Friday, November 30, 2007
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
He asked me what I thought about the sexual crimes against children, molestation and such. It made a painful point come to mind. I told him I didn't think there was any more of that sort of thing now, as compared to then. That it's just that censors now allow the media to talk about it, when in the past it was a taboo. Along with hearing them use the word "ASS" during prime time television, we are also privy to announcements that child molesters are lining the city streets. Sex offenders are compelled to register with the state and TV stations can boost their rating when they discuss teachers that fondle their students. Those things went on in the past and will probably go on in the future, it was just never thrown in our faces before. Rotten tomatoes have always smelled bad, we've just never had them under our noses before!
Monday, November 26, 2007
I arrived at Julie's house last night after a confused day of conflicting schedules and misunderstandings. She ran to me like a child with good report card. I could tell she had something newsworthy to tell me. She was so proud to tell me that she'd bought the TV that she'd been talking about for a couple of weeks and brought it home and bought a set of shelves to put it on and has it all assembled in her spare room and it's almost ready to go. I inquired if she had cable in that room as she'd need that too. She proudly told me yes, and she had installed it herself and threw the expression "stud finder" around a little bit. As you can imagine, she joked about that as she mentioned she was using it around her neighborhood looking for love. I gave her the obligatory phony laugh and we moved on.
We entered the room that was to accommodate the new TV and there it was sitting on the floor, next to her new black shelves that she built and installed. She even anchored the shelves to the wall, putting her new "stud finder" to work. Sticking out of an open closet door was the cable she had found up in the attic, looking like an umbilical cord that needed bobbing. Although I give her credit for getting that far, I offered to refine the look a little by running it though the ceiling and down the wall behind the shelves.
On the floor, in the middle of the newspaper was a large pile of hardware and when I asked what that was all about, she replied that they must be extra parts for the shelves. I was really impressed that she had gotten so far, as I doubt that I would have gotten half as far if I were knitting, something that Julie is accomplished at. I offered to finish the task for her and she accepted my gracious offer. Now, all I have to do is figure out how to do the job without her finding out, that I don't have a clue.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Now it was time to try to recreate the past 2 weeks...
If I recall correctly, I had been suffering from a congestion problem. A month before that, my right leg had swelled up and I never did find out why. I went to a vascular specialist and he said it wasn't a vein problem. My doctor, a friend of mine, put me on a diuretic for the swelling and it seemed to go down. He also gave me thyroid pills after a blood test. So, it's 1/23/05 and I'm pretty congested and I'm thinking that if this congestion gets any worse, I might not be able to breathe at all. I got kind of scared and called my friend, the doctor in the middle of the night, about 3:30 AM. He didn't answer, but called me right back. He asked me if I could drive, but I didn't have anywhere to go. He came right over and literally threw me into his car. We went to Paradise Valley Hospital, a BIG mistake! He dropped me off and went to park the car. They totally ignored me. When Sam got there he asked if anyone had talked to me and I said no. He disappeared into the break room and came out with about 5 people in uniforms and scrubs. I think he told them I was a rock star!
Within seconds they had me on a gurney and had wires hooked up to me and they were telling me I was in cardiac arrest. I told them they were mistaken, I felt fine, just a little congestion. They shot me full of nitro-glycerin, hey what do I know? For the next hour they prodded and poked and finally they were sending me to a place called the Cath Lab.
The Cath Lab was a hospital operating room setting with everyone wearing masks. Pretty soon a maniac came prancing in screaming at everyone, myself included. I remember him telling me that from now on he's my doctor and I'm not to listen to anyone else but him. Do I understand? What would you say? I said, yes! I was asked if I were allergic to iodine and I asked for a better definition of what he wanted to know. He said, are you allergic to shrimp? I thought he was ordering out! I told him no, I love shrimp. He told me to sign there, then! I signed what turned out to be a permission slip for him to kill me.
The next thing I knew they were stripping my clothes off and shaving me. Then it was a needle that went into my groin and that was not the worst of my problems. The needle was to go tracing through my body and it had a camera on it. Geez! I was watching the whole thing on a monitor and it was better than the Discovery Channel. Suddenly everything clouded up and we lost our picture. At home I would have called the cable company, but here I just asked what happened. He said he tore my heart! What? He tore my heart, just matter of factly. I tried to compute the ramifications of that. I asked if I were going to die and he calmly said, "I don't know" with his Indian accent! I was getting pretty concerned about now as the blood that was supposed to be going to one place was now not getting there, but instead was flooding into my chest cavity as I had a hole in my descending artery of my heart. I started to get some pretty serious pain in my chest and now I know what a heart attack feels like in case anyone wants to know ahead of time, just ask. Why wait? Now I asked this asshole doctor what his next plan was. He said they were going to air-o-vac me to another hospital, as they do not have a cardiac department there. WHAT? No cardiac department and they do this sort of procedure here?
