Tag Annoyances

Just because you can

Michael 2 Comments

Just because you can

Who’s with me on the “Just because you can doesn’t mean you should,” AKA “It seemed like a good idea” bandwagon? I guess you can also call these, “Who came up with this one” queries.

I’ll start.  I recently had to purchase a new microwave. For me to buy almost anything is a moment to be celebrated. Except for chocolate chip cookies at the bakery, I buy very little unless it is absolutely necessary. One could argue that a microwave oven does not top the list of necessities but others, especially those who tend to lose their coffee mugs and make repeated reheating visits to the appliance will confirm its necessary-ness.  With my sparse microwave purchase history you can be sure that the one being replaced didn’t have all the bells and whistles of today. In fact, its only bells and whistles were a bell that dinged when the timer was somewhere in the vicinity or ZERO and a whistle when it ran for more than 2 minutes at a stretch, probably from microwaves leaking into my space. I was surprised to see the power and timer dials had been replaced by a touch pad, but eventually I got the hang of it. One thing I was not expecting was it turning into a nag. Once a particular task is complete, it wants its recognition and it wants it NOW! If you aren’t quick to relieve the appliance of its load, it periodically, seemingly randomly periodically, will beep a shrill reminder that there is still food in its cavity. Like, chill man. I know there’s something in you. I’ll get to it. Who doesn’t remember they put something in the microwave and has to be reminded to come and get it? (Maybe its bell should be a dinner bell!) And then it dawned on me. Who doesn’t remember food? Stoners. What with all the state assemblies tripping over each other trying to prove politicians know more about medicine than doctors and passing medical (hah!) marijuana laws, not to mention the ones that figured out addicts will pay any amount of sales tax to get high, “stoner” is the latest addition to high school career day fairs. And these are certainly the people who would stick a bag of popcorn in a microwave and completely forget about it in 90 seconds.  Oh wow man.

My next “just because you can” is actually directed to those politicians and their wannabe rivals. Having just gone through the primary election campaign barrage of uninformative advertising and not looking forward to the general election version of same (which started on primary election night!), it seems our friendly neighborhood do-nothings have discovered text message advertising. I’ve gotten dozens of text messages a day, and almost all of them, after pummeling the opponent with more vitriol than a Hatfield spews at a McCoy and vice versa, would remind the reader, that they are on the side of the hard-working citizen. Um, Mr. POS, you realize some of those hard-working citizens actually have to pay for each incoming text? Duh.        

For my last trip down, “It seemed like a good idea” Avenue, I present me, or rather I present my shower head with a major assist by me. When I do buy something seemingly frivolous, like a handheld shower massage head, I want a good product. I research and find the one with a reasonable build quality that won’t pop its hose when I least expect it, which would be every time I use it. Now I’m not sure if it is fortunately or unfortunately, but the model I decided on has ten settings, everything from gentle mist to Niagara Falls. I don’t know the anybody needs that many choices to rinse shampoo out of one’s hair, but it had good reviews and strong connectors and I figured just because it has 10 settings doesn’t mean I have to use them all.  And I don’t, but somewhere along the way, probably during a fit of domesticity and extreme cleaning, the control unknowingly was set to Niagara. Oh my word!

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Do you have any examples you’d like to share? Please, if we get enough of them, maybe we can make a “Just Because You Can” calendar.  

roamcare_logo-3If you haven’t had a chance to visit ROAMcare yet, stop by, refresh your enthusiasm and read our blogs, check out the Moments of Motivation, or just wander around the site. Everybody is always welcome.

 

 

Spring cleaning

Michael 2 Comments

I did some electronic spring cleaning tis morning. I fear this is a battle I’m doomed to lose. Of course by electronic spring cleaning I don’t mean deep cleaning my living space with robotic assistance. A robot vacuum might be fun to have around, but until they come up with one who can wash down the cabinets, keep the appliances sparkly, daily clean the bathroom, and tidy the bedroom – like Rosey on the Jetsons! – I’ll do the physical cleaning on my own for as long as I can. No, the spring cleaning was going through apps on the phone and tablets, reviewing bookmarks on the browsers, moving image and document files to cards or cloud storage or deleting them outright, and getting rid of those nasty cookies (which unfortunately eliminates the helpful ones also which is why I so rarely take that on).

