“Everybody has a plan until…

they get punched in the mouth.” 

 Mike Tyson (former world heavyweight boxing champion)

I’ll be the first to admit my winter getaways aren’t all that exciting. But this is what I do know. It’s better than  bundling up, hunkering inside, shoveling the white stuff or worse slipping on ice.

This winter I thought I had a viable game plan to sidestep my season of discontent. Unfortunately this go-around Mother Nature connected with a left jab to my mouth.

Here was my itinerary:

I spent December in an Old Town Snobsdale, AZ rental. Purpose? To hike in sunny and 60 plus degree weather, read Kindle books at poolside followed by Happy Hour and dinner. 

 What actually transpired:

Sanctuary One (my Toyota Tundra and camper) had an electronic seizure which ended up costing me $2,300 to repair. A financial OUCH! 

Left knee arthritis got a whole lot worse resulting in two doctor visits plus two injections. Hiking in the nearby regional parks took a back seat to strolling on the Snobsdale bike paths. 

I booked a consultation at the pricey Mayo Clinic about manly personal matters. An informative visit with no health resolutions.

Read all about it: https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2023/12/health-is-our-greatest-wealth.html

All in all, a subpar Snobsdale visit.

At the start of the New Year, I drove to Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument to camp for three weeks.

Before I left Snobsdale, I checked the Weather Channel’s January forecast. The meteorologists predicted a cooler than average month in the Southwest.

It was. 

In the time I was there, I broke an inside-the-camper low temperature record. 33 degrees. I flicked the furnace on most days. I hiked in the warmest part of the short days with the aid of poles and two injections. 

More than 50% of the time it was cooler, breezier and cloudier than normal. My last days there were essentially sun-free and wet. It got so bad, I left a day early and  was actually looking forward to spending two nights in a Yuma, AZ hotel. Yes, that’s desperate and bad, but not rock bottom. Yet.

By this time, I rated my energy level about 40-50%, my Mojo low with a side order of Meh. 

This malaise even affected my reading habits. I’d get through about two/thirds of a book only to lose interest and start another Kindle download. It’s a good thing Kindle didn’t penalize me for incompletions.

BUT! On my lackluster feeling days, I managed to drive along Trump’s Wall to pen this asylum seekers post. Please read this Sambini investigative report:

https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2024/01/the-detritus-of-desperation.html

BTW it poured enough in Yuma to create a parking lot sized Lake Superior.

After restocking my IPA, coffee and oh yeah food supplies, I then set off for Anza-Borrego State Park in California. It was a lovely almost week of camping and hiking until it wasn’t. Another El Niño driven surge of clammy watery weather was heading toward the Southwest and me. 

The Weather Channel eggheads predicted a wet February in the Southwest. 

It was the first weeks for sure. 

So…I departed from Anza-Borrego to urban camp in Palm Springs to the tune of a $100/night campsite. Yes, it rained there too, and was chilly as well. BUT! I did get the chance to have an enthusiastic Happy Hour with those Endless Honeymooners from Fort Collins, Steve and Ginny.

I left the next morning after restocking once again for an anticipated 2-3 week campout in the largest National Park in the Lower 48. AKA Death Valley. 

Between atmospheric river events, I managed to spend a day and night in Joshua Tree National Park. This was by far the bestest day of my entire winter getaway. I actually felt quite happy and content. (Probably because I was offline!) 

Don’t get me wrong, I had other good days, but this one was stand alone outstanding. 

After a peaceful night’s rest, I blasted out at to beat the next round of downpour’s and possible road closures. Destination: The Metroplex town of Shoshone, CA (population 18). This two-three block long village balances on the eastern edge of Death Valley National Park. It’s also the winter getaway destination to another pair of Endless Honeymooners, John and Sue. 

After reconnecting with the happy couple, the rains and road closures began. For two Noah’s Ark nights I loitered in their palatial yet cozy 35 foot RV, complete with lounge chairs and a couch. Best of all (besides the companionship) was the working furnace. 