The next thing I know they're boarding me onto my very first helicopter ride and the sun is now coming up over Phoenix and it's beautiful and I'm on my way to open heart surgery and I've never had anything worse than a root canal. I still enjoyed the sunrise and was truly hoping it was not my last..
Evidently the staff on board the helicopter were related to the doctor that poked a hole in my heart, as they proceeded to close the door on my foot at least 3 times before they would listen to me as I was screaming, it's hitting my foot! I had so much morphine in me that I couldn't even feel the pain any longer. My $17,000 ride to the next hospital was slow as we hovered over John C. Lincoln Hospital awaiting permission to land.
The staff at J. C. Lincoln was polite, attentive and good listeners. As soon as I spotted someone with an authoritative look, I asked if I could have whatever it is that will put me out of my misery. The next thing I knew, a nurse was shooting something into my IV and 10 or 12 days had gone by! That was some shot!
It wasn't until I was already discharged from the third hospital and was already researching things for my first lawyer that I found out some of the things that happened to me from the hospital reports. I went to John C. Lincoln Hospital and secured them. I learned that my kidneys had failed and I had been on dialysis for 3 weeks. I also learned that my son was told that I was going to die and to be prepared for that, as my blood pressure could not be stabilized. I learned that I had several surgical procedures after the heart surgery to remedy some of the after effects of the botched initial surgery. I learned that my heart surgeon was about 30 years old and had not even made it onto his Medical firms stationary at that point.
According to the hospital reports, they botched the attempt to put the balloon pump that supplied much needed oxygen to the vital organs after heart surgery. It states in the report that the unruly patient pulled it out and it had to be reinstalled at a later time. That time was about 3 hours later when they realized my kidneys had failed. Subsequently they sewed the pump to my leg. Yes, you read that right. I have a scar on the inside of my right knee to prove it. I then formed a blood clot in my right lung that had to excised to enable me to breathe and of course the 2 surgical procedures to drain the accumulated fluid from my lung cavities. All of this was done while I slept. I'm glad I missed it. I'm really quite glad to have survived all of this, but I am amazed that all of this went on and I was never ever told.
Let's discuss the reason that all of this happened. If you recall back at the beginning of this story, I was told I was in cardiac arrest and I doubted that it was the correct diagnosis. It seemed that my heart was only infected. It was enlarged from infection. No one caught it until they opened me up and drained a liter and one half of fluid from my peradiem, the sack around my heart. I was then administered an anti-biotic directly into my heart and all was soon to be well. They repaired the hole in my heart with a tire patch kit from Wal-Mart, did a triple bypass while they were in there and closed me up, leaving a 10 inch scar down the front of my chest that isn't even straight. (It wanders to the right.)
I'm missing an important body part!
I thought that might get your attention. You know that bump that is on the inside tip of your clavicle? You have 2 of them directly down from your neck. My left one is missing, just gone! What did they do with that thing. It doesn't even have a name and it's missing just the same. Did it break off while they were drilling or sawing? Did some big goon snap it off with his thumb? And what did they do with it? Was there some guy waiting in the wings for a clavicle tip transplant? If you see it, please send it home. I miss it.
You're probably thinking that this guy really made out with the law suit, right? Well, there wasn't one. It turns out in Arizona, the courts LOVE their doctors, even the bad ones. 7 out of 8 malpractice law suits go in the way of the doctors here. In order for me to sue anyone, they wanted me to cough up with about $150,000 in expert witness fees to bring in a doctor from out of state to testify that I did not get a minimum of care, and it was more likely than not that I was going to lose, too. Seven separate lawyers all told me the same thing. There is a 2 year statue of limitation that was up almost a year ago. Not only did I not benefit 10 cents from this, but it chewed up a large portion of my savings, as well. Getting sick ain't cheap!
At some point in my stay at John C. Lincoln Hospital, they determined that I was no longer a candidate for the IC Unit and they were going to transfer me to a regular room, however the computer would not allow it. It turned out that my insurance wasn't good there for anything but Intensive Care, so at about 2 or 3 AM they called an ambulance and offered me a ride to Good Samaritan Hospital where my Cigna Insurance is accepted. I begged to wait until morning so that my son wouldn't come in to see an empty bed and think it was okay to drive my red Corvette! Not only that, but the attending nurse told the guys that were driving the ambulance that I was a bed wetter. That really pissed me off.
