PPMS, bipolar2, PTSD and Pneumonia - The Four Horsemen of the summer Apocalypse

Biblically referred to in Revelations, at the end of John's prophecy (John of Patmos, at 6:1-8. ) These hell horses bring  famine, war, pestilence and death, to earth and yes, that same zany gang that started WW2 has zip to do with it. The Deity has washed his/her's/their's possible hands of the planet and gone off to this part of galaxy

No it was not these four horses... and I can still feel the clip clop in my head, but maybe's that's another thing.

No for a 60 year old such as your host, all that I needed was:

Meet Chuck the horse.  Now if you've been here before, you know that a series of maladies has slowed my retirement enjoyment over the past eight years, and how I've been slowed in my working/writing (with some good help).  The thing is, its like another spoonful of green lima means, has been tossed on top of your favorite food and just when you barely swallow that set, more lima means are dumped.  And you know that, that wonderful feeling of nearing he dessert has been crushed.  Lima beans are in my pudding.

See when you've got MS, you're always sleepy through the morning, drowsy in the PM, and stumbling back into bed, unsure at what points of the day you missed because you slept through them and then can't fall asleep.  And you forgot to eat again.

So take that and add pneumonia (the second time in my life [ I'm better] and suddenly emergency rooms and after a lot questions, EKGs, blood samples.  I was hooked up to an I-V for hours as the truly nice staff did all they could, though I wished the TV would have worked.  Home at 4:30 AM.  Collapse in our brand new super duper bed. And blessed accomplishment I actually fell asleep for nearly a hour before falling out of our new bed.  You need to have mountain shoes to climb in and a prepared parachute to get down safe.  The bed is one of those raise head/lift feet things, old couple bed.  It took me a few nights of stubbed toes past the newly metal end piece.  In all our years, Jackie and have had the same mattress, nor headboard, nor footboard.  We were always going to do that, that is, but cash and stuff (lots of stuff) got in our way.

To relieve the sound of snoring that disturbs my bride's dreams of shopping at Kohl's, I used a number of pillows to prop my head and get into the oddest position necessary to relax and hope that Jackie moved  closer me, Mr. Warmth (now that Rickles' is gone, the title is up for grabs) and I find I'm driven to the very edge of the bed, below me a block of deep black nothingness disguised as a rug.  But my terror at being so far not shoved me screaming to the floor.

So I sit here, coughing and droopy - the latter being the norm. One of the horses went home, though did take his sashaying horse.  "See you on the deathbed, pal!" he said chortling as he turned to fire and disappeared.

"Don't worry," PTSD horse said. "We're still here.  Blow your nose, but don't put the tissue on the bed cover!  Think of your house! What, are you, someone who can........"

"He's asleep, PT." said the MS horse.  "Enough for tonight.  See, Pneumonia, oh....He's gone.  More cholera, I guess, someplace else.  Call it a night, or by the way there's a veterans hospital just down the road."

PT bowed his head.  "In all fairness, sir, a lot of my brother's ponies have been there, terrifying the families by making TV soldiers even worse than he ever had it. Good riders, sir."

And with that the MS horse in its ghostly form relaxed, and began to fade.  

"and another day ends," he whispered.  He went to  his favorite dream, the one driving a Cadillac, top off in the farm grass, his hair flying behind. This is living, he knew and he hoped he'd get to do  the part where the world is but hay, water (for all needs), apples, and that nice palomino named....Zika. Wait, Chuck's on duty tomorrow. Great. Can't wait for those stories. Good ole Chuck. U.P. Chuck.

We-yrr, We-yrr, We-yrr.....I hope.

I always believe what's on Google.  Stay with me here.

I had an appointment with a cardiologist today, tests required.  We arrived before the office actually opened and found that even the elevator wasn't even awake, so we climbed up three flights of stairs (Energy level 60%).  After some pounding upon the office door, the one living person in the building responded to our fists and cracked the door open slightly and said "You're early!" and I was waiting for her to put up a sign on the door and say "Go Away and Come Back Tomorrow!" (Oz reference).

But we were allowed in eventually and I was summoned.  Lay down. Sticky stuff placed on my hairy chest, wires to a machine.

And, yes, I was wearing my toupee, OK? The technician gave a me a pity shave.  Actually he did the shave and arranged it on my head

Measured shot of goo into my arm, go sit down in reception.  I could not eat or drink anything (except water - Perrier is my choice) so I sat and read.  Jackie drove us to the office so the moment I had gone into the tombs, off she went to Starbucks, and so I sat and then was summoned back to the room, and there talked to the cardiologist.

The average resting heart rate (HRrest) for a 60 year old is 72 beats per minute. 60 year old males average heart rates of 70 bpm while females average slightly higher at 73 bpm2. The normal resting heart rate range for all adults and children 10 and over is between 60 and 100 beats per minute.  90% of 60 year olds resting pulses fall within the range of 54 to 91 bpm. In general, an adult's resting heart rate will be lower for those in better athletic condition.  This information kindly grabbed from Healthly.io.

My heart beat per minute is 49.  With some body movement I can get the beat to 55/56.  This also means that I should be running for marathons for Nigeria, as that' s more in their territory.  Only 5% of the men on the planet have such a heart beat rate and I am not sure if all of them are runners for or from Nigeria.  Me? Run? 

And heres a cool note.  University studies (on the web) show that only horses, elephants, and large whales have a slower heart rate than me.  Hamsters run close, though, at 55.

So we made a slight change in my prescription.  Change one pill to 1/2 a day so it becomes  

to bread crumbs

From a pill that was 6/16 of an inch

I am in the market for any ginsu knives.  You see how tiny those pills are?

Jackie wants the knives so she can (ever so slightly) touch the point of a knife to my forehead to see if I'm asleep or dead. Just a loving tap, I hope.

The title of this piece comes from the electrocardiograph sound of the heart beating. If you ever take one or even listen to a baby in the womb, that's the sound I hear.   

Google told me about the ability to see what the heart beat means.  I'm waiting to hear that We-yrr, We-yrr, We-yrr..Dogs' heart beats are three times faster than mine.  Maybe I should lay down in the yard and pant.

Energy --maybe 1%.   I'm going to bed.  Curl up on the couch, or maybe under the desk.  More updates from the floor of my den soon!