Tag Archives: health

I’m Talking Colonoscopy Here

At 16 we get our drivers license, at 18 we receive the right to vote. At 21 they allow us to legally drink. After that it goes downhill. At 26 you’re kicked off your parents insurance and at 50, well, they prod you to get prodded. I’m talking colonoscopy, here. Yes, I did turn fifty some time ago, and my doctor’s been lecturing me ever since. She gave me a pamphlet and presumably sold my number to the gastroenterologist. After they realized I wasn’t picking up, they stopped calling. I held out for five years.

It’s not that I’m afraid of the doctor or the embarrassment or even pain. I delivered four babies vaginally without meds for Christ’s sake. It’s the principle. They aren’t looking for polyps. They’re mining my intestines for gold.

The colonoscopy is the poster child for American healthcare run amok. It’s the most expensive test most of us are prescribed. Like other hospital procedures, a colonoscopy in other developed countries is a fraction of the cost we pay in the US. Here, the procedure accounts for the lion’s share of most gastrointestinal physicians’ income. Using less invasive, less painful, safer procedures would also be less expensive, but who wants that?

Sure other tests may have to be done more often, but at the cost of my prep kit (or less), some of them can be done at home and with no disruption to work or life for those of us who are at low risk.

I was told it was no big deal. Well, it was a big deal, albeit temporary. And the argument is that cancer is a bigger, potentially more permanent deal, right? And because we all know someone who has suffered and lost to cancer, we let them win that argument.

Here’s the thing. You knew I was going to tell you the thing, right? I have health insurance. It makes it easy to go to the clinic every year whether I need it or not, and order up smears and cultures, and scans and scopes whenever my doctor deems it necessary. I have a primary physician and even a phone app that will tell me the results of every test I’ve had in the last ten years. And while they go to the effort to make it all seem free it indeed is not. Healthcare is costly, and is not getting any cheaper or accessible for millions of good, hard-working Americans. If, by some miracle, they can afford the colonoscopy, it won’t matter because they can’t afford cancer treatment.

Once I booked my appointment, I had to put in for my day off of work. Not only do I have the luxury of taking a day off of work, I know someone else who is also able and willing to take a day off of work to drive me to and from the surgery center.

Four days prior to the procedure I went on a low-fiber diet. Not everyone can indulge in changing their diet for four days on a whim. They access their food from a food shelf once a month, or clean out their cupboards at the close of every week. Heck, I’ve been there — and not so many years ago. They can’t afford the $18 for the prep kit, or the two quarts of electrolyte beverage.

No one told me I should have considered taking the day before the appointment off of work, too. I was disoriented from fasting, couldn’t think or make decisions. I was ill from overdosing on mega-laxatives. When Bubba apologized for eating dinner in front of me, I told him I couldn’t eat if I tried.

However, by the time we arrived at the medical center, the illness of the power-lax had worn off and I was starving. A woman in scrubs took me to a tiny room and instructed me to change into a gown. When she came back she slapped a pressure cuff on me, inserted an IV needle in the back of my hand, and said goodbye before closing the door. That was the last person I saw for an hour and a half.

I sat in that room after not eating any solid food for 36 hours, while the staff talked audibly outside my door about who was going to lunch, and where. When finally someone came to get me, I was just about at the end of my rope. I made her wait while I slooooowly coiled my phone cord and placed it in my bag. I sauntered down the hall at my own pace, watching her surprise at how far behind her I’d fallen. You’re on MY clock now, bitch.

Apparently I get mean when I’m hungry.

No less than four people made conversation out of how to pronounce my last name. Yeah, that never gets old. The nurses complained about how cold it was and that the music had frozen. What kind of music is appropriate for a colonoscopy anyway? Dirty Deeds? Send the Pain Below?