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It went relatively smoothly except for one tablet which makes me wonder if I take things too literally.  The tablet in question is an older Samsung that I’ve threatened to put out to pasture at least once a month for the last several years. But I’m used to its quirks, it fits me and my expectations, and I guess I like it enough to poo-poo my attempts to use the newer but still not completely set up tab sitting on my desk (which is now certainly itself hopelessly outdated).

The odd thing about this particular, older unit is the help that it wants to provide, particularly at clean-up time. It knows its storage limits and can clue me in on where I can reclaim valuable storage space. What it has a hard time with is knowing what’s stored where. Let me explain. As an older tablet it has limited storage, only 16 GB, so each little chunk of that is valuable. It wants to be a helpful little thing so this morning it told me that 970 MB was holding onto pictures and videos. No need to have them there but also no need to use up space on the cloud account with them when I have plenty of room and can move them to the SD card. Except when I tap the icon to show me the detail of what makes up those 970 MB of treasured photos, it gets confused and shows me all the files the tablet can access – internal, card, and cloud storage. It very graciously tells me how much each destination holds but not which files are at which destinations. So I go through file by file to find what goes where Sigh.

Another thing the poor old piece wants to help with is shedding itself of unused or rarely used apps. Every handheld device has a means of displaying all its resident applications by frequency of access. Except this one hasn’t learned the English definitions for always, sometimes, rarely, and never. I’m just certain that it would get so confused trying to complete a survey it would give up after the first few questions. Anyway, it listed all my apps by often used, sometimes used, and rarely used. Except that they aren’t. My crossword app that I use daily was in the sometimes used pile while Facebook that I haven’t accessed in the last several months was among those often used.

After hours more than I wanted to devote to the project I feel good that all my electronic, connected devices are as trim as can be and for a short while I should be able to enjoy efficient downloads, speedy uploads, and generally smooth, glitch free surfing on the Internet on my own little intranet.

I just really hope I didn’t delete my WordPress account.  Well, here goes nothing! (Hmm, let me know if you didn’t get this.) (Thanks!)

The pursuit of clean, filtered air

Michael 2 Comments

I saw an interesting Tweet yesterday. “Going to the US in just a couple days. Planning to wear a mask whenever I’m in public. Looking for fun and creative (preferably not too political) reasons to give in case anyone asks why I’m wearing one.“

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The Tweeter(?) obviouslly lives outside the United States and wants to protect herself against a virus that is still raging, even though less actively than a few weeks ago, while visiting a country with a COVID death rate twice the rest of the world’s – and 82 times higher than her country! (WorldOMeter, “COVID Live – Coronavirus Statistics,” March 9, 2022)  According to a New York Times analysis of mortality, since the first Omicron case was reported in the United States in December 2021, Americans have been killed by the coronavirus at a rate at least 63 percent higher than other large, wealthy nations and was averaging about 2,500 deaths per day. (New York Times, “U.S. Has Far Higher Covid Death Rate Than Other Wealthy Countries.” Feb 1, 2022) The report went on to state that the only European countries with higher death rates are Russia, Ukraine, Poland, Greece, and the Czech Republic.

Oddly enough, even though the CDC changed their masking recommendations this month, the federal vaccine mandate was never enforced and now seems to be headed for reversal by the courts, and most limitations on businesses have been removed, people still want to protest them.  Brian Brase, the organizer of the so-called People’s Convoy that just burned countless gallons of gasoline and diesel circling Washington, DC, has called mandates an “infringement on their freedoms” as recently as this week. (Washington Post, “‘People’s Convoy’ organizers meet with GOP lawmakers amid pandemic-related demonstrations,” Mar 8, 2022).

You know that I recently was hospitalized with COVID pneumonia in spite of vaccines and mitigation (TRYing to stay 6 feet away from unmasked miscreants sneezing their offensive germs into public spaces like grocery stores and churches). I empathize with our aforementioned Tweeter because I will be going out in public still masked and standing a safe distance from those who aren’t. What should I say to them? Clearly somebody with more pickup truck parts than brains will come up to me and say, quite politely I’m sure, “What’s the f**k wrong with you, you retard? Act like an American and take that f**king mask off, a$$ho*e!” How do I know? Because it’s already happened, and it happened before the CDC issued new guidance. Months before the recent new guidance was released (which really requires people to have an understanding of the surge of cases in their particularly are and the relative burden placed on the local health care systems (read, too difficult for your average simian to even say, yet understand so let’s just concentrate on the no masks part)), the CDC guidelines recommended that those who were fully vaccinated, may attend small indoor gatherings with other fully vaccinated individuals without masking. This was interpreted as “you don’t need to wear no more masks any more yippee yahoo but let’s keep protesting masks anyway” by the under 65 (as in IQ score) crowd. And yes, I had been approached by inquiring sorts of that ilk, while in public with my mouth and nose stylishly clad in the latest surgical garb as to why I was wearing a mask. “Don’t you believe in science?”