Desperate times calls for desperate measures. After 48 hours of knee aching damp and chill, I decided to retreat to a dry, warm and roomier hotel room in Las Vegas. (AKA my least favorite city, which to me symbolizes all that is wrong with American. The materialism, get-rich quick schemes, debauchery and sleaziest of all, another Trump Tower Casino.) 

It was there where I decided to stand by to see what Mother Nature wreaked upon Death Valley NP’s infrastructure. The following morning while feasting? on a Holiday Inn Express breakfast of powdered scrambled eggs and a bland toasted bagel with cream cheese, I checked the Weather Channel forecast for the Park. It wasn’t joy, joy, happy, happy. California Highway 190 which bisects Death Valley was flooded. The Weather Channel then flung salt at the open wound.  Each and every campground I was going to visit required water wings. 

You’d think by now I would have had enough, but NOOOO! Apparently, I’m a glutton for mental anguish. When I checked road conditions back to Durango most were under winter storm warnings, I decided to go full circle. I booked another VRBO in Snobsdale to ride out another week of winter.

Looking back, my kosher Spider-Man senses were whispering “This might be another VRBO scam.” There was no reviews of the property, nor host profile or contact information. Surely, this wouldn’t be the second VRBO scam I fell for in a little over a year. 

It was. And don’t call me Shirley. 

Check out the silverware draw and linen closet. Excessively Minimalistic even for me. 

Read about the scam of December 2023. 

https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2023/02/a-258294-vrbo-scam-is.html

At this moment Kenny Rogers’ The Gambler song started spinning in my brain. “You have to know when to hold em, know when to fold ‘em, know when to walk away, know when to run.”

The next morning, I called my credit card company to stop payment and began the long drive back to Durango. 

En route I did a lot of thinking back to conversations with myself. They went like this, “Self! Why are you camping in winter? It hasn’t been working out in the past few years. You don’t have to do this. You have money. Buy airline tickets to other places!” 

So that’s what I’ll be doing in my next season of discontent. I’ll leave Sanctuary One behind to spend time and money in Costa Rica? Cuba? Belize? Panama? Or Africa?

Here’s my final tale of winter woe. 

When I was camping in Anza-Borrego State Park, a holding-hands senior couple moseying by got my attention while I was sunning myself and reading. The woman asked politely, “would you mind showing us your camper? We’re thinking of buying another kind of RV.”

“Not a problem. Come on over and I’ll give you the nickel tour. This won’t take long.”

I talked up Sanctuary One on its many attributes. I enthused about its efficient refrigerator, solar charged batteries, adequate storage space, 20 gallon water reservoir, kitchen sink, two burner stove, furnace, lights, comfy bed and “dining room” table. I told them stories of camping at 12,000 feet or in canyon country, where its 4x4 capabilities are utilized. Like a proud parent I showed them photos to prove my point.

“Wow! You sound like a commercial for Four Wheel Campers. Do you have any complaints?”

“Yeah. I’m alone.”

And that in a nutshell is what exasperates all the jabs, hooks and roundhouse punches life pitches at me on occasion. I have no one to commiserate with or to score a reassuring hug when

things are a bit off. 

Stay well.

I’m looking forward to canyon season.

Cheers!

Jeff

The Detritus of Desperation

Right now I’m camping at Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument. It’s  on the border of Arizona and Mexico. From my campsite I have an unobstructed view of Trump’s Wall as it convulses its way along a line created by the 1853 Gadsden Purchase.

This is my third consecutive winter getaway to this cactus wonderland. Being curious by nature, I always take a drive along an eleven-mile stretch of road parallel to the metal eyesore and environmental disaster. (Just ask the native wildlife (Sonoran  pronghorn, mule deer, javalinas, coyotes, mountain lions, bighorn sheep and bobcats) whose range is now confined to one side or the other. No Bueno for them. 

This year my investigation was different and not in a good way. First off the National Park Service didn’t recommend going. When I pressed a timid Ranger on the issue of why? His answer, “The Border Patrol are conducting Homeland Security surveillance out there,”

My answer, “The Border Patrol are always conducting surveillance out there.” In my mind either a road is open or closed. Sort of along the concept of not being a “little pregnant.” 