When the doctor asked me where I’d been hiding for five years, I was thinking, “You know what? The faster we do this, the faster I can eat.” But you don’t argue with a guy who’s about to put a 6-foot tube up your backside. Mama did teach me not to say anything if I can’t say something nice, so after an awkward moment of silence he replied, “Okay . . . !”

Thanks to plenty of sedation and pain meds, the memory of the next twenty minutes is dim. I do remember the doctor asking for more Versed and the anesthesiologist telling me if I let go of her she can get me more pain medication. I remember them showing me the monitor, as if it could distract me like an episode of The Handmaid’s Tale.

Okay, okay . . I’m done going over the details of my colonoscopy like Gramma at the Thanksgiving table. In the end (pun intended), I got a clean bill of health, a free ticket to come back in 10 years, pictures — yes, pictures! — and a blue tote bag out of the deal.

Powerade

Hey, be happy I didn’t post pictures of my colon.

Let me be clear. I’m not saying that colon screening is unnecessary. I’m saying our health system needs a good thorough check-up. If they really wanted more people to get screened so that less people would die, they would offer more convenient and less disruptive and less expensive options more readily. Healthcare would be for everyone. But then they wouldn’t have all that fun money, would they?

We are aphids blindly sucking nectar off the tender plant while they farm our backsides for the sweet honeydew.

Also, that metaphor is kind of gross.

Peace . . .

Colon Cancer and Rectal Cancer Screening: What Are the Options?

The $2.7 Trillion Medical Bill
Colonoscopies Explain Why U.S. Leads the World in Health Expenditures

How colonoscopies illustrate America’s cost problem

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The Days are Short, the Winter Long

DSCN1074The rooftops look like marshmallows, puffs of steam trail off in the bitter cold, the January sky is icy-blue.  The days are short, the winter long.

This is the weekend, and my large south-facing picture window invites the sun in.  During the week, I work in a small windowless office.  Daylight is down 18 stairs, across a warehouse, and through the doors.  It is dark when I wake and barely light when I leave the house.  The sun is low on the horizon for my drive home.

I don’t go to bed any earlier in the winter.  I don’t rise any later.  Yet there are fewer hours in my day.  Maybe it’s the damn Sims game my daughter suggested I download to my phone.  My reality is now based on Life Points and making Woo-Hoo.  I know I need to quit.  But my tiny people would starve and pee all over their little houses.  I just can’t bear the thought.  Or maybe I’ve just lost my mojo.

Woo hoo

My couple makes Woo-Hoo (blurred, center) while Santa sits in a nearby chair. A baby is on the way in the crib. (upper left) Somewhat disturbing, I know. Bubba thinks I’m nuts.

Seasonal Affective Disorder is something I’ve often thought I might have.  I try to disregard things I think I might have as opposed to those things I know I have.   However, for the last five years that I’ve worked in this fluorescent box I call an office, the winter months are insufferable.  And last November when we turned the clocks back it was like someone flipped a switch.  I’m moody.  I’m overwhelmed.  I’m hungry.  My thoughts are disjointed.  I feel socially awkward.  There might be something to this S.A.D. thing after all.

8611015067_3b448750eeA simple trip to the grocery store is suddenly a major event.  It is unlikely I know how much is in my debit account and even less likely I have a list.  With no plan in place, I buy a few of the usual items from the usual departments.  Vegetables.  Eggs.  Meat.  Yogurt.  Toilet Paper.  I hope against hope I find the ingredients for a meal when I get home.  Thankfully Bubba, engrossed in his everyday rituals, is fairly unaffected.  Fairly.

Bubba:  (At the deli counter)  I’ll take a half pound of turkey breast.
Me:  There’s a coupon.
Deli Man:  You want a pound of turkey breast?
Bubba:  Oh, the coupon is for a pound.  No, just give me a half pound.
Me:  I should get some ham.
Bubba:  (Realizing the guy is measuring out the whole pound anyway)  Hey, just take a handful off the top of that, and it will be fine.
Me:  I don’t want him to measure out whole pound of ham though.
Bubba:  (Thinking he heard me say I didn’t want a half pound)  Just get a quarter.
Me:  Are you telling me or asking me?
Bubba:  Huh?
Me:  Why are you telling me what to do?
Bubba:  Should we just go back outside and start over?

