Transvaginal Mesh Machinations

An Indian sprinter is protesting her lifetime ban from sprinting because she failed a gender test. How does one fail a gender test? Did they perhaps object to her writing the answers with her penis?

After watching way too much daytime tv, I've discovered what my ailment is: my transvaginal mesh is killing me. I shall now sue.

In England, a group of Parliament Members state that the names of sex offenders in England and Wales should not be made public until unless they are charged.  Gee, are we hitting too close to home? 

It's been a bad week for bass players. We said goodbye to Andy Fraser (FREE, 62), who was battling cancer and Aids. Fraser cowrote Alright Now. We also bid farewell to Mike Porcaro (TOTO, 59), who had ALS, although details were not provided.

New study finds that women who sleep more have more sex.  I, for one, am not getting more sex. Perhaps my wife is.

The Flying Spaghetti Monster is finally getting some positive press! You should become a Pastafarian too.

SPOOKY ACTION AT SEVERAL PLACES

This morning I checked my phone and discovered that there were two calls from my brother at 4:30am. This could not have been good. I texted to ask if all was well and got a confused reply that all was fine, why? I told him I got two calls at 4:30 and he said there was nothing in his outgoing call log. Oddly enough, all I got was an alert - there were no calls received in my logs. As if this weren't enough, my mom's phone called my brother's phone around the same time. She made no such call. But she did receive a call from me at 4:25. There are no outgoing calls listed on my phone and I do not sleep-call.

I don't have any paranormal stuff happening at my house; things are weird enough without it. My parents have a phone that rings in their bedroom at odd times, although there is no phone in their bedroom.  And just to round things out, my brother's entire family heard a voice the other night, saying something to the effect of "Well, isn't that nice?". The children were frightened out of their wits. My brother cannot find any electronic reason that this happened - tablets, computers, toys.....

A MORNING IN THE LIFE

It started this morning as it usually starts: with me hauling my butt out of bed slowly and unwillingly, in utter disbelief that the alarm had gone off. I get dressed in the dark, so as not to wake the wife (on the odd occasions when she sleeps). Some would say I get dressed in the dark even with the light on. I went downstairs and let the dog out, at which point I put on my sneakers and saw the left leg of my pants, which had all sorts of dirt on it.  Damn impressive, as these were (allegedly) clean pants. Fortunately I saw them before I left for work.

Trudging back up the steps, I went for another 'clean' pair of jeans. I found a very clean looking pair which, when picked up, had a pair of interesting stockings caught in its zipper. How they got there, I have no idea (I swear!). I suppose it's downright Freudian that they were caught in the zipper. No amount of zipping, tweezing or wheedling would dislodge the errant stockings, so I had to use my teeth (not unlike normal). Finally I managed to get the pants on so I could go to work. Or so I thought.

In the bathroom was the tv remote. My electric toothbrush has been moving off its charger, next to some device that buzzes occasionally.  Yesterday my wife spent five hours looking for her cell phone. It was in her back pocket. My laptop had migrated under a table and there was a cup of dog food sitting on top of the dog food container, out in the open. There is a very large pot of viscous yellow liquid on the stove - no one knows why. When I asked what that pile of crumbs on the carpet was, I was told a snack.

Somebody's meds have failed. Whose meds is anyone's guess.
Have I mentioned stepping on a dog bomb this morning?


I suppose it was inevitable that I stumbled into a meme generator.


IF YOU EVER WANT PROOF THAT THE PRESS IS OWNED

Go no further than Reporters Give Hillary Clinton Standing Ovation after She Takes No Questions, Jokes about Email Scandal.  Complete drooling morons, doing what they're told and abdicating their responsibility to the country.

The latest mystery in New York City is the rising rate of syphilis. See what happens when you take away their extra large sodas?

Hospitals are Bad for Your Health

My nephew had a spot of bad luck lately.  While riding his cycle, he attempted to take out some lady's windshield with his body.  He succeeded and the results were most unattractive.  Fortunately he's alive and not at all hideously disfigured.  He was taken to the local trauma center for the county, where they have taken great care of him.  If he ever wonders how people feel about him, he needs only to discover the flood of people in the waiting room the night of the accident.  Even the hospital employees were impressed.

Mrs. leftystrat went to visit her nephew the other day and liked the place so much, she decided to stay a while.  Somebody noticed her getting wobbly and they gave her a free ride to the emergency room.  Two event-filled days later, she was discharged with no idea what happened.  The doctors were clueless and the discharge summary was riddled with errors and inconsistencies.

This was the same hospital.

We have a genuine healthcare crisis- this is no secret.  It's badly broken and waiting for collapse.  Meanwhile we pay and pay (recurring theme, regardless of industry).  I have some suggestions for hospitals, doctors, and patients to make things more efficient, hopefully resulting in less cost.


HOSPITALS / DOCTORS

• Talk to the patient.  Explain things concisely.  Be sure they understand.  Don't talk down.
• When you transfer a patient, WRITE THINGS DOWN.  COMMUNICATE.  The new unit will then know what happened and can treat the patient accordingly.
• Don't be an ass - the situation is tough enough already.
• Don't give canned/useless answers.  The patient is (hopefully) not an idiot.
• "What's the matter?" is not a confidence-inspiring question to ask family.
• When you are told the information is in the chart, don't tell the patient it isn't or you don't have it.
• Outside doctors prescribed meds for the patient: you should dispense them.  If you have a problem, contact the prescribing doctor - don't ignore the situation.
• Every action should not involve six hours of waiting for a doctor or paperwork.

