet church, the noise that travels from one side of my gut to the other would certainly disrupt a service, so I watch church on TV.

Oh Gwen, that is so profound and true. We all miss life as we knew it. Someone just sent me a letter from a doctor in Italy. I did not read but the first paragraph. I have had a Xanax. According to this letter it will do no good to worry. This pushed me over the edge. Guess I needed a good push. I really did say that when Billy and I started RVing that we were going to outrun death. We got to RV a year, but we lived in the RV for 4-5-6 years before we retired. We would move it all over Shreveport and imagine we were traveling, then we would drive to work and then in August of 1997, we retired and hit the road. The most beautiful day I made coffee, went outside, there were dead leaves falling, it was like autumn and to my right was the Arkansas river that was our first trip. Nope, we were going to live forever. We did this one year. Billy wanted to stay longer in places and I wanted to see as much as I could before I knew would happen. And it did. But, if the choice was RVing or our son, it would always be our son. And he got himself off drugs on his own, and he was in deep. We just provided a safe place to fall. We moved him to the art town in Arkansas and he had a lot of his work shown, a doctor bought the first piece for his office and at the charity auctions his art made lots of money for the charity, but people don't have money in small towns to pay for the amount of work (which it was not work to him). He is an excellent artist but has been in a depression since his dad left. He will never make money off of his art. He even has a piece in Washington State in some girl's house and he used it to pay his rent in friend's houses. I hope he finds it again. You sounded good in this last note you wrote. We have to pick each other up sometimes, I guess. They try to get me to go to a doctor and honestly, with my group insurance and Medicare I can be seen for free. They cannot stop my pain, it is not bad enough to make me sit in a wheelchair, and I am ever so careful. As long as the MiraLax every night, the Xanax as I need it, the blood pressure and the water pills keep my legs from swelling too much, no blood from anywhere, extreme temperature, I have no use for a doctor. I go twice a year strictly for the Xanax. They know I don't want any pinching, pulling, or measuring anything, we will all get along okay. Antibiotics mess with my colon, so will hope I do not need any of that. And as the world is concerned right now, I'm not sure any of us can do a thing except self-isolation. I do have to go to the store tomorrow but will shower as soon as I get home. It is time for reading. Your corned beef sounds wonderful. My son just came to his apartment and I fixed spaghetti. He just got off work. I know he would love it but everybody is afraid they will bring some virus into the house (He works at VA Hospital). Raining in La. Had the A/C on today. The pollen is terrible and rain will make it less. Of course people are going to cough and sneeze, it is spring allergy season.

I turned it off. Without school, Brianna sleeps days and stays up all night. That is okay with me. Kelli does the same thing. I already have altered my hours until I am staying up until 1:00 a.m. and do not go to sleep until I read some. They have called off our 60th year school reunion and that made me so happy. Most of those people I have memories of looking like teenagers. It is a shock when I look into the mirror. We are the elderly now. There is a guy I see each time I go to Walmart and he looks familiar, he stares at me like he knows me. Recently the guy he reminds me of asked to be a friend on FB and I accepted, we graduated together. He was timid and had crossed eyes back in days of premedical miracles. He had them fixed first thing. We were friends, but just because he was friends with my cousin. I guess there are a lot of lonely people out there. I think I'm turning into my mother. I try to watch my memory close and I did turn off the light in the bathroom instead of flushing the commode, but I corrected that fast. I understand why I can see movies more than once though. I do not have to concentrate on them as hard. I do not want to read in the daytime, only my reading time at night. I have become cranky, cynical, and possibly sometimes difficult. But, I realize all that. I've always been told how sweet I was all my life, I kind of like being cranky. I'll go out with a bang and them saying "Damn, I'm glad she's gone." (That would be too sad). I think actually the older you get you don't want Heaven to send you back.

Here I am. I am paranoid and overly frightened. I know my IQ is at least average, and after testing at a college so I could help Brianna with her home school, they told me I did not need help with anything, I scored better than high school students that had just graduated. I know that came from all my reading (love history, etc.), and typing, sometimes 10 hours a day, some weeks when I was younger working all seven days. I had to help her with a "common sense" three questions. We missed all three. So much for my intelligence and help with home teaching. My family, we have all come close to disaster and I've got to tell you, I knew Billy was mortal, but I honestly figured that laid back personality, my calming partner, my no nonsense fellow, I figured he would outlive all of us. He kept me calm and if he couldn't keep me calm, he would get peeved with me. I didn't like that, so I would calm myself, but right now I am like that robot on the long ago series "Lost in Space" and the robot would go crazy saying "warning Will Robinson" and that is about my level of anxiety. I know to calm myself down, but that automatic switch I lived with for 54 years is broken and lost. Nothing we can do. I have the local news running all day, so I think I will turn that off. Turn it to music or those documentaries on Netflix that show photography all over the world with no talking and soothing music. I do have to go to the store tomorrow. I was told if I didn't understand, search for information. I was thinking we were dealing with another flu, then they started closing down things, and I learned we had no immunity to this mutant virus and some of my medical terminology came back and I didn't like what I was reading. But, at my age, at my sister's age, at my daughter's lack of immunity (though the last platelet infusion made her so much better she won't need another, until the platelets fall again) My son decided to get into the work program of the VA training and loves his job, but it only involves patients on the ophthalmology floor and that makes him safer, plus they keep them supplied with sanitary equipment and products. But, my job is to worry, and I exceed the limits of a professional worrier. Am I really that bad? Yeah, I am. And after so many years in psychotherapy, I know all the things to do. Will I do them? Probably not.

