The hicking f---ups

 

by Michael Nettleton

Isn’t the internet wonderful?

(For those who didn’t pick up the sarcasm, you may want to check the batteries in your irony-detection alarm. They may be running low.)

But seriously. The internet eliminates the need to go out on the street, flag down total strangers and ask them for medical advice. (Depending on what part of town you hit, the answers can be interesting and/or bizarre)

For example: I’ve got hiccups. Long term hiccups. Like a week and counting. They’re not painful, just annoying and psychologically debilitating. They sometimes let up for short periods, then reappear. To quote Winnie the Pooh, “Oh bother!!!” I’m headed to my primary care physician today to ask her advice.

My unqualified, unsolicited online advisors have counseled me to (a) hold my breath for 3 minutes (as if) (b) gobble a spoonful of sugar, (peanut butter, chopped jalapeno, your favorite vile substace, et al) (c) Stand on my head and pant like a chihuahua on a hot day (d) join a chronic hiccups support group and get a t-shirt.

For the record, I’ve tried most of the online advice to no avail.

In trying to negotiate my health care providers automated telephone system to set up an appointment with my primary care doctor, I found myself explaining my condition to a nurse-triage representative. She urged me to go to the emergency room post haste.

        I considered it briefly. But then I visualized myself in a scrum with other patients. (voice of a nurse Ratched character) “Yes, Mr. Forsgren, I’m sure the injuries you sustained going through the winshield in that head on collision are painful. And Mrs. Clatter, so sorry about that heart attack. But we have priorities. And Mr. Nettleton here has a week-long case of the hiccups.

        I took a pass.

 So, I’m scheduled to see my doctor this afternoon. A smart, highly competent, trained medical professional who will offer me some scientifically-proven advice on how to address my singultus problem. (maybe my emergency room paranoia might be quelled if I use the scientific name for the condition)

        I'm visualizing the scene in the doctor's office.

        “So, Mr. Nettleton, have you tried breathing into a brown paper bag filled with acai berries? Chugging avocado juice? Or standing on your head in a corner and wiggling your toes repeatedly?

        I’ll report (hic) back.   

 

The Contents of My Not-So-Presidential Library

 

Carolyn J. Rose

 

I never ran for office. Okay, sure, my high school classmates voted me Most Likely to Succeed and Class Clown. But, in my defense, it was a small school. And, for the record, I didn’t know I’d been nominated.

 
I don’t intend to run for office. Any office. Ever. So, I won’t hit you up for a donation. I won’t urge you to form a committee to build a library commemorating my life (long) and accomplishments (few). Nevertheless, I did some research (approximately three minutes worth) into what such a library contains. Then I put some thought (a whopping four minutes) into what I have to display.

 

First: Official Documents. Boxes in the garage are stuffed with tax returns, real estate transactions, utility bills, and rejection letters. I also have my birth certificate, passport, divorce decree, second marriage license, college diploma, substitute teacher certification, car registration, and the latest lab results from my health care provider. Compared to executive orders, details of tariff negotiations, and records of phone calls to world leaders, that’s pitiful. But, hey, my cholesterol level is down.

 

Second: Personal Papers. I can toss in the 20+ novels I’ve written, correspondence, and recipes. Note # 1: These are complete recipes. I’m not that person, the one who agrees to share but intentionally leaves out a key ingredient. Note # 2: I long ago burned letters admitting I inhaled. Note # 3: I’ll include no exchanges with the guy in the classic Thunderbird.

 

Third: Photos and Recordings. Shots of me as a scrawny month-old, red-faced bit of humanity will be here. If you’re curious about dogs and cats I’ve lived with, you’ll see their photos. You can listen to my favorite tunes, music from before the disco error. (No, I did not intend to type era.) I’ll share shots of my vacations and a video of the inside of our sewer drain. As a bonus, I’ll enlarge photos from my most recent colonoscopy.

 

Fourth: Physical Objects. I have a nifty collection of garden art acquired at thrift stores, furniture my father built, and a ten-year-old SUV. (Only 42,000 miles on it, in case you’re interested.) I’ll also include that stack of overdue books, soaps and shampoos lifted from hotels, nubby socks I intend to wear one more time, and two pairs of jeans I might squeeze into after the next recession. 

Fifth: Educational Resources. This section will feature an interactive display giving you an opportunity to win gift shop coupons by correctly guessing my favorite adult beverages and cheesy snacks. I’ll also post a map indicating the location of said gift shop as well as the snack bar, restrooms, and, most important, the exit. Not that you’ll need it. If I parked the car outside, all this should fit in a building only slightly larger than a bouncy castle. And, trust me, a visit to a bouncy castle would be a lot more entertaining.