Paying the Bill

Posted on 16/09/2024 by Grumpa Joe

One thing that comes from living in a socialist country is a different attitude about paying for things. If all your needs are satisfied by Uncle, then why settle for anything? All things must come free. I live with Lovely, who spent most of her life in a socialist country. She escaped to go to America for a better life. She has a better life now, and she enjoys it as long as she is healthy. She has reached the age of fourscore when the body shows signs of wear and tear. A visit to the doctor is acceptable unless it comes with a bill for payment of the services. Her attitude is one of live a healthy life and you won’t need a doctor. Because of her background she is into organically grown foods, clean, pure water, and no pills.

Recently, she was diagnosed with wet macular degeneration. All she wanted was a new pair of glasses to read again. Instead, her foreign (any of the four languages she learned in her childhood) language-speaking doctor told her to see a specialist. English is not one of them. She doesn’t think in English, she thinks in any of the languages she knows. I’ve witnessed her speaking to three different people all speaking a different language and she not only understood all of them but could respond to them in thier own tongue simultaneously, but english is not included.

She went to this new doctor, who can not speak her language, but there happens to be a nurse at the practice that does, that makes her happy. At the same time COVID hit the world. Our Governor spread the word that Illinois Medicaid would accept undocumented people without question to get healthcare. She applied and was accepted. For the past two years she has received treatments for her eyes without any mention of money. She was happy. I was wondering when the ceiling would fall on our heads. It happened this spring when the state voided all Medicaid to people who were covered under the COVID policy. She had to reapply. She did, and this time she was denied and put into a special class called redetermination and the state would pay for all expenses she incurred over $590/month. She was not happy anymore. I bit the bullet and applied for Obama Care. Thankfully they accepted us into the private insurance marketplace which they wouldn’t do three years ago. The premiums are over $700/month and the co-pay limit is $9000/yr. They have been paying for about half of her eye treatments which are about $5000 each time, and she averages two treatments per month. She is not a happy camper anymore. Welcome to America Lovely!

At this time, I’m worried about the nest egg being ravaged, and with inflation running rampant, it feels like someone pulled an oversized plug out of the retirement fund. What I don’t understand is whether socialist healthcare provides state-of-the-art drugs such as the one they now use for wet macular degeneration or whether they send you home and tell you to drink chamomile tea.

It doesn’t matter what socialist medicine does or doesn’t do because Lovely will never return to her roots. She loves it here; it’s just not the part about paying the bill for healthcare.

Filed under: Aging, Biography, health care | Tagged: , , | 1 Comment »

Time Away With Lovely

Posted on 08/09/2024 by Grumpa Joe

This is another one of those days when I don’t have a clue as to what my theme will be. I’ll write until something comes to mind. This past week, I drove to the town of Galena, Illinois. That is the longest drive I have taken in a few years. I have something in mind for later in the month, and I was wondering if I was physically and mentally capable of driving so many hours. I made the driving part without too much fatigue and with a little more physical conditioning I think I can expand the drive to five hundred miles in a single day. One thing. that might hamper me is daylight. If I get caught short on light, I may have to pull off and sleep. My eyes are not the best for dark time driving.

This was my second visit to Galena, the home of Ulysses Grant, the eighteenth President of the United States and the General who finally ended the Civil War. Lovely is new to the USA; she has never been there and likes visiting places she has never been to. We left in the late morning and arrived four hours later, still in bright light. This left us with some time to cruise into town to browse the shops and to have a leisurely supper at the Green Street Tavern located in the Desoto Hotel building on Main Street. My memory of Galena is vague since my last visit was in the 1970’s and we camped. I do remember touring Main Street with Barb and the kIds. I especially liked the fact that the entire street was filled with buildings built in the early eighteen hundreds. I was totally impressed with the massiveness of the front doors that were easily three inches thick. Another thing that left an impression on me as a senior was that the floors in these places were wavy and irregular in levels. They were not easy to walk on if you have balance problems like me. They also had a lot of steps between rooms and floor height changes which made walking an adventure.