Considering how adamant so many non-maskers were in demanding understanding on their positions and their rights to their freedom to breath the air as it was intended, I hope they will also understand why those of us who are medically challenged, immunocompromised, or just plain leery that a long term accord has been reached between the United States of America and SARS-COV-2, elect to exercise our rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of breathing clean, filtered air.

And while we at it, it seems to me that those still calling masks, vaccines, and other life-saving measures “infringements on their freedoms,” need to spend some time in the Ukraine right now.

Uncommon Sense

Michael 3 Comments

The past few weeks have sorely tested my patience I wish everybody would go out and invest in some self-help books that include how to recapture some common freaking sense. Let’s start.

It’s summertime in the good old U. S. of A. which means, even in the absence of global warming, it gets hot. Glass amplifies heat. An enclosed space holds heat. Things inside hot enclosed spaces cook. And that’s how Jordan Mott came up with the oven in 1490 (minus the glass – that’s a bonus). Because we know it doesn’t count unless it happened in America, we can fast forward to 1882 when Thomas Ahern worked out the details for an electric oven. Granted, he was Canadian but that’s as close as we’re going to get unless you want to count the first person who fried an egg on the hood of a car. That had to be a “real” American, and that gets us to cars, hot cars, hot car interiors on hot summer days. There have been such a spate of kids being cooked in the back seats of cars – again. The government is mandating that by 2025 all auto manufacturers to put in systems that display and sound warning messages to check the back seat for Junior and Fido when you shut off your car. If you aren’t lucky enough to have one of the cars that already have such a warning and/or until you do, they suggest you put “something of value” in the back seat so you don’t forget your kid. Duh! Is it just me or is there nothing anybody owns more valuable than their own child? That was an honest to gosh, news piece just within the last week on most major news outlets. Don’t forget your kid, put something of value in the back with them.”

While we’re on the subject of kids, in June in a small Pennsylvania airport, the TSA confiscated a loaded handgun – in a baby stroller! According to a report on TSA.gov, “The man said that when he and his girlfriend take their dogs and child for a walk that he keeps his loaded gun in the rear stroller pocket and forgot to remove it when they came to catch their flight.” I call bull-doodoo! If you’re taking a baby on a plane with a stroller you are using every cubic inch of that to add carryon volume. And where in H-E-Double Toothpicks is this guy walking that he needs to carry a loaded gun with him when he’s out with his pseudo-family? Let’s stay with guns in airports for a while, even though I ranted about this before. Also, from TSA.gov, “Transportation Security Administration (TSA) officers detected twice as many firearms per million passengers screened at airport security checkpoints nationwide in 2020 compared to 2019, and at a significantly higher rate than any other year since the agency’s inception.” A total of 3,257 guns were confiscated from passengers carry them on their persons or in their carry-on bags, and about 83 percent of them were loaded. Those figures didn’t include the number of guns confiscated because they were improperly packed in checked baggage, or toy and BB guns. All while people on planes are beating each other up for taking too much of the shared armrest or [shudder] being compelled to wear a mask.

And now that the delta variant has bloomed in the US to where masking might become more routine again, I figure something in August I get to write this post all over again with a new set of “can you believe this” tales.

Patience. Please give me patience.

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Those Who Should Know Better

Michael 14 Comments

Ok, you’re going to need a little background for this. At times I’ve written about having kidney disease and going through dialysis. You might recall other times I’ve mentioned some unspecified rare disease. And then once or twice I talked about cancer. So if you sometimes get confused I can understand that. Some of my best friends get confused regarding what’s going on with me. Apparently so are some “experts.”

For the record, it all started about 15 years ago when I was diagnosed with Wegener’s Granulomatosis. Wegener’s is an autoimmune vasculitis that affects the smallest of blood vessels and the organs they occupy – most notably the kidneys, lungs, liver, and sinuses, in my case the kidneys. There is no cure but it can sometimes be controlled with combinations of chemotherapy, immunosuppressant, and steroid medications.