If you’ve been following the news, there’s been a surge of asylum seekers trying to gain access to  the Promised Land of America.

This human tide was so large, the US powers to be shuttered the Lukeville/Sonoyta Border crossing for about a month. The lockdown caused economic hardships on both sides of the Wall. The border towns of Ajo, Why and Lukeville lost the potential revenue from the steady stream of Gringos en route to Puerto Penasco, Mexico. (Rocky Point in Gringo-speak).  Daily workers from Mexico couldn’t commute to their jobs on the US side. No Bueno II. 

Still the asylum seekers came.

The immigration issue is like climate change. Everybody talks about it, but no one does anything about it. 

Go back in American History to 1844 and the founding of the “Native American” political party. Better known today as the “Know Nothings” whose platform was all about immigration. They particularly had it out for Irish Catholics, many of whom were escaping the Great (Potato) Famine of 1845-1852. The Know Nothings whined and whined, yet those Guinness guzzling Irish Catholics still came. The English speaking newbies became part of the American fabric handing us Saint Paddy’s Day and two US Presidents. JFK and Joe Biden. Stretch the Irish name a bit and maybe O’bama. In the long run the Irish-Americans found a second homeland.

In 1882, the Chinese Exclusion Act was passed. Like the name suggests, those Asians weren’t allowed entry to the US for the simple crime of being born in China. It wasn’t until 1943 when this racist abomination was repealed. By then, China was a WW II Allie of the US. (Probably a political “Sorry about that! was issued to the Chinese government.) Now we thank Chinese-Americans for their industrious ways and providing Jews a place to eat on Christmas Eve and Christmas.

The Immigration Act of 1924, worked on a quota system based on percentages of hyphenated Americans already here. The rules heavily favored western and northern Europeans as well as those from the British Isles. This act was far from all-inclusive. I suppose those White guys in power were concerned about the possibility of the “poisoning the blood of our country.” (No the quote wasn’t from Hitler, but from Trump in New Hampshire on December 17, 2023.) 

Forty-One years later, LBJ under the shadow of the Statue of Liberty signed the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965. Therefore negating the quota system. ( good riddance to that.) For a Good Ol’ Boy Texan, Johnson displayed great empathy for the plight of the underdog. During his administration Medicare, Medicaid, SNAP (Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program) Head Start and the Voting Rights Act were passed. PLUS! The Wilderness Act of 1964. 

Ahhh. The Yin/Yang of American politics. In January 2017, the Orange Disruptor in Chief enacted Executive Order 13769. It came with a  catchy title. “Protecting the Nation from Foreign Terrorist Entry into the United States.” The nickname was better. “Trump’s Muslim Ban.” Essentially the ban included seven predominantly Muslim countries.  Thereby stereotyping 1.8 billion adherents of Islam as international “Bad Guys.” As par with 45’s administration the order created confusion, chaos and a BIGLY amount of lawsuits. Lawyers must love Trump for all the lawsuits he generates.

Notably missing from the list was Saudi Arabia, the country of origin for fifteen of the nineteen 911 hijackers and its mastermind  Osama bin Ladin. The US has business and military interests in SA which might have influenced Trump’s omission. (Just saying’)

For a great read on America’s worldly military presence, check out “How to Hide an Empire.” Who knew!

That was the Reader’s Digest version of US Immigration Policy 101. 

Back to the present. So there I was driving parallel to the Wall that Mexico was supposed to pay for but that was another Trump fib. American taxpayers shelled out the multi-billions of dollars (not pesos) of dinero. (Money in Gringo-speak) Gee! What a surprise! 

Yep, since the surge the borderland has changed since last year. About one mile west of Highway 85 an apparent asylum seeker processing center stood out. The half-acre parcel contained porta-potties, tents and stadium lights. That was new to me and disturbing especially since the land is within a National Monument. But most distressing of all was the debris field adjacent to the road.  A vast multi-mile stretch of discarded clothes items, thousands of pitched plastic water bottles, spent juice cartons, empty soda cans and an improbable container of hair conditioner. But just like that, the trash subsided. The newly arrived litterbugs were crammed near Highway 85. They weren’t trying to evade capture. They were seeking a better life through asylum. 

