Missed a day. So it goes. No need to apologize I guess because this is all strung together so from a reader’s standpoint it doesn’t matter at all. Nothing happened yesterday. Some physical therapy. Oh, and phone call after phone call by by the “therapist” (out of the goodness of her heart) with Apria, the oxygen supply company. I won’t bore you with the details, but if for some reason you are interested go only and read the 679 (to date) complaints about Apria’s service. Or lack thereof. Yes, a real time killer.
The condition of my condition: Walk just a little and start coughing a lot. Now the cough is a wee bit “productive” and I think that is good. Failing miserably with the spirometer, a device into which you blow into and suck slowly out and into your lungs in an effort to measure lung capacity. Coughing takes all the fun out of the process. Told to use it ten time a an hour. If I am awake 12 hours that’s 120… dang! I don’t think so. But can’t hurt to try. Cough.. cough..hack, etc. The spirometer looks like this:
More on condition: I am still dragging the 50 foot tube around with continuous O2 feed. This comes from an absurdly ugly machine I think I already told you about. It puffs like it is breathing while a motor runs continuously. It puffs too. It is kind of steam-punk in gray molded plastic. Ugly as sin. Robby the robot with a bad, bad hangover. I’m kind of use to it, or am just too tired to care. Suppose to be OK on a pulse regulator when up and walking etc. But that means dragging a tank around. When using the pulse setting the Os are triggered by inhaling, which is pretty cool. A little puff, puff. It extends the life of the tank two or three times. Possibly for traveling. More on traveling later. It looks like this. Exactly:
Now for the thingy bag. It is an ancient Eagle Creek product that is maybe less than ten inches tall, has several compartments and even while wearing it is pretty unnoticeable. Nearly so anyway. I told you a couple of days ago about the contents but thought I’d share its shape and size for no other reason than to share its shape and size. Green. The metal parts are rusting out but shouldn’t actually break for a few more hundred sometings.
Reading a book called Mortal, a topic now dear to my heart. I am half way through and now very tired of learning all about geriatrics. I’m not going to get that far. Although I could end up with many of the same problems. As Donald Trump would say, “I don’t know. Really, I don’t know. What do you think?” What DO you think? How the hell should you know? But the book started off about death itself and that was fine with me. S says it gets into other stuff after the geriatric thing.The geriatric thing is, worth reading, or at least knowing if for no other reason that showing yet another example of the dark side of humanity. Or the lack of humanity humans are capable of. Essentially, old people are screwed. Hey, vote Republican and cut medicare and social security. Use the money for the young and the military and bank bail outs. Etcetera, etcetera.
But the notion of “death with dignity” is the topic that appeals to me. Of course that is pretty selfish, because it does not inherently address what the surviving spouse or maybe close family, but most likely the spouse, is to do with his or her life afterwards. Most old folks that you find outside of a cardboard box are either alone in a house that they can barely, if at all, manage, or in some kind of rest home, resting, whether they want to or not. Great planning by the social engineers. You know who you are and which side of the aisle you are on.
OK, I’ll slow down now. But there is plenty more of that coming up down the road. I think. Depends on the road.
Done for the day. Cough, cough.