Dinner was in the bowl one night, when a TV ad asked me, "Are you prepared for heavy bleeding?" I had to put my tomato bisque back into the frig.
The one that threatens "Sudden Death," is the killer. I actually watched it once just in case I might be the next to go, suddenly, of course. I am not sure what was being advertised, because I was overwhelmed with a need to take my blood pressure and listen to my heart with a stethoscope, just in case I might be the next candidate for not a long-lingering death of pain and anguish, accompanied by brittle bones and flu-like symptoms, but SUDDEN death. Like in the next minute or so.
When did television stop advertising Nestles Chocolate and Mr. Clean, and start selling us DISEASE? I would bet that most of us couldn't even name the drug that is being pushed by these commercials, but we can certainly diagnose our friends and relatives from the symptoms that we learn about from the constant barrage of the illnesses that are being "sold" to us. Frankly, that little green cartoon guy who I believe is supposed to represent a blob of mucus disgusts me. He is about as amusing as having my air passages swollen shut, coughing uncontrollably, and downing an expectorant at the same time. Please~!
I believe that some "diseases" are actually CREATED by these drug companies for the sole purpose of selling us the drug that will "cure" it. While I believe there is great medical research going on, I also think there is a lot of salesmanship being done by prescription drug companies, to sell us something that we probably do not need, if indeed it does not harm us by taking it.
I took the Fosomax. Now they tell me it may have actually HURT my bones more than helped them! Do I even dare to believe that I NEED something for my aging bones again? I threw my last Boniva tablet away on the day the Fosomax scandal broke. Now they are advertising on TV to find those of us who took it, for the class-action lawsuit that is following it. Count me IN! (I got $1.79 once, after a Synthroid case............in other words, don't plan to pay off your loan from the Fosomax scandal, either!)
And the side-effects! I would rather have some of the DISEASES than the side-effects of the drugs...........the incontinence, blurred vision, drowsiness, constipation, interrupted sleep, diarrhea, stomach pains, aches, swollen tongues and throats, problems passing urine, liver damage and even, in some cases DEATH, from taking these drugs!!! Not to mention the dry mouth................ All because I had a headache or a sore joint?????? (Hello???!!!)
Here's my plan: Since we keep the TV controller right on our tummies while we watch anything on the tube anyway, Randy and I have made a conscious decision to MUTE any and all drug ads and any commercials that want us to develop certain symptoms so we need said drugs. We've been doing this for about three weeks now. As soon as they mention the illness, we slam our finger down on that button, and shut those suckers up. We look at each other and TALK about other things. We won't even LOOK at them! Sometimes the TV people seem to know what we're doing, and they show the very same commercial just a few minutes later to try to catch us after we de-mute. HA! We're ready for them!
Guess what? I believe that we are feeling better already! My pre-osteoporosis has all but disappeared from my list of things to worry about. I will see Sally Field on her Sunday night show, but I am done worrying about HER bones, AND mine. No stomach pains, no skin rashes, ingrown toenails, or sudden death have eaten away at our bodies since we shut the sound off for these commercials of doom. That is exactly what they are: scare tactics. It's sort of like the letter from the water and gas companies that fill my mailbox, telling me how much I need to insure the water pipes and gas lines into my home (virtual "home intestines" that I cannot see, but ought to insure!!!) I have no problem tossing THOSE into the trash, and I am getting really good at muting the drug pusher on my TV before he even finishes the name of the disease!!!
I suppose we could hold our fingers in front of the screen, cross-like, and perhaps we might even take up hissssssing at the ads, just for fun. We haven't gone that route yet, but it might make for an entertaining evening, unless they ran the full gamut of sickness ads, and all we did was cross and hiss every few minutes. (What if we had company?)
It could be the rush of adrenaline and the positive enzymes from laughing each time we hit MUTE (and I am sure that one of you wants to tell me so........) but that is a moot point. (Note moot and mute........I teach reading.............) I FEEL BETTER just knowing that I am not filling my brain with symptoms and sickness. ENOUGH ALREADY, YET! Out, out, damned ad!
I know that we are not alone in our feelings about today's TV ads. I've heard the kvetching from friends. We want to see Tony the Tiger do his gig, that guy named Juan pick coffee beans, have Betty Crocker sell us a cake mix, and hear some merry jingles about fast foods and automobiles. Remember the fun of "Let's ask Mikey!" and "We're having Shake n' Bake, and I helped?" Healthy Campbell's kids with round faces made us smile and FEEL GOOD back in the day. No more. Today all we hear is, "Ask your doctor!"