So I arrive at Good Sam's with all new faces and little tiny TVs, no wonder it's cheaper. At this point, I was no longer on Morphine and I was no longer hallucinating. Suddenly the drugs washed out of my system and I was included in a room full of people that apparently had been there the day before, but I was seeing them for the first time. My ex-sister-n-law Patty was there and I hadn't seen her for years. Business acquaintances showed up and they had been there the day before too. As my head cleared, I looked in the mirror and saw an old man that looked frail with almost 3 weeks of beard and almost a half inch of hair growing out of his ears! I asked for a razor, shaving cream and a brush...
I think I was discharged on about Valentine's Day, Feb. 14th, 2005. Aunt Pat was gracious enough to come home with me and care for me. I couldn't have done it on my own and I will forever be grateful to her. I had to go to doctor's appointments, get blood drawn on a regular basis, get that damned catheter removed from my jugular vein as I no longer needed dialysis, thank God. I had to go to the lung guy 3 times a week to get my lungs drained, it was no picnic. They put in a permanent drain into my side and all they had to do when I came in was hook me up to the pump. I was good until one day they wanted to remove the plastic line. Did that ever hurt?
I recall one day that I decided to take a bath, shortly after I got home from the hospital. I ran the water and got into the tub, but when I was finished, I wasn't strong enough to lift myself out of the tub and I didn't feel I knew Aunt Pat well enough to call for help! After sitting there for who knows how long, the water was getting cold. I finally figured out a way to slither like a snake out of the tub and onto the bathroom floor. That may have been my most humiliating moment.
After about a week, Aunt Pat went home and my son Brad came to care for me for a week. It was a long week for him, I'll bet. Then Patty returned from Chicago and took back over the task. I think when she finally left a week later she had had enough of me. My friend Randi then came and took care of me for a while and then I was recovered enough to handle myself. To these people I will always be grateful, particularly Patty that let me drive her crazy...
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Julie can put the average person to shame with her 10 pedicular additional digits. She has what has been affectionately started to be called, talented toes or TT. I'd be willing to bet that TT is hereditary and it is passed on from mother to granddaughter often times skipping a generation. It is mostly predominant in the female of the species that is left handed or in this case left toed. Here is an example. Although Julie's toes have never been called pretty, they can really move along. The other night I was sitting on the sofa when Julie accosted my covered feet with the offer to get comfortable. As would anyone else, I looked at her. She reached over with her feet and began to remove my shoes, MY SHOES! She pushed her four sisters to the heel of my shoes and I'll be damned, but she pushed them right off, both of them! Then, while I was still amazed at her ability to maneuver her toes in such an unnatural fashion, she tucked her big toe under the back of my sock and began to remove that as well! With my mouth agape, she kept looking at me and saying, "What"? I discovered her trick. Her second toes is at least a half inch longer than her biggest toes, the one that I refer to as the older sister. It is not only agile, but ambidextrous, educated and a great dancer. That big toe of hers RULES! I checked the archives at ASU and found that her toes graduated in the summer of 1978 with a bachelors degree. Her toes are nothing to sneeze at! My toes are just plain jealous!
Friday, November 23, 2007
We have been planning this day almost since I met Julie. We talked about our Thanksgiving plans from the very beginning. Since Jules was going through her "thing", she decided this is such a fractured holiday for her that she would cook for me and we would spend Thanksgiving together. I was all for it, since I had no permanent plans in place. However, in addition, since these plans were set in place they have changed about 700 times. Julie was going to feed the woman's shelter, go to her daughter's families event and then it went full circle and I was brought back into the Thanksgiving plan.
Julie brought everything, from the stuffing to the 2 different types of corn niblets, to the 3 pies for dessert. I supplied the turkey as outlined in, "Food Shopping, it's Easy". Jules even brought firewood in case it was cool enough for a fire.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Once at the park and it's only 4 doors away from the house, I always allow Zoie to run loose. Both dogs behave extremely well, but Bogie is "dog aggressive" and I can't take the chance that another dog enters the park while he's off leash. Today, it was rather unpopulated and I let him go free. Both dogs ran to the gate of an old friend of mine, Marian. Marian is a very short Filipino lady that used to have Great Danes too, but it's been so long since I'd seen her that I was sure their old pups had long since passed on. Over the top of their wall and it's easily 6 feet tall, 3 separate heads popped up well over the top. Three Great Dane heads! Then Marian's head popped up too. She introduced Julie and I to her 3 new Danes and told me that Penny, one of her original Danes is still with her at 14. I was just thrilled to see that she was still involved with the breed, they're habit forming for sure. I acquired my first Dane about 33 years ago and seemingly have always had them in my life. They're so human!