After 10 years of treatment with methotrexate and prednisone, the working parts of my body decided they wanted some attention and got together to vote on who would revolt. My bladder either won or lost depending on your point of view and grew cancer.  One year and four operations later I was pronounced cancer, and bladder, free and the proud owner of rebuilt body parts fashioned from other body parts that to this point had done not much more than the jobs they were originally intended.

In the process of trying to create a recoverable environment for my post-operatively rebuilt body I had to replace the drug therapy that was so far managing to keep the ravages of the Wegener’s at bay but now not such a good choice in a body now equally desperate to keep other cancers at the same bay. While that search was underway the dastardly disease took advantage of the temporary unprotected kidneys and put them into a (hopefully but who are we kidding) temporary shut down and put me in a chair at the local dialysis clinic.

And that’s how I came to be an unplanned early retiree with a handicap placard hanging from my rear view mirror. But “who are those who should know better?” you asked. Good question.  Why, the health care “experts” of course. I’m allowed to speak of them with disdain because I was a health care expert for close to 40 years before my unplanned early retirement. And those years included years when experts in health care were the ones educated in and actually providing health care.

Recently I had to complete some paperwork for the government’s end stage kidney disease program including what led me to be on dialysis. As in the past I check “other” after not finding in among the pages of pre-selected options and entered Wegener’s. It was rejected because there is no such condition in their database of diseases. Since I have it know for sure there is but I also know for sure it’s also known by another name, Granulomatosis with Polyangiitis, I questioned the explanation. Even if you’re being paid by the letter you have to agree that Wegener’s is an easier fit for a government form. And that’s why I had always fit it. So I called the help number for some help and asked what I had done wrong. I was told we’re not allowed to call it Wegener’s anymore because that doctor who discovered it “was a Nazi you know.” So all traces of his name have been removed and it is disallowed from official use. I wouldn’t have minded if at least they would have matched the funds it took to rename everything for “official use” with perhaps some official research.

But those are government people who are used to doing stupid things. Or things stupidly. But…there actually are others who should know even better even. Those are ones who bring me my tri-weekly adventures in artificial kidney function replacement. Or dialysis if you prefer,although personally I don’t prefer dialysis.

At the corner kidney clinic they posted a new “let’s raise everyone’s spirit” poster. On it is a classic pie chart with the legend, “ONLY 7%!” It goes on to explain that “You spend only 7% of your week in dialysis. The other 148 hours are yours to do the things you like!” Really. That sounds like something that someone who doesn’t know what dialysis does to a body wrote. Not a national organization responsible for 290,000 dialysis patients. (Source: that company’s website). That 7 percent might account for the time that you are actually having your blood circulate through the machine taking up the 10 square feet next to your chair. Not the time it takes for a nurse to do a pre-dialysis assessment and then physically connect you to the machine by way of two needles about the size and diameter of a Bic pen stuck into your arm. Not the time for a nurse to physically remove you from the machine by withdrawing the Bic pen like needles from your arm, for the bleeding one would expect for two holes the size of Bic pens in your arm to stop bleeding, and then to go through a post-dialysis assessment (all about another hour). Not the time it takes to get to and from the dialysis clinic (roughly another hour for me). Not the time it takes to physically recover from the actual process (in my case 10 to 12 hours).

So if we consider the time to get on dialysis, get off dialysis, go to dialysis, and recover from dialysis I actually have 10 hours a week to do what I like. I like to sleep about 8 hours a night and I like to eat at least 2 meals a day so I’m down to around 33 hours a week I can call my own. Almost a whole day and a half! I wonder if they would notice if I would “edit” their poster at the clinic.

PieChartHD

My revised pie chart

Well now you know who those are who should know better. A government who is more concerned with what to call diseases than what to do with the people who actually have the disease and the people who are supposed to be minimizing the effect of a disease on the body but are clueless about how to minimize the effect of the disease on the person.

Boy I feel bad for the poor soul who I might run in to today and says “Hey, how ya doing?” I might actually tell him.

