over the river and through the woods

It seems odd to be sitting here a few days shy of the big one and not have a worry in the world about the details of "having Christmas." I am a very big believer in that old fashioned sappy Santa Claus thing because my mama raised me to be just like her in that respect. We have gone, literally, from having anywhere from three to five celebrations of the season to our one planned meeting for a homecooked breakfast which will follow church. A part of me really wants to go with them simply because I'll never have that opportunity again. And that's the part that makes me really really sad to think about. I think I'll choose the path that doesn't make me sob my eyes out on Jesus's birthday, umkay?

My maternal grandparents were wealthy and our decent spreads from home were left laying to run over to their house and see that Santa came there too! There were eventually seven of us, directly from the Reaves bloodline. My Pawpaw died when he was 45 years old from heart disease and was, from what people have told me, one of the finest men on earth. Handsome too! He did have pattern baldness which both of my brothers acquired to some extent. Oh lord...that reminds me of a funny story. I had this friend one time...a doctor...who was so vain that he had hair implants done when his obviously genetic pattern baldness emerged during his thirties. This poor guy burned off all of his implants when the pool pump exploded in his face and had to have a do-over. I still chuckle about that sometimes.

Many of the physicians that I grew up learning to talk back to were real prima donnas who were living the Kildaire life with wives who didn't work and played bridge a lot. Their practices were private and they handled it there. Now, most practices are owned by corporate groups that dictate the who-what-when-where of delivering healthcare according to reimbursement by...you guessed it. Medicare, which will take a 27% bite out of physician payments next month if this bullshit in Washington does not cease. Don't get me started on the feds and healthcare because every ill that has burdened the fragmented system of care delivery has been impacted by chicken inspectors doing blood bank surveys. I saw it ya'll...in the eighties. That was before HIV was discovered, remember?

What I see now, on the front lines, is a desperate attempt by many people to live forever and that's not possible. Do I wanna die now? HELL no! But if I do, I don't think Big Ernie will turn me away because I've been good and even resisted the temptation to take on a Sugardaddy. As if that would ever happen, ya'll. Really. I'm telling you this and you can take it to the bank. If my tax rate goes up AT ALL because of these asshats playing games with my life, there will be hell to pay. Now..that should get me a firm spot on the radar of homeland security and the latest terrorist network on pecan lane.

To heck with 'em if they can't take a joke.