They Murdered My Lantana

Guest post by Bride of the Bloviator

If you had to boil Arizona down to a single concept, it would be this:  rocks.  The state to our right proclaims itself as the “Land of Enchantment.”  The motto for the state to our left (actually, all states are to our left, politically speaking) is, “Eureka, I have found it!”  An honest one for Arizona would be, “Ouch!  I stubbed my toe on it!”

The marketing slogan on highway signs welcoming visitors to Arizona tells you absolutely everything you need to know about us:  “The Grand Canyon State.”  I’ve been there.  The Grand Canyon is a big hole in the ground, surrounded by rocks.  Lots of them.  There’s a long, famous trail down to the bottom where, after hiking in the heat for a full day, you can see—wait for it—more rocks.

Five Things I Feel Guilty About

And three I don’t.

In no particular order:

I feel bad about the Easter egg.  When I was in kindergarten, I won a small gold plastic candy-filled Easter egg in a drawing.  It was the first and only time in my life I’ve ever won a prize.  A classmate asked if he could have a mint from the egg.  I said “no.”  He was crushed.  Yeah, I know, it was only kindergarten, but I still remember that.

A Concept for Our Time: The Mvped

If you’re feeling tired, take a walk on any Tucson city street.  You may learn that one thing worse than feeling rundown is being run down.  But if you survive the walk, the experience is guaranteed to get your blood flowing, focus your attention, and make you feel glad to be alive.  See, isn’t that better?

These days a lot gets written about near-death experiences.  The best way I know to have one is to try to step across any street in Tucson.

I don’t know what it is about this town.  Our citizens nail pedestrians like we’re trying to set a record.  We dispatched yet another one just last weekend.

Trail of Deception: The ACA Stealth Doctor Swap

Right now some Americans are learning what I've been trying to warn about for some time:  they've lost their doctors under ACA, and will have to find new ones.  Associated Press reporter Kelli Kennedy recently published a report on a woman who was told her doctor was included on her new government Exchange plan--but he wasn't.  Now she's hosed.  This is precisely what happened to me.  Fortunately, I figured it out on my own in time enough to do something about it.  This woman didn't.  If she'd gotten the warning earlier, perhaps things would have turned out differently.  But the snoozing media didn't get the word out.

What does this mean going forward?

Continue reading >> (this link goes to the Articlesbase website, where the full article is posted).

You can find the entire series of blog posts on my medical journey on this page:  My Medical Travails:  Adventures in the Toilet Zone.  And of course, I invite you to check out my author's page, where you can learn about my novels, see critic and reader reviews, download sample chapters, and find purchase links:  www.forrestcarr.com.

I’ve Recovered from My Embarrassment

Guest post by Bride of the Bloviator

My husband Forrest, a.k.a. The Bashful Bloviator (TBB) has been making fun of me about a recent minor embarrassment.  I’m writing to set the record straight.  While the incident did happen, accounts of its affects on me are greatly exaggerated.

What occurred was this:  A few evenings ago as I pulled into my neighborhood around dusk, I saw TBB standing at the mailboxes.  By getting the mail, obviously TBB had decided to make himself useful at least for the moment, a concept I applaud and by policy try to encourage.  So seeing him performing this minor but important chore put me into a good, even cheerful mood.

Bride of the Bloviator

She likes cats.  She tolerates me.  She does not tolerate dirt.

I’m a fan of my wife’s writing.  I’ve been trying to convince her to contribute to this blog, and I’ve finally talked her into giving me her first entry.  I plan to post it next, within in a couple of days.  Meanwhile, I thought it might be fun to tell you a little about her—how we met, what she’s like, a few anecdotes about her, and that kind of fun stuff.  This introduction will be useful whether or not I can persuade her to write more for the blog, given the fact that she’ll be a continuing character in some of my postings.

Sick of Your Job? Sick of Your life? Try New Screuitol

There’s no need to suffer from that “don’t give a damn” attitude.  But product warnings apply.

Dispatches from the Future:  New drug commercials reflect government product disclaimer mandates.

May 25, 2031

Approved FDA compliant TV/radio commercial script—

Announcer voice over video of people in office, home, park, and garden settings, walking, talking, smiling, laughing, holding hands, smelling flowers, petting cats and dogs, etc.:

Do you sometimes feel like your life is hopeless, and you just want to chuck it all in?  If you think nothing can help, think again.  Many people can benefit from new Screuitol^®.

Space Age

It really sucks to get old.  But it’s still the best available option.  And if your dreams are still alive, then by God, so are you.

AARP began pestering me to buy a membership several years ago, before I turned 50.   I resisted, and their first several recruiting attempts went to help bulk up a landfill.  But I knew that eventually, I would need someone to tell me about good deals on denture adhesives, liver spot creams, adult diapers, Hoverounds, erectile dysfunction meds, and so on.   So finally I ponied up, and now I’m a card-carrying NOP—New Old Person.  Earlybird special, anyone? 

I’ve been coping with my NOPhood pretty well.   Until last month.   When what should arrive in my mailbox but the new issue of AARP Magazine, featuring Patrick Stewart on the cover.

For the love of God.

Obamacare and Me: Emergence from the The Toilet Zone

How I won a four-month fight to keep my doctors.  But it’s probably too late for you to do the same.

Cue Etta:  “At last.  My health insurance has come along.  My fretting days are over.  And life is like a song.”  Finally, I have my new insurance card in hand.  My plan will allow me to remain insured at a rate comparable to what I was paying last year.  And I will be able to keep the doctor who saved my life. 

It’s a solution that has been four months in the making.  After my old policy (you know, the one I liked and wanted to keep) was canceled out from under me in the middle of a life-altering medical crisis, the following happened (material presented in quotes is paraphrased):

-- I received conflicting statements from Healthcare.gov.  (“Your enrollment is complete.” “Your enrollment is not complete.”)