About 10 years ago I had a golf cart and a little Schnorky, a combination of Yorkie and Schnauzer, that weighed about 8 LB. I used to drive around the streets in my electric golf cart and enjoy the breezes in the spring and fall. This particular day, Peewee and I were riding along when we spotted a fenced in front yard with 2 beautiful Danes in it. I slammed on the brakes and made a U-turn and went back to see if I could get a closer look. Marian the owner was out front and invited Peewee and myself into her yard to say hello to her two pups. I asked if I could go home and get my (then) wife to visit too. Marian agreed. I got my wife and Marian invited us in for lemonade and we spent about 2 hours with her visiting. The next day I was on a mission and started my search for Bogie. That's how this whole thing got started!
Monday, November 19, 2007
This morning, I announced it was shower time and Zoie went bounding up the stairs like she used to do months ago. Bogie stood there looking at me, wondering what to do. I asked him if he wanted to try it and he took my lead and made it up the 19 steps without incident. When he got there, he acted like a pup that found an old friend. He ran in circles and played tag with Zoie. It was clear that he too missed the more spacious accommodations. He scratched at the carpeting where he used to sleep and made himself a soft spot to lie. Zoie plopped herself down too.
For me it was a delight. I realized I hadn't been up there is a very long time. I was seeing it for the first time. It was big and clean and spacious. I looked around and kind of felt like I was visiting a spa. I wandered into the bathroom area and looked around at all the bugs that had died in the bottom of the shower stall and saw the layer of dust that had settled down. When I turned on the shower, it made a different sound than usual, due to the pipes being empty. The sink was leaking around the hot water knob from non-use. There was soap in the shower and a towel, so I figure why not? I stripped down and showered. It was exciting standing under my water fall fixture that I ordered special, so many years ago. After my shower, there was a hair dryer and a brush, so I dried my hair and wore my towel downstairs to look for clothes. As I descended the stairs, it felt like I was leaving an old friend behind, as I approached my smaller, more convenient accommodations on the lower level. The 2 dogs followed, as I wondered if I should just use the upstairs for showering. It sure felt good!
Not wanting to upset the assigner, I did precisely as I was told. I drove to Fry's Supermarket and parked and that in and of itself was no easy feat. Every appetite in town was out to purchase a turkey in time for it to thaw by Thursday, rendering today T-Day! I entered the store and had to scramble for a cart, as the only one left looked like it had been in a recent accident offering sticky candy wrappers in it's basket. I found one unattended and grabbed it and ran!
Thrift minded shoppers were 3 deep at the counter that offered turkeys, with a large sign over the counter that explained the pricing. Jenneo Turkeys we 47 cent a pound and Butterballs were 79 cents a pound and it went up from there. Nowhere, visible to me, did it say anything about weight limits or quantities. With enough room for only one arm, I dug in and grabbed one that looked like about the size my mother used to buy. It was in pretty deep and I think I broke the trim around the counter pulling it out, as it made a rather loud snapping noise as I broke it loose. As I pulled it out, the crowd made a noise of admiration, AHHHH and I pushed it into my cart, as if to say in unison, "nice choice"! I proudly grabbed an 18 pack of Farm Fresh eggs and made my way to the cashier, that was about mobbed by anxious shoppers. I waited my turn and observed a man being chastised by the cashier. She had even brought in a manager to talk to the gentleman that was arguing about being charged over 3 times what the advertised price said. The manager pulled out an ad and was showing the gentleman that the price of turkeys OVER 20 LB is $1.49 a pound.
I tapped the cashier on the shoulder and asked if mine was over 20 LB and she said yes it was 25 LB. and $1.49 per pound. I grabbed it and ran back to the turkey counter where they never thought they'd see me again and rummaged through the dead birds again. I realized I didn't have a snowballs chance in hell of seeing the price or the weight of these dead birds when suddenly, as if she had dropped out of heaven, standing in front of me was the wife of the Rabbi that lives across from me! In a true panic, I said Michele can you read the weight of this bird? She said she had no idea I shopped there and it was 15 LB. She was just glad I was letting go of her arm, I hope I didn't leave a mark! I ran to the cashier as if to say, did I still have my place in line? It was clear that I didn't. I spotted a break in the isle next to mine and walked over to it with my dead frozen bird and her eggs and as I was about to enter that lane, a little lady carrying to 2 quarts of Budweiser smiled and walked in front of me. I thought about knocking her to the ground and going ahead of her, but the Christmas spirit was too strong for me as I smiled, longing to be in her place. At that point I was thinking of killing her for her beer!
