Quarantined Day #7

I think my body may just make it through all this yardwork I'm doing. EVERYTHING pertaining to my house has been sorely neglected for so long that it makes me feel so ashamed and so sad, but everyone I say that to just looks at me like I'm crazy or thinks I'm just making an excuse for being lazy. Well, I'm neither, I care about where I live, but I simply haven't been physically able to do the work and I can't afford to hire it to be done by some else. It's a hell of a situation to be in and one I never dreamed I'd be experiencing. I also never dreamed I'd get to the point I'm at now, but I've really pushed myself and here I am and now, I have my hands full. Sometimes I feel so overwhelmed when I look around me and see all the work I have to do. I have to keep reminding myself ONE DAY AT A TIME, MILDRED! One day at a time...and then when it gets too hot (I live in Florida) move inside and start some projects in there because there's as many inside as there's outside! Lucky me! I think Cecil, the partridge and I need to go to Lowe's and start hanging out in the contractor's section and start picking up contractors! To hell with bars! I'm to old for bars and besides my tail feathers don't shake like they shook 30 years ago. But I have a flashy hammer and a cool partridge...lol

So, each day before I go outside to do hard physical work which includes cutting down trees and cutting them up, I put on my back brace because without it I wouldn't be able to do anything but sit there and look at everything that needs to be done.  A few years ago, after I fell down my stairs and fractured a vertebrae which just added to all the other things that's wrong with my back I struggled to be able to stand and walk.  In fact, I couldn't stand for more than a minute or two before I needed to sit down. It really sucked and frustrated the hell out of me and although everyone kept telling to accept my limitations, I just couldn't do that. I wouldn't that. Over time, gradually, I pushed myself to the point of being able to do things again. It took me a few years to get there, but I was determined. I didn't announce to anyone that was my goal because I knew I most likely would have been vetoed on my decision to fight through my pain, ditch pain management and all the narcotics after years and years of using them and then gradually try to get my life back. Once I accomplished that, I started working towards getting my diabetes under control which had never been under control.

Since last May I've lost about 70 pounds and my A1C is where it's supposed to be for the first time since I was diagnosed with diabetes in 2002.  The only thing that concerns me now is that the last time I went to my endocrinologist, he switched my injectable meds to something new. You see, since I had started losing weight, I hadn't had to inject any fast-acting insulin and that's something I never dreamed I would ever stop doing. I injected Tresiba (long-acting insulin) at bedtime and Victoza in the morning after checking my fasting blood sugar. So my doctor decided to start me on Soliqua which supposedly combines the two in one injection.  I thought that was great  because it was going to only be one shot a day, but like any new medication your body takes time to adjust to it and my blood sugar has crept up somewhat. It's not a giant spike, but I worked hard to get it down and well...I know the story. The drug rep walks into the doctor's office with a new drug and wants the  doctor to push it and so the doctor starts prescribing to his patients. I happened to be one of those patients. I think when I go to my primary care doctor in a few weeks, I'm going to discuss the matter and try to get back on what I was on. I don't mind two shots a day and I wasn't asked if I wanted to switch, the other doctor just switched me over to the new drug. I would go back to the endocrinologist, BUT he's harder than hell to get in to see. It's like asking for an appointment with God. I guess things could be worse...

Now, as for my results from my coronavirus testing, there still are none, but Martha told me yesterday that I was supposed to have set up some kind of account and it was explained on the paperwork they gave me. I said, "What paperwork????" Since she and I went to different testing sites I guess I went to the shit show site where they handed me a mask and stuck a swab up my nose and tickled my grey matter, but I don't remember getting any paperwork. It's all included in Murphy's Laws and those are the Laws I live by every day of my life. So Martha is going to take a picture of the paperwork and text it to me so I can see what she received so MAYBE I can go from there and find something out soon.

Quarantined Day #5

No results yet! Martha got her results and thank goodness they were negative.  I'm sure mine will be coming along soon. We were tested at different sites. Remember her site hunted for her G-spot whereas mine went so far up my nose it tickled my tonsils then they slapped my ass and sent me on my way to be happily quarantined so I'm sure that has some effect on the delay in getting my results. I feel fine, but waiting to be told that I'm fine is difficult. I've been staying busy with outside projects mostly. The other day I put fire ant bait out because the fire ants are trying to take over my yard and one of my little dogs keeps getting bit by them. If you never have had the pleasure of meeting a fire ant, you're lucky. They're truly miserable little creatures and the bait didn't seem to work, so today I dumped some gasoline on them...take that you little bastards! Bite my baby again and I'll light a match next time and set the whole yard on fire. ooops! I hate when that happens!