PATIENTS

• Question everything.
• If you are not satisfied with an answer, ask again until you are.
• If the person you ask can't provide an answer, ask for someone who can.
• Hold staff to promises or deadlines.
• Question everything.
• Follow up.  If you didn't get the test results, make a call.
• If you aren't able, have a spouse, friend or family member act as your advocate.
• Keep all of your vital information up to date for you and your advocate.
• Question everything.

Things have changed drastically over the years.  People used to consider doctors infallible and unquestionable.  That might have worked before HMOs but now it's a recipe for bad health.  Many doctors and staff are horribly overworked and might miss something important.  Your health is YOUR responsibility - ignore it at your own peril.

If you are a passive patient, things will just happen to you.  You could stay in the hospital days longer than necessary.  Your care may be substandard.  You may receive unwanted, painful procedures that aren't necessary.  You may get the wrong meds or insufficient meds.  Know your meds and all important information.  Write it down. 

Example: My wife spent a day at the mercy of the hospital, largely getting nowhere.  The following day she started asking questions and taking down names.  The care improved exponentially and she was discharged by noon.  Even the head nurse complimented her on her ability to advocate for herself and make things happen.  Things happened for her on her schedule, not the doctors'.  This was all because she acted, even though great care should be standard.

Do you want to be a passive patient or do you want good healthcare?

Justin Bieber and Toe Cleavage

Q. How do we know that the suit against Justin Bieber for assault will never go to court?

A. Because no one will admit that Justin Bieber beat them up.

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Toe Cleavage?


Glad you asked, Billy.  Tell me, do you like gladiator movies?

My twenty-something niece told my forty-something wife about toe cleavage.  My wife told me.  It was immediately obvious to me what it was; in fact, I remember seeing a picture of some famous female on a runway and thinking to myself why couldn't she afford proper sized shoes - her toes barely fit in them.

Apparently this is an acknowledged issue in these wild days of 2012, when either the Big One is going to come get us or nothing too far out of the ordinary will happen in late December.  I predict gas gouging and a smaller holiday because no one can afford Stuff anymore.  And that our new president will be more of the same.

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So apparently face-eating is caused by bath salts.  Or something.
No, really.  The police found some guy eating another guy's face and he growled at them.  He was found to be under the influence of bath salts.

OMG - my wife bathes in that stuff all the time!

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Speaking of face-eating, my ultra nice wife kept offering me the evening off.  It might just be her kindness responding to my morose attitude toward mowing the lawn.  She told me to sit and relax.  I told her I had to mow the lawn.  She said that the lawn could wait a day.  I said it was going be the lawn because the two things I dread most in life are the dentist and the lawn and I went to the dentist yesterday.

I decided not to waste too many words on yesterday's visit to my genuinely caring dentist, Dr. Mengele.  In truth, I don't feel much pain from either the good doctor or mowing the lawn, yet I'm terrified of visiting the doctor.   It was never this way until recently and I have no idea why.  Never mind that my one and a half hour slot had me seated for over two hours.  Perhaps I can describe my terror better this way: while seated, I do not look into the deep blue eyes of the dental technician nor do I even think of looking down her shirt.  Yes, I'm that scared.  I even forget the view I got following her down the hall to the damage dental suite.

Since I merely loathe mowing the lawn, it was off to locate the mower.  In theory, the mower is in the same place I left it, so it shouldn't be too difficult to locate.  In practice, however, all sorts of things could have happened, up to and including full dematerialization and rematerialization in a different dimension altogether.   I think this might have something to do with string theory but in truth, the only string theory that matters is will the string that starts the mower be intact when I pull it two or ten times to start the infernal beast.

Most likely the mower is just hidden under the new growth of grass.  The grass grows really quickly here in Pennsylvania, largely due to the rainy season.  Our rainy season runs from about March 13 to about February 29.  April showers bring May showers and it rains most of June.

Sometimes we worry that the dog won't be able to find his way back to the door because the grass is already taller than he is and I mowed two weeks ago.  I tried to cover all the unnecessary grass with concrete but discovered that, due to drainage, this is not legal.

So the bugger started on about the eighth try and off I trudged to do my husbandly duty.   One of the obstacles to mowing is plants.  Unfortunately the definition of plants differs wildly from my wife to me.  I tend to largely mow over most anything that's vaguely green, much to the consternation of my wife.

The other obstacle would be the still dormant planting material; the very material that put the Crazy Lady next door over the edge and forced her to call the county on us.  I figured that after I was finished, there would be enough grass clippings laying about to potentially put the Crazy Lady further over the edge.  Can you imagine the call to the county?

Mrs. Crazy Lady:  Hello, I want to complain.
Poor County Employee:  How are you, Mrs. Crazy  Lady?
Mrs. Crazy Lady:  Oh, terrible.  My horrible, slovenly neighbors have done it again.
Poor County Employee:  What is it this time - someone throw a candy wrapper on their lawn?  More than one bag of trash in their can?  Color of their house not up to spec?
Mrs. Crazy Lady:  Remember the planting materials?
Poor County Employee:   How could I ever forget, Mrs. Crazy Lady?
Mrs. Crazy Lady:  They mowed their lawn and didn't sweep it up.
Poor County Employee:   We'll send a SWAT team immediately.  Now go take your  meds.

My wife keeps telling me we have to be nice to her.  I keep asking why.  She keeps telling me because she's old and our neighbor.  I keep telling her that good neighbors don't call the county on their neighbors.  She shook her head and let on that Mrs. Crazy Lady's hip had given out and that she was in a lot of pain.

Ok, I had to admit I felt a little bad for her.  Here she is, 347 years old (quite young for her species), and she was in serious pain.  My wife says this is when neighbors lend a hand.  I had no choice but to agree and offered her a helping hand - a push whenever she's at the top of a set of stairs.

That's not wrong, is it?