Archive for November, 2015


This is funny.  My Mom’s birthday is November 28.  I emailed her in a panic last night apologizng for forgetting it “yesterday.”

Of course I got an email back saying, “…” Uh, huh.  That’s actually the first time I’ve ever pre-forgot something.

I also forget my own birthday.  Then it happens.  Then I forget that I’ve aged another year for six months.  I keep telling everyone I’m my prior age than how old I really am.

This is NOT a joke, a lie, no shorn sheep over eyes!

So I (sort of) remembered this. November.  THE INCARNATION.  And I got the day right!

This is basically a “tradition” in the world of Blogging–at least for some?

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BLOG!

This crazy, ridiculous, ranty, stupid and hopefully helpful THING.

I CANNOT BELIEVE.  If this Blog is completely senseless, it’s NOTHING compared to me being so utterly senseless at how long…? Nine Years.

Seriously.  Seriously?

SERIOUSLY.

I have a feeling it will make it to 10.  With so much more rambling (as always.)

Thanks for reading, everyone out there.  It’s all about you! Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.

Cheers,
PA

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Hello Everyone,

It has indeed been a very long time since I have written anything on wee PAs Blog.  That is mostly in part, because it is my full time duty to take care of her.  And indeed again, she has not been very well, for a very long time.  In fact, after a rather long hiatus, she is now only beginning to write on her Blog again.

Earlier today, she decided it would be a good idea to try after so long, to clean up her Blog.  This, once again after several failed attempts.  She feels it is a:

“Goddamn piece of shit and a total mess.  A total disaster and so fucked up that it’s a surprise that anyone is reading it at all because it’s totally gone to hell just like her.”

Moreover:

“She can’t believe she’s been writing all of these Posts on it that just look like crusty sheep barf on a barbed wire fence.  Actually, she’s the one that should be covered her own barf every day, barf from everyone on the street, barf from everyone on Television and never, ever, ever be allowed to shower again.  If it rains, she should be bound in chains inside her apartment and have more barf poured over her in extra buckets because the rain will make her long desperately with every pathetic piece of tissue in her body for a shower.”

And finally:

“FUCK MY BLOG AND FUCK ME TOO!!!”

Oh, dear.  I think you can see that I have more on my flippers than I can handle right now?

I believe it best to remove wee PA from all forms of Technology now.  However, I might have to wrestle with her to stop clenched fists reaching for a mobile phone.  Seizing her Mac is easy enough. I will simply use my “Flipper-Slip” and slide it into the its case when she wanders away to do something else.

Perhaps tomorrow will be a better day to work on her Blog.  She might be more up to task.  Right now, I bet my stakes high it is certainly not a good time!

Oh.  Well, look what we have here? I am heaving a hugh sigh of relief! We are are currently experiencing a thunder storm with lightening.  Wee PA positively loves them.  This might make my job a lot easier.

 

 


They’re still working on getting me an appointment at the Stroke Management Clinic.  Which is fine.  Referrals can vary for time periods. 

Sometimes you have to appear sick by the Doctors, sometimes healthy by them, maybe be their best friend, or kiss lots of nurses in the “Paperwork Closet.”

Or just get lucky.  Apart from any Paperwork Closet Activity.

When I called yesterday, it turned out the paperwork hadn’t been sent.  This, from the (third now) hotel, the Ambulances have always chauffeured me to, and upon arrival, with great aplomb.  The Orderlies should be playing, “Pomp and Circumstance” EVERY time.

So the Stroking, I mean Striking Woman gave me the exact number to call at the other hotel, to have my Paperwork (Closeted or Otherwise) sent over to their hotel. 

Closeted or not Closeted?! Have we not moved past the Stone Age and given all of these people their Rights and Freedoms! Ho! Oh, Ho! Ho!

Is this sounding like a bad Monty Python Sketch yet? I’m doing my best.

The Paperwork was sent but it was basically end of day.  So, call back today.  I thought the Striking Woman would just give me an appointment as typically, all Medical Administration Assistants do.  But I received a nasty surprise.

“Okay, PA…I’ll put you through to Triage now…”  Click.

Okay.  Yes, when you are chauffeured to hotels you go through ER Triage.  Who is about to die? Who has cut their finger? Although, children are Triaged quite quickly and with great care.

Look up the word: IATROPHOBIA.

Never did I expect to be transferred to a person over the phone, to discuss my problems in any “Triage Manner.”  If ANYTHING, I thought they would Triage appointments based upon Doctor Reporting from the patient, the full examination, all workups, tests.

And boy did I have a FULL Neurological Exam! Things were done to me a million miles beyond so many basic ones I can do in my sleep!

At one point, he was testing my leg joints, mobility in different ways, and other reflexology–not just the “sit and tap the knee.”  Wait.  He did do that apart from all the others.  I just wasn’t sitting.

My legs were up in the air.  And there was no need for a woman in the room! I had my pants on.  But at one point, it was like a combination of two gentle forms of Shiatsu and Swedish.

ASIDE: I am addicted to Shiatsu.

The strangest Neurological question he asked, was the most bizarre I’ve ever heard.  Probably will remain so.

“If you comb or brush your hair, does it ever hurt? On one side of your head? Both? Nothing?”

Holy All the Elephants in Africa Pause! “Erm…maybe my right.  Yes, when it’s tangled? Yeah, my right.”

WHOA! HOLY MEMORY! I screamed like hell having my hair brushed and combed as a kid! What on earth does that mean?