“Poor guy,” you’re thinking.  It’s a good thing we can keep a sense of humor.

And there is anxiety.  Looming bills, stubborn weight-gain,  errors at work, unwritten letters and cards, forgotten birthdays, dusty shelves; all encroach like a tidal wave gaining size and momentum at sea.  Unwritten lists build hour by hour, day by day, filling my murky brain.  Yes, I have been too overwhelmed to write my damned lists!

This is the time that one must go back to one’s best practices.  Shed the heavy winter coats of burden, and pry off the snow-caked boots of guilt.  Go naked against the day.  Figuratively, please . . . hey now, this is a family blog!

  • Drink water:  Flushing toxins, rehydrating the skin, muscles and brain, drinking water is one of the gentlest things you can do to begin healing from anything.
  • Eat mindfully:  Paying attention to what goes into your body is important.  This doesn’t stop with purchasing and preparing your meal.  Really slow down and enjoy your meal purposefully.
  • Be present:  Include activities that bring yourself closer to now.  Cuddle your children.  Pet the dog.  Tend a plant.  Meditate.
  • Dance:  Let your music move you.  If you are so inclined, SING!  (A big thank you to izzwizz for that suggestion!)
  • Go on outdoor walks:  Bundle up, if necessary — we are 5 degrees at 1:00 p.m. today — it’s necessary!  Let the weather hit you in the face; rain, wind, sun and snow.  Trust me, you will feel more alive for it.
  • Make an intention every day:  Some days we need to aim low.  Today my intention is to write this post.  Another day it might be to move a mountain.  But that is another day, and another day will come.
  • Be your own best friend:  I am lucky enough to have wonderful friends and family who care for me.  None compare to the friend I have found in myself.  I always know what is best for me at any given moment.  The trick is to allow myself to give and receive graciously.
English: A 30 kHz bright light therapy lamp (I...

A light therapy lamp (Innosol Rondo) used to treat seasonal affective disorder. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

These are the tools I have chosen to shovel myself out this winter.  I have a couple other tricks up my sleeve, like vitamin supplements and a small therapy light, both suggested by my doctor last year.  While it is normal to feel down some days, if you feel down for days and cannot seem to get motivated to do the things you usually enjoy, please see your doctor.  This is especially important if you have changes in your sleep patterns or your appetite changes or you feel hopeless, suicidal, or are turning to alcohol for comfort.

Never take depression lightly.

Peace . . .

 

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Totally Non-Judgmental Happy Foodie

Last week I added a new category to my blog.  Rants.  I questioned whether to add it, as it draws attention to the fact that my pendulum sometimes swings farther than I would like it to.  My goal here is to seek all things peaceful, balanced, whole and precious.  Then again, my blog is titled WholeyJeans. (Someday I will blog about the misspelling, but I digress).  While ranting may not be considered peaceful or precious, it is a part of me on my road to balance, and as such, a part of the whole me.  And so the category was created.

The comment by insearchofitall, in which she concluded, “My sister has become a food fanatic and we can no longer share a meal. So sad. I’ll take the Buddhist path. All things in moderation. Pass the French rolls please” really got me thinking.  My pendulum began to swing back, and I felt the need to post a response to my own blog.

I am fascinated by diets of all sorts.  Food documentaries captivate me.  Nutrition arguments entice me.  Everyone has the answer, and in my quest for balance, I want to hear it and judge for myself.  Please note that I use the word ‘diet’ in both senses of the word; weight-loss system and way of eating.

