Medicinal Woes

Have you ever heard of these popular phrases: “A little bit of what you fancy does you good” Or: “What makes you bad makes you better.”  Or: “These are the times that try men’s souls.”

These time-honoured clichés ran through my mind just a short while ago, after reading the attached patient information leaflet to a prescribed drug. My mind, then asked: “Is the Doctor trying to heal me, or kill me; by offering me such a remedy?”

At first, it was laughable.  Then seriousness and logic surfaced and it wasn't found to be quite so funny any more.  In fact, it was both frightening and Concerning, despite the fact that these drugs are rigorously tested before being released to the general public, through GP's or general practitioners.

The more common effects were first to be noted.  May cause: Stomach ulcers, stomach bleeding, nausea, vomiting, abdominal pain, indigestion, diarrhoea, wind (OMG!), and constipation!  Other side effects attached to the more common issues, were: general allergic reactions, including inflammation of the skin or lungs (there goes the breathing!), asthma, and difficulty in breathing (I may need the last rites), swelling of the lips, face, and neck (no kissing or love bites for a while!)  Skin reactions such as rashes, itching, dermatitis (eczema), blisters and purple discolouration (they may as well put my in the coffin now!), aggravation of digestive problems, such as: Colitis "and" Crohn’s disease.  

Finally, may cause fluid retention (I'm bursting already, where's the loo!) and swelling of the ankles or feet (honey, fetch my slippers, I can’t walk any more!)

The uncommon side effects were just as mind-boggling…

Feeling weak, cold, fever, abnormal dreams (Jeeze) panic (so that’s why I have the shakes, and I thought it was the DT’s after my drinking session last night).  Mood swings include paranoia (is it me, or is the wife staring at me?) and depression, with increased heart rate (OMG – note to myself: when I remember, where did I leave the ski mask, and the axe!)

The final passage is interesting to say the least:  “If any of these side effects become serious, or if you notice any side-effect “not listed,” please tell your Doctor immediately! (Are “they” kidding?  How do you define: "not listed?")

Meanwhile, I’ll just leave a few bodies here and there, in the hope that someone notices just how much I’ve changed, and offers to help… before I kill them all!

Please read all information supplied with medicines carefully, and follow the instructions as given, otherwise you won’t become as nuts as me, and enjoy life!

Doctor's

It’s terrible; it’s unbelievable; it’s unforgivable…

Ever since my heart attack in 2010 I’ve repeatedly been asked: “Have you stopped smoking, and, are you maintaining a healthy diet?”

It’s obvious that the level of medical complacency I meet head-on defies belief on an almost weekly basis; as if this weren’t the case, there would be something to suggest that even the simplest of rudimentary doctors would have read my notes in discovering the answer they need to know, before asking the question, but nope, not one has had the common-sense to do so.  They just reel off the same two questions, robotically, every time – you must know of this, or have come across it for yourself a family member, or a friend?

I suppose given the option, they’d all blame it on being overworked through extraordinary long hours?

Even stranger is the fact that although they (the doctors and consultants) all complain about the hours they put in, not once do you hear of a complaint where their salaries are concerned, or the fact that they are earning scandalous amounts, year in and year out…  That’s called: “having your cake and eating it, with Royal icing, cherries and candles on top, too!”

Outside of the smoking cessation bit, it’s the same with my diet.  “Are you eating 5 fruits and or Vegetables daily?”  My answer is now always the same.  I say, “Yes.  I’ve actually created a new diet where everything I need is found in the colours of healthy eating.  Even fresh fish and chicken breasts are catered for and have been attributed to white and pink, which is inclusive of all the other colours present and needed.

When they ask: “What is it you’re doing that maintains this eating plan?”

I then explain to them: “I have Red for peppers, Green for veggies, yellow for bananas, Orange for carrots, white for fish, and pink for chicken breast, etc.  And then I show them how all of this is put together.  The looks on their faces, now, defy belief!

Yep, take the water out of them and they show no sense of humour!

Mystic's Christmas Poem

Mystic

Later that night when all was quiet in our house; 

when not one was stirring, not even a mouse.   

When both were snoring upstairs in their pits,

 I crept down the stairs and shredded their festive gifts to bits.

Later that morning when they did awake

 I was fast asleep in dad’s armchair, innocent I state. 

The Christmas tree had fallen, crashed all on its own;

 its glitter and balls were everywhere,

 adorning our Christmassy home.

When dad did see, he gave off a sigh,

 I speedily meowed, “Don’t look at me,

 twas that buzzing fly!”

After breakfast when all was put right, 

I nestled on the old man’s lap, purring, 

“Same time, tonight?”

My Old Man

‘My old man’ is the best in the whole wide world, and, although I am still very young to realize things, I honestly can’t remember a day when he wasn’t there for me.  You see I lost my mom when I was younger, and to this day I have only ever known one parent. I guess you could say I’ve lived a sheltered life, with only a few friends scattered here and there in our neighbourhood.  My best friend “Tom” died some years ago and since then, I’ve been ‘more or less’ a loner.  It might even be said, “Nowadays I prefer my dads company to anyone else.”  I trust him implicitly with my life as no one else will do it for me!

Oh there have been times when I’ve came home all dirty and scruffy looking, but that’s because I’d been playing on wet soil and forgot to watch where I put my paws, resulting in an accident with the ground, as I like to call it.  My dad would see me coming and enter the house, and then he’d whisk me off to the wash basin, where my reward was a wet, soggy, soapy sponge.  I absolutely hated that, but the best part was being rubbed down with a nice warm soft dry towel, which to me, was sheer ecstasy.  Ooh, how that towel made me happy!

Over the past thirteen, almost fourteen years, my dad has taken real good care of me, better than most responsible parents could have, and I’ve wanted for nothing, yet I don't feel spoiled! If my dinner wasn’t to my liking, I’d tell him.  He would then replace it with something else, resulting in two choices for yours truly, which, in my opinion, was “the business.”  After all, if my dad can have a dinner and a sweet, why shouldn’t I have a similar choice, it’s only right and proper, if you see my point!

Of course there have been times when I’ve returned home hurt and crying.  Again, my old man was there, waiting, waiting to see what I had done, or where I’d injured myself.  Sometimes the injury was so minor that all I needed was a pick me up in the shape of a quick wound clean, and, lots of TLC, or tender loving care.  Take it from me; TLC from my old man is the best.  He would take me into the living room by the fire and place me on his lap.  Then with one hand near my injury, his other hand would hold me in place to prevent me from falling.  On these occasions the heat from my dad’s hands was amazing.  I’ve never felt so much heat.  It warms you up from the inside out then sends you into a sound, peaceful sleep.  A little while later, I’d wake up and feel a hundred percent better, with little or no pain at all.  How my dad did this I do not know, but I am grateful that he could.

Naturally, there have been times when I haven’t been quite so lucky!  On those occasions my old man would put in me in the car and drive yours truly straight to the doctor’s for medical attention, but, all I can say about that is, even with a few major mishaps, I’ve come through smelling like roses!  And, it’s all down to him and his caring attitude towards me.  I couldn’t wish for a better person in my life!

Well, in concluding my little story, I feel it’s only fair to mention, finally, that I have an age disorder.  In other words, I age fast!  In your terms I am thirteen years old, in mine I am about eighty years of age, actually older than my old man!  

So, if you haven’t guessed it by now, my name is Mystic, and I am, my old man’s, cat!

Now, I'm open to further offerings from feminine felines, preferably ginger ones, but if none are interested, that's OK.  A bowl of kitty-bits will do, perhaps even tuna fish in brine, if not; thanks for reading: now, kiss my furry butt!