Anyway, what does the title of this mean? I started to drift off into TIA Land on the phone with the Triage Guy.

God, we were almost coming to blows.  I have to warn EVERYONE new I talk to that I don’t mean to sound like a “Professional Patient.”  I’ve studied Medicine.  I was going to pursue a Career in Medicine.  It’s just that sometimes life doesn’t always go as planned.

I also said I was unprepared! I had to make a list of so many things! So much happens (in the back of my mind to argue against your pseudo-points!)

So, fine.  Conversation ending, then WHAM! I said right now, happening, told him what was going on.  Speech starting to slur, rambling, needed dark glasses immediately!

He said he’d let me go and rest.

But what timing. *sighs*

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I’m not sure, but I think this might be the worst thing a sister could do to her own.  This sister, who is an Aunt to her other’s two daughters and one son.  Even worse, this sister who learned all about it from their Mother.  Charming.

The information happened in stages.  Actually, I should correct myself.  I’m not sure if our Mother knew the third part, but that is irrelevant.  This is about ME.

I can’t believe she didn’t tell me any of this.  Much more her “excuses.”

My youngest niece moved about a three hour drive from where I live.  This was several months ago.  Then she got married approximately two months ago.  After the marriage had settled in for a while with both of them, they planned to move across the country.

I never see my nieces and nephew.  They love me so much, as I do them.  At least I’ve always been told that IN THE PAST.  What of the love of my sister she always said she had for me in the past?

Oh, that pretty much disappeared years ago.

So I thought I’d just give her a ding to chat recently.  “Hey, what’s up?” I had actually forgotten what Mom had even told me–until the end of our conversation.

Of course I asked why didn’t she tell me about the wedding! I let her moving well before aside because the wedding was more important.  If nothing more it would have been nice to meet the Groom!

“Oh, well, I’ve told SO many people I couldn’t even REMEMBER anymore! And there were so many problems with transportation! My car’s a piece of junk and couldn’t make it so we were switching cars all over the place to try and get everybody there.  And, oh my god! Her Mother-In-Law just took over everything at the last minute, so it was a TOTAL nightmare! So after everything calms down, they’re moving to (said Province.”)

…okay…

So now we’ve got the stunning excuses but the REAL BOMB at the end.

People, Canada is a very large Country.  For me to fly to where she’s going takes the same time for me to fly to London, England. 

That’s just the epicenter within the Province as well.  It could take me longer for several other places that would require Transferred Flights to get them.

I’ve been there before.  Once it was about seven hours due to a delay of a Transfer.  I just sat in the Airport and got drunk to amuse myself.  It was late at night and there was nothing else to do!

I kept my cool and made a joke that it was a good thing they were moving if her Mother-In-Law was going to be like that! My sister just laughed and agreed.

My heart is breaking as I’m writing this.

So we stopped chatting and I decided it was time, after so long, to unleash the damn Elephant in the Room! Email! 

However.  Kid Gloves! Time to really use my writing to the Max! So push those words out properly.  Bend, twist, roll, turn them upside down but not a complete 360° Get into her head.

Keep it brief, no drama, non-confrontational, nice and even, and toss out the Elephant.  Hopefully get it through her thick skull, I will not be her personal little punching bag any longer.  That’s also apart from this story.

I told her “it was a bit of an ouch” that she didn’t tell me.  I would like to think that being all of her kid’s Aunt, I’d be at the top of the list of people to tell.

I continued that we were so close years ago, but I didn’t think we were anymore (ELEPHANT!!!) That was alright though.  Things change.  If we weren’t so close, then at least we can be honest about it and have peace.

Oh, wait.  I must have forgotten.  There were two Elephants? That final statement was the one that could barely FIT in the room.

No response, naturally.  Some kind of blame placed on me for something, naturally.  That’s fine.

I’ll take my own blame for everything I ever did to hurt us.  But I’m not putting up with her abuse anymore. 

I still feel a bit scared of her, but I feel some relief now, too.

Nonetheless, I’m staying far, far away.  Even if that means never speaking to her again.

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Okay.  How long ago did I say I was going to start Blogging about this subject? I even added a Category for it.  Which is not even lying dormant or hibernating, but catatonic.  No, it’s DEAD.

I had to write some “Introductory Material” for everyone to read, before jumping into pots, and frying pans, and trash bins.  I despise litter but some of you might even have wished to defenestrate what you prepared.

Or, throw it all over your neighbour’s door if they’re really mean to you. 

Perhaps the possibilities are endless.  It might simply depend upon who you are as a person, and what dish you’ve prepared.  Both? If you’ve made yourself vomit or not?

Let’s not focus on the NEGATIVE though! I’ve made some awesome stuff that’s NEVER made me I’m emetophobic so I can’t vomit! Thus, I have complete confidence that you too could become the best Experimental Cook beyond your wildest dreams.  In fact, you will be an “Experimental Chef!”

A Susur Lee, Anthony Bourdain, many more (only you’ll have partial, prefrontal cortex damage.)  Maybe a Gordon Ramsay? Granted he has no frontal cortex in his brain period!

I think I know where the Notes are for my “Introductory Material.”  I’ll go on a wild goose chase now. 

However, that’s one thing I DO remember.  Wild Geese aren’t in my Notes.  I’ve never even tried to cook a Wild Goose, much less chase one!

That paragraph was Groaner Central.  Almost, embarrassingly so! My apologies to you all.  Clearly, I need more tea.

But no cooking today.

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