Problem Solving Made Easy

         I will grant you that I may have a screw loose.

          For example, when my church women’s group had a get-acquainted night and I was asked, “What was your favorite grade in school?” I didn’t say 6^th grade or 10^th grade, I just stared for a moment trying to imagine how there could be any other answer, and said, “A.” 

          Right? Why would you want any other grade? And then it was explained that they meant kindergarten, etc.  I could see on several women’s faces the familiar expression, “Yeah, we’re getting to know her, all right.”

          BUT… that loose screw has come in handy when I need to give advice. A friend recently called me and confided that she thinks she weighs more than her husband, now. What should she do?

          Well, I told her, assuming this is a problem that even needs fixing, I see two choices. One, you could lose weight. Or two, get him to gain weight. Now you tell me: Which one is easier?

          I say fire up the ovens, Honey.

          You simply must subscribe so you can monitor my brain’s activity. And tell your friends to subscribe, too!

Brain Pills

           So I tell my doctor I’m having hot flashes and brain fog. She says it’s from the Arimistat I take, now that I’ve recovered from breast cancer. It blocks estrogen and has both those side affects.

          But there are remedies. She gives me several ideas for hot flashes, including acupuncture.  Also, since I've gained a bit during this pandemic, she reminds me that thin people are cooler than fat people. "Yeah, but fat people are harder to kidnap," I say. "So, you know, mox nix."

         Then she recommends one for brain function.

          Yay, I say, and I head to the market. I’m looking up and down the vitamin and herb aisle. A clerk sends the manager over to help. I tell him I need Lion’s Mane for my hot flashes.

          “Here it is,” he says, reaching for a bottle on the shelf.

          And there, in bold lettering, we see that no, it is not for hot flashes, it is for MEMORY.

          “Oh my gosh,” I say. “I guess that one’s for memory.”  And I cringe because I’ve forgotten the memory one!

          I get home, go upstairs, and tell St. Bob what happened. Then we go downstairs, and I notice I’m still holding the bottle that belongs upstairs.

          “Better take one quick,” Bob says. “Before you can’t remember why you bought it.”  Very helpful, that guy, Whats-his-name.

          You can test your own memory. See if you can remember to order my books and subscribe to this blog!

Superman Never Said This

          I think this may be the ultimate example of adding insult to injury. Here’s the latest in my medical adventure. First, a bit of background. The pathology report of my lymph nodes came back with cancer in four out of the five they tested.  Naturally this means it’s probably in many more of them, and possibly racing through my body to attack some new, far more exciting venue than my armpit.

          So… we did a PET scan. No, they will not let you bring in your Chihuahua to substitute for you.

They will, however, share the radiologist’s long analysis of the even longer body x-ray. 

          The good news is that they didn’t find cancer anywhere else—yay!  On and on I read, seeing that my neck, my liver, my lungs were all clear.  And then I got to this line:

          Brain is grossly unremarkable.

          SERIOUSLY?  That’s how you choose to put it?  If you’re such a smarty-pants, why can’t you just say, “Brain is fine” which would only require four letters as opposed to 19?  Or better yet, “Brain is OK”? 

          I was telling our son, Brandon, that my brain was pronounced grossly unremarkable and he laughed, “Says you!” Right?

          How rude. Maybe someone has grossly unremarkable tact. Hey, Superman had x-ray vision, but he never disparaged people's brains. 

          Yes, I get it that this is medical terminology, but just like sports that need to be revised, maybe that language needs revision as well. AND DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MANY TIMES I’VE HAD TO POST ABOUT MY BRAIN IN THIS BLOG? I think it’s getting ridiculous.

          And then there’s St. Bob’s input, which was surprise and delight that there was even a brain in there to find. So there’s that.

On the other hand, Christmas is coming and you need to buy my books as gifts for people whose brains you would never insult.

Funny Medicine

          All of my kids are funny, and one of them is even a comedian. 

          I blame St. Bob.

          Here is how this man’s mind works.  The other night he gets a Charlie horse in his leg. 

          I have blogged about these before, and the descriptive names other countries have for those cramps that bite you like a crocodile.

So far, we have not come to Bob’s brain.

          As the good, helpful wife, I offer him a Potassium tablet, since I have a bottle of these I never use, but bought a while ago because I heard they were good for something or other, then forgot what it was.  Only now I remember: Leg cramps.

