Tag Archives: cancer

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Some Fine Humor

One day, a man says to his wife, “It’s a fine day.”
The next day, he again says, “It’s a fine day.”
This continues for about a week.  Finally she demands to know why he keeps saying it.  He replies, “Last week we had that big argument, and you said that you’d leave me one fine day.  I’m just reminding you.

***

A vampire bat arrives back at the roost, with his face, mouth and teeth covered in blood.  All the other bats get excited, and ask him where he got it.  “Follow me,” he says, and off they fly, over the hills and the river, into the forest.  “See that tree over there??” he asks.  “Yeah, yeah.”  “Well, I f**king didn’t”

***

Alzheimer’s goes to the doctor

A guy is in a doctor’s office. His doctor is there with him.
“I have two pieces of bad news,” the doctor says.
“What are they?”
“Well, the first piece of news is that you have cancer.”
“What’s the second piece of news?” he asks.
“Well, the second piece of bad news is that you have Alzheimer’s.”
The man laughs and says, “Well, at least I don’t have cancer.”

***

A homeless man approached me as I was leaving a sandwich shop and he asked me if I had $5 to spare. I felt bad for him, and was just about to give him the money.

But then I realized I was holding a $5 foot long I had just bought, so I held up both the cash and the sandwich and told him he could have whichever one he preferred.

He stared at the sandwich. Then his eyes shot over to the $5 bill. He looked at the sandwich again, then back at the cash. After a moment his eyes were darting back and forth between the two, and he threw up his hands in despair, let out a scream of anguish and then turned and ran away from me.

At first I was totally confused, but then it dawned on me: Beggars can’t be choosers.

***

Judge: Members of the jury.  Before we began, the Plaintiff’s lawyer gave me an envelope containing $5000 cash.  Then, the Defendant’s lawyer handed me an envelope with $10,000 cash.  So, I’ve decided to return $5000 to the Defendant’s lawyer, and we will try this case on the merits.

***

What’s the difference between a good lawyer and a great lawyer?
A good lawyer knows the law. A great lawyer knows the judge.

***

I love bacon!  Sometimes I eat it twice a day.  It helps take my mind off the terrible chest pains that I get.

I choked on a carrot this morning.  All I could think was, “I bet a donut wouldn’t do that to me.

Nothing spoils as good story like the arrival of an eyewitness.

It only takes one slow-moving person in q grocery store, to destroy the illusion that I’m a nice person.

I hate it when people act all intellectual and talk about Mozart, when they’ve never even seen one of his paintings.

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Smitty’s Loose Change #25

Is religion/Christianity dangerous?

A quote, for contemplation:
Out of the blue, my mother just said, “The government should just round up all the Atheists, and either force them to convert to Christianity, or execute them!”

***

I sometimes see a little 15-second PSA about cancer.  The title, in the middle of the screen reads, “I’m here because we caught it early.”  At the bottom of the screen, the ‘closed captioning’ reads, (Title) I’m here because we caught it early.  More Canadian Government money well-spent.  😮

***

A wise man was asked, “What is poison?”
Anything beyond what we need is poison, whether food, power, laziness, ego, ambition, vanity, fear, anger, or whatever.

***

What’s you favorite thing to cook?
The books.

Describe your most perfect day, from beginning to end.
I wake up, all warm and comfortable, in bed,,,,, and stay there.  The end!

Are you superstitious?
No!  I’m a Virgo, and us Virgos are skeptical and don’t believe in that stuff.

How would you improve your community?
By moving out – but this is where my stubborn supplier lives.

What gives your life direction?
One-Way/Do Not Enter signs – and the wife.

What sacrifices have you made in life?
Well,,,, There were those two Jehovah’s Witnesses in ’08, but there were no other witnesses, so I got away with it.

What job would you do for free?
As Richard Dawkins once said, “What an incredibly stupid question!”  If I like it enough to do it for free, it’s my hobby, and I’ll do it at home.  If I do it for a corporation, and someone gains a financial increase because of it – you better know that I’m going to want my fair share!