 

Unpriortizing

Michael Leave a comment

I wrote today’s post in a state of righteous indignation. I would proof it but if I did I’d probably start to feel bad and change this phrase or that word so I don’t offend anybody. It’s not much of a gift but it certainly is a curse. So I’m not going to proof it and hope all the words are spelled correctly, the grammar is recognizable, I keep my comma usage appropriate, and most of the tense agrees. If I screwed up anywhere, sorry about that. If I do happen to offend you in my state of righteous indignation, sorry about that. This was about pleasing me this time. I know. Unconventional at best. Sorry about that, too.

Unprioritizing

Three things happened that I read about in the paper last week. And one thing happened that I did. They all have something in common. The three things I read about were that the U. S. Supreme Court ruled that a preschool is eligible to apply for and receive a state grant for playground resurfacing, announcers for Great Britain mass transit stations have to begin announcements with “Good afternoon” or “Good evening,” and my state’s legislature recessed but passed a budget on time. The one thing I did was I locked my car in the Walmart parking lot. What do they have in common? None of them made any sense.

The state assembly recessing with a passed budget is both true and false. It’s true in that they did pass a “budget” before the July 1 deadline, unlike roughly half of the states’ legislatures held to a similar requirement. And they were more than happy to include that little tidbit in the press releases announcing the passed “budget.” The problem is that the “budget” is only the spending part of the plan. It should be called a spending plan but then they would have to stick around until they came up with a way of paying for everything they plan on spending. So they changed the name, or the rules, so they along have to pass the spending part by the budget deadline. I haven’t worked for a couple of years but when I did I had to submit my planned revenue, and how I was going to achieve that revenue before I was even allowed to start thinking about how I was going to spend that money. Even doing a home budget, I have make the money I want to have next month before I can spend it. Isn’t it time that we hold our governments to the same standards we hold ourselves? Oh, in case you’re wondering, no, they didn’t pass the revenue bill before adjourning.
Source: Any newspaper in Pennsylvania

The mass transit operator Transport for London has instructed its staff, and rerecorded their automated announcements, to use gender neutral terms and phrases like “Good morning everybody” rather than “Ladies and gentlemen “ so everyone will feel welcome. I’ve never been on a London subway train but if it’s like any of the ones I have been on in New York, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, or Washington DC, or any of the surface transports in hundreds of different cities in several different countries, hearing “Good morning everybody” isn’t going to make me feel all that welcome. Making certain I get off the train with the same amount of money in my pocket as I got on with (which didn’t happen in Washington), making certain I get off with the wallet that I had when I got on (which didn’t happen in Philadelphia), making sure I actually know where to get off by having station announcements that match the station names (which doesn’t happen in Pittsburgh), or making station announcements at a volume that is audible and understandable, or at all (which never happens in New York) would make me much happier. If you do want to call me something, I don’t want to be just a part of “everybody,” I sort of like being called a gentleman. Shouldn’t I get to feel welcome also?
Source:  The Independent, ESI Media, July 13, 2017.

So what’s wrong with an organization that cares for children receiving grant money? Because it’s Lutheran. Opponents said if they received state money it would violate the separation of church and state. The Court ruled that not giving them the opportunity to apply for such grants is a violation of their right to freedom of religion. What doesn’t make sense about that? Nothing doesn’t make sense about the decision. What doesn’t make sense is that the Supreme Court has to listen to arguments about that. What are the opponents afraid of? That the children while riding a swing will decide they believe in God, or that nature is a cool place to play, or that the teacher is a fun person, or “look, a bird!”? The First Amendment has only 45 words. Isn’t time we stopped second guessing what they meant when they wrote them?
Source: Catholic News Service, June 30, 2017.

I know, I’m getting old and turning into a cantankerous old coot. It’s one of the benefits of having been able to hang around for enough years that I actually have cantankerous in my vocabulary. It  makes me scratch my head and ask,” What’s wrong with the picture? These pictures, even? What are the priorities here? Making sure we don’t influence children in their lifetime journeys toward if, how, or when they may want to worship some supreme being? Or not? Or making sure children don’t get hurt when they trip on a pothole in the playground? Being certain that we don’t offend some group of people who aren’t certain if they are being offended until some other group might think they are being offended so we pick our words so carefully we barely recognize that there are actually people in the group? Or being certain we get our passengers to their destinations quickly and safely? That we follow the letter of the law and adhere to all deadlines and instructions or that we keep our power to change the definition of deadline or that which is deadline dependent? Or that we do what’s right and honorable and don’t spend money we don’t have, especially when it’s not our money anyway? I have the answers. But nobody is asking me the questions.

