A Million Little Things

My sister-in-law said to me the other day. “It’s always a million little things.”

Warning serious bitching ahead.

I get that. Since being home from Spain it’s been a million little things and a few big ones. I thought I swore a lot in Spain with the neck-choking bureaucracy. But I’ve had my share of swearing and drinking since coming home after living in Spain.

Most of it is on the job. We won’t go there as that would be a novel by itself.

First things first, when starting over: Get the big things done first. Food, sex, and shelter. Wait that’s how you make a Taurus happy, wait wrong post.

First, expect the unexpected. Like depression, anxiety frustration, and anger.

It will come in unexpected ways, slip up on you in the night, when you get the sweats thinking what have I done? Who’s f**ing idea was this? Staring at the ceiling fan at 3 am again. Especially when you sold everything and had to come back and start over.  With 2 duffle bags and 2 backpacks.

I’m back but I don’t want to be as everyone knows. I want to walk to the tapas bar and have my wine and tapas for 5 euros. I want to get on a plane and fly to Mellorca for $50 or train to France and eat escargot.  But I can’t. I had to find a car, an apartment, buy a fricking wine opener, and a camping chair to sit on in my empty apartment until a mattress was delivered.

Fast forward I’ve been back almost 10 months and it’s like yesterday.

I have a mattress, a car, and astronomically high rent and car insurance. Welcome home. oh, and shitty health insurance even though I work at a large well-known hospital. Thanks for being a nurse; save the patient’s life but if we save yours you’ll still get screwed financially and we send bills to collections on an employee’s bill just as fast as an uninsured patient and we don’t care if you’re a nurse or not. No discount for you. Take that thermometer and shove it up your scrubs.

At least in Spain no one ever asked for my credit card. Although Ide questioned the type of care they gave in a second, as I am used to the US type of care that over-treats everything for fear of lawsuits, at least they treat everything, and usually with a smile. But not everything. Some things are available in Europe but not here.  We will get to that.

Doesn’t matter now cause I’m here.

And I have had at least a dozen Doctor visits since being home. That’s right a dozen and I’m not a hypochondriac either.

A million little things..

Three chronic diseases and a new diagnosis of smoldering myeloma hanging over me. Yea for me.

Blood work for two different doctors every three months,  eye exams every three months for two different eye docs thanks to glaucoma, and now Sjogren’s disease that causes severe dry mouth and eyes. It’s to the point I’m wearing sunglasses to work so people stop asking me if I’m stoned or been crying. Then when I cough I pee on myself too thanks to getting old… it never ends. I just thought Ide throw that in.A million little or big? Things.

And now the damn salivary stone stuck in my submandibular salivary gland, another complication of Sjogren’s.  Where is that grand you say? it’s under each jaw and saliva drains out under your tongue when you eat. Everyone that is, but me. I have a 5.5 mm stone lodged in there that won’t pass mind you,  and so If I eat, the saliva generates with nowhere to go like a blocked pipe. When I eat it swells and feels like a knife stabbing me in the jaw with pain shooting from my ear to my chin. It is so bad all I can do is self-medicate with steroids Tylenol and wine.

So I have to swallow food before the gland knows food is in my mouth to trick it and not generate saliva. Hence liquid food is the fastest. As is alcohol. Of course.

A million little things.

So here I am, glad to lose weight but dying for a juicy steak, which I can’t have unless its pureed. Yuck.

So….

My eyes are so dry I look like I’m in a horror movie.

And a knife in my neck if I dare eat.

And a laundry list of shit to do to help the incurable dry eyes and mouth:

 A million little things.

“Yes, Miss Kinney try all these things on your uncurable autoimmune disease of severe dry eyes and mouth. Have a nice day, and don’t let it get you down”. Sure that’s what they all say, can I have my dose of antidepressant now? Oh wait, that’s not covered by my insurance. That is why wine is cheaper.

Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com

One crinkled post-doctor visit paper instructions later I read it at the bar on the way home sipping my antidepressant.