The stores are a blend that sell doodads, fancy coffee-pastry, and women’s clothing with a few antique shops mixed in. Tours are available for the historically interested. We ran out of time to visit the Grant home, and just as well, as the tour would have consisted of listening to a docent spew historical facts in the crowded rooms of what was once considered a considerable mansion but today might fall into the middle-class sector. If I want to see some old houses, I will revisit Colonial Williamsburg.

I thought Galena sits on the edge of the Mississippi River, but it doesn’t. It is a few miles east of the Mississippi and has no prominent tourist roads leading to an overview. One of my goals was to show Lovely the great Mississippi River. To do that, I had to drive north from Galena to Dubuque, Iowa. This was a good thing because Dubuque, being on the river, is loaded with businesses of hauling by barge. THe river is not very wide at that point but the bridge over is still impressive and offered a good view of the expanse of the waterway. As we left the bridge the road turned South and headed along the river toward the Quad cities of Davenport, and Bettendorf on the Iowa side, and Rock Island, and Moline on the Illinois side. My map reading skill has obviously diminished because I swear that the only bridge across was at the Quad cities. I was surprised to find out I am wrong.

We enjoyed rural views along the river in a relatively hilly section. When we came down from the high country to the river, we stopped at a quaint little roadside restaurant called Richman’s Cafe for coffee and a cookie in Bellevue. Lovely wanted pictures of the river to remember, so we crossed the road and walked to the water’s edge. There, we blindly photographed using our phones, blocked out by the bright sunlight. I blindly aimed the camera and touched the button to hear the camera take a shot.

Back on Highway 52, heading south, we were thrilled by some magnificent river views. The road eventually came to a tee near a town called Sabula, and I decided to continue eastward. That decision led us toward the city of Savannah, although I only realized it was in Illinois once we crossed the river on the bridge I didn’t know existed. I have read about and heard about Savannah all my life, but did not know where it was or how big it was; now I do. I can knock Savannah off my list of places to see. The drive through was enough for me.

The remainder of the drive took us through north central Illinois and eventually to Interstate 39 South. I have never been on 39, so we took it to I-80, which was the straight shot to Frankfort.

All in all, this was a very nice getaway and I thoroughly enjoyed the time away with Lovely

Filed under: Biography, family, Travel | Tagged: , , | Leave a comment »

Traffic Jammed

Posted on 01/09/2024 by Grumpa Joe

This afternoon, I had an appointment with my Lions Club. We were walking in the yearly Labor Day Parade, a highlight of the 52nd annual Fall Festival in Frankfort, Illinois. I live a mile and a half from the start point, and most years, I ride my bicycle through the crowded streets to get there. That wasn’t possible this year because I finally sold my beloved recumbent bike to clear the way to my car in the garage and also because the only time I ever rode the thing anymore was to get to the parade. My original plan was to walk, but I didn’t feel up to the walking 1.5 miles to walk another 1.5 miles in the parade and a final 1.5 miles home. I sissied out and took the car. When I finally reached the starting point I was directed to Grand Prairie School parking lot, another mile further away. I figured I could do that, if I hitched a ride back.

I inched my way through the traffic jam to get to the school. Upon reaching the stoplight to cross US 45, it was barricaded off, and a nice young blond-haired policeman about sixteen years old directed me away from that effort. That was the end of my parade. The traffic on LaGrange Road (US 45) was two cars wide and a mile down to Lincoln Highway. Any effort to park that far away was just lost energy. I came home. There was half an hour left to get to the parade on time, I am 1.5 miles away and I walk at two miles per hour. If I had just walked to the start point as I originally wanted to do I would have made it.

For the first time in fifteen years, I missed walking in the parade with my Lions Club. It’s not the parade that I missed; it is the beer fest we had afterward to cool down. I’ll watch last years parade and enjoy it jjust as much.

Filed under: Aging, Biography, family | Tagged: , , | 2 Comments »

My Ass Is Dragging 10 Feet Behind Me

Posted on 31/08/2024 by Grumpa Joe

Today my ass is dragging ten feet behind me. That means I’m tired as hell. What did I do to get that tired? Nothing. That is my usual routine: do nothing. That is until it is time to eat; then, I eat.

