An American horror story about drugs.

In this post: Just say NO.

Hey, I’ve got a modern American horror story for you and it has nothing whatsoever to do with ghouls, chainsaws, an alien invasion or Republicans. The subject tonight is DRUGS. Ready? Sam wanted to pick up my new prescription cholesterol medication this afternoon at Wal-Mart so I called ahead to ask about the price, and when the pharmacy assistant told me the co-pay is $274 for a 30-day supply — after I had a nervous breakdown — I calmly replied, “FAT CHANCE! TAKE A HIKE! NO WAY! GOOD LUCK WITH THAT! WHEN HELL FREEZES OVER!” Incidentally, this was my new prescription for Welchol, the medication Dr. M prescribed on Thursday with pills as big as South Dakota (see previous post). I’m assuming they’re made from Black Hills gold or maybe plutonium because nothing else on earth could make a stupid cholesterol drug so insanely expensive. Holy crap.

My new cholesterol pills are as big as South Dakota.

In this post: Improvements, medical recap, a Thursday bloodbath.

Ready for a gigantic news flash? For the last 24 hours I’ve had an uncontrollable urge to create Howdygram 2 with all the popular wit, charm and content as my current blog except we’d have a whole new look and a WHITE BACKGROUND because I’m so sick of beige I might have a stroke. Plus ... the old Howdygram (this one) would have a link to the new one in case you forget to bookmark the URL.

So what’s the time frame for all this hoo-hah? Well ... Sam will be in L.A. visiting family for nine days in the middle of June so I thought I’d try to launch the new blog while he’s away. This is monumentally exciting for me, people, so please stay tuned for additional developments and tell your friends, okay?

I feel like a whole new senior citizen since I stopped taking Fenofibric Acid last week.

In this post: Socks, side effects, Happy Meals.

If you turn up the volume for a minute you’ll be able to hear that it’s LAUNDRY DAY at Howdygram headquarters. As I write this post there’s a load of Sam’s socks in the washer and a mountain of my favorite robes, caftans and stretchy lounging attire spinning around in the dryer. I can do these entertaining “housewifey” things today because I feel like A WHOLE NEW SENIOR CITIZEN since I stopped taking Fenofibric Acid last week, an evil cholesterol medication (see previous post) that tried to murder me with pain. I have an appointment next week with Dr. M and I’m pretty sure she’ll be frustrated by this latest development because I need something to help lower my cholesterol. Unfortunately, during the last four years I’ve had to discontinue every available drug due to HORRIBLE SIDE EFFECTS that included such gems as severe muscle pain and tenderness, muscle weakness, muscle cramps, exhaustion, joint pain, difficulty breathing, itching, unintentional weight gain and uncontrollable urination. I can hardly wait to find out what’s next.

Dialysis ... what every diabetic wants for Hanukkah.

In this post: The Death Pill, Sausage McMuffins.

About yesterday. I tried like the devil to write a Howdygram post — and failed miserably — because I had so much excruciating pain in my legs I couldn’t even sit at my desk. Once again I’m positive it’s my cholesterol medication that’s doing this. For a couple of years two “killer” statin drugs — Atorvastatin and Pravastatin — caused the same problem, so Dr. M switched me to Fenofibric Acid about five months ago. Here at Howdygram headquarters, however, Fenofibric Acid is frequently referred to as THE DEATH PILL because I’ve developed all of the following side effects: 1) severe muscle pain and tenderness; 2) stiffness; 3) muscle weakness; 4) exhaustion; 5) joint pain; 6) unintentional weight gain (it couldn’t be the Cheetos, right?); and 7) uncontrollable urination. And if that’s not crappy enough, the muscle pain can launch a VERY serious condition called rhabdomyolysis, in which muscle tissue tears away from the bone, muscle fibers enter the bloodstream and you wind up with acute renal failure. Dialysis ... what every diabetic wants for Hanukkah.

You learn something new every day.

In this post: Club Meds, rediscovering George Sanders.

