Malicious Microbes

The new year has not begun auspiciously. The Bad Germs got back in my lungs and I have been in bed. Now, granted, being in bed is not your grandmother's bed! Being in bed means being surrounded by every techno-toy possible.

The bed resembles control central--laptop, new netbook, cell phone, portable phone, TV and remote control, iPod and radio. What is missing? MY CAMERA!! So, in addition to being pretty ill, I'm going through camera withdrawal. I figured that being out of action for so long would be the perfect time to send it out for "tweaking." There is never a good time for the camera to be gone but there's not much to shoot from a sickbed.

We are also getting badly needed rain--lots and lots of rain. The 18th fairway is under water! Picture to follow somehow.

After 3 weeks of this mess I went to the doctor. He said I was a hair away from being admitted to the hospital. He uses alarmist language because he knows I'm basically an uncooperative patient. He also knows I'm scared to death of hospitals because there are so many sick people there. And where there are sick people, there are GERMS!!!

What I wanted to blog about was the prescriptions I came home with. Wham-O antibiotics, check. Prednizone, check. Cough syrup, check. Inhaler, check. The total for the Prednizone was $3. The total for one bottle of the cough syrup was $200.00!!!! Are you kidding? The co-pay was $140.00!

My immediate thought was Wow!This must be some pretty good stuff-- should I take it or trade it?" Curiosity and total exhaustion from coughing made me keep it. I was expecting the best stuff since the 60ies. Well, 1 teaspoon later----nothing. No bright colors, no deep insights, no heightened senses. Just no coughing. Couldn't a good single malt have done the same thing? Granny would have said so--just add a little honey and hot water.

But the one little pill of Prednizone had the most effect. For the first time I'm starting to be able to get enough air to function(aka TALK). Go figure--for $3.00. We are so fortunate to have the health care we do.

Meanwhile, I continue to frequent my chat room cyberfriends, watch boring TV, and listen to Rush Limbaugh. However, I think things will pick up and I'll be able to return to blogs of SeniorLand, rainstorms and their aftermath, and just regular musings.

A special thank you to Mr T who has been a saint for the last 3 weeks and the dozens of quail who come right outside my bedroom door to eat the seed under the table. They are wonderful entertainment and for that courtesy to me, I won't eat them.

Hic et Hoc

The desert is full of icons—not the church kind—the Real Life kind. The screwed up remote, four-wheel dirt “road” in Kingston that was so well-marked at the beginning and then totally lacking markers when the road dissolved into scrub and rock covered desert wash was an icon of the government running healthcare. Great at the beginning when you need nothing—does you zero good when the sun is going down and you’re really needing a sign to get out of the wash.

Ravens are iconic for the beta male mentality our country seems to promote instead of the Marlboro Man. Misguided yucca huggers have succeeded in making it illegal to kill ravens. But ravens are lethal, cunning interlopers who ravage the natural animal environment of the desert. They kill baby turtles as they hatch; they eat the eggs of native birds; and, ravish the snake population. (I don’t really care about the snakes but still, they have their purpose on the Mojave.)

Perhaps the most striking icon in the desert is WATER. Everything about this dry moonscape right here on earth sucks moisture out and seems to return nothing. Yet, ever so often, in the middle of the desert, there will be a small creek, a spring, a pool and even underground rivers. The Amargosa River is only stagnant ponds in places, a free-running creek in others. Gremshaw Basin is HOT water but you fight the mud mites to get out to soak in it. Of course you also fight the naked German tourists covering themselves with mud as well!

Death Valley didn't get its name for nothing. After dry camping up at Mesquite Campground we headed to sea level Stovepipe Wells and SHOWERS! Ahhhhh--the steam, the abundant water, the clean hair. Yet, at the same time, I was choosing to do something expressly forbidden by the doctors who have been managing my case. I opted for the immediate gratification rather than the risk of a set-back. Who knows? Tomorrow one could get attacked by ravens and end up a pile of dry bones in the desert.