Sure, I found the trash to be distressing, but more than likely so was the life the migrants left behind. Anyone desperate enough to negotiate the Darien Gap, (sometimes with children) must have had a reason to risk it all. 

As a first generation American, I can relate to the “Push/Pull” concept behind immigration. For Sid and Clara the push was the first fits and starts of the Holocaust. Simply put, their choice was to flee or be murdered. The pull to NYC was simple too. Get to live another day and eventually make me!

Americans have an uncanny knack in believing “tsrus” (troubles) only occur here. WRONG! Immigration (like inflation) is a Worldwide dilemma. 

 

Worldwide inflation: Source World Bank.

https://www.worldbank.org/en/research/brief/global-inflation#:~:text=In%20July%202022%2C%20global%20inflation,the%20center%20of%20policy%20debates.

Worldwide immigration: Source Springer-link

https://link.springer.com/chapter/10.1007/978-3-031-31716-3_1#:~:text=In%20the%20twenty%2Dfirst%20century,country%20in%20the%20world%20is

 

  Currently, there’s 16 out of the 54 countries in Africa in the midst of a Civil War. In South America unstable governments unfortunately seem to be the rule instead of the exception. 

Source: The Global Economy.com 

https://www.theglobaleconomy.com/rankings/wb_political_stability/South-America/

These are some of the “pushes” on the worldwide scene. The “pulls” are any country possibly offering folks stability, safety and security. Yes. The US is one of those countries.

Readers, I won’t BS you and say I have the answers to a multi-generational international quandary. 

But I do know humanity is going over the top on Genesis 1:28. That’s the “be fruitful and multiply” notion. (In my lifetime alone, Homo Sapiens expanded from 2.7 billion to over 8 billion). 

Another thing I know, it’s going to take a “village” of cooperating Nations to come up with viable solutions. (Just like dealing with climate change).

Walls aren’t the answer despite what Senator Robert Rice Reynolds said on June 5th, 1941. 

I’m down at the Border,

Jeff

The Detritus of Desperation 

Right now I’m camping at Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument. It’s  on the border of Arizona and Mexico. From my campsite I have an unobstructed view of Trump’s Wall as it convulses its way along a line created by the 1853 Gadsden Purchase.

This is my third consecutive winter getaway to this cactus wonderland. Being curious by nature, I always take a drive along an eleven-mile stretch of road parallel to the metal eyesore and environmental disaster. (Just ask the native wildlife (Sonoran  pronghorn, mule deer, javalinas, coyotes, mountain lions, bighorn sheep and bobcats) whose range is now confined to one side or the other. No Bueno for them. 

This year my investigation was different and not in a good way. First off the National Park Service didn’t recommend going. When I pressed a timid Ranger on the issue of why? His answer, “The Border Patrol are conducting Homeland Security surveillance out there,”

My answer, “The Border Patrol are always conducting surveillance out there.” In my mind either a road is open or closed. Sort of along the concept of not being a “little pregnant.” 

If you’ve been following the news, there’s been a surge of asylum seekers trying to gain access to  the Promised Land of America.

This human tide was so large, the US powers to be shuttered the Lukeville/Sonoyta Border crossing for about a month. The lockdown caused economic hardships on both sides of the Wall. The border towns of Ajo, Why and Lukeville lost the potential revenue from the steady stream of Gringos en route to Puerto Penasco, Mexico. (Rocky Point in Gringo-speak).  Daily workers from Mexico couldn’t commute to their jobs on the US side. No Bueno II. 

Still the asylum seekers came.

The immigration issue is like climate change. Everybody talks about it, but no one does anything about it. 

Go back in American History to 1844 and the founding of the “Native American” political party. Better known today as the “Know Nothings” whose platform was all about immigration. They particularly had it out for Irish Catholics, many of whom were escaping the Great (Potato) Famine of 1845-1852. The Know Nothings whined and whined, yet those Guinness drinking Irish Catholics still came. The English speaking newbies became part of the American fabric handing us Saint Paddy’s Day and two US Presidents. JFK and Joe Biden. Stretch the Irish name a bit and maybe O’bama. In the long run the Irish-Americans found a second homeland.