Here are are some of my findings:

  • waterEvery diet says that water is good.  It doesn’t matter if you’re detoxing, fasting, gorging on protein, or cutting fat.  Water is good.  Drink it.  It is the stuff of life.  It is the fountain of youth.  It is also the easiest way to fit in a few extra steps daily.  Drinking water = trips to the bathroom.  Nice, right?
  • The other thing that every diet tells you to eat is vegetables.  There are different levels of vegetables depending on sugars, fiber, and nutrient density.  Everyone agrees green leafy veggies are a go.  Add a rainbow of vegetables to that, and you’re going to find a pot of gold at the end.
  • Most diet programs include fruit.  Some encourage it more than others.  Again, there is that sugar/fiber/nutrient thing.  Fruits, like vegetables, are plants, but tend to contain more sugars.  Sugar is a four-letter word.  Okay, it’s five, but you know what I mean.  This is why some opinions begin to part at this juncture.  However, everyone seems to agree berries are the most virtuous of fruits.
  • Let me back up the sugar truck a few meters.  We have a sugar for everyone!  There are slow sugars, fast sugars, artificial sugars, processed sugars, refined sugars, and natural sugars.  There are sugar crashes, sugar rushes, sugar addictions, sugar cravings, and sugar daddies.  Did I say sugar is a four-letter word?  It is also an eleven-letter word.  Unavoidable.  Carbohydrates are sugar, and they are found in vegetables and fruit.  Oh!  So sugar is good?  See what I mean?  How is the average nosher supposed to decipher all this stuff?

candy-17491_640

  • The problem with vegetables is that everyone wants to doctor them up with butter, margarine, oils, cheeses, dressings and gravies.  If you can eat your vegetables naked, you will reap their full benefit and flavor.  I mean go ahead and wear clothes if you want, but don’t put anything on your vegetables.
  • Legumes are good, right?  Opinions are mixed.  Legumes are a plant, so vegans love their protein content.  How could you possibly feel guilty eating a bowl of lentil soup?  Well, legumes are full of carbohydrates, and low-carb eaters aren’t a fan.  Please note that cocoa beans are not legumes.  I know.  Bummer.
  • Is dairy the dreaded animal secretion, or a vital food for healthy bones?  It depends on who you’re listening to.  There are different beliefs on this, and many options for those who decide against dairy.
  • But if you can stand the heat, head into the kitchen to talk about meat.  People are passionate about their animal protein.  Arguments range from protecting the planet to regaining your health, restoring the food chain, and compassion for life.  Both sides of any discussion have points for each of these values, and will fight, seemingly to the death, to defend them.

pigs-21272_640

All of the diet plans I have ever read say that you have finally found the last diet you will ever need.  Search ‘last diet’ and Google will find no less than 233,000,000 results for you.  Using this as a guide, you should have no problem eating healthy until the day you die.  And in the end, you will die, and I guess whatever diet you are eating that day will be your last.

Look, I’m just an average girl trying to eat reasonably well.  I try to know what is behind what I put in my body, and make my choices from there.  Of course I want to do better.  I want to do a lot of things better.  Cheers to that, eh?  Recently our temperatures have dipped, with the windchill bringing dangerously cold weather.  I am craving refined carbs like there is no tomorrow, and since I guess there might not be, I go ahead and indulge a bit without guilt.

Unless you are a food priest of this or that nutritional following, you do not have all the answers.  I like to live my life like that; not having all the answers.  When you live without all the answers, you are always questioning, always learning.  I don’t want to find the last diet I will ever need.  I want to taste new things and try new combinations, dining with family, drinking with friends.  I want to live, love and laugh with all my other *totally non-judgmental happy foodie friends.

Bon Appetit!

*Thanks for the title idea, Mary!