          We go into the bathroom where I get the bottle, but the writing on the label is too tiny for Bob to read.  Again, the Wonder Wife, I take out my contacts so I can read microscopic printing, and read it to him.

          I squint. “It says take one tablet daily with a meal.”

          Bob sighs.  And here is where his mind kicks in.  “Well, he’s not coming, so I’ll just take the tablet without him.” 

          Ah.  Emil.  Of course.

          Honestly, I am going to donate that man’s brain to science.  Or at least to a comedy hall of fame.

          Have you visited my web site, lately?  Time to kick back and scroll through some YouTube Mom videos, order some books, and see if you can find St. Bob in any of the characters.

Rehab for Joni

          Okay, I need to go skiing.  Clearly this is my ticket to being gorgeous and having all my wits about me.  I shall explain.

          A good friend of mine went skiing in Utah a few weeks ago, fell and tumbled into a tree, broke all kinds of ribs and head bones, and smacked the daylights out of her right frontal lobe.  After weeks in the hospital, they finally transferred her to a rehab facility back here in California.

          So I went to visit her and guess what? First of all, she looked like a million bucks, and second of all: she was sharper and more focused than I was!  She was even heading home in a couple of days.

          I asked her what they could possibly do at the rehab place to help her.  She said they would come in and give her six words to remember, and then later ask her to recall the list. She ticked off five of the words right then, but she couldn’t remember the sixth.  I can remember one: marble.  Although I won’t swear to that.

          Good gravy—if I were in here they would never let me out!

          So I looked up the typical symptoms of someone with this injury.  They are often inattentive, have a hard time finding the word they want, cannot retain new information, talk persistently, exhibit ADD tendencies, have an intolerance of frustration, and have poor hand-to-eye coordination. Excuse me?  Is that not a detailed description of Joni Hilton? 

          So did I fall down at some point, bang my head, and nobody even noticed?  Or was I born without a right frontal lobe from the get-go?  I mean, I’ve never had my head x-rayed; I could have gerbils doing the hula in there!

          I’ll tell you this.  I am going to watch my step like a hawk, or I’ll wind up in that facility for life.  On the other hand, if I could look as rested and refreshed as my friend, it might be worth a visit.

Keep me from stumbling into permanent residence at the hospital by purchasing my books!  That way I’ll write more and stay safely at the computer desk.   

Brain Overload

            The brain is a fascinating organ.  Some are more fascinating than others, granted. 

            For example, here’s a flaw in mine (no comments from the peanut gallery, a.k.a. my children, about there being far more than one flaw).  When someone is trying to teach me something I dislike learning, such as computer technology, my brain opens up three files.  No more.  Three.  If you try to squeeze in another weensy piece of information, all three files get tossed into the air, papers flutter everywhere, and the entirety of the information sits on the floor like a pile of confetti.

            St. Bob was recently trying to cram the entire instruction book of my new cell phone into my weary noggin, excited about all the features, apps, and options I could now enjoy.  I told him I could remember three things, but if he tried to add a fourth, I’d forget all of them.

            “It’s like pouring water into a container,” I explained.  “There’s only so much room.” 

            “No, it’s like pouring water into a busted vase,” he said.

            Nevermind that he cannot remember where the pie plates are stored or how much to water each of the plants on the patio.  No amount of explanation can make uninteresting things stick if our brains choose to switch gears to something we like better.

            Which reminds me of the other comparison St. Bob has used, when speaking of my brain.  Have you ever been bicycling, not shifted all the way through, and been caught between gears?  Bob claims this is rare, but it happens to me all the time, and there I am, stuck in neutral with a rattling chain. Bob says it’s just like my brain: Racing, but going nowhere.  

                    He chuckles at these lame comparisons, and excuses them because he believes he is giving me material.  “This gives me permission to say anything, because it’s for your blog,” he says.  “Have you ever put in ‘blond haired vixen?’ Put that in there.”

            “Okay, this is not a forum for every ridiculous thing you can think of saying,” I tell him.  On the other hand, I do keep a pen handy.

            “Put this in,” he says.  “I just ordered you a new cell phone.”

Here are three books you need to buy.  Just three.  My latest novels: Jungle, Pinholes Into Heaven, and Sisters in the Mix.  Also available at Createspace. Something for everyone’s brain.