“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness, the yawning. I keep on swallowing. At other times it feels like being mildly drunk, or concussed. There is a sort of invisible blanket between the world and me. I find it hard to take in what anyone says. Or perhaps, hard to want to take it in. It is so uninteresting. Yet I want the others to be about me. I dread the moments when the house is empty. If only they would talk to one another and not to me.” ― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed My sister just came from the grocery store (Brookshires) a few blocks from our apartments. She said it was so full of people and the shelves were being depleted of everything. I am more surprised that people are not "self-quarantining" as we were advised to do. Instead, the stores are crowded like Christmas. And me? I have a strange fear and also received my census papers in the mail and that scares me also. I do remember one year many years ago when they told us to only use our electricity sparingly, cannot remember why, but I was not afraid. Now I am afraid, afraid of the census (like it is some school test), afraid of the supermarkets and all those people. It does not make sense to stop all public meetings, (my sister is having to teach her classes via computer lessons, ) self-quarantine, but see how many people you can cram against each other at the supermarket, and on top of all that we have water mains that broke, or whatever water mains do, and we are supposed to boil our water, this is the 3rd or 4th day. I use a Pur filter system that is supposed to get out everything, but does it? Yes, I would be less anxious if Billy was here, but he isn't. He would laugh at me for being afraid. He would watch a storm coming and enjoy what he saw. No kidding, crazy people stripped all the stores of toilet paper. TOILET PAPER for a virus that affects the respiratory organs? So, I went searching for the elusive TP of any kind. No, I was not out of it, but my fear drove me out into the wilds of people-land where crazy people, like me, had no idea what they were doing. No TP,, but plenty of napkins, Kleenex, etc. Self-quarantine sounds sensible. I cannot take a Xanax for this fear. It is a steady, stupid, mind stalling, fear. A pill won't help. Cannot even concentrate on reading......so, you know it has to be bad. Anyone who follows the author C.J. Box and his Joe Pickett series, his 20th book came out March 3rd, and it was the best one yet. I read it up until 4:00 a.m. two mornings straight, before this brain hindering virus hit the news. (Do you ever feel all the news services tell us fake news to scare us?) I just read that the health service computers were hacked. Kind of like fate that the health service reporting would get a virus on top of a real virus.

Duct tape and Gorilla Glue are my tools.

Billy's nephew's wife did all the things that needed remodeling. She amazed me. I kept thinking "what else are men good for?" and I put a note on the refrigerator for Billy to change out the other pipe under the sink that cost us so much time and work and me nearly hand fisting with the insurance man. I had never handled an insurance claim before. Well, we got it fixed, flood in 4 big rooms, hall, wash room, and when Billy left, that note that had been on the refrigerator for about five years was still there. Bri asked him had he fixed it, he said "no" and that was as plain as he put it. After I moved the new owners fixed the whole plumbing system and they love the house like two gypsies, not of this world, had not loved it enough. Oh yeah, Mama had her own tool box. She fixed everything that could be fixed by someone other than a professional.......................I rent. I don't fix anything.

I've told this story a hundred times. Grandma was married at 15. Seven kids in 10 years, then cancer, early 30's, maybe younger, The instrument left in caused blood poisoning (sepsis) and they called the family in. All tiny kids. My grandfather "Daddy Wise" cursed God from Plain Dealing to Shreveport. Mama watched for lightening bolts. She was so scared. He would shake his fist at Heaven and curse some more. Sometimes prayer is accepted because you believe in something enough to curse it even. Grandma outlived him about 30 miserable, missing him years. Sometime harsh prayers are heard. (Bible spoken here, my belief).