Today, I got a little sidetracked with talking and chatting and texting with old friends. I think that type of interaction is more important than me getting out in my backyard and cutting down a tree or planting something here and there. The first person I interacted with was an old blogging buddy from my days back when MSN Spaces first opened their doors in 2004. We chatted for quite awhile and it was good catching up with her. I was glad to find out that she's still writing and that she's doing well. My second friend I chatted with was an old neighborhood friend from back in the day when Mildred was but a twig on the tree of life. Again, we caught up and all is well on the home front. The last person I started texting with was an old friend from my Kinsman Hall days... good old "Doctor Detroit".  He lives next-door to the virulent cesspool known as New York. I just wanted to make sure he was okay and I ended up talking to him for hours and hours and hours. And yes, we talked about important stuff like partridges in pear trees and child birth and conspiracy theories. 

In between chats and conversations and texts I managed to drop a tree. Imagine that! When I got a good look at the wall behind the tree it screamed PAINT A MURAL ON ME! So, I decided to paint a mural on that wall. Now, all I have to do is decide what to paint. I believe it HAS to be something to do with a partridge in a pear tree, but that's always subject to change. I'll mull it over and post a picture of the finished product in a decade or two. Right now, I'm going to bed. I'm really tired. I was really tired last night, also. In fact, I went to bed around 9 and I never do that. I must be getting old or something. I guess it happens to the best of us.

Quarantined Day #4

Somehow I get the feeling that I'll be waiting a little bit longer than 4 or 5 days to get my results back and then from what I've been hearing on the news not all tests are reliable. Just another thing that isn't Trump's fault, of course! He does no wrong! All I know is that I feel fine today and I'll take it one day at a time if I have to. I'm cool with that. So how are all of  you coping with this shit show?

Last night I did a grocery order (note to self - don't make a grocery order again while you're stoned.) Naturally, they were still out of a lot of stuff, but I had to opt to have it delivered since still I'm quarantined.  I think I'm beginning to know what a leper felt like.

I went outside today with good intentions of taking down the two small trees that need to come down so my pear tree will grow fully in all directions. Right now it leans one way because it get practically no sun in one direction. Besides being lop-sided it also needs a partridge because it's a pear tree. You don't know how many stores I've been in around Christmas thinking I'd find a partridge...just one partridge....a small partridge, so I can put it in my pear tree, but no! So tell me why there's a dumb Christmas song about a partridge in a pear tree if you can't find a partridge anywhere at Christmastime? You can find doves. You can find swans. You can find ducks. You can find cardinals. You can find owls. You can find any other kind of bird at Christmas, but you can't find one of the birds mentioned in the 12 days of Christmas. And when I ask a sales rep for a partridge they look at me like I'm asking her to perform a sex act with a French hen. Oh la la!

So instead of taking down two small trees, I took a picture of a tree about 50 feet away from where I was standing.  I'm easily distracted, aren't I? Just think about all the homes that this one tree provides. It's like Avatar without big blue creatures running around unless they run around at night. Hey, maybe that's what my dogs bark at and it's not at the squirrels after all. This tree is in Mad Mad Martha and her Digging Dog, Digger's yard next-door to me...shhhhhhhhh don't tell her I took the picture or she might hex me and make my pear tree grow funny or something :) Whoops, I guess that already happened. I need to learn to behave myself...maybe in my next lifetime??

The other picture is of my finger because it hurts and I really need someone to say "oh, poor baby"... no really, it's been swollen for days. Both joints are sore and when I put the coffee table together yesterday I said lots of bad language. Autoimmune disorders are hard. Especially ones that doctors leave undiagnosed. Oh well! I guess it could be worse. Gripping the screwdriver was a challenge, but I mastered the challenge because I'm a tough Maine woman! We're made of hardy stock.

I made my mother laugh when I purposely said things her father/ my grandfather used to say while I assembled the coffee table like..."you, son of a whore." That was always one of his favorite sayings and believe it or not when you cuss at a stuck wood screw that won't go in, I don't know what it is about it, but all of a sudden it breaks free and the screw screws right in after it's properly cussed at a few times. Okay, that's my lesson on fixing stuff today. Just remember, Mildred says if you're having a difficult time with something, a little colorful language will go a long way to remedy the situation.