There's plenty of sickness and symptoms without having to have it sold to us. Just for one week, TRY IT. Don't listen to those ads! Hit MUTE. Spend those minutes talking to the person who's watching TV with you instead, then when the miserable warnings of death and doom are over, turn back on the sound and enjoy the murder and mayhem on Law and Order.
Copyright: KP Gillenwater
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Monday, September 6, 2010
Lotsa Water Over the Dam: or, At This Age, You'd Think a High School Reunion is No Big Deal, Right?
My husband, Randy, and I were in the same graduating class of high school. We didn't date then, but must have had some kind of "crush" on each other, because years later, VOILA!, we are married to each other, cut from the same cloth, dyed in the same wool vat, etc.
So it must have seemed natural that we both got the idiotic idea that a class reunion should be planned, and soon, before we all died off.
Our class had 352 members, and over 30 of them have passed on in the years since we saw each other dressed in caps and gowns and looking forward to changing the world with our optimistic attitudes. A few reunions have occurred during those years, and some have been well-attended. Or not.
Still carrying that bright-eyed optimism from way long ago, Randy and I began, a year ago, to try to set a date for this wonderful reuniting. The very first person we told said that the date we'd selected didn't fit into her social life.
We went ahead anyway, and when it became apparent that we did not have any HELP with this project, we called the entire thing off.
Then, out of the blue, came a fellow classmate, Susan, who had computer skills, was willing to HELP, could find email addresses, and wasn't discouraged by someone who couldn't rearrange her calendar to see people she hadn't seen in a coon's age. (You will note that I am not telling you dates or years. ) We changed the date just so we'd have time to plan it.
Since early May of this year, Randy, Susan (the classmate), and I have spent countless hours on computers, telephones, and standing in line at the post office to try to get this event off the ground. I will not go into the horrific costs of some party establishments or the contracts they wanted us to sign to ensure a "location" for the event. Suffice it to say that we finally decided it was NOT a wedding reception, and went for the lower cost location, albeit a very nice place. Thank God.
On Facebook and our high school "social network," we posted all the information necessary. We updated it, added old photos of our class from the second grade, and previous reunions where the women wore floral prints. We had about 41 people who "joined" the school website group, and a whopping 17 people responded on Facebook that they would attend. Another 40 people verbally committed to coming to this thing.
The contract was signed, a few local folks volunteered to help, and we were doing it.
We mailed out and emailed the "reservation form," and so far we have heard back from about 50 people. A message went out the other day to those who 'said' they would come and then didn't commit financially, that we had reserved a room based on their say-so, and hello, where's your check?
Today Randy and I walked our neighborhood, and knowing there was a classmate who we had not personally seen or heard from in lo these many many many years, we walked by Buzz's house, and there he was, digging in his garden. We approached, told him who we were (I am certain he DID recognize us, and only pretended not to .....) and had a wonderful catch-up chat with him and his wife. It felt really good to see him, since I'd first met Buzz in kindergarten, and here he was, right under our noses, living just walking distance from home.
He might not come to the reunion, but there's hope.
I remember the reunion we had some years ago, actually. I still have the journaling that I wrote about it then. I had gone home and put it all down on paper, so that the vivid details of that night would not be lost. I wrote that the evening was "like a group of souls coming together and brushing up against each other just for a few hours, as if to say hello, and then goodbye."
There were 352 of us on that June day, years ago, so optimistic about our futures. Over thirty of them can NOT physically attend this reunion on October 1-2 (although I know that they all CAN be there in spirit-form), but there are another 320 or so who might be able to go out on a limb to attend. You would think.
Some won't come because their best friends won't be there. Some are truly ill, or burying their parents, celebrating their really-lots-of-years-wedding-anniversaries, or are too far away to consider the trip. Some think that they're the only ones who ever gained twenty pounds. Some have given up on the optimism, and perhaps cannot afford the travel costs of the dinner fees. Some live right around the corner from our high school, but it's too far to go. Whatever.
By this time, anyone who thinks they didn't "make it" in the world needs to come to the reunion, and get over it. And those who DID "make it," come show us, already, so WE can get over it!
We've really worked our tushes off to get this thing off the ground. We have a "committee" making name tags, collecting the checks, and finding hotel deals. Randy and I have both sworn that if there's another reunion in five years, we will do some menial task to help with it, but we WILL NOT chair this event again. (Beat me dead if I raise my hand.)
In another five years, perhaps another 30 of us will leave this physical realm, probably more than that, however. We know the probabilities and the statistics. I hope Randy and I are here to show up.
I am SO excited about seeing my classmates who plan to come! They're coming from California, New York, Texas, Florida, and from right across the neighborhood!