In 1882, the Chinese Exclusion Act was passed. Like the name suggests, those Asians weren’t allowed entry to the US for the simple crime of being born in China. It wasn’t until 1943 when this racist abomination was repealed. By then, China was a WW II Allie of the US. (Probably a political “Sorry about that! was issued to the Chinese government.) Now we thank Chinese-Americans for their industrious ways and providing Jews a place to eat on Christmas Eve and Christmas.

The Immigration Act of 1924, worked on a quota system based on percentages of hyphenated Americans already here. The rules heavily favored western and northern Europeans as well as those from the British Isles. This act was far from all-inclusive. I suppose those White guys in power were concerned about the possibility of the “poisoning the blood of our country.” (No the quote wasn’t from Hitler, but from Trump in New Hampshire on December 17, 2023.) 

Forty-One years later, LBJ under the shadow of the Statue of Liberty signed the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965. Therefore negating the quota system. ( good riddance to that.) For a Good Ol’ Boy Texan, Johnson displayed great empathy for the plight of the underdog. During his administration Medicare, Medicaid, SNAP (Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program) Head Start and the Voting Rights Act were passed. PLUS! The Wilderness Act of 1964. 

Ahhh. The Yin/Yang of American politics. In January 2017, the Orange Disruptor in Chief enacted Executive Order 13769. It came with a  catchy title. “Protecting the Nation from Foreign Terrorist Entry into the United States.” The nickname was better. “Trump’s Muslim Ban.” Essentially the ban included seven predominantly Muslim countries.  Thereby stereotyping 1.8 billion adherents of Islam as international “Bad Guys.” As par with 45’s administration the order created confusion, chaos and a BIGLY amount of lawsuits. Lawyers must love Trump for all the lawsuits he generates.

Notably missing from the list was Saudi Arabia, the country of origin for fifteen of the nineteen 911 hijackers and its mastermind  Osama bin Ladin. The US has business and military interests in SA which might have influenced Trump’s omission. (Just saying’)

For a great read on America’s worldly military presence, check out “How to Hide an Empire.” Who knew!

That was the Reader’s Digest version of US Immigration Policy 101. 

Back to the present. So there I was driving parallel to the Wall that Mexico was supposed to pay for but that was another Trump fib. American taxpayers shelled out the multi-billions of dollars of dinero. (Money in Gringo-speak) Gee! What a surprise! 

Yep, since the surge the borderland has changed since last year. About one mile west of Highway 85 an apparent asylum seeker processing center stood out. The half-acre parcel contained porta-potties, tents and stadium lights. That was new to me and disturbing especially since the land is within a National Monument. But most distressing of all was the debris field adjacent to the road.  A vast multi-mile stretch of discarded clothes items, thousands of pitched plastic water bottles, spent juice cartons, empty soda cans and an improbable container of hair conditioner. But just like that, the trash subsided. The newly arrived litterbugs were crammed near Highway 85. They weren’t trying to evade capture. They were seeking a better life through asylum. 

Sure, I found the trash to be distressing, but more than likely so was the life the migrants left behind. Anyone desperate enough to negotiate the Darien Gap, (sometimes with children) must have had a reason to risk it all. 

As a first generation American, I can relate to the “Push/Pull” concept behind immigration. For Sid and Clara the push was the first fits and starts of the Holocaust. Simply put, their choice was to flee or die. The pull to NYC was simple too. Get to live another day and eventually make me!

Americans have an uncanny knack in believing “tsrus” (troubles) only occur here. WRONG! Immigration (like inflation) is a Worldwide dilemma. 

 

Worldwide inflation: Source World Bank.

https://www.worldbank.org/en/research/brief/global-inflation#:~:text=In%20July%202022%2C%20global%20inflation,the%20center%20of%20policy%20debates.

