Physically, I feel horrible and have felt this way ior most of the week. Hopefully it is just mood swings, but God help me. are my female reproductive organs withering and dying within my body? I mean-that is what menopause is, isn't it? the hot flashes, the vivid dreams, the seemingly forbidden sleep. I quit looking at the clock last night at 2 A. M.

I saw the VA shrinks on Tuesday. excuse the Hell out of me, but what a joke. 1/2 hour with a guy, a social worker who assured me that all women my age feel this way, and they survive, so more than likely, I will too. and men have stood by their women through these times & more than likely I will not drive Bubba away...sure... 10 minutes with an M.D. who told me that I cannot hope for an Ativan ( I cannot hope for past proven medical assistance) as it is a short term fix for a long term problem and he will prescribe me something that I know has been prescribed to me in the past & given me flu like symptoms. but he is sure I am mistaken. what a snot he was! Something that starts with a T,( Topogigio? HAH! something like that) but my memory won't dig it up. get a job, he says, and get on the treadmill more often and don't do anything illegal and I will be fine. it is Saturday & I still feel terrible & I guess I am wallowing & whining, but if I cannot do it here, where can I? I am still awaiting the delivery (VA prefers to send meds by mail, I suppose they are cheaper that way) of said T-med whatever it is. I will try anything. I have to get the proverbial grip & I ...just can't.

A sweet kid 16 yr old kid hit my truck with his on Thursday. On his first date, had his driver's license less than 90 days, his parents "are going to kill him"...he was stopped at a stop sign, I had my blinker on & made the left in front of him, off the highway, I had the unquestionable right-of-way but he pulled out & hit the rear panel of my truck (that I JUST paid off) and the cop cited him for failure to yield & I was kind, but only more depressed...and it just does not matter as I cannot feel much more depressed, or can I? I'd like to delete this, but I look forward to apologizing for venting soon.

it is a buzzing in my head & I hurt all over before that medication has begun & I'd like those 2 medical professionals to feel a fraction of this...this malaise...this pain & heat & sweats and frustration and awkwardness and raggedness.

and I am lucky to have a roof over my head. and somebody mows my lawn as I cannot do it to his satisfaction. and I can think of thousands of reasons not to feel as bad as I do, but guess what-I feel this bad... this horrible...aaaaaaaaaaaaack! I just do!

ok-enough...this too shall pass...maybe I will come back & delete this tomorrow... I can only hope

Let's take it easy. Life come with so many complications-we do not need to look for more than we already encounter. It may be in our nature to complicate simple matters, but as I said, I believe that we are here to learn.

I often think of great things to blog about away from the computer, and forget them in front of the blank screen. Last night, I recalled events when I was twenty that seem worth remembering. I had already been in the Navy for a couple of years, stationed at North Island, San Diego. It was during the Viet Nam Era-the war that the government tried to deny, calling the debacle a "Police Action"-but, that's another blog.

I had gone to Boot Camp in Bainbridge, Maryland...(All the stories that are coming to me right now-it is hard to believe that I so often suffer writer's block so often-other blogs, indeed). The Navy decided to move the Boot Camp elsewhere, and for awhile, the supply of enlisted females waned, thus women in their "A" schools were few and far between. I had been assigned "on-the-job" training for communications, but for reasons I won't go into, I was denied a Top Secret clearance, and as I had no love for that job, I asked to transfer to the Hospital Corp. Again, I had to work on-the-job to prove my worthiness, and was eventually granted an assignment to Great Lakes, Illinois.

When I arrived at the base for check-in, I remember the Petty Officer in charge taking my records and saying, "So you're the one."

"The one what?" I asked.

"The one female in a class of 72 males," was the answer-a concept that had never occurred to me. There were no females coming straight out of Boot Camp, and no other females that had been in the field had been accepted to this class. One might say I was the only game in town, but that might give one the wrong impression.

I was early for my first class. I sat in front of the classroom in defiance of what I figured to be the opposition. As the other sailors filed in, goofing off and horsing around, I realized that many of their antics were being performed for my benefit. It was the nature of the young beasts, and I (as was in my nature) was in the midst of quietly enjoying their show, when the Master Chief entered, and all horseplay ceased.

He paced around the podium and met my eyes several times, while doling out the standard welcome, outlining the expectations of the future months of schooling. Then, he ordered me to leave the room.

"There's a bench out in the hallway, Seaman Webber, he said, "I want you to go and have a seat on that bench and close the door as you leave."

I still recall being mad at myself for choosing to sit in the front of the classroom, as now, I had to walk past 72 guys, with all eyes on me to leave the room. Walking the length of that room, I can still feel my awkward gait, knowing that I was less than graceful. That awkward feeling has plagued me all of my life-for no good reason at all, always making things harder than they have to be.

Sitting on the bench as ordered, I notice that I was very alone, with no superiors to keep an eye on me. Temptation got the better of me, and not for the last time, I was grateful that it did. Before I even knew what I was doing, I was at the closed door, holding my breath, listening to Master Chief as he was yelling at my classmates...

