…but it can always be worse. As long as I’m alive, I can bitch about life here, so there’s that.
Yesterday began and ended in pain. Last night was actually a little scary. I started coughing in Alley Cats, and with whatever it is that ails me, a cough feels like being stabbed in the side. I caught a trike for home (at 7:30!), and it took a nebulizer session, a saltwater gargle, and two cups of green tea with honey to put the cough to rest so that I could. I went to bed early and slept through the night, which was a blessing.
I visited my doctor yesterday afternoon, and she took some blood to check on my liver and gall bladder. She also referred me for an ultrasound session to get a peek at what’s going on inside of me. Nothing was enlarged or abnormal in appearance from my review of the results, but we’ll see what Dr. Jo has to say on Friday when the lab results are back.
Yesterday also brought another kind of pain, this time in the ass. Once again, it seems the casual acquaintances in my life expect me to bail them out of their financial difficulties. One of them really pissed me off because she continued to beg after I said no. Part of my anger was at myself for feeling a little guilty. This gal is one of my regular waitresses at It Doesn’t Matter. I gladly helped her out recently when she needed medicine for an illness. This time, she wanted money to buy school supplies for her three kids. I’m a regular customer (or was) at the bar where she works; how does that make me responsible for her children’s needs? My guilt derived from the fact that I recently donated a whole lot more money than she wanted for tomorrow’s charity hike–money that will be used to buy school supplies for complete strangers. If I willingly gave for them, why not her? So, I resolved that dissonance like this: When I walked by IDM on my way to Hideaway, I stopped and handed the waitress in question an envelope with most of the amount she requested. I didn’t say a word; I just turned and walked away. I don’t intend to return to IDM, so she lost a customer. I also blocked her on Facebook, so I guess that means she lost a “friend” as well. I’m not sure if this was a total violation of Rule #1 (don’t be a sucker), but it felt close enough, and now I’m confident it won’t happen again. At least with her.
The Wednesday feeding of the Hideaway girls cheered me up some. I sent Joy out for some roast chicken to go with the banana-nut muffins I baked for the crew. As usual, they all seemed to enjoy their dinner treat.
After Hideaway, I decided to pay a visit to Blue Butterfly after a long hiatus. The waitress who served me left me alone, and I appreciated that I could just enjoy my beer and watch the world pass by on the highway (I was in the outdoor section). But before I’d finished my beer, two gals that I’ve seen in the past came out and hovered around my table. Well, me being me, I told some jokes and engaged in some banter. Then, I ordered a second beer. And oddly enough, when I didn’t offer any lady drinks, the girls both got busy and disappeared back inside. That works for me and my new, more frugal attitude.
I finished my second beer and departed, but I’ll be back on Monday since the Hash On-Home is there this week. As I was walking on the highway, I saw “Mama” (the umbrella lady I support) up ahead. As I caught up with her, I saw her walk to the entrance of the Annex Bar and look inside. When she turned around, she was surprised to see me and exclaimed, “Papa! I was looking for you!” I gave her a smile and the usual 100 pesos.
I crossed the highway and went inside The Green Room. It was way too busy for my tastes, so I I walked on through to Wet Spot. I’d just been there the night before and wasn’t feeling it, so I headed back out onto the highway. I figured I’d check out the other side of town for something different. Then I saw Jim up ahead and followed him until we reached Sloppy Joe’s. It’s officially closed and moved to the new location now. I asked Jim where he was headed next, and he said Alley Cats. Ah, my old darts home. I went with him and said hello to lots of old familiar faces I hadn’t seen for a while. While enjoying my second beer, the coughing fit started, so I bailed for home.
After the visit to the clinic that did my ultrasound, I treated my driver, my helper, and Swan to breakfast at a nice little restaurant on SBMA called Extremely Expresso.
My guests all ordered a Filipino-style breakfast. I went with French toast. They were served first, and when the waitress saw my perplexed look, she assured me my food would be ready soon; the cook was “cutting the bread.” That was surprising. How do you cut French toast?
After breakfast, we went to the mall. I was hoping for an eye examination, but the optometrist was not in yet. Dr. Jo had recommended some compression stockings to relieve some swelling in my legs, so we picked up a pair of those while there.
I’m staying home tonight, but Swan is coming over later for dinner. I plan to grill some steaks and serve them with a baked potato, corn-on-the-cob, broccoli, and garlic bread.