Worldwide immigration: Source Springer-link

https://link.springer.com/chapter/10.1007/978-3-031-31716-3_1#:~:text=In%20the%20twenty%2Dfirst%20century,country%20in%20the%20world%20is

 

  Currently, there’s 16 out of the 54 countries in Africa in the midst of a Civil War. In South America unstable governments unfortunately seem to be the rule instead of the exception. 

Source: The Global Economy.com 

https://www.theglobaleconomy.com/rankings/wb_political_stability/South-America/

These are some of the “pushes” on the worldwide scene. The “pulls” are any country possibly offering folks stability, safety and security. Yes. The US is one of those countries.

Readers, I won’t BS you and say I have the answers to a multi-generational international quandary. 

But I do know humanity is going over the top on Genesis 1:28. That’s the “be fruitful and multiply” notion. (In my lifetime alone, Homo Sapiens expanded from 2.7 billion to over 8 billion). 

Another thing I know, it’s going to take a “village” of cooperating Nations to come up with viable solutions. (Just like dealing with climate change).

Walls aren’t the answer despite what Senator Robert Rice Reynolds said on June 5th, 1941. 

For further readings:

https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2022/01/im-first-generation.html

I’m down at the Border,

Jeff

For one last look at the humanitarian side of the immigration dilemma.

Please read this great article from the New York Times 

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/02/18/us/border-migrant-crisis-arizona.html?smid=nytcore-ios-share&referringSource=articleShare&sgrp=c-cb

“Health is our greatest wealth…

(Warning: This is a post about Aging. Bodily functions are mentioned and described. For these reasons and others this Blog has been banned in Florida and Texas.)

Is a cliche often heard whenever “Alte Kakers” (pleasantly translated from Yiddish to mean Old Timers. Unpleasantly translated to mean  Old S—ters) are gathered. The phrase is self evident. Consider Steve Jobs the founder of Apple Inc, a victim of pancreatic cancer at the age of 56. His net worth of 10.2 billion couldn’t save him from the ashes to ashes, dust to dust route.

 Being and staying healthy is truly what matters.

Up to a few months ago, if asked, I rated my health as above average. (At least the physical aspect). Sure, I have aches, pains and muscle soreness. That’s all easily treatable with massive doses of aspirin, IPAs and some reading/rest time. I lead a consistently consistent lifestyle centered around hiking, outdoor time (in warm places), eating a mostly plant based diet, drinking plenty of fluids, (the trifecta of coffee, a gallon plus of water and IPAs.) . At bedtime, I hope for a decent night’s rest minus the nightmares.

Health wise I was rolling along until July 3rd. That’s when the glitches began. I was hustling up a steep trail near Durango while schvitzing (sweating) profusely. The forecast was for heat followed by more heat. I was having no issues on the ascent. Not so much on the downhill return. Three miles from the trailhead, I felt my heartbeat go into tachycardia (too many thump! thump! thumps/minute). Mayday! Mayday! Sambini One is going down! In other words I was about to faint. I voluntarily hit the deck and propped my legs above my head. I drank water and nibbled on a Clif Bar. Eventually I stood up and stumbled down to my Subaru. All while doing my best to stave off a strong desire to pass out.

The above scenario occurred two more times within three months. I ended up seeing a just- graduated from Med School cardiologist. Jeffy! How recently did the Doctor graduate from Med School? Let’s put it this way, when I accidentally brushed by his medical diploma, I smudged the ink. Needless to say, the thought of him performing open heart surgery on me was off the operating table.

Here was my  ❤️ solution. After Googling aging, dehydration, heat, fainting and tachycardia. I chose to drink more water and  ignore the former almost horizontal episodes while hoping it won’t happen again.

I began guzzling more water which of course led to an increase of potty breaks. However the overall liquid output seemed to be a Great Lake more than the input. Plus the frequency became similar to my breaths per minute. Things were getting out of hand. Once again, I went to the source of all knowledge. Google.

Here’s what I found. As we age our noses and ears continue to grow. (As if my nose isn’t large enough to begin with.)  For senior men, our prostates continue to grow as well. Which impacts men’s  bladder function and retention in a bad way.

