Coffee Talk on Saturday Morning

Stacy David of the TV show Gears is talking about installing brake lines in his superlite race car project while my head set has Ann Margret singing "How Lovely to Be a Woman" from Bye Bye Birdie. It is a movie we watch whenever it airs on cable; the old version with Paul Lynd.

This has been a week of activity starting at 3am Monday morning when J headed out to the airport and San Jose CA. After an entire day of interviews with various principals from the hiring company, he did a technical presentation of the company's product to the group. He tucked a few of the slides received late Sunday afternoon into the powerpoint presentation that he had already prepared when they thoughtfully sent 75 slides for his perusal.

Tuesday was travel day heading back to Dallas via Phoenix, arriving at home at nearly 7 pm. Wednesday was a day to recover from the exertion and stress associated with four one-on-one interviews, lunch with the prospective manager and the product presentation. Now he waits again for the next move as he's done so many times before. This one takes the cake when it comes to jumping through hoops.

Wednesday was Doctor Day with the girls. The three of us headed out around 7:15 am for the medical clinic in Richardson. Our primary care physician (pcp) says the new Obama Care regulations are requiring doctors to spend more time on paperwork and therefore less time on their patients. He sat there filling out three forms for each woman as he explained that he is already seeing the pressure of the new requirements. To renew and continue the medications Mom and her sister have been taking for years, like blood pressure medication and thyroid medicine, they must submit for blood work and physicals more often.

At eighty seven and ninety two, it takes a lot of energy to fast all morning and get into the doctor's office to have blood drawn before having a first cup of coffee. They've put the girls in separate rooms this time so I sit with Louise since she can't see and is wheelchair bound. They ask me to join the doctor when he goes into the room with Mom. She's already told him she's 86. I correct it for the record.

Back in the room with Louise, the assistant asks me, "How old is she?" and once again I turn to Louise and ask her to tell the lady how old she is.

"I'm, um, ninety one." She says and looks to me for confirmation.

"Well now, Auntie, you're ninety two now." I remind her. The nurse scribbles it down on the paper.

During the visit, they're told that they must get glaucoma tests done every two years too. Doctor notes on the page he's filling out that he's notified them.

"There's a disclaimer somewhere that says 'Medicare may or may not pay for these tests'", according to Dr. Hussey, for things that may be required like a "Venous Doppler" to continue prescribing the blood pressure medication. These tests run thousands of dollars. Not a very positive impression of the new health care for elderly patients like these women who are still trying to make it on their own after a lifetime of working and contributing to the system.

The rest of the week was a breeze until I read that my Hubber friend Dusty Tibbs 50 Caliber has passed. Here's one dedicated to you today, Dusty, from Louis Armstrong, What a Wonderful World. Missing you already.