Holier Than Chow

Diet and nutrition have been elevated to a passion equal to that of religion.  People don’t just share recipes for fun anymore.  They share recipes the way they pass out propaganda listing the benefits of a virtuous life.  The recipes include organic, locally grown ingredients, with instructions for storing it in an environmentally friendly method.  Cooking anything else for your family will guilt you down to a loathsome, uncaring, gluttonous scum of the earth.

lunch bagBack when Mom packed my lunch she bought white bread, spread on Miracle Whip, slapped a piece of bologna in it, then packed it up with Fritos and a pop.  (Read “soda” if you live outside Minnesota.)

That’s right.  My bread was not whole grain, my sandwich spread had lots of ingredients she couldn’t pronounce, and the lunchmeat — well, we don’t want to know.  The sandwich sat in a brown paper bag until it’s internal temperature was 87 degrees.  But boy, was it good with those Fritos tucked between the doughy-white slabs of Wonderbread!  To top it off, the packaging all got tossed in the trash because there was no such thing as recycling.

I’m not saying I want to go back to that, but eating food was fun.  You had to go to church if you wanted to feel guilty.  Not anymore.  There are food priests among us, folks.  These are people with deep-rooted beliefs who feel that if you are not eating what they are eating, you are doing yourself — NAY! The WORLD a grave disservice.

It is the food priest’s mission in life to save your nutritional soul, and lead you (kicking and screaming) to health.  But wait!  There is no eternal life, here.  We’re all dying in the end.  The goal is to die as healthily as possible — perhaps biking to Whole Foods.

saladThe rite of worship is the meal.  It is in the planning, buying, preparation and consumption.  Oblivious to other shoppers, meditation of labels takes place smack in the center of each isle.  Children are indoctrinated in front of the bananas, blocking all access from other food clergy and heathen alike.  Trips to organic farms are carried out like pilgrimages to the holy land.  The meal is consumed in solemn reverence of the plants that sacrificed their life.

Yummm . . . animal secretions . . .

Yummm . . . animal secretions . . .

The food priest also hears confession.  They use scary phrases such as “animal secretions” as euphemisms for wholesome sounding ingredients like eggs, milk, and honey.  “Refined sugar” equals cookies and muffins.

MMmmm . . . FLESH!

MMmmm . . . FLESH!

“Flesh” is the definition for roast beef or turkey breast.  The cuisine of our mothers is smugly called “Comfort Food” like a poisonous secret.  Sins are encouraged to be confessed using these terms, the worst of which is pink slime, and punishable by up to a full month of liquid detox diet.

Unsought counseling is very often the first indication that you have encountered a food priest.  You may experience unwelcome scrutiny over your cheeseburger with grilled onions and fries.  The evangelist may laughingly toss out the nickname of “foodie” as if adding an “e” to a word makes it harmless.  Druggy.  Achey breaky.  Owie.

In severe cases, you may be required to refrain from eating food prepared in certain establishments.  If it is suggested that you discard of kitchen utensils that have ever touched prohibited edibles, it is very possible you have encountered an actual nutritional cult.  This is dangerous, as you may never enjoy eating again, leading to any of a multitude of eating disorders.

Ellen

Look, I’m glad we all have our religion, democracy, and plenty of nutritional models to choose from.  I’m not picking on anyone.  Personally, I tend to be nutritionally non-denominational.  I love my congregation, as we welcome vegans, ovo-lacto vegetarians, omnivores, Aktins followers, and anything in between.  We “pin” recipes, listen to each other rave about menus, and share samples.  When faced with a meal, we EAT it, ENJOY it, and share in each other’s company.  No one is moping, or preaching, or judging.

I try to do what I think is right for the world, my family, and my body . . . most of the time.  Admittedly, I sometimes feed my disposition (which is often a pepperoni pizza with chocolate chip cookies for dessert).  pepperoni pizzaHow very lucky for me that I have that choice.  You may choose to indulge in pomegranate.  Some people can only choose from rice or beans.  Some can choose from thirst or unclean water.  I’m pretty sure some would choose GM corn over starvation.