Do you practice religion?
No, I finally got it perfect, and no longer have to practice.

***

Over a week, I had seen about a hundred of the exact same blogpost.  The blogger was publishing them about every 15 minutes during waking hours.  The title was “At The Hypnotist’s.”  The text consisted of just, “A hypnotist tricks his patients.”  Below that was a link to “Read more here.”  I finally commented, “Does this – and all the others – have any meaning or function??! And NO, I’m not going to go to clickbait.com to find out.  😕
Haven’t seen it since.

***

If God was allowed in schools, these shootings wouldn’t happen.
But He’s allowed in churches, so how come He doesn’t prevent priests from molesting young boys??

***

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Pisces, Libra, Virgo – But No Cancer

THE DEED IS DONE!
SHE MADE THE CUT!
(actually, someone else did)
THE WIFE IS HOME, SAFE AND SOUND, WITH ONLY FOUR NEW HOLES IN HER HIDE.

When last we left our comely heroine, she was waiting for a surgeon to schedule an operation to remove a possibly cancerous polyp from her duodenum.  A Japanese doc was to do it on March 29th for a YouTube instruction video.  On the 27th, the office said that he had declined.  The schedule reverted to April 16.  On the 12th, the secretary of the Toronto endoscope surgeon reported that he felt he didn’t want to risk removing her Cancer and referred her to a thoracic surgeon at another Toronto hospital.

He needed a CAT-scan to know what he was getting into, and scheduled one at a local hospital.  When she got there, they told her that they would be using medical dyes for image contrast.  Previous such dyes have caused serious allergic reactions.  They gave her a prescription for 2 Prednisone, a steroid that reduces swelling, and 2 heavy-duty antihistamines.  When she obtained them, and tried to rebook the test, she found that only the doctor could do that.  April came and went.

She finally got the scan on May 5th; he got the results and called on the 8th.  His office would email some authorization forms, and schedule the operation – soon.  Then we were told that she had to have another CAT-scan of her lungs.

Finally, the operation was scheduled for June 15th.  The doctor who we were dealing with was the head surgeon – the bureaucratic manager – of a three-doctor team.  He passed her off to yet another surgeon, a youngish female Chinese-Canadian with great hands, and good control.  In the end, the operation was not performed by a Ninja, but by a Kung Fu queen.

She told me that she would try to do it laproscopically, for minimal invasion – should take about three hours.  If there were problems, she’d have to incise, and open the abdomen – about eight hours.  At 3-1/2 hours, I began to worry.  At 4, and 4-1/2, I worried harder.  Finally, just at the five hour mark, I was told that it was over.

Kung Fu Katy told me that there had been some minor delays, but she’d been able to do it lapro.  Between the CAT-scan, and the poking around, she knew exactly where it was.  She cut a tiny circle and popped it right out.  Initial hospital test said that it was not cancerous, but it got sent to a lab for macro testing.

We hope that the growth shows no cancer, or that it is minor and contained.  Free, socialized medicine or not, a person could die of all this bureaucracy.

***

The wife’s four-week, post-op check-up has come and gone.  We thought that we might have to go to Toronto again, but the little surgeon was satisfied with a telephone interview.  Because of the stress of the surgery, and the anesthetic, she’s a little weaker and more disoriented than before, but the four little drill-holes all healed up nicely.

There had been enough time that the lab report was in.  While the growth was sprinkled with pre-cancerous cells, there was no indication that any of them had mutated.  She has been declared cancer-free.  We had hoped that the polyp was the cause of previous bouts of irritable bowel, causing extreme pain and diarrhea, but since she’s had one post-op bout, that hope has been dashed.