The big story today from Howdygram headquarters? During a routine appointment this morning with Dr. M she decided to discontinue two of my ten million prescriptions — Aldactone for high blood pressure and Glyburide for type 2 diabetes — because they’ve been causing a couple of my most annoying side effects, i.e. hypotension and hypoglycemia. I’m especially happy to get rid of Aldactone because Dr. M said low blood pressure (hypotension) is why I feel like passing out every time I stand up. My blood pressure today was 105/60, which apparently is ridiculously low.

Sam to the rescue.

In this post: Club Meds, reverse insomnia, flying cheese.

Bear with me while I kvetch for a few minutes, okay? I had an insane night of fitful sleep that eventually rendered me unconscious on the chaise in the family room from 8:15 this morning until shortly after 12 noon. Sam was probably convinced I’d been drugged by foreign agents. I tried twice but COULD NOT WAKE UP. Around 12:30 I finally began speaking in sentences, staggered into the kitchen to make Sam’s sandwich for work and unintentionally launched a pound of neatly sliced pepper jack cheese across the room when the Ziploc bag crapped-out. At this point crying was the only option left because my legs were killing me, I was still mostly asleep and I knew I couldn’t achieve grand-scale cheese retrieval without professional help. (Translation: Sam to the rescue.) But that’s not all, folks. My body temperature is 95.2°, my fingers feel like icicles and I’ve got a craving for GRILLED CHEESE AND SWEET PICKLES.

It won’t be today and it won’t be tomorrow, either. It’s also not looking so good for Wednesday.

In this post: Medical necessities, Zimmerman in the news, a Putz of the Week, Jesus had B.O.

Three big things on a Monday afternoon.

BIG THING #1. I had my routine quarterly appointment this morning with Dr. M. Everything was good except she’s trying to talk me into a “chemical stress test” (done with an I.V. rather than a treadmill) because I have a pile of mobility issues and also because I’m at-risk for heart disease due to diabetes, high blood pressure and weight. At the moment my head is still stuck comfortably in the sand so I told her I’d think about it.

BIG THING #2. An hour after I got home the lab called to tell me I should come back to have one more tube of blood drawn because they forgot. I told them good luck with that. It won’t be today and it won’t be tomorrow, either. It’s also not looking so good for Wednesday.

BIG THING #3. I’m hungry.

I love tasty gravy. I hate Congress.

I am unwell. Not sick, really, but unwell. I’ve got achy knees, a stiff right elbow, a drippy eye that’s not open all the way, a thumb lump, a smashed baby toe, chills and a body temperature of 95.4°. Put them all together and they spell C-R-A-P-P-Y. There’s not much I can do about it, though, aside from extra-strength Tylenol and whining at Sam when he’s around to listen. However, on the plus side ... I haven’t finished watching all my Clark Gable movies from yesterday and I just ordered a bunch of chia seeds and some juicy Kirkland roast beef in a can from Amazon.

Two important items of note:

1. This time I’m trying a different brand of chia seeds. They’re super cheap, they come in convenient jar with a FREE SCOOP, and you even get an extra half-pound of seeds just for fun. Yay, right? 
2. Kirkland (Costco’s store brand) is probably the best canned roast beef on the market if enjoy this kind of shit and it even comes with its own TASTY GRAVY. (I love tasty gravy.)

I’ve got another horror story from the annals of modern medicine. We found out yesterday that my adorable little mother-in-law is in the hospital, severely anemic and receiving blood transfusions due to an ulcer caused by SIDE EFFECTS FROM A PRESCRIPTION MEDICATION. These damn wonder drugs could kill you! Below is a nice photo taken a couple of months ago when Sam was in California. He’s going back for another visit in October and I already miss him.

Some breaking news from our Holy Crap, They’re At It Again department. In case you missed this, here’s the latest brainstorm being pushed by Einstein teabaggers in the House of Representatives: CUT FUNDING FOR OBAMACARE OR WE’LL SHUT DOWN THE UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT. Congress has until September 30 to pass a budget, and they think this is the best time