I don't CARE who got rich, who got poor, who's dressed to the nines or who's dressed to the ones; I just want to be there, see them (you, perhaps) and for a few hours, have our souls brush up against each other to say hello, I know you, I knew you, I know where you came from, not where you're going or where-all you've been, but tell me what you remember and I'll tell you what I remember, and gee, it's good to see you!!
Copyright: KP Gillenwater
So it must have seemed natural that we both got the idiotic idea that a class reunion should be planned, and soon, before we all died off.
Our class had 352 members, and over 30 of them have passed on in the years since we saw each other dressed in caps and gowns and looking forward to changing the world with our optimistic attitudes. A few reunions have occurred during those years, and some have been well-attended. Or not.
Still carrying that bright-eyed optimism from way long ago, Randy and I began, a year ago, to try to set a date for this wonderful reuniting. The very first person we told said that the date we'd selected didn't fit into her social life.
We went ahead anyway, and when it became apparent that we did not have any HELP with this project, we called the entire thing off.
Then, out of the blue, came a fellow classmate, Susan, who had computer skills, was willing to HELP, could find email addresses, and wasn't discouraged by someone who couldn't rearrange her calendar to see people she hadn't seen in a coon's age. (You will note that I am not telling you dates or years. ) We changed the date just so we'd have time to plan it.
Since early May of this year, Randy, Susan (the classmate), and I have spent countless hours on computers, telephones, and standing in line at the post office to try to get this event off the ground. I will not go into the horrific costs of some party establishments or the contracts they wanted us to sign to ensure a "location" for the event. Suffice it to say that we finally decided it was NOT a wedding reception, and went for the lower cost location, albeit a very nice place. Thank God.
On Facebook and our high school "social network," we posted all the information necessary. We updated it, added old photos of our class from the second grade, and previous reunions where the women wore floral prints. We had about 41 people who "joined" the school website group, and a whopping 17 people responded on Facebook that they would attend. Another 40 people verbally committed to coming to this thing.
The contract was signed, a few local folks volunteered to help, and we were doing it.
We mailed out and emailed the "reservation form," and so far we have heard back from about 50 people. A message went out the other day to those who 'said' they would come and then didn't commit financially, that we had reserved a room based on their say-so, and hello, where's your check?
Today Randy and I walked our neighborhood, and knowing there was a classmate who we had not personally seen or heard from in lo these many many many years, we walked by Buzz's house, and there he was, digging in his garden. We approached, told him who we were (I am certain he DID recognize us, and only pretended not to .....) and had a wonderful catch-up chat with him and his wife. It felt really good to see him, since I'd first met Buzz in kindergarten, and here he was, right under our noses, living just walking distance from home.
He might not come to the reunion, but there's hope.
I remember the reunion we had some years ago, actually. I still have the journaling that I wrote about it then. I had gone home and put it all down on paper, so that the vivid details of that night would not be lost. I wrote that the evening was "like a group of souls coming together and brushing up against each other just for a few hours, as if to say hello, and then goodbye."
There were 352 of us on that June day, years ago, so optimistic about our futures. Over thirty of them can NOT physically attend this reunion on October 1-2 (although I know that they all CAN be there in spirit-form), but there are another 320 or so who might be able to go out on a limb to attend. You would think.
Some won't come because their best friends won't be there. Some are truly ill, or burying their parents, celebrating their really-lots-of-years-wedding-anniversaries, or are too far away to consider the trip. Some think that they're the only ones who ever gained twenty pounds. Some have given up on the optimism, and perhaps cannot afford the travel costs of the dinner fees. Some live right around the corner from our high school, but it's too far to go. Whatever.
By this time, anyone who thinks they didn't "make it" in the world needs to come to the reunion, and get over it. And those who DID "make it," come show us, already, so WE can get over it!
We've really worked our tushes off to get this thing off the ground. We have a "committee" making name tags, collecting the checks, and finding hotel deals. Randy and I have both sworn that if there's another reunion in five years, we will do some menial task to help with it, but we WILL NOT chair this event again. (Beat me dead if I raise my hand.)
In another five years, perhaps another 30 of us will leave this physical realm, probably more than that, however. We know the probabilities and the statistics. I hope Randy and I are here to show up.
I am SO excited about seeing my classmates who plan to come! They're coming from California, New York, Texas, Florida, and from right across the neighborhood!
I don't CARE who got rich, who got poor, who's dressed to the nines or who's dressed to the ones; I just want to be there, see them (you, perhaps) and for a few hours, have our souls brush up against each other to say hello, I know you, I knew you, I know where you came from, not where you're going or where-all you've been, but tell me what you remember and I'll tell you what I remember, and gee, it's good to see you!!
Copyright: KP Gillenwater
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