  1. Take 3000 mg of fish oil daily
  2. Keep a humidifier on at night, even in summer
  3. Where a heated eye mask twice a day
  4. Scrub your eyelids twice a day
  5. Stop wearing makeup and look like the pale ghost you are with no cover-up.
  6. Wear “moisture goggles’  inside and out like some motorcycle rider who’s not riding
  7. Go to the lab and start on plasma drops” What’s that? They take your blood, spin out the plasma put it in eye droppers, and put that in your eyes 10 times a day like some vampire.
  8. Keep your eyes hidden from strangers at all times or only go out at night and talk in dark rooms.
  9. Put moisture drops in your eyes 100 times a day and don’t look at a phone or computer screen for more than 5 minutes.

Have a nice day

And that’s just for my eyes.

For the dry mouth:

  1. Drink water nonstop all-day
  2. Only eat what you can swallow fast. That could mean more than one thing depending on what sex you’re talking to but we won’t go there.
  3. Find a way to break up the stone other than punching yourself in the jaw.
  4. Consider complete removal of the gland and be left with a 4-inch scar on your Chin.

A million little things

I could complain all day, but I don’t. I look down and away from people and wear sunglasses indoors now.

But I found a possible solution for at least one thing:

A doctor in Germany does sound wave therapy to save salivary glands.

My trigger finger is ready

Does the ENT Dr agree? Not really but what does he know? What If I was his girlfriend and he wanted a B-job? Ide have to look up at him with a soft sweet smile and say….. sorry I don’t make enough saliva for that honey….  But If I saved my gland with sound wave therapy and could make enough saliva…..then….maybe I could… Ide bet he have me on an airplane in 5 seconds. Right? “Don’t worry love we’ll save your gland and keep your mouth wet and juicy! …Heck maybe he’d even pay for my plane ticket…

Either way, Why leave the country and do this? The US doesn’t do sound wave therapy on salivary stones, only kidney and gall stones. They will only take the WHOLE gland out.

Who’s f**ing idea is this?  I said to the ENT Doc recently. I told him “Seriously, take it out? really?

That would only leave me three glands left to make saliva and  I already don’t make enough to keep my mouth moist for anything. And I emphasized just for fun; “listen I need saliva. I mean not just to eat, but to speak and well some other things if you know what I mean if I ever decide to date again” but I won’t be gross here. He got the picture pretty quickly and I made his face red too. Haha. He thought a trip to Germany wasn’t such a bad idea after all. See? Men. Go figure.

I ain’t dead yet.

Mark my words my finger will get me to Germany

What’s another international trip?

Compared to the US will the cost really be any different?

Somewhere in Texas,

Dry as a bone without one

I”ll take the red eye please at 4 am….

To be continued

 A million little things


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Published by Chif

I am a nurse, divorced, and love travel. I climb stairs with a bunch of friends and I’m the Captain of a stair team called Tower of Power. I’m also a cancer survivor. I had anal cancer and before you think something rude… I was married 21 years to an asshole.  That’s why I got ass cancer. that the story and I’m sticking to it. Ive been to 80 countries and plan on another 50, God willing….

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About Me

Hola, I’m Chif.

This blog is about how I changed my life.  I moved to Spain at 58 for 2 years to teach kids English. After divorce and cancer it was time to do something different and I did. I left a good job and health insurance and no, I didn’t know any Spanish either.  But I did it and learned how to move to another country and deal with ex-pat adaption hell, but then due to “aging out at age 60” I had to go… go figure! So I  had to move back to the US to go through a different kind of re-pat, re-integration hell.

So  I sit here wondering: Whose f***ing idea was this anyway? Mine, all mine. So here is my story, one painful step at a time, then and now.  Just so you know I’ve been to 80 countries over the years as I have no kids and no man to get in my way. So enjoy my travel stories as I continue to come up with crazy F***ing ideas.

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Published by Chif

I am a nurse, divorced, and love travel. I climb stairs with a bunch of friends and I’m the Captain of a stair team called Tower of Power. I’m also a cancer survivor. I had anal cancer and before you think something rude… I was married 21 years to an asshole.  That’s why I got ass cancer. that the story and I’m sticking to it. Ive been to 80 countries and plan on another 50, God willing….

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