Oh, what does locking my car in Walmart’s parking lot have to do with misplaced priorities? It was the convertible. With the top down. And the alarm off. I know. I’m getting old and….. ok, I’m just getting old.
Source: Me.

 

MisLabeled

Michael Leave a comment

Most of the time I’m a pretty positive person but this past week, so many things have come up that just make me so, so annoyed (!) that I have to rant about them. And not like the good natured rant I ranted last month (Looking Good) but a real “you’ve got to be kidding me” rant.

It started with the story about 24 candidates for a nursing degree who failed to pass a final exam thus not meeting the qualifications for graduation. Oddly enough, the school refused to graduate them. It did, however, offer them tutoring and 2 additional attempts to pass the failed test. Not good enough for poor widdle students who wanted either the passing grade lowered, or better yet, the test thrown out. Somehow they actually were able to amass over 300 signatures on a petition to allow them to just graduate. It was noted that some of the parents stated that their children have lost jobs over this. Hmmm. The parents were the ones who noted that one, eh?

A blog post on Dictionary.com increased the level of my ire. It was questioning if we are increasing the size of the gender gap rather than encouraging the equality of all with new words we keep introducing the language. Mansplain, manbun, manspread, and man purse were among the examples. The author posited the use of the “man” descriptor as superfluous, inaccurate, or insulting and is just an unnecessary label. Let me correct myself. That article didn’t raise my ire. It only made me more livid than I would have been when I saw then the headline in the local paper, “Young LGBT artists add to local art scene.” Please, is that adding more so than young nonLnonGnonBnonT artists do or maybe more than old LGBT artists, or perhaps more than any other old plain unidentified artist? Can’t we revel in the addition to its scene by any artist? More unnecessary labels!

I turned on the morning news and heard about the suburban housewife who had her car stolen with all of her son’s baseball equipment in it along with the usual assortment of car dwelling stuff. The local police department would investigate it but can’t because they are spread too thin investigating the rash of overdose deaths in the community. I have an idea. The overdoses are already dead. Tell everyone else not to take drugs and go help the mom who just had the family SUV heisted. Probably so the future overdose could buy drugs! Oh but wait. They have a special drug task force working on the drug problem. And I remember when they used to be just plain cops.

Later that day I’m reading what came in on the Facebook feed and saw a post from one of the patient based support groups that I belong to. It was a graphic representation of all the ways people die. All manners that people depart were listed from heart disease to suicide to blood disorders to combat and terrorism. The point being to put what condition we share into some perspective. Among the many causes of death was “otherwise not specified.” I went to the original post to the original article to the original comments. For once I wished I hadn’t had that kind of time. Not one, not two, but a whole boatload of people made comments like “what about overdoses – are those supposed to be the otherwise?” “Climate change appears to be missing.” “Where’s old age?” “Broken hearts?” Yes, broken hearts Apparently quite a few hundreds of people didn’t feel there were enough labels.

Add these to two other stories from last week’s news, the gunman in Florida who kills five people then shoots himself, and a local mother who shoots her two children then sets herself on fire. They called these murder suicides. Probably an accurate label but please, if you should ever get the urge to do such a thing be creative about it and do the suicide part first.

There now. Next time I’ll try to be happier. And I’ll proofread that one too. Now that I have this out of my system I really don’t want to go back and check for typos. If you want I’ll be happy to refund your money for this one.

Have a day

Technical Resistance

Michael 8 Comments

I try to take responsibility for myself as much as I can in all aspects that I can reach. As long as I can reach them comfortably. Including my health. So when the good folks that bring me my delightful dialysis sessions announced an opportunity to “take control of your kidney health and experience better outcomes” I jumped at the chance. Who couldn’t resist better outcomes in anything you take on? Then they started throwing around words like “empowered” and “easy” in the same paragraph even. And they got me with, “Start managing your kidney care with your Portal today and gain more time to do the things you love. Register today and Thrive On” (Emphasis not even added. They’re good.) How can I not want to take advantage of gaining more time to do the things I love? I was hooked.

You just know this is going to go wrong somewhere, don’t you? Hmm.