Which brings me to corn, and anyone who knows me well has heard me say, “Don’t get me started on corn!”  So yes, I know the sermon.  You’re preaching to the choir.  And sometimes the choir is fed up (literally).  I’m just asking the food priests to please stop trying to shove their communion down my throat.  If I want it, I know where to find it.


Life Changes

It’s been a long weekend.  I went off the grid, just North-West of the Middle of Nowhere.  I’ve caused some grief with just about everyone I love.  Thanksgiving was on its way, and I just couldn’t pick a date.  You see, I like my kids to go to my ex’s side on the holidays since he has a lot of family over there.  There is just me, Bubba, and the dogs over here.  We’re important, but they can stop by and see us anytime.  Grandparents, as I painfully know, are not on this earth forever, and must be cherished.

I needed to pick a non-Thanksgiving date for a turkey dinner.  The trouble is, the kids are grown with lives of their own.  Everyone has Thanksgiving day off of work, but to find another date was impossible.  No matter how I worked it, I would have been leaving one child out.  I couldn’t seem to make that call.  Which one would have to show up for the microwaved plate of leftovers?  Or maybe I was just making excuses.  I just couldn’t deal with the planning, shopping, cooking and cleaning of traditional meal.  I was in a funk.

Stovetop stuffing, deli turkey, steamed carrots, mashed potatoes, and homemade rolls sufficed for Bubba and I.  We ate like boars on the t.v. trays watching something from Netflix.  It sounds worse than it was. 🙂

Friday was spent packing and cleaning for the weekend North-West of the Middle of Nowhere.  Whether it was the weather — a cold winter storm blew in — or the work of getting ready, my arthritis kicked in.  It was a long achy trip up there.  The ache lasted through a good part of Saturday.  For this, and a few other reasons I don’t care to mention, I wasn’t very good company.  I was still in my funk, and Bubba paid for it.

North-West of the Middle of Nowhere:

This morning, Monday, I am back in the center of Somewhere.  I have taken the day off from work.  The coffee shop looked toastier than it is.  My vanilla soy latte has cooled, no longer warming me from the inside.  It took three tries to get their wireless password right.  Checking out my notifications led me to a new blogger I had not seen before.  I liked her blog name insearchofitall.  It reminded me of my tagline Seeking all things . . . .  I started reading her current post, In Search of Giving Thanks.

The line that caught my eye reads, ” . . . life changes and we have to be adaptable. Isn’t that what the pilgrims did?”  

Yes.  Life changes.  The changes rarely come easily, even if we have waited and hoped and planned for them.  Some changes never come no matter how hard we try.  Some changes are thrust upon us whether we like it or not.  We must cope the only way we know how.  For me, it is a trip to the coffee shop, time alone, list-making, and some well-pulled bootstraps.

We are each pilgrims in our own life.  Life changes and we must adapt.  Life changes and we need to go forward.  There is no other direction than forward.  I am stronger than I look, both physically and emotionally.  I have lived through things I thought would break me in two.  I have showed my best side when I didn’t think I had one.  I have kicked ass when I didn’t think I could take one more step.  For myself and all of which I am capable, I am thankful.

Happy belated Thanksgiving everyone.


A Fruit That Needs Some Genetic Modification

My significant other, who will henceforth be referred to as Bubba, and I bought our first Pomegranate today.  They are a pretty fruit which produce edible little pearls.  We’ve had them on salads, and love the juice, but have never purchased one for home.  Checking out the produce section, Bubba asked, “Should we get a pomegranate?”

The pomegranate has symbolized many things throughout history including good luck, fertility, eternity, and good tidings.  These days, people are looking to pomegranates for treatment of everything from heart disease and high cholesterol to aging and erectile disfunction.  Neither of us were looking for any magic cures.  We just wanted to try something different.  And so the rosy sphere found its way into our cart.