During my research I learned about some outpatient procedures that might alleviate my fluid condition. I called the Mayo Clinic in Phoenix and miraculously scored an appointment for an evaluation at their urology department.

There I was met by a stunningly beautiful (think Miss Universe minus the sash) Nurse Practitioner. This being the Mayo Clinic she quickly got down to business in a professional no nonsense manner. She asked many private questions concerning my “privates.” I assured her that “ALL MY PARTS WORK FINE.” She made a note of that. 

She went on to explain the tests required to fully assess which medical course of action to take. With each vivid description of what each test would entail, I instinctively crossed my  legs and squeezed down harder. My face contorted into a look somewhere between revulsion and nausea. 

After she was done she asked, “Any questions?” 

“Yeah! Can’t you just toss me into an MRI to figure this out?”

“Sorry. No!”

“Well in that case, I think you left out “water boarding” as the final test.”

She gave me a few pamphlets which described the torture regime. I thanked her for her time and patience. When I returned to my Snobsdale rental, I pitched the offending publications into a corner of a closet, never to be looked at again. 

My solution: Drink less fluids, but not to the extent of causing possible dehydration leading to fainting spells. I’m now taking saw palmetto and lycopene supplements in an attempt to reduce the size of my prostate naturally. Once again, I’m avoiding and ignoring the underlying problems.

But the aging hits kept right on coming. While shlepping two water containers to my condo, I rolled my knee. Of course it was the arthritic already damaged one. Instant swelling and dull pain. I began making  phones calls to the billions of orthopedic dudes in Snobsdale. Purpose? To secure a shot of my favorite steroid AKA cortisone.

Cortisone and me. I estimate I’ve been jabbed with that magic elixir more times than most professional baseball players. You can say I’m a cortisone connoisseur. I know instantly when the Doc nails it. Like the time I was stuck in my lower back and an hour later was off on a 70 mile bicycle ride. Or when I was jabbed in my knee and two days later backpacked into the Grand Canyon. Yeah, the stuff is that good.  I reckon getting steroid injections is the price I pay for trying to be an athlete with a body that was bred to be a merchant or accountant.

I scored an appointment for the needle. The Doc missed the sweet spot. I believe it was wide right. I had a bad feeling about his aim when he refused to drain my swollen knee prior to the poke. At the time of my appointment my knee was so bloated it required it’s very own bar stool. 

That’s BIGLY!

But the really awful news was the X Ray displaying an almost bone on bone knee joint. Then the Doc (who missed the field goal) mentioned the two words I never wanted to hear. Knee Replacement.

The inability to be mobile is not something I can ignore or avoid. Hiking makes me happy! As a wise Catalan woman once told me on my first Camino de Santiago, “The secret to life is the motion.”

Which brings me to the point of this long post. By now you’re picking up my “look the other way” approach to personal health care. 

Why is that Jeffy?

Because aging is hard enough. Going it alone is far worse. 

The New York Times recently ran an article about solo seniors who blew off medical exams and procedures. The reason? They have no one they can count on to take them to the hospital if need be. Let alone someone who will help them through the convalescent and rehabilitation stages. This is something I can sadly relate to.  (My brother Mike and sister-in-law Robin stepped up to babysit me in case I need a knee surgery). 

But this is not how I envisioned my life to be. I figured by now, I’d have a girlfriend/wife in a loving quid pro quo relationship. As in “Hi Bubalah, could you please keep an eye on me as I heal ASAP and I’ll do the same for you if the need arises?” (Since I’m a Jewish Mother in a man’s body, it would be a  good deal for this mystery woman. Coffee in bed included.)  

Like so many other Alte Kakers I live in a perpetual state of medical denial. I fear slipping on that figurative and literal patch of black ice in which there might be no one nearby to pick me up. So we disregard the glitches and do our best to avoid the ice. 

This is why health is our greatest wealth.

For a poignant New York Times look at loneliness through the ages:

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/12/21/opinion/loneliness-epidemic-mental-health.html?smid=nytcore-ios-share&referringSource=articleShare

I wish all my readers a happy and healthy New Year. 

Cheers/L’Chaim

Jeff