The surgeon mentioned that she might refer the wife back to the endoscope doc at the other hospital, just so that he could check from the inside that all was well.  The wife has experienced no problems, no pain, no noticeable internal bleeding.  We have not heard from the endo-doc.  If we ever do, it may necessitate another commuter-train adventure.

Thanx for your interest and concern.  😀

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CANCER!

Well, that title got your attention!

The wife is going to be on TV – YouTube, actually – opposite a world-famous star.
I’ll send you the link later if you want.
You won’t see her face, just her guts, if you have the guts to watch.

The local YouTube videos are liberally sprinkled with Ontario Health PSA’s.  Middle-aged and older women, some alone, some with husbands/partners, all smiling at the camera, with the printed tagline,
I’m here because we caught it early!  😀

IT was cervical cancer!  Twenty years ago, a pap-smear result had me driving the daughter 75 miles to a specialty-clinic in the London, Ontario University Hospital, for a little nip and tuck, and removal of a small, pre-cancerous – or just-cancerous, polyp.  She’s still here because they caught it early.

THEN THERE’S THE WIFE!
It all started innocently enough….
(How often have I used that line?)

After the wife fell down and banged her head, her doctor started a battery of tests to find out why.  The first thing she discovered was that the wife was mildly anemic.  The cause is often a minor internal bleed, so she ordered a colonoscopy and a gastric endoscopy.  This is the wife’s fourth colonoscopy in 12 years.  She made the G.I. guy promise to do the top end first.

He found and removed several polyps from her stomach, upper intestine, and lower intestine….  Then he found a big, nasty one right exactly where you don’t want to find one – at the narrow bottom of the duodenum, the hardest point in the body to get to, and work at.  The local doctor and hospital have about an 80/85% confidence level, so he referred her to a specialty-clinic at St. Michael’s Hospital in Toronto.  Any of the four surgeons, and the hospital’s high-tech equipment, rate 90/95% confidence.

He sent along color pictures.  We thought that the March 6th visit would be for removal, but this guy wanted to do some more research.  A needle biopsy had indicated no evidence of cancer, but the big-city sawbones felt sure that there were some cancer cells sprinkled through it, that were randomly missed.

Whether cancerous or not, this thing’s got to come out – ASAP!  Already it almost blocks the passage, and getting bigger.  Scheduled surgery in Kitchener would have been mid-September.  Especially if this thing goes cancerous, that would be far too late.  The Toronto-doc could schedule it for mid- April.

This polyp is so large, so nasty, and so inaccessible, that our surgeon had all three of his partners watching the view-screen, offering thoughts and opinions, while he worked.  The best choice for removal was endoscopically, rather than invasive abdominal surgery.  He was pretty sure that he could take it out, but there were potential problems.  It’s a big mushroom.  If he snips it off too high up the stem, it and/or the cancer might regrow.  If he cut too close to the bottom, he might perforate the thin duodenum wall, damaging the liver and pancreas, and necessitating the abdominal surgery to repair the mishap.

One of the reasons that his best scheduled surgery date was mid-April, was that on March 28, 29, and 30th, the clinic and hospital were hosting a world-wide conference of the best G.I. surgeons, including a ninja-Japanese surgeon with a confidence rating of 99/101%.  If this guy is not number one in the world, he’s in the top five

They were watching for problem cases like the wife’s, so that he could show his talents.  If we agreed, she would be part of a video of his work, to train and improve other surgeons.  Two of the benefits were that the operation would be done three weeks even sooner, and it would be done by the world’s best.  Of course we agreed – all that, and for free, under Canada’s socialized medical system.

***

Stay tuned.  Murphy got a chance to read the first draft, and has added some plot twists in the next chapter.   😳

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From Bad To Worse

Heeeere’s John E.  This is a tribute to the pride of Chicago – a man so impressive that he was born three days before Christ.  He said that he had no trouble turning 50.  He’s done it 10 times.  Happily Birthday!  😀 I wish him many more, but I want “Quality Of Life” to go along with that wish.