Looking forward to actively participating in my care, I carefully filled out the many screens of information that they requested, chose my password, and awaited the confirmation email which would contain the additional instructions for completing the registration process. In just a few seconds it came, and in just a few minutes I did what I was supposed to do. In seconds again I received another email congratulating me on successfully registering for the patient portal and was presented with a link to “log in and start actively participating in your care!” (OK, that time I added the exclamation point, but I wasn’t excited about this. Wouldn’t you be?)

I clicked, eagerly awaiting the chance to participate in my care, and attempted my first official login. In went my email address, then went in my password, then the email address and password went in to wherever they go and the little circle thing started spinning and then, low and behold (words you just don’t hear much anymore) across the screen I was presented with the message “username or password invalid.” Oh, poo! No problem. In my excitedness I probably hit a wrong key so I re-entered the username which is my email address so I know that was correct, and then, this time more carefully, my password. Almost always when denied access it’s because I incorrectly enter the password which makes sense since they never show you your password (unless it happens to be ******* and you just have to remember how many *s). But no, again that didn’t work so I gave one more try and one more time I got the same frustrating message.

I selected the link on the page for technical support and sent them an email detailing my inability to log into the patient portal (and thus my unfortunate delay in participating in my care!) and sat back to await their response. A few minutes later I saw the little envelope icon pop up at the top of the screen and I anxiously opened my email to just as anxiously read their reply, get back on track, and start participating in my care. Well imagine my disappointment when I scrolled the inbox items and saw, “Undeliverable.” Instead of the anxiously awaited reply I had a message wherein the little emailman politely explained to me that my desperate plea for help could not be sent because the addressee “wasn’t found or doesn’t exist at the destination server” and I should check to make sure I entered the address correctly, contact the intended recipient by phone, or several other options that involved things like checking licenses and permissions and other things that normal non-computer savvy people (and probably some of them, too) have no idea what any of that means. Disappointment does not begin to describe what I was feeling. “ARRRGH!” OF COURSE THE DAMN ADDRESS EXISTS. ALL I DID WAS PUSH THEIR DANM BUTTON ON THEIR DAMN WEBSITE! DAMN MORONS!” I said to myself. Calmly.

Maybe it’s just a password problem and I actually mistyped when I was selecting it. It’s possible. If I can incorrectly enter a password when trying to log onto a site I can certainly mistyped the letters, characters, numbers, and case control when first selecting the password. Of course that would mean that I would have had to make the same mistake twice since, once on the first selection entry and once on the confirmation entry, but hey, it could happen. Yeah, right.

So I attempted to log on again, knowing it would reject the login information but also knowing I would be presented with the inevitable “Forgot your password?” link. So I did. And I was. And I clicked. And in a few seconds I received another email with another link to reenter my password. So I clicked. And I reentered. Carefully. Both times. The screen blanked taking all my information again to wherever the little electrons go when they discuss these things and in less than a second I got another email! This is getting exciting. Again anxiously (though not quite as anxiously as I had been earlier), I opened the email and read the message congratulating me on successfully changing my password with a new link to log on and “start participating in my care.” (No emphasis added. By this time I was getting emphatically worn out.) Again I clicked. And again I entered username AKA email address and password AKA, uhh, password. And again I got…”username or password invalid.”

Oy.

(If you read Monday’s post and are wondering if this was what I couldn’t remember…..well, the answer to that is no. But this one is such a great story I couldn’t wait to share it. That and if I did wait I knew I would have forgotten about it. But don’t worry. I still have the sticky note stuck right there on the monitor (see?) and I’ll be writing all about it next time. Unless something else comes up between now and then. But it’s OK. There’s lots of sticky on that note. It’s not going anywhere.)

(Oh and, do you think I use too many parentheses?)

 

And the Survey Says…

Michael 6 Comments

Two or three times a month I take an Internet poll. I’d love to be one of those people who make $100,000 a year taking polls on line. Frankly, I don’t have 48 hours a day to take that many polls and if I did, even with no life, I have a life. And even more franklyer than that, two or three a month is getting to be too many any more.

I do most everything on a mobile device nowadays. Even when I’m not out of the house I’m more likely to be on my tablet than on the desktop computer – which, oddly enough is actually on a desk. I don’t think that it’s so unusual that I’d rather connect with a handheld device in the comfort of a comfy chair. Yet more often than not when I open a survey invitation polling people’s opinions on “technology,” I’m presented with the error message explaining “that survey does not support mobile devices.” Am I using old tablet technology?