"...she is your little sister! You will not make a pass at her, you will not date her!" he bellowed. " I will hold each and every one of you responsible for her well being. If she gets drunk at he Enlisted Men's Club, you will escort her back to her barracks in your most gentlemanly, honorable, big brother manner, You will come to her defense should any other sailor try to make time with her while she is sober or while she is drunk! I will hold each and every one responsible for her conduct, and each and every one of you will answer to me should she have any trouble with any men whatsoever!"

I believed him. Mostly, so did they.

Only 58 of us graduated from that class. I came across a graduation picture of us recently, and unsuccessfully tried to throw it away. It is a large picture that does nor fit into a photo album.

There is sweet Orlando, a kind Cajun from New Orleans, who kept his big brother persona long after Hospital Corps School. An infectious smile, a caring soul, every time I saw him after the school, he would call me his "little sister." He wrote to me long after school. He really loved me like a big brother should. Our paths crossed again, and he picked up right where we left off-I never left the Enlisted Men's Club without him seeing me safely home. Even when I wanted Orlando to allow me to pursue a drunken relationship, he would rescue me from myself. Out mutual friend, J.B. recently phoned me to tell me that some one had run a stop sign and slammed into Orlando on his beloved Harley Davidson. Losing him like that broke my heart in no way no romance ever had.

There's Richard-talk about making things harder than they have to be... I used to tease Richard that we were destined to live together in sin. Instant Karma came back and bit me on the ass when we ended assigned to the same tech school, and ultimate orders to the Bay Area in Northern California. At each assignment, Richard would tease me back that I was denying our destinies by rebuffing his expectations and advancements.

Drama from Dave, Flea, and Wayne that I'd like to forget, but as I am here to for a reason, at least I hope to have learned from them. Thirty years down the line, and I am not yet ready to pitch the picture. I did learn from that time of my life...hopefully, I have learned something from all the times of my weird and wonderful life.

Work-out wise, I did do better on Tuesday-a full hour on the treadmill, but flaked on Wednesday. The day just slipped away. Before I knew it, the day turned into evening and it was too late to start the regime. Hopefully, again, better today-yet that, of course, remains to be seen. I do hear that blogging helps those intent upon improving health-I suppose it centers on bragging rights. I just hope that it also works for me.

This flake factor continues to shadow my life, but perseverance is in my favor. Bragging rights again, as I just successfully paid my first on line bill. It only took 5 emails and 5 phone calls to get it right, but methinks I did get it right. Why on earth it will take a few days to post, I dunno, but I will roll with it, as I believe it is how all things will be in the near future. It is amusing to note that most items that required extra attention was only me making silly little things hard on myself.

My mother's aspiration pneumonia appears to be clearing in one lung, but they just found a dark spot in her other lung that they did not note on the original test this week. My sisters are with her at the hospital now as further tests are being run. She will be confused enough without me there today, and I will visit her tomorrow and see if I can sweet talk some food into her at lunch. I am trying not to worry, trying not to freak out, but resigned to the possibilities, as she was a smoker all of her life. Even last week, she looked pointedly at my sister and asked the lunch room occupants, "Does anyone have a cigarette?" My poor sister thought herself to be at fault for reminding Mom of smoking, as 2 sisters and a brother remain hooked, but always tell her that they have kicked the habit to protect her from further possible harm. Mom remains unimpressed-she just wants a cigarette.

And the beat goes on. Bubba will not break down and buy a rider mower just yet. These days, mowing the lawn out here in the boondocks is a 3-4 day afternoon ordeal, when the neighborhood kid-for-hire fails to show. I cannot blame the no-show kid. He has offered to help using his own rider mower, but Bubba insists (grumpy old man) that the two of them mow together with the 2 push mowers that he provides. It break their backs as I know that Bubba suffers beautifully, and can only imagine how the kid feels. I cannot blame him for shining us on. Yet, Bubba will not relent, as I guess he views the excursion as a healthy work out for the both of them, though more often, for himself. I tried to help once, but he stubbornly insists that as I cannot keep the lines straight, I best not even try. Bubba would rather I not try to help him mow the lawn. Like I was going to argue with his semblance of logic. The few times the kid does show, I continue to be amazed. They can mow the acre together in one afternoon, but when he mows alone, he no more finishes than it is time to start again. Like me-he makes it harder than it has to be. Why do we do that?

Somewhere along the line, I have picked up the concept that we are here to learn. Life lessons, light bulb moments, a means to an end. I won't even attempt to venture a comment on Mokie Joe's "Touchy Subjects" most recent Blogstream post, "Into the Mystic." I love ya' dearly, brother, but, whew! If justifying my existence begs that much deep thought, debate, research and questions then,it just robs me of the joy of living-if living is even what I am truly doing in some deep-thinking circles. If I didn't struggle with daily headaches already, such point and counter point would certainly present me with one. More power to Mark and Whit and Ron and Pop, but life is complicated enough. I can see they were having fun, but again, whew! I do not have the the patience to question if I exist. Life, as I know it, remains just too short. A flaky excuse at best, but those concepts indeed, make life harder for me than it has to be.

