Grump Central Archive: Week of 20 June 2021

Saturday, 26 June 2021

I was going to whine about the chronic symptoms I live with now, but that would be so typical of me, and I'm trying to break some of my old grumpy habits. It's tough, though, almost as hard as giving up salt. Brother, that's been my biggest struggle lately. I've never been addicted to any drugs or alcohol, so I'm not quite sure what addiction feels like, but I'm becoming convinced I've got a real problem with salt. Who knew? Oh, and summer is definitely here—highs in the high 80s and low 90s predicted for the foreseeable future. I was getting too used to our uncharacteristically temperate spring.

Friday, 25 June 2021

Another week is screaming by. Honestly, the way our perception of time accelerates with age is quite off-putting. This is supposed to be our time to savor life; instead, yesterday is gone so fast I can't recall what happened—not that it matters. Living where I do is a tremendous gift, yet I have to wonder if I deserve it, for it would seem to be wasted on me; I'll moan and groan about aches and pains and the meaningless trivia of life rather than cherish the gifts I have. Well anyway, I noticed something yesterday. Compare 2014 (top) with 2021 (bottom): my view is slowly disappearing...

Thursday, 24 June 2021

Still got nothing.

Wednesday, 23 June 2021

I've got nothing for today. I did add a couple of new film reviews, FWIW.

Tuesday, 22 June 2021

So, my appointment was with electrophysiology, not for. And they acknowledged my refusal of invasive procedures. They tactfully asked if I'd be willing to wear an ePatch for 14 days, at no cost to me, and I agreed. Meanwhile, it was the third lateness for my Uber driver, so I'm done with him.

Monday, 21 June 2021

Today's appointment at the hospital may be very short. For starters, it mysteriously appeared on my calendar with no prior discussion. When I called the hospital to inquire about it, I was assured there was no procedure scheduled; however, when pressed for the purpose of the appointment, they mentioned electrophysiology, and that's an invasive procedure I'd already rejected as an option. Why they might schedule it anyway would likely be due to the cardiologist's arrogant refusal to honor my wishes about invasive procedures—which will be countered by my arrogant refusal to comply. So, depending on what I'm told when I arrive this morning, I may be turning right back around and leaving.

Well-meaning friends who have had it done assure me, oh, it doesn't hurt (I've had a heart catheterization—a nearly-identical procedure—and that's a lie), it's for my own good, etcetera, etcetera. They don't want to hear my side: no more invasive procedures. My 2020 hospital stay was a nightmare that I'll never finish paying off. Thankfully my new GP is very supportive of my position, and encourages me to take control of my healthcare options. I'm fine with non-invasive procedures and drug-based therapies. But sticking probes in my groin and shoving them up into my heart? Nope. And that's just one of a half-dozen invasive procedures the cardiologist has recommended. I don't care if it could possibly extend my life a year or more. Not going to happen. My body. My choice.

Sunday, 20 June 2021

What's wrong with this picture? I was putting dishes away, and as I opened the left door, I watched in horror as $100 worth of tempered ripple glass pop out of its hinges, hurtle toward the floor, and instantly turn to snow, spraying bits of glass as far away as 30 feet (and to think I wander around the house barefoot on occasion). This was a consequence of trying to save some money: I used clamp-on hinges in order to avoid the added cost of having holes drilled in the glass. Now I'll need to pay for two more glass doors, pay for holes to be drilled in them, and pay for new screw-on hinges. An expensive lesson learned.

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