Fresh sweet corn is one of the few perks of living in Duh Moines. Trucks drive straight from the fields to parking lots in neighborhoods. It's not quite the same as picking it in your own garden while the water boils and then cooking it within 10 minutes of picking it. That's supposed to be the best. But, it creeps me out. I feel like the ears of corn are still alive and probably screaming when they are dropped into the boiling water. Someone once told me that I would be a good candidate for a Jainism life style. I believe those are the people who will not pick fruit off a tree, they have to wait for it to fall off naturally. And maybe there was something about being reincarnated as a fruit or vegetable. All I've ever wanted to be is a rock.
This part was added on yesterday:
As luck would have it, there is a new service where you can have your cremains turned into rocks.
Apologies to anyone who is disturbed by any talk of death or cremains. I especially like that not everyone turns out the same color.
Lauren's recipe looks delicious. I hope I am not too late for fresh corn. I think the farmers stagger the plantings so people like me can still get fresh corn in August. The card is collaged and the corn is textured. Very nice. And I always like seeing Duh Moines.
Since July 28th or so - I have been adding on to pre-written blog posts. Today is the first day that I am writing the full post - in my brain injured state. As promised a while back, I have some ranting to do.
There will also be public service announcements that will not have much humor - but they are items that I was not prepared for and will mention here in case anyone else is as clueless as I am.
Patient portals: Maybe I am the only person who had not set up my patient portal online. You need your patient portal, because the wait time on phone calls is too long. Everyone is busy doing everything through the patient portal. Duh.
Medical records: You do not get them through the portal. You have to go to the inner sanctum in person. Of course the website claims that you can *do it all online.* But, your options to request your records are to print out the form, mail it to the office or FAX it to the office. The option to submit it online looks like a very black hole.
It's better to just get your care giver to take you to the hospital and find the lady down in the basement who appears to have been there for decades and have her walk you through the options in person. Let's call her Madge. Madge still has a fax machine and she still offers to fax your records to you. I could not make this up. Currently, I am waiting for a phone call that my records are ready to be picked up. It has been over a week. I hope Madge used paper and not papyrus.
If you think you want *all* your records, Madge will point out that you only want the *pertinent* records. *All* the records will be 200 pages per day for a stay in the hospital. You know where I'm going with this --- all I really want are some pictures of my brain. I also want the names of a couple of young punks who were trying to thin my blood at the same time the wise elder neurosurgeon who wasn't in the mood to drill a hole in my skull was telling me that it's best to go with your thicker blood when your brain is bleeding.
I guess there is a bit of humor to this topic - after you get a little distance from the ordeal of being in a turf war between two departments whilst experiencing a traumatic head injury.
Potentially LIFE SAVING information:
If you are in the hospital, make a chronological record of each person who talks to you and note what they say. I recommend pencil and paper for this list unless you are comfortable recording the information on your phone. If you end up in a bizarre turf war where there is a disagreement between doctors about how to proceed - you need your own chart or record of who has been saying what. Look to a nurse to come up with a compromise. She should be in her 40s or 50s.
My apologies for being so annoyed with any *young punks* who read my blog. I am fully aware that you are just leaning how to practice. But, is it asking too much for you to listen to your elders?
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