As the cashier asked for my VIP card, I thought to myself, I feel like anything but a VIP right this minute, but when she told me that I had purchased a dead turkey and 18 eggs for a whopping $9.53, I rejoiced! Skipping, I made it out to the parking lot where I found my trusty steed, mounting her, I galloped home, a VICTOR!!!
Sunday, November 18, 2007
When Bogie was young and frankly the years have passed since his days of puppy hood, I feared he would be lonely, so I bought him a dog of his own. An arranged marriage, if you will? Her name is Zoie and he is hopelessly in love with her and has never wandered without her, in the 8 years that they have been together. Zoie is Bogie's girl and that's just how it is. In their 8 and 1/2 year marriage, they have never fought once. They do give each other an occasional growl, but what couple that's been together that long hasn't?
Zoie is a medium height thin girl and she used to do some modeling. Although both Bogie and Zoie have been neutered, Bogie still gets that look in his eye when he watches her trot across a field. With her tail always wagging, she is very light on her feet. Zoie is a black girl with some Boston markings. The Great Dane people call her a Mantle. Bogie is a spotted harlequin and quite a bit larger than his comrades. I used to use a 26" collar on Bogie, but unfortunately it no longer fits. He resembles a small Holstein bull. As the Dynamic Duo get up in years, I often wonder what I'll do without them.
With the Thanksgiving holiday coming up this week, rest assured they'll be close to the kitchen..
Friday, November 16, 2007
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Monday, November 12, 2007
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Then she asked how old I really was and of course I told her 65. Her mouth fell open and I could see she was truly thinking about 95 miles per hour. I told her that I said I was younger because of her tender age of 48, but now that she's 51, I might just as well tell the truth. I feel restored to know that I no longer have to lie to her and I was afraid that she was just interested in me for my social security check every month. Now Julie insisted on knowing the truth and of course, so did I.
The next thing we know, we are both producing our driver's licenses and it seems that Julie is as bad at math as she is about lying. When she saw I was born in 1946, she still couldn't figure out how old I was and started to take off her shoes to use her toes to count. I stopped her and soothed her, confessing that we were both really the ages that we originally told each other we were and everything is restored. Whew!
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
I awakened about 8 AM and quickly got ready for the auto auction. I spent about 3 hours there walking a total of about 3 miles, averaging just 1 mile an hour. I did bid on one car but didn't get it, as the owner evidently thought it was worth more than anyone else. At about 12:30 I headed over to the lot to see if Paul had done anything besides cash my check, to welcome me back after a 3 month sabbatical. As I moseyed into the lot and I couldn't find a parking place for even my own car, there was Paul, covered in grease, complaining about an engine from the wrecking yard that wasn't clean enough for his strict standards. I told him if it were mine, I'd just send it back. I think that's what he wanted me to say. He rejected it and it was on it's way back to the seller, ABC Junk.
I've learned over the years that I can't just tell Paul anything, but rather have to back into topics and let him bring them up. This held true today. I told him that I thought maybe his brother would have moved his car off of my lot by now, blaming everyone but Paul, in spite of the fact that I know Paul owns that car now. Paul said he was just about to do that when I arrived. Today is the 6th of the month and my rent got paid on the 1st! That's when Paul said, "What are we going to do about the rent"? Shocked I told him I paid it, didn't he receive it? He said yes, but that he wants more money... After giving him a long stare I said, when I rented out a house to some people, I made sure that my renters were happy. Anything that they wanted, I supplied and the reason for that was, they were paying me rent! You, on the other hand, take my money and offer complaints about not getting enough, you give me nothing for my money. (The fight was on). I explained that he not only continues to occupy the property that he's rented to me, but he cannibalized the property taking out the air conditioning system in the middle of July! His excuse was that his kids needed it more than me. WHAT? He repeated that I was only there a matter of 6 or 8 hours a week and his kids were there all day everyday and they needed a/c more than me. I explained that he should have bought a new unit instead of stealing mine. Paul will never understand that I'm right on this issue, so I decided to move along.
