(The more things change, the more they stay the same.)
About three weeks ago I had medical concerns, Social Security concerns, and general complaints. I'd love to say that they've all been resolved, but that's not the case. There have been some changes in the details, but the three categories still exist.
"Nothing sinister," pronounced the ENT doctor, so three suspicious lesions on my face are no longer of concern although one will be treated to make sure it stays harmless. That leaves the usual concerns about cholesterol, high blood pressure, and all the typical issues of those who are firmly entrenched in Middle Age. Unfortunately, my PCP blithely orders blood draws "just to see what's going on," refusing to acknowledge that I'm what they refer to as "a hard stick" which means good luck finding a blood vessel in my arms or hands that will suffice for the task. I'm thankful that the nurses are careful, optimistic, and patient so we can usually get through the ordeal successfully. On another positive note, visits to the chiropractor are helping my back and allowing me more restful sleep. Unfortunately, some meds I'm taking are giving me vivid dreams that stay with me even after I'm awake. As someone used to say, "It's always something."
Social Security is still FUBAR. At this point they owe me over $8k and counting, and no one can figure out why the mystical place called Payment isn't paying me. I've filed enough paperwork for three people, even submitting 8 typed pages of chronology to substantiate my claim. My Congressperson's office has become involved, and a formal Request for Reconsideration has been submitted to the SSA, and still I wait. It's clear that my county case manager is not my advocate but a go-between or messenger, and the wheels of any government agency grind slowly, so in another four weeks, I may have an update.
And now for the general complaints: Why is David Letterman's Friday night show a rerun from two weeks ago? This is the night of the week when the tv volume doesn't have to be barely audible and I can stay up to watch late night shows in bed without compromising the quality of the next day's activities. You'd think they'd play the repeat shows on Mondays or Tuesdays when there's less of an audience for them, at least in this house. Give Dave Mondays off if he wants his three-day weekend.
What's with winter cucumbers? Yes, it's silly of me to use them in salads this time of year but they look so edible in the grocery store, and a tossed salad needs a few slices of cucumber to be complete. Either they're punky, they're sour or, even worse, flavorless, or, if I shell out the extra for the long seedless wonders carefully sheathed in plastic (after I quash the giggles about the similarity with condoms and carefully place one in my basket), they last long enough to be half used in one salad before the remaining half turns slimy and gooey. Perhaps my next quest should be for a small indoor greenhouse that can house ever-bearing cherry tomato and pint size cucumber plants so my winter salads somewhat resemble their summer counterparts.
Why are we coddling and enabling teenagers now more than ever? Many aren't being held accountable enough for their own actions or expected to be responsible as part of becoming a trustworthy adult, so when they continue the irresponsible behaviors and actions for which they pretend they're not accountable, they're shocked that the world outside their protective cocoons (I'll let you fill in where or what institutions those might be) doesn't agree with them. There ARE rules and there ARE laws, and son of a gun those rules and laws actually DO apply to them! Police! Court! Fines! Jail! At the age of 19 they still have the naivety of a pubescent child of 12 or 13, expecting to shift the blame or pull the wool over someone's eyes, and assuming that they'll be able to walk away clean to play more games. Why not gently but firmly and consistently hold them responsible from the onset of puberty for their actions? No long series of additional chances or exceptions will help that process. The best way to prepare for life in the world outside the cocoon is to practice living the way you need to in order to be accepted as a successful adult. (That's the goal, anyway, because even adults make mistakes, and then there are fines and jail time which take away that "successful" descriptor.) Not calling them on the lies you know they're telling about tasks done or undone or obligations neglected only encourages them to do it again, and that's not my idea of being responsible, for either the teenager or the adult trying to help the kid on the path toward adulthood. It's a real shame when an almost-adult ends up on the pages of social media or print media or on television as a result of one of those immature decisions. What a terribly public way to learn the hard stuff.
I'll save my comments about Congress and all this February snow for another time.
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