This is the man who put the ILL in Illinois, to the point where they forced offered him a free lifetime citizenship in South Turnipville, Ohio.  Older bloggers have seen his muddy footprints in their posts for years.  They can be distinguished from Sasquatch footprints by the fact that there are two left feet.

The (at least temporary) ouster of Donald Trump, has removed a pain in his ass, but as the age counter inexorably ticks upward, he has accumulated aches and pains elsewhere – migraines, and rheumatizz.

Bureaucrats at all levels are rushing to be at the forefront of the Woke movement.  To solve the problem of opioid overdoses and addiction, the DEA raided the offices of the only pain-management doctor – a physiatrist – in a large section of Kentucky.  Aha, you’re prescribing thousands of pills!  That’s dealer level!  He protested that he had hundreds of patients in extreme pain, careful, complete documentation, and justification.  Doesn’t matter!  We’re shutting you down, and seized his computers, files and stock.

A pharmacist in Virginia refused to fill an opioid prescription for a woman in final cancer stage, because he didn’t want her to become addicted.  Her adult daughter came in and screamed at him that her mother was in final stage, in constant, debilitating pain, that the medication had been legally prescribed, that her mother would be dead long before she ever became addicted, and if she wasn’t, addiction would be the least of her worries, and that if he didn’t perform his legally-mandated function, she would sue his ass.  Even then he wouldn’t do it without a signed waiver form.

My daughter is in a similar situation, not for any ethical or moral reason, but because the Provincial Government has wasted so much money on projects like paving over fertile farmland, to build unwanted, unneeded highways, that they’ve cut back on benefits to the vulnerable.  They wouldn’t replace her power wheelchair until a local manager raised a huge fuss.  I used to drive her 75miles to get xylocaine pain-med infusion – and met others who had driven 150 miles.  Too expensive the government said.  Go to one of the now-legal cannabis dispensaries, and pay for you own CBD oil, that doesn’t work anywhere near as well.

Johnny-In-A-Spot – Dear John – Big Bad John’s doctor, possibly worried about the same thing, recently sloughed him off to a local pain clinic, who told him that they had also stopped providing any opioids.  Dear Big Government, thanx for saving us from ourselves.  We’d like to remember your care and concern for us at the next election, but those of us still alive won’t be able to reach the polls.

I baked John a special birthday cake with a surprise ingredient – some oxycontin pills that ‘fell off the back of a truck’, near my dealer’s place.  This getting old is a real pain.

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’21 A To Z Challenge – U

 

 

I want to believe as many true things, and as few false things, as I can.
I want my internal, mental world-view to match observed reality as closely as possible.

The wife claims that, in the last 5 or 10 years, I have become intolerant and nasty toward religion and Christianity.

I think that it’s just that I’ve been more and more exposed to people who believe – and want me to believe – religious positions based on observably false claims, and I’m just getting more chances to express my discontent.

The wife’s Catholic Father died of cancer when she was 13.  He was sick for 5 years.  His teen-aged children cared for him for a year, but he was moved to the Catholic hospital, and given palliative care for 3 years.  Hospices did not exist back then, and hospitals finally realized that they could not afford to take up space with someone who would not recover.  He was discharged, to die at home.

At the end of the fifth year, he was terminal.  Four times, the local Catholic priest had to put on his cassock, and come over in the middle of the night, to give him last rites.  The first time, he rallied.  Two weeks later, the priest was back with another serving of last rites.  Again, he rallied.  Two weeks later, the tired priest made a third late-night house-call.  Once more, he rallied, but the end was inevitable.

The wife told me that, on his final visit, the priest gave her Father, not the last rites, but

EXTRA MUNCTION

I had been exposed in my youth to Baptist, Presbyterian, United, Pentecostal and Anglican, but not much Catholic.  I knew that The Church had all kinds of rites and rituals, and amulets, and potions, and spells, but I’d never heard of MUNCTION.  I asked, “What the Hell is munction?  Why did he need any, much less, extra??  Is it some kind of herbal remedy, or an opiate to ease his suffering??”