Once home, our pomegranate waited patiently on the counter for lunch to arrive.  Groceries were stashed with the exception of a few left out for the meal.  Bubba concocted a couple sandwiches on toasted buns.  Sides of chips, pickles and a can of Coke for each of us were set out lovingly on t.v. trays.  Classy, I know.  That’s how we roll.

Meanwhile, I took on the pomegranate.  Prior to lunch there was no time for Googling.  Had there been, I surely would have run a search on how to open a pomegranate.  Left to my own devices, I hacked into the thing and started pulling it apart.

dscn0841Bubba turned to see how the process was coming and exclaimed, “Eeeeewww! What are those?”  At first glance, they did look a little alien, but after peeling a couple off, I was already over the eeeewww factor.  So I merely told him those were the membranes that separated the sections of seeds, as if that’s exactly what I expected to find in there.  The rind was more like a shell, and the seeds clung desperately inside.  Upon breaking the fruit, seeds exploded and skittered across the counter.

Since then, I have Googled pomegranate.  What did we do before Google?  Mostly, I tell my kids, we just sat around and wondered.  I learned that pomegranate, like the fig and grape, is one of the oldest known fruit.  The name pomegranate comes from the word pomme which means apple, and granate which refers to the seeds.  I also found the pomegranate blossom.  That is one messed up flower.  It looks like something one might find in the Little Shop of Horrors, and avoid at all costs.

dscn0844

The pomegranate seeds were pretty when placed in bowl.  We couldn’t wait to try a few.  The ruby gems popped between the teeth.  Tart sweetness pleasantly surprised our tongues.  Then I bit down on the tiny pips.  They were too big to ignore and too small to spit out.  Thankfully the annoying little buggers weren’t as bitter as grape seeds.

As I was noshing the fruit along with my chips and sammy, I couldn’t help wondering if a little genetic modification couldn’t help the pomegranate.  After all, look how far the fig and grape have come.  Grapes now come in green, red, black, and both seeded and seedless.  And just look what we’ve done with the fig!

Fig Newtons

Pomegranates are beautiful in the store, the seeds look like jewels, and the juice is sweet and flavorful, not to mention healthy.  However, they could use a friendlier looking flower, an easy-open package, and those pips need to disappear.  I know this isn’t going to be a popular suggestion, but in my opinion, we have a little genetic modifying to do on the pomegranate.


Define Normal Please

We all have challenges. Call it our cross to bear, affliction, hardship, or woe, but we all have them.  Some have more than others.  Some don’t think they have any at all, and that somehow gives them a license to go around tormenting the rest of us.  Since the majority of us admit to not being perfect, aren’t these thugs actually the ones with the problem? Why don’t we have drugs for that?

Let’s say some dude has a problem over people with learning disabilities.  Hey!  We have a cure for that.  He takes the Rx, and for the next month, he spends every waking minute with a learning disability.  Some people are going to need a refill, but I think most ought to only need round one.

Racist?  This pill might change your appearance a little.  One possible side effect is a tendency to talk with an accent, but is most common in those with an additional aversion to immigrants.

Do you hate people who have less money than you?  Dress differently?  Believe differently?  Vote differently?  Are too pretty?  Not pretty enough?  Hey, whatever your problem, we can fix that with a pill.

Some people will be requiring a cocktail.  They have it out for people who talk with lisps as well as gays and lesbians, but also make fun of elderly people.  Wow.  Well, take 2 of these each day with a meal, this one before you go to bed, and this one you’re going need 3 times a day but don’t mix it with the one you take at bedtime.  It’s going to be a rough month.  Hang in there.

I thought about a vaccine to avoid the idiocy in the first place, but there are just too many strains of ignorance.

Personally, I think people with no sense of humor need to see a doctor.  They don’t need to agree with what I find comical, but lighten up.  At least find it funny that I find something serious funny.  Like bullies.  They are not silly, but I find the thought of giving them a pill for it slightly amusing.

Who do you think needs a prescription?

dscn0738


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