After a certain age, it’s patch, patch, patch and I have been doing my share of patching of late.

Got my second shingles (Shingrex) vaccine. 

Happy to report, this time I got to skip the myriad of side effects I had with the first shot (when I had ALL the side effects – including a huge purple bruise at the injection site that lasted for a month).  So I am now shingles-proof. (By the way, I have never had shingles, but I have had recurring episodes of Bell’s Palsy which has been associated with the herpes (not THAT herpes) virus that causes shingles.)

Yesterday, I got my second COVID booster shot. 

Apparently, after you are on your 4th shot with no reaction to the first 3 – they don’t make you wait around anymore.  You become responsible for your own post-vax life. 

Early this morning, I peed into a cup and had 4 tubes of blood drawn at my doctor’s request.  

Actually, I have long since given up trying to pee in a cup.  My aim is worse than my memory and my memory is … what were we talking about?  Yeah.  Did you know, you can ask for, what is euphemistically referred to as a “top hat”?  It is a sufficiently-sized plastic bucket with a rim that you put under the toilet seat and it gathers your pee which you can then pour into the little bitty cup.  Kaiser gets a little bottle of warm pee and I get to keep my hands dry.  Win-win.

And after that, I had to get a COVID test. 

No, I’m not sick. No I haven’t been exposed.  This weekend, I am singing (for the last time in the Bay Area) in a fundraising concert for South Bay Musical Theater and they require all cast members to get a COVID test the week before the concert.  And no, you can’t just do the out-of-a-box test, you have to go get the “real” test.

And I thought I’d be clever by doing my lab visit first (the appointment was at 8:20 – but they took me early – and I wanted to get there early because otherwise parking is a total bitch) and then would try to slip in for my 9:30 COVID test appointment early. 

HA. Best laid plans.  Turns out the COVID testing doesn’t open up until 9:30.  Needless to say, I got some reading done and I was first in line for testing.  Also, I don’t know if it’s de rigueur but they don’t seem to be trying to swipe at your brains with the giant Q-tip anymore.  Just a couple, mildly invasive, swishes around the nose and you’re done!

And not to think that I’m done – Wednesday, I have an appointment at the spine clinic for my boo-boo back and my on-line group for releasing anger; and Thursday, I go for teeth cleaning. 

Ain’t getting old grand?  And yes, I know, it beats the alternative – but sometimes I wonder by how much?



  1. Aw, c’mon – you’re just having a Tim Conway moment! (You remember his doddering old man, right?)
    As we get older & learn how lousy the warranty is on the myriad body parts that can break down, it DOES
    sometimes seem there’s no use to keeping on with it. Then you get to do something lovely, like sing, and
    BAM! It’s all good again. Yeah – just call me a cock-eyed optimist, but it’s really true: it only takes one little
    thing to take your mind off all the shitty stuff & focus on what’s satisfying & fun out there. That said, I’d
    give ANYTHING to not have all those replacement-part cards in my wallet (looks like I’m ready to play a
    hand of bridge). So – go forth & sing out – make that concert memorable – and remember, our choices at
    this point are between “older” and “dead”. Pick one.

  2. I often feel like Tim Conway’s shuffling old man (right down to the white fuzzy hair). And as much as I bitch about it, I’ll continue to choose older because sometimes life is just too sweet to miss.

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