Kelli does not handle things carefully some times. Funny thing about the south. If your horse did not ride far enough in the old days you might marry your cousin. Will add some more since that happened. Scott and Kelli are going to get an apartment to share. Answer to my prayers. Will have to put that ankle bracelet on Kelli's leg or she will be driving off to Wyoming, Montana, or New York state on a wild bug in her head. I'm telling you, sometimes she is a source of worry for me. Addendum: Like I said, I would not say GD or use Jesus's name. But I did not talk nice. The odd thing is, until I was 17-18 I might let some words slip out.. Billy's family cursed like everyone of them lived on a submarine. I picked it up pretty soon. Now I have grandchildren, great grands, and somehow now I'm supposed to be the Virgin Mary. "Don't talk like that around Mama" and I'm thinking "where did that come from, I've always heard cursing. But now that is the way it is again. I honestly am not a Hallmark watching old lady. I like blood and guts sometimes. Someone will ask me was there much bad language in a film and honestly, I am immune to the stuff now and I can't remember. Like I said, in "The Outlander" I figured 25 pages for one sexual encounter was a little much. I did put the critique on Amazon and right above or below me was a 70+ year old woman praising the sexual content. I don't know about her, but they won't let me have estrogen. What would I do with it anyhow, buy "Grace and Frankie's" toys for women with arthritis? I think I'll shut up now..

I think a little bit closer to Heaven we get ,we clean up our language some. You gotta get me very angry to say "effing" anything and saying Jesus or God in a mean sentence is out of the question. Those two have always been off my list. And my "drawl" is not a pretty drawl, it is more a redneck southern chattering with some Y'all's thrown in. I even notice my English professor cousin and all my sister lacked was a dissertation (not sure what that is, not gonna look it up), finishing her PhD. But, she prefers politics that everyone down here in the south do not agree with. I am too old to even join the gray panthers, if they still are in operation. My daughter is going to have to have plasmapheresis and she gives me ideas she has about living in her car, and some other off the wall delights. Yet, I don't worry enough about her illness. Right this minute I am missing those old high roof southern homes under the big trees and the little room in the back of the house where they kept the mentally challenged person in the family. I think I could handle that room all by myself right now.

I love you Gwen and Dee. I would make you run for the mountains if you heard my southern drawl for long.

Sorry Gwen, I've never been a refined lady. I think I absolutely heard the PTA bath from my mom. I told my last apartment manager and she thought it was so funny I had to tell everyone that came in. It is a terrible thing to say. But, I still say "laig, aig, surp, aints" and a lot more my part of the country dialect. Bless my heart.

Can't put what they mean. Maybe southern thing. Just personal initialism. Can't call it an acronym. If you don't/didn't have time for a full shower or bath you would do a PTA bath.

Well, I think I still am suffering from PTSD for them not keeping my PTA isolated. I certainly am more modest than I was at 20. (Fluffier too)

Gwen, I'm thinking of you. Do me one favor. Make them cover you with a sheet, towel, gown or something. I felt like a half a cow skinned before they chop it up. None of them would have let their mother, sister, grandmother lay on that table completely naked with people coming in and out. Just remember that. Don't let them do that to you. If you see they are going to do that, make them stop until they cover you. I was just so scared I could not even talk. That was bad enough to suffer PTSD the rest of my life. I know it was a procedure to be done but damn, they could have at least covered my head where I would not have had to look. I wish you the best and also easing of your pain. Heart is with you.

I'm sorry Gin. I love both my kids equally, but my daughter is stubborn. We always say not to tell anyone with our last name they can't do something. I said, "Kelli, you have never been to Kansas, you don't know what house you rented, you will be living alone, YOU CANNOT DO THIS." The next thing I know there is a picture of a big U-Haul truck pulling her little car going through the Oklahoma turnpiikes. (Or whatever you call them.). Now she wants to buy one of those little tiny pulling vans and make it into an RV. I'm keeping my mouth shut, won't talk to her at all about it, won't answer questions, nothing. Makes her angry, but "se la vie." She has quit talking to me about it, but if she can get someone to help her, she has all the plans. And all I can think about is she just finished her last shot of immunotherapy for the tumors and she has to have an address to get health care, but "I ain't saying nothing."

Actually Scott has always listened to us (and then does what he wants to). I have said so many times the VA gave him better care than any private hospital. I'm not saying that because it is free. I'm saying that because before he got a brace for his leg he could not drive. They had wanted to amputate his leg. He could fall and break the ankle and never feel the pain. He had no feeling except phantom foot pain from where he was shot in the femoral artery on down. A nerve transposition graft made him have nerve pain. And actually, it was me who insisted on the Neurontin for the nerve pain, then they fitted him with brace, which goes up to the knee and the shoes are fitted to the brace. You cannot even tell he is cripple. They also provided him with his CPAP. Keep improving on that too. He is followed for mental health there also. He gets care for his eyes (he has advancing glaucoma). The VA is tops to me. We trained the residents at the hospital I worked in and they took care of my son and millions of others. He took a picture of the flag flying outside the window, but the picture and words of Lincoln made me have tears, and be proud. Below picture does not do it justice. It is a dark background and more is written, along with a picture of Abraham Lincoln carved into the picture. It tugs at my heart, and I am not a political person, leanings toward religious, but this makes me proud. Gin, you said he talked to your daughter, maybe she can make him get help.