That's when he told me he wants an additional $250 per month. I looked at him and said, NO! What about an extra $100 a month, he countered. I told him I'd just go ahead and move out and to rent it to someone else. Then he asked for a second month's rent for security and I told him no again. I also told him that if doesn't vacate the property I'm moving out and left him standing there to argue with himself. I was adamant about not budging. As I drove out the driveway, he called my cell phone and asked if he could just keep one of his junk cars there until he figures out what to do with it. Again I told him no, get it cleared out and hung up. I was determined to get what was coming to me or move out. Paul brought a knife to my gun fight!
Sunday, November 4, 2007
When I arrived, there stood the lovely Julie distraught and just overwhelmed with work. The factory added a new quota to her already overloaded assembly line and none of her employees showed up for work. She was literally beside herself. This woman is a bit on the independent side and wouldn't accept any of my help, but rather told me to unload my cargo and get the hell out of her house. I could see she was in no mood to play with. Since it was so close to dark and her neighbors might object to her offering her address as a city dump, I suggested I wait an hour before unloading my palm fronds into her driveway. She let me inside the house to wait, but I was told in no uncertain terms to keep my mouth shut if I know what's good for me. Julie settled down into her work station and I was fascinated. She had power sources and power tools and screw drivers and lots of way cool things that she gets to play with everyday! Inside I was dying to help. What she doesn't know, is that this is a guys dreamland. Power tools and things to screw and getting paid for it too!
Julie told me that if I was just going to stand around, I might as well help. I was thrilled! I was gonna get to play with all of her toys. She showed me what to do and I immediately took over. This stuff was easy. It was easy for about the first half hour, then it got harder and harder and tougher. As my 61 year old back started giving out, I refused to complain, I was afraid she might make me stop. I had a ball for 5 hours..
Here's what I learned, I learned that my girlfriend is a slave driver and a meaner polecat never walked the Earth calling herself a boss. She repeatedly told me there was going to be no hanky panky tonight, this is WORK, not play. Hell, I like the hanky panky better than power tools!!!
I crawled out of there about 10 PM, unloaded my palm fronds from my truck and drove home. When I got home my slave driver had sent me an email thanking me for my work and asking how I wanted to get paid.. That's when I started thinking about the hanky panky again, hmmm......
Saturday, November 3, 2007
In our town, we separate the West side from the East side with a street named Central Avenue. It's our border. My job, and it won't be easy, is to smuggle the illegal fronds from the Scottsdale area to Glendale without the law infiltrating my operation. I'll wait until after dark and try to disguise the load of illegal fronds to look like illegal Mexican aliens coming into our country, so nothing looks unusual and that way I'm assured not to be stopped by the authorities either. Hell, that's an everyday occurrence here! Wish me luck!
Thursday, November 1, 2007
It all started with my doctor's visit several years ago to my personal physician, Dr. Cedric. To begin with you have to picture Dr. Cedric. He stood about 5' 2" tall and didn't have a hair on his head, sporting a Tennessee accent where he was born and raised. If you can simulate his accent, picture him taking me aside and looking up at me and saying. "Mel, this stuff is Viagra, it's a new social recreational drug for guys our age"! Dr. Cedric was about 5 years younger than me and a true horn dog, constantly boasting about his prowess with young women. He gave me a free 6 pack of the pill and it still exists in my medicine cabinet.
Although, "I never needed it", I tried it and it was the greatest! Now that I'm in my 60's my attention is more drawn to the tiny blue pill. With this pill, I can do things that I couldn't do when I was 16! I'll not bore the reader with examples, but trust in the pill is a good thing. I started asking guys my age if they'd tried it and got exactly the same answer from everyone without exception. "I don't need it". I asked one friend who gave me that answer and I replied with, if you wanted to fly to Florida from AZ, would you use your single engine Cessna or would you prefer the Leer Jet parked in the hanger? With the Leer, you can fly higher and stay in the air longer. With his mouth agape, he asked REALLY?
The pill is a pricey little luxury, it turns out. I approached Dr. Z, my new buddy and asked him for a prescription of Viagra. He said, first he would have to examine me and look at my regiment of drugs and adjust a few things. He did that and finally agreed to letting me have a prescription of 10 pills. I felt like deputy Barnie Fife with one bullet. In spite of the fact that I've health insurance, they wouldn't even touch it and the bill for 10 pills was $124 @ 12 bucks a piece and that was at Wal-Mart. I told Wal-Mart to keep them and ordered them online for waaaay less, about a dollar a pill and they work just as well. I'll be taking my Leer out of the hanger any day now and I WON'T be flying solo!