“Ring-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding!
Gering-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding!
Gering-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding!"
Of course.
Do it. Don’t hesitate. Read this thread from Nov 2018 and become a believer!
Can you elaborate more on this, I’m just curious about your experiences?
My understanding is that memories are interconnected, if you ask someone to think of the year 2011, they’ll start by accessing some memories they can consciously recall at will, but a bunch of secondary memories they normally wouldn’t be able to consciously access will start coming to them related to the first memories that come up when they think of that year.
Is it like that, each memory brings up new memories, which brings up new memories or did you mean something else?
That’s just med talk, I think. The after visit report from my cardiologist said “patient denies shortness of breath” - so it isn’t a moral issue.
As for the drugs, my doctor told me that the administration made prescribing pain killers a big, uh, pain. You can thank the Sacklers for that.
I will go to bed with some part of my body hurting although I specifically did not use that part of my body that day.
Correct, this is just a plain description of fact. Doctor can only know if the patient confirms or denies that they feel shortness of breath when asked. They have no way of knowing if the patient actually has shortness of breath, unless they use like a spirometer, and then the answer would be something like “patient respiratory volume is X liters per minute.”
Shouldn’t read too much into those forms; it’s not for us or the way we normally communicate.
I have had few injuries, but often talk with the elderly about their aches and pains. I’ve never hurt myself in my sleep or without a fairly good explanation.
For me, growing older has meant improving my diet and tightening my exercise routines. I am not a big fan of supplements or vitamins but was intrigued by the faint promise of a few of the latest crop which have a modicum of research to support them.
Making sure our will is in order and letting a friend know where the original copy is.
Again, I’d put in a plug for the wonderfully written book Elderhood. Most medical schools do a poor job of teaching geriatrics but we had two weeks in clerkship and a month in residency. Not enough, but more than most. An important book.
Something totally weird: My moustache has quit growing. I have a full beard, and regularly trim it rather close. But it’s been several months since I’ve had to trim the hair on my upper lip. Occasionally I have to cut a single hair that comes down, but for the most part my moustache hair just neither grows nor falls out. I’ve never heard of this.
I’m 48 and I was thinking the same thing. It’s weird thinking of different periods in my life like high school or a job I had 15 years ago and how they seem like completely different times.
What’s also kind of weird is thinking about experiencing the Y2K (not like that ended up being a thing), the dot.com crash, Enron/fall of Arthur Andersen, Madoff, 9/11, the 2008 financial crisis, Hurricane Irene, Hurricane Sandy, and now COVID-19. And I don’t mean on TV. These are things, either through work or by virtue of living in the NYC area I actually experienced.
There’s really something to that. Since I left NYC, news items don’t seem as real, as immediate, as when I lived there.
My hearing is still good. My eyesight is, by one standard, better than it has been since I was 10 years old (cataract surgery = good distance vision). But I still have trouble dealing with the inability to read fine print without assistance - something I managed pre-surgery by simply taking off my glasses.
I’m a hell of a lot younger than my mother was at the same age. OK, that’s natural age progression - when you’re 12, someone 40 is OLD; when you’re 40, 60 is unimaginable, etc. - but as a nonsmoker my skin looks a lot younger than hers did at the same age.
There’s this mental image of retirees doing nothing but going to the doctor, and eating early-bird restaurant specials for dinner. It’s a joke image.
Except sometimes it isn’t a joke. Last week and this week were two of those weeks - “If it’s Thursday I see xx doctor!”. OK, we’ve avoided the early-bird restaurant meals (not a retiree-heavy area, so this is not a concept).
I’m so very, very tired of working. I used to like my job.
Hehehe, earlier this week I went to bed with both of my feet feeling fine. When I woke up, I had plantar fasciitis in both feet. Who knows, I sleep walk. So I might have gotten up and walked a lot last night - but no one mentioned seeing me walk around.
Plantar fasciitis drove me nuts. I could be on and off my feet all day, no troubles at all. Get out of bed, and the first half dozen steps felt like someone had hidden “punji sticks” within the piles of my bedroom carpet.
I have a photo of myself, as a toddler, sitting on my grandmother’s lap. She was about 65 at the time, and her face was completely covered with wrinkles. I’m now 75, and I have exactly two wrinkles.
I’m 59. I had twin daughters when I was 41 and not to be overly gloomy but sometime between then and now an intense fear of dying I used to have just sort of evaporated. It’s not like I’ve become fearless or looking forward to dying or anything like that. I just don’t worry about it so much anymore except how it will affect my family. I don’t know if it’s because of the girls or my particular age. Maybe it got pushed out by all the other stuff I worry about now. It’s really piling up.
I walk 3-5 miles in my neighborhood and Central Park a few times a week. I can tell when I’ve walked five miles because that’s when my feet start to cry out. When I exercise I care less about maximum heart rate and more about how many ticks I got left. I had a dream about bicycling and how smooth and gliding it was. I should pick that up again. I tend to get uncomfortably aggressive though.
Sure, the Sacklers made the stuff, and marketed it. But doctors prescribed it.
And now doctors are trying to cover their asses by refusing pain medication to people in actual horrible pain.
As others have pointed out above, claim your pain is an “8” and you’ll be treated as a drug-seeker. Ask your doctor for pain medication once every few years, you’re obviously a junkie.
I’m still mystified about the time I injured myself, back in 2005, and went to the ER. This was in Arizona, and I’d fallen, and thought I might have broken my elbow. So at 1 in the morning I was waiting in the ER. They x-rayed my elbow, declared it was not broken… and sent me on my way with a prescription for Vicodin.
This was well after the opiate crisis was becoming known, too. To this day I declare the way to get pain relief is to go somewhere and NOT moan about what AGONEEEEE you are in. I suspect it helped that I was a FMAF (fat, middle-aged female), and obviously from out of town. Not that FMAFs aren’t quite capable of becoming addicted, but are they gonna travel 2000 miles for their fix? (and as a side note, I HAD broken my elbow, it was just not obvious on the initial x-ray; a repeat visit at home 2 weeks later proved it).
As someone else said, Just Do It!
We were never in the “running out of toilet paper” bind that many were last year, and which caused bidet seat prices to skyrocket, but I kept reading about them and thought it would be worth a try. So I ordered one - an unheated one, to put on the toilet in the powder room.
My husband thought it was a nutso idea but installed it since I wanted it.
He got to use it before I did - and was an INSTANT convert to the idea.
We later installed one in the master bathroom. This is the only bathroom where there’s an outlet reachable from near the toilet, and one day Amazon had a one-day deal on one of the heated seats. And we love it.
I just had a colonoscopy (#8, for those keeping count) and for the very first time ever, I did not go to my doom with, well, a ring of fire.
You still need toilet paper, but a LOT less.