I truly need to deal with that which I can deal with and get on living my life, trying to be healthy. So I am signing off now to dress for the treadmill (ipod & all) and get it done for the day.

Last year, in 3 seasons, I had lost 40 lbs. In 3 more seasons, after my hernia presented, surgery followed, and now, finishing rehab/resting/healing, all 40 came back. I finally started to get back on the path yesterday and am not really so amazed, just pissed off, that it was so very hard that I felt I was treading water in my own sweat. The first 10 minutes, it was so hard not to stop. I only intended to do 10 minutes on, 10 minutes rest, and another final 10 minutes back on the treadmill, but at the last minute, I hung in at a slower pace and was able to put in a 20 minute session. Man! It was tough stuff, and I know that the music in my ipod ears gets the main credit for keeping me going. So, that totals a 30 minute work session, roughly 190 calories and 1 1/4 miles. Right now, I am working up the stamina to better today than yesterday. Aren't we all?

My angel sister, Jan and I visited my mother yesterday and were so happy to find her laughing and singing after many so visits lately, where these gifts were found to be sadly lacking.

It is such a deceptive disease, this Alzheimer's/Dementia. Doubtless, the previous recent sad visits were dimmed by her bout with aspiration pneumonia, and it was premature of me to think that she had already descended into the constant silent sleep that her future inevitably holds. She appears to be happily on the mend. Each day has different treasures to offer, and to try to dictate what the day should hold as opposed to accepting and cherishing things as they are remains an understandable error on my part.

The staff found my mother in bed that morning with an empty box of chocolates that some Mother's Day meaning-well-wisher had taken to her room earlier in the week. We know not who brought them, but are forced to spread the news that goodies in mass should not be provided to someone whose judgment remains as impaired as my mother's. Her sugar count was four times of what her usual amount was, and the nurses let us know in no uncertain terms how displeased the professionals felt about the situation.

Perhaps her happy demeanor was a result of her sugar buzz, and perhaps it was just an especially good day. Regardless, I will take what I can get, when I can get it. It was a beautiful Spring day, and my mother's mood matched it. Of course, she had no appetite for lunch... two of us trying to cajole her into eating something healthy for an hour was all in vain. And, as always, she was extremely tired and longed to go back to bed after her unsuccessful luncheon, and we, of course, complied with her wishes. They work very hard to try and please my mother and the lot of us who try to double check her care at this Senior Home- Silver Oaks. I really think that we have the best care available going for her there, and the staff appears to genuinely care. I often wonder if I will be so lucky when my time comes, and the sheer mass of baby-boomers leads me to think, probably not. But I surely will not waste today worrying about tomorrow.

After we put Mom down for her afternoon nap, Jan & I proceeded to Applebee's for a well-deserved lunch of our own while we could still afford it. I fear the worst for our economy's future and want to gather happy memories while I may. Oriental Chicken Salad will always be my favorite-nothing else for the price, even looks appealing.

Gas was at $3.89 a gallon, and I packed all I could into my truck, rightfully fearing the four dollar plus a gallon in our near future. I took no scenic routes or detours for visiting friends on the way home-though it would have been a primo day to do just that...only the barest of necessary travels these days. Sadly, my friends all live off the beaten path and I feel positive that such a picture perfect Friday would require at lest a beer, and as my drinking days are over, we just don't have all that much in common anymore. And as I really see no end to our economic status in sight when I come home to view the evening news to see foreign oil practically spit in the face of a President whose days of diplomacy seem long gone, if they ever were.

I love my dogs so much it hurts my wallet. We took them for their annual inoculations last week and told the Veterinarian that we could not afford the Senior Wellness exams that they annually insist upon. Last year, the bill was over $1,000 to tell me that my seemingly healthy dogs were just that-healthy. This year, after putting our foot down and hearing the tests the Doctor felt to be absolutely necessary (NSAID, Thyroid, Urinary Tract on one) out of three-we got out of the office with a $750+ bill. I made it clear that I was out of work, out of surgery and not able to afford the Cadillacs of Canine Health Care, and still came away with 3 Audi's-(what I have heard referenced as a poor man's Mercedes repeatedly in my past). I hear of many pet owners abandoning their pets in this economy. But look at those faces, feel that love-I could never do that. It is unfortunate though that things have come to this-when these 3 pups go th Heaven, Bubba has advised that we will no longer be able to afford the luxury of a pooch, and, sadly, I agree. Until then, we have cut back (but not cut out) on their daily tuna fish and Iam's Weight Control, and doubled up on the free love while we may. And with that-they have come to tell me that it is time for their (shhhhhh)ice cream...