Pillvillian I'm Sick Blues

(with apologies to the inestimable Bob Dylan)

Mama’s in her bedroom

Mixin’ up the medicine

I’m on the telephone

Talkin’ ‘bout Primadone

The man in the white coat

Good doc, paid off

Says he’s got a bad cough

Wants to get laid off

Look out, Mom

You’re on Klor-con

God knows how,

But you’re havin’ some fun

You better run to the boat dock

Lookin’ for a new friend

The phlebotomist 

In a cubicle

Wants eleven vials

You only got ten

Fleet foot optometrist

Old Pulmonologist

Hearing heart beats, but

They put you in bed, called

The Cardiologist anyway

Medicare says that many say

They must have hearing aids

Orders from outer space

Look out, Mom

Don’t matter you’re too thin

Walk with a cane

Don’t try your brain

Stay away from assholes

That push Pantoprozole

Keep a clean house

You don’t need a pacemaker

To know which way’s the undertaker

Get old, get bold,

Hang around, get told

If anything’s gone to gold

INR CPR

DNR, no car

Bacteria, Hysteria

Look out, Mom

You’re gonna get hit

Oh, Medtronic

Gin and tonic

Hang around the pill eaters

Man with the oxygen

Wants a new pathogen

Don’t follow leaders

Eat Egg Beaters

Ah get born, keep warm

Nice pants, romance, learn to dance

Potassium, Calcium

Try to be a good mum

Please you, please me, buy gin

Don’t steal, don’t sin

Twenty years of Plavix

And they give you Coumadin

Look out, Mom

They keep it all hid

Better slug down some alcohol

Lower your cholesterol

Don’t wear anger

Try to avoid the cancer

Don’t want a genie

Just a martini

Microwave don’t work

‘Cause the Namenda’s in the blender.

Report from Pillville: the Pacemaker

"I need a pacebreaker," the man who loves me exclaimed some time ago. We were, no doubt, discussing our mortality or some related profoundly romantic topic.

My mother, on the other hand, has a pacemaker. Now that she lives with me, it's partially my responsibility to maintain her pacemaker, so off we went today to the cardiologist's office for a test with the guy from Medtronic. After offering my mom a seat and introducing himself, he proceeded to attach a box-like monitor to her chest. A few moments of studying a computer screen ensued, and then he proclaimed that the pacemaker was working just fine. And that it was only "pacing" at 1%. Which kinda makes me wonder why she needs a pacemaker. In any event, the thing is good for at least another four years. My mom will be 92 if she's still on the planet four years from now. Her pacemaker will be out of juice, and she will require surgery to implant a new one. I really don't have the energy or the desire to think very far ahead these days, but if I did, I might lose a little sleep over this one. Isn't there some way to just plug her into a charger?

It's young people who design these things, no doubt. Surgery? Sure! Then let's go out and party.

In any event, getting a pacemaker implanted is probably less tiring than getting a flu shot--or so it seemed today at the local CVS. Here's a clipboard. Stand here and fill out all these forms. Stand here some more, while I punch a jillion keys on my computer and wonder why something is not working.
I asked if there was somewhere my mom might sit down. Yes, of course,  there was an area with chairs--halfway across the store. And yes, bring the forms back to the counter. And yes, walk back over to where the chairs are to get the shot. The woman walks with a cane (and a lovely new English chestnut cane it is) for fuck sake. Slowly. And I doubt that she's the only senior to come in for a flu shot. Move the chairs, people. Make it easy. Is your mother in our system, the white coat finally asked me after several more minutes of tapping away at her keyboard after my mom had hiked over to the chairs. Does she get her prescriptions filled here? No, I said, but she buys her gin here.

And yes, that was why we chose CVS for a flu shot. 20% off on your next purchase!!! Well, that didn't go smoothly either, but in the end, thanks to a couple of diligent employees working the check stand, the saga ended happily. And we got an second 20% off coupon for the next gin run.

I arrived home feeling like I'd consider having a pacebreaker installed, but the smell of gin always cheers me up.