My sleep last night was broken by four trips to the commode, each one, two hours after the last. I can even tell I am tired when I have to stop typing to make corrections too many times in one sentence. The lack of energy I experience may be related to the beer I drank at the Wurstfest on Thursday night. If I had stuck with hard liquor I might feel better.

I am so tired that I have no desire to bash Kamala Harris, who is running for president. How much worse can she screw the country than what she has done already? At my age, It won’t matter that she turns us into a communist state because I won’t be here to hate it.

Yesterday, I tried sending my daughter a copy of my book, “BAC-British American Colonies, A World Without the United States.” It was too large a file to transmit, so, being the good father that I am, I printed it single-spaced on two sides and bound it with a cover. It came out so nice that I’ll make another copy to pass around to my friends for review. Their comments will help me decide whether to pursue finding a local (USA) publisher or Kindle Books at Amazon.

Right now, I ditching this post to take a nap.

Filed under: Aging, Biography, Funk | Tagged: , | Leave a comment »

Strange New Generation

Posted on 26/08/2024 by Grumpa Joe

Yesterday, I undertook a major step in regenerating my physical ability. Over the past several months, I have noticed that my legs and, in general, an overall body weakness happening. This was beginning to drive me nuts. Finally, I overcame the malaise and started taking a walk in the mornings before breakfast. No food until I walk. At first, it was a walk around the block. It felt like my legs were anchors, and I dragged them along in a shuffle. In my mind, I kept telling myself, lift your feet. The shuffle persisted, but so did I. By the fourth day, I was feeling a bit better and told myself it is time to raise the bar. Instead of walking around the block, I set the goal to walk to the library along the lake trail. I made it, but when I got home, all my energy was gone. The next day I rested, no walking. Then came Sunday. I went to mass, and came home for breakfast. I committed to help with a Lions event at the Farmer’s Market between 10:00a.m.-1:00 p.m. and decided that parking would be a pain, so I would walk. I did. I have walked into town hundreds of times before, never taking more than thirty minutes to do it. Yesterday It took me fifty minutes, but I made it. I have finally reached the point where I will tell the story I intended to tell in the first place.

The Lions had scheduled the Lions of Illinois Foundation sight and sound screening bus to come to Frankfort. It looks like a mini school bus, except it has no windows and is not yellow. Inside, it is separated into two sections: one for hearing tests and the second for vision tests. The Lion Volunteer who drove from Mattoon, IL (2.5 hrs) is also the trained technician administering the tests. We are his office office staff, signing people in, and directing traffic in and out of the bus. My job was to hail people attending the market and offer them a free screening. To do that I stood on the street in line with the Old Plank Trail bicycle path. It was busy with pedestrians visiting the market. Simultaneous to all this activity a number of Lions were there hawking tickets for our annual Wurst Fest. I was doing both, hawking tickets and vision screening.

A middle aged man about forty was semi-walking riding his bike through the crowd as he straddled past me I asked him if he had his Wurst Fest ticket yet? “What’s that,” he asked. I replied, “You are not from here are you?”

“No,” he replied, “I am in shock.” I asked him where he was from, and he told me Taylor Street in Chicago. He was far from home, so I proceeded to explain what the Wurst Fest is. “I am in shock,” he said again. I finally asked him “what is so shocking?”

“Everyone is married!” Then it came to me. Taylor street is near the center of Chicago in the U of I and Little Italy neighborhoods. Next to that is a string of hospitals, Stroger, Cook County, Rush, and University of Illinois. Young people abound in these areas. Some study and some work at the hospitals. They ride bikes and electric scooters to get around. They work, eat, go out at night to drink, listen to loud music, and hook up. They sow their oats. Then something happens and they find a life partner and enter the next phase of life; they wind up in towns like Frankfort with wives, kids, schools, churches, homes , Sunday hand holding or stroller pushing strolls through the farmer’s market etc. He just didn’t enter that phase yet, and maybe he never will, but at least he can say he caught a glimpse of it in Frankfort.

Filed under: Aging, Biography, family | Tagged: , , , | Leave a comment »

« Previous Page — Next Page »