ResultsThis weekend I opened my emailed during one of the intermissions in the hockey game I was engrossed with on TV (and you thought I was too old to multi-task) and found a survey opportunity on “social issues.” The notice claimed it would take about 15 minutes to complete the poll. Since I had 17 minutes of non-hockey time left I clicked the link. There I was presented with a survey on “social issues,” AKA what I think of my cable provider. Such burning “social issues” we should face every day.

Yesterday I did a little shopping and was presented with an opportunity to express my opinion on a truly pressing “social issue.” Let me see if I can present it in poll-like fashion.

People who stop suddenly as soon as they cross the threshold to a shopping establishment, i.e. stop in the middle of the freaking doorway:

[    ] should be avoided with all available alacrity so as to not be made to feel like their presence is at all any sort of intrusion into your space lest you intrude into their space.

[     ] will have their shoppers reward cards revoked and never be allowed in public without a escort

[     ] must be run up the back of their ankles with any available shopping cart

[     ] truly deserve the death penalty

Now that’s a poll on social issues.

That’s what I think. Really. How ’bout you?

Euphemistically Yours

Michael 2 Comments

I was going to write a light, breezy post about something humorous that happened to me. But all of that changed when I saw what was on my coffee table. Let me start in the middle. (The beginning would make this just WAAAAYYYYYYYY too long.) A couple of weeks ago I bought a new television. Sometime over the weekend I read the instruction manual. At least I got around to it eventually. Actually I didn’t get around to it. It somehow ended up on the table instead of the recycling bin and as I was walking it over to said bin it fell out of my hands and broke open. And that’s when I started reading.

At first I wasn’t sure I was really reading it. I thought that maybe I was having a dream but one of those dreams that is so lifelike that you wake up thinking that you really did just have lunch with Aunt Ella even though she died 12 years ago and even more that you don’t have an Aunt Ella. Now that’s a dream. But I thought that maybe that’s exactly what I was having because no company on Earth could actually put into writing what I was reading right there in black and white.

About halfway through the “IMPORTANT NOTICES” was, in bold letters, “End of Life Directives.” This is why I at first thought that I was having and/or had had a dream. And probably a bad dream. To someone who spent 40 years in health care, “End of Life” has a very specific meaning. Usually, no, always, end of life means someone’s life has ended. Died. Checked out. Kicked the bucket. 86’d on out of here. Gone. Never to return. Dead.

On top of it, I’ve spent the last few years in and out of hospitals where the first thing anybody asks (after “are you bleeding?”) is, “Do you have a living will or advance directives?” And just last week the dialysis clinic social worker brought to me a stack of papers to be signed for this year and at the top of the stack was a pre-formatted form labeled “End of Life Directives.”

So you can see why when I saw that associated with an Open Box Internet Special yet still over-priced television set I thought I was hallucinating. Or at the very least way past my bedtime. We have enough things that are challenged, sufficient opportunities, plenty of stuff that is deprived, depressed or disadvantaged, that we don’t need to borrow an actual sentiment to be euphemistic for something that really doesn’t need to be spoken of gently.

Exactly what is this “end of life” that the manufacturers of electronic components are afraid to call a spade? Apparently, as I learned upon further reading, it’s when the TV has reached the end of its usefulness to me and the manufacturer wants to make me aware that there are environmentally responsible means of disposal that are at my umm, disposal.

I know it’s terribly politically incorrect to call a shovel a shovel but hasn’t the need to call everything anything but whatever thing it is gone too far now? We can’t even put in an instruction manual that this thing you just bought might break, fail, quit, or stop working. We have to speak gently so that if you actually paid full price for the item you won’t file an wrongful breakdown suit against the manufacturer. Bull shit. It will break and when it does either recycle it or throw it away. Those are your choices. Directives or not.

But if I should happen to outlive the newest electronic member of my family I will be certain to dispose of it in a responsible and thoughtful manner. I’ll hold a respectful gathering of its friends, we’ll have a non-denominational service with a few of the other appliances offering their thoughts and best wishes for the survivors and afterwards some light refreshments and fellowship. We will then gently load the life-challenged inanimate object into the back of my pre-hybrid automobile, drive several times around the county looking for a recycling center that accepts electronics, pay $1 per pound or $45 per dropoff whichever is less, and then hightail it back home. In air-conditioned comfort.

California will be proud.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?