“I don’t know, but he must have needed it, because the priest gave him some extra.”   😯

Years later, I was reading a book about a Catholic who was dying, and the priest attended him, to give him

Extreme UNCTION

noun Roman Catholic Church.
anointing of the sick.
From: unction
an act of anointing, especially as a medical treatment or religious rite.
an unguent or ointment; salve.
something soothing or comforting.

I can’t fault the wife.  Shortly after that, she left the Church because she asked questions that they wouldn’t/couldn’t answer, so she didn’t get the complete indoctrination into the arcane, magical, mystical, mythical, mumbo-jumbo.  I have talked to other people who have been Catholics all their lives, but are no better informed about the Church’s tenets and ceremonies.  From the wife’s aggressive defense, even half a century later, I don’t think that she’s shed all the propaganda, but has obvious discomfort at my criticisms and doubts.

I am strangely reminded of the ‘60s British comedy movie, Carry On Doctor, which revolves around a hospital ward, with 8 stereotypical English males.  One is the brash, loud-mouthed know-it-all, who irritates fellow patients and staff alike.  Finally, a long-suffering nurse tells him to roll on his stomach, and get up on his knees.  She is going to take his temperature rectally.

He hoists his butt into the air, and something slender, round and cool is inserted.  Almost immediately, The Matron enters the ward, and demands to know from him, why his jiggly bits are hanging out in the breeze.  He says, “Have you never seen a man having his temperature taken?”  She replies, “Yes.  Many times.  But never with a daffodil!”   😯  😳  Just go along with it, because someone who claims to have authority, tells you to do something ultimately meaningless, no matter how foolish you look in the end.

It is difficult to take Christian Apologists, and their claims and arguments, seriously, when it appears obvious that there is something going on behind their…. back, and they have no idea that it’s happening, or what it is.

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Empathy Thrust Upon Me

Medicine

Of all the things I hoped to be when I was young, a wrinkled bag of aches and pains wasn’t one of them.  Some while ago, BrainRants, a mere stripling in his mid-forties, published a post about all the pains and strange body noises he was accumulating.  Bloody amateur, just wait till he moves up to the pros.

Through a confluence of good genes, a relatively physical lifestyle, and a modified Mediterranean diet, I am far healthier than many men my age.

Several years ago, a doctor at a clinic remarked to the wife, “You have a lot of things wrong with you.  Nothing that will kill you, but a lot of minor problems.”  Between prescription meds and supplements, she downs 20 to 25 pills a day.  She has a general surgeon who has removed a couple of skin growths, a urologist, a rheumatologist, a podiatrist and an osteopath.  I drive her to a cancer clinic and an airway clinic for monitoring.

Until recently, I was exempt from all that.  I had sympathy for her, but didn’t really know what she went through.  All that has changed.  It started innocently enough, about 15 years ago.  She convinced me to take an antihistamine each morning, for allergies.  Then it was a Vitamin B tablet.  I don’t know what it does.  I don’t ask. I am a husband, Yes dear, Yes dear.

Vampire

Next was Vitamin D, I took a tablet a day.  Last year’s blood test revealed that I am low on Vitamin D.  It has to do with my vampire lifestyle schedule – up all night, sleep all day.  I don’t get enough sunlight.  (It burns!  It burns!)  The doctor insists that I take two.  I take a multivitamin tablet laced with something to keep my retinas from deteriorating.

This year’s physical revealed that I have ‘Old Man’s Disease’, my prostate is swollen.  It also showed that my thyroid is running a bit slow.  Perhaps that’s a small part of my weight gain.  I am now taking medication for both of those.  Only ten pills a day, 9 of them before breakfast, and a heavy-duty pain pill a couple of hours before dawn, to help me get to sleep.  I now take four ‘little blue pills’, and not one of them made by Pfizer – although the doctor did offer me Cialis.