I’ll leave you with some wisdom I found while trolling the internet:
And a close-up of my coffee mug.
On that mug: spot the error!
Yeah, I’m talking to you, too, Neil Young.
Neil Young can suck it. I’ve never liked his singing, anyway.
Good luck as you and Dr. Jo figure out what’s really going on. Did she do any poking and prodding? Any range-of-motion mobility tests?
That is a weird thing to do to French toast. Makes the heat escape from it faster. On the other hand, I’d be curious to see an $18 burger, but I guess you’d have to share it with a hungry companion.
Would possibly a muscle relaxer help? Maybe it is just a spasming muscle or something like that? Just a thought.
Regarding your begging friends. I still think you should get some business cards printed up explaining you donate to charities X, Y, and Z and you recommend that they contact them directly if they need assistance.
Brian, it hurts less today when I cough, so that’s a good sign. I am going back to the doctor this afternoon for the test results; I’ll see what she recommends.
Your charity idea is alright, but I don’t know of any that offer the kinds of things I’m usually asked for. And I don’t mind helping out when the situation warrants it, but I want to choose when, where, and how much. The gal I mentioned wouldn’t take no for an answer. Another one made a request that I didn’t respond to right away, and she deleted it. That’s a method of begging I approve of.
Kev, I say there is one too many commas on that mug.
I’ll be going back to see Dr. Jo this afternoon. If the test results confirm it is not something internal, I’m sure she’ll have some suggestions for the muscle issue. The pain isn’t as severe when I cough now, so that’s a good sign.
John, it’s rough you are going through the wars but we are all rooting for you to get better and keep living your best life, mate. No need to feel guilty about setting boundaries and enforcing them because others would probably just be cynical and help no-one. You exited with grace by giving some of the money and cutting contact to send a message. You probably know the lessons already but may I recommend the book The Subtle Art of Not Giving A Fuck? Hope you get good news from Dr Jo. Reading your blog is the highlight of my day.
Does the price of that burger include a barfine? Otherwise…
Don’t know what your tolerance is for whisky but with the surname McCrarey, it should be good. When I have a bad cough I make a hot toddy. Whiskey, honey, lemon juice and hot water. Works like magic.
I learned a long time ago that I can’t save the world. If I gave money to every person I encounter at a red light holding a sign asking for money or to every solicitation I get in the mail then I would be broke and need a handout. I believe in giving back but limit myself to a select few charities I believe in and limit the amount as well. Life is not fair, I get it.
I saw that Crazy Carabao craft beer sign behind Joy. Sounds interesting. Have you indulged?
Speaking of Joy, did I hear you correctly? “Joy munchin her muffin”. That gal is limber.
P899 for a burger is a bargain.The Golden Boy burger at De Daltons in Amsterdam goes for 5,000 euro. At todays exchange rate that’s $5,394. McCrarey, you can’t take it with you, or so I’m told.
That Freedom Toast looked like diced potatoes in the pic.
Is an eye exam in the PI like in the States. Do they have all the fancy equipment? Check for glaucoma with the puff of air and dilate your eyes?
My yobo has been telling me for years that I need glasses. I finally decided to go to the eye doctor to prove her wrong. Now I have to hide these fucking glasses.
Peace Out!
Soju, I’ve done something similar to what you describe as a hot toddy in the past, and it did work well. Actually, my cough hasn’t been that bad or constant, but each one has been painful. That pain has been subsiding these past couple of days.
Yeah, I’m getting better at saying no or just ignoring the money requests. If they still persist, they get blocked. The incident I mentioned in my post pissed me off because I felt disrespected and being treated like a sucker. Bye-bye!
I’ve had a sample of Crazy Carabao, a local craft brew, but those rich, heavy beers really aren’t my thing.
It depends on where you get the eye exam. If you see an optometrist at a clinic, you get the whole shebang. It varies in the eyeglass shops. The one I go to doesn’t do the air puff thing, but it is a pretty thorough exam otherwise. He’s the one who suggested my cataract surgery, which worked so well I haven’t worn glasses for a couple of years. My days of freedom from glasses may be ending, just like yours did.
Hello, Bill. Sorry, I missed responding to your comment earlier. I really appreciate your support and encouragement. I try to make each day the best I can, and really, the bullshit doesn’t cancel out all the good in my life.
Thanks for reading!