I’m on a call-back list for a Neurologist, from my eye problem of a couple of years ago, but my Ophthalmologist visits are down to once a year.  My long-time Optometrist recently died suddenly, but I’ve found a nice young female replacement.

The duct of a fat gland in my back stopped up and it swelled a bit.  Nothing to worry about – until it infected and grew as big as half an orange, making it difficult to sit or lie down.  It burst before I got to see a surgeon, but now I’m on his call list, because another gland is swelling.

Because of the enlarged prostate, I have an appointment to see a Urologist.  I’d sooner suffer another colonoscopy.  You’re going to push what, up where?  I’m waiting for an appointment with a Dermatology surgeon because I have a couple of suspect skin growths.  I have yet to acquire a Rheumatologist, although the most recent spike of incipient arthritis had me barely hobbling for a week.

I have had empathy for the wife and daughter (and any of the rest of you who suffer these accretions of ‘minor’ problems) thrust upon me.

The most unfair thing about life is the way it
ends. I mean, life is tough. It takes up a lot
of your time.  What do you get at the end of it?
A death. What’s that, a bonus?

I think the life cycle is all backwards.
You should die first; get it out of the way.
Then you live in an old age home.

You get kicked out when you’re too young, you get
a gold watch when you go to work. You work forty
years until you’re young enough to enjoy your retirement!

You do drugs, alcohol, you party, you
get ready for high school! You go to grade school,
you become a kid, you play, you have no
responsibilities, you become a little baby, you
go back into the womb, you spend your last nine
months floating…you finish off as a gleam.

Here’s hoping that my list of pills and specialists doesn’t grow to match the wife’s, but even if it does, it beats the alternative.  (Did I mention that my ass gets sore from sitting at the computer too much?)

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Ginter Gardens

Hello there. Do you have lung cancer? Does anyone you know have lung cancer? Then you probably hate Lewis Ginter without ever having met him or knowing who he was.

On the other hand, if you love flowers and plants and gardens and landscaping, you might possibly forgive him.

Ginter 6

Hi there! This is Archon, your unpaid  😦  travel advisor again.  I know it’s already a bit late in the summer, but I have another place I recommend to go. Perhaps keep it in mind for next year. My wife, the gardening guru, and I, enjoyed a lovely day there a few years ago. I’m talking about the Lewis Ginter Botanical Gardens, in north Richmond, Virginia.

Ginter 2

Born in 1824, of Dutch ancestry, originally from New York, Lewis Ginter moved to Richmond when he was 18. He made a considerable fortune, first through retail merchandising, then manufacturing, real estate development, and investments during the Civil War

After the war he got into tobacco and cigarettes. At one time he had a plant with 1000 young women rolling cigarettes. Other manufacturers started using mechanical rolling machines. Ginter designed and had built, even more efficient machines, making him more money, and producing more smokers.

Ginter 7

He was a philanthropist, donating money, often anonymously, to many charities. He created quite a development, outside of the north end of Richmond, for the privileged rich. He had a stream dammed to create a lake for paddling, and had trees and flowers planted. When bicycling became popular in the Gay 90s, he built a cycling club.

Ginter 3

The area around his property, Lakeside Estate was constantly beautified with the addition of flowers, trees and landscaping. When he died in 1897, he left it to a niece to continue his work. She renamed it Bloemendaal, Dutch for ‘Blooming Valley’, in honor of their heritage. She established a progressive farm, and built an orphanage for homeless Richmond children.

Ginter 1

Later she expanded the garden aspect and named it the Lewis Ginter Botanical Gardens. It has six different garden types and areas, including a water garden, and a Japanese garden. It’s a beautiful place, and the sights and smells are enthralling.

Ginter 4

His (later, her) mansion is still standing. There is a magnificent Ginkgo tree, and an olive tree almost as big as an oak. Its huge branches are held together with steel cables to prevent it splitting. We were allowed a partial tour of the inside. I had a small, silent chuckle when the tour guide described the niece’s old age. In the year 2000, the word ‘slaves’ could still not be used, and even ‘servants’ apparently caused some consternation. She finally spluttered out, ‘the people who helped her’, all of whom I imagine were Negro.

Ginter 5

It’s quick and easy to get to, right off I-85. The entry fee is reasonable. Food and drink are available, or, you are allowed to bring your own and have a picnic. It’s a gorgeous, peaceful place to spend a day if you can get there. Click the link above to the Gardens’ website for hours of operation and maps, or access Wikipedia for Ginter Gardens – and post pictures after you get back.

Ginter 8  Stony Man’s younger brother

#496

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Ode To CWC6161

Also, OWED to CWC6161

BrainRants was the first blog I found.  When I began infesting it with my random comments, it was from the commenters, rather than his blogroll, that I found and chose other bloggers’ posts to read.  One of the first, and the nicest, was a lovely lady named Candice W. Coghill.  Her blog I.D. is her initials, along with, what I believe is/was her age, twice.

Feeling that only grumpy old male dudes like me were curmudgeons, she wrote under the blog-name, The Kindly Hermudgeon, a softer, kinder, gentler female version.  I was impressed with, and attracted by her comments, and apparently she felt the same about me and mine.  When I got my own site up and running she was a regular reader/commenter, and one of my earliest followers.  It was she who reminded me to add a “Follow Me” widget.

I commented often on her site, which at that time, was largely about her personal life.  That first November, before I was “On The Net”, she participated in the NaNoWriMo, pumping out 2000 words a day for three weeks, and using the final week for editing and polishing.  I offered to refrain from distracting her, but she assured me that my online presence was welcome.  She was the first to send me a blog award, when I’d only published 14 posts.

As a long-term loner, I often have to work at accepting others as friends.  Such was not the case with The Hermudgeon.  She was intelligent, knowledgeable, literate, friendly, welcoming, supportive….the list goes on and on.  We were instant friends.  Despite being a couple of years younger than me, she was almost a web-mother to me, or a loving, caring sister, so unlike the psychotic minefield I shared ancestry with.

She lived in a little Atlantic coastal Florida town which shares my Scottish clan name.  I used Google Maps satellite view to see her frame house on a small inland bay.  I told her of passing almost within stone’s-throw distance as I had driven down to Key West.  I mentioned a central character in a book I was reading, who was recruited from her tiny town.  I told her of finding another Florida woman, half her age, with exactly the same name, a pill-dispensing medical worker, who liked to be called Candy Popper.  Not impressed with that name, she denied being related.

She was very dedicated to becoming a published author and helped many others in their quest.  Later posts were writing tips and tutorials, knitting-circle-type meetings, and real-time addresses from writers who had made it.  This woman was just Industrial Strength support and help to all she could reach.

Sadly, she had developed inoperable abdominal cancer behind her navel.  Many of her later posts told of radiation treatment and chemotherapy, which were provided by a mobile clinic, housed in a medium-sized jet airplane.  This aircraft flew from city to city, with a rotating schedule.  She got to know the doctor in charge, the nurses, and the flight crew.

She told of their care and concern, and how she had trouble working for two or three days after a treatment, because of weakness and disorientation.  She wrote of Doc Magic feeling that things were under control….but then of the ogre rearing its ugly head once more.

Because her blog had become about commercial writing and being published, I didn’t drop in as often as I had early on, but still stopped by occasionally, with a Like, a short comment and a word of support and hope.  Just about a year ago, on July 11, 2012, her posts suddenly stopped.  I dropped in every couple of days, then once a week, then twice a month – nothing.

I did a search, and found a mostly-English blog-site in France, and thought she’d moved, possibly for medical reasons.  When I paid a bit of attention, I realized that it was stagnant, with posts and comments a year and a half old.  Questions to some of her other regulars revealed that no-one had any information on where she had gone, or what had happened to her.

She was a fighter, and she treated me far better than I deserved.  I can only hope that she simply doesn’t have the time and strength to spare for blogging.  On March 20 of this year, I accessed her final post, and left the comment, “Goodbye sweet Angel.  You will be greatly missed!”  My daughter, LadyRyl, also got to know and like her very much.  She joins me to worry and wonder, to fear the worst, hope for the best, and miss this fine lady very much.  I checked her site again before publishing this tribute.  What may forever remain the final comment, is still, “Awaiting moderation.”

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Statistics Status Stasis

I’ve seen other bloggers gleefully, boastfully, posting about their year-end WordPress stats.  Much against my own advice and better judgement, I’ve decided to serve up a little tale of my own results.

I don’t remember WordPress presenting stats, last year.  Even if they did, I only managed to get out two posts in late November, and another two in December, before the *Flu To End All Flus* almost ended me, and F….ouled up my vision.  I could barely run the keyboard, much less the WordPress platform.

Over the past year, I’ve improved and increased my output, but still didn’t set the world on fire.  The fireworks on my report consisted of a picture of the kid next door, with a birthday candle in a cupcake.  In my report’s reference to Mount Everest, apparently the cargo plane hasn’t even landed at the airport in Nepal.  If my output were compared to Sisyphus pushing the boulder up the hill, he’d still only be halfway up, the first time.

Actually, not setting the world on fire with my prose is not a disappointment.  It was neither an expectation nor a desire, when I started.  Veni, Vidi, Vocab.  You came, you read, and you commented, and for that, I am greatly gratified.  I continue to read, and be read by, some interesting and impressive people.

Actually, a couple of things about the daily report, interest and confuse me more than anything in the big year-end wrap-up.  Along with other bloggers, I am surprised by the themes of posts which seem to attract the most views.  Post something about Native poverty, or religious intolerance, and get the usual crowd slouching through, kicking the tires.  Put up a little fluff piece, and have to step back into a corner, to keep from having my toes stepped on.

My most visited piece this past year, was a (hopefully) humorous acceptance speech for a blog award which had been flung at me.  For three or four months, my most-visited day was 71 viewers.  Near the beginning of December, suddenly that same day was only worth 69 views.  Wha’ happun??  Did two of my readers die?!

I offer that possibility flippantly, but, one of my followers is a cancer sufferer, and another is a hopefully recovering drug/alcohol addict who was missing for about three months, because she had a car crash.  Neither has posted in months.  I am concerned!  Can any of you techies out there explain why my reported viewership is shrinking?  I believe I remember Edward Hotspur mentioning that the same thing had happened to him.

The other thing which baffles me, is the new, “so many actual visitors/so many different page-views” daily report.  During one day, when I checked, the report showed 5 visitors, and 6 separate views….yet I had 10 *likes*!  Somewhat later in the day, when my ego drove me to check again, it still showed only 5 visitors….but now 7 different views, even though all views were of the most recent post, and I now had 11 *likes*.

Again, if one of you who understand WordPress workings wishes to explain its arcane actuarial tables, I’m interested, but not concerned.  When I reached my one-hundredth post, I expressed concern about coming up with more blog-themes.  It may have been like driving past a traffic accident, but apparently I entertain a few folks, and was urged to continue posting my digital diarrhea.  I’m now near 140 posts, and occasional ideas continue to pop up.  You’ll not get rid of me easily.  I’m goin’ out typing and tapping….

……Gerry Seinfeld just called.  He said, Enough of the Yada-Yada, Nothin’ already, put this puppy to bed before all my readers doze off.  I just threw this post together because I wanted something time-sensitive.  I’ll be here all week, ladies and gentlemen.   I’ll be back soon with a Christmas-cookie photo spread, and some more serious fare.  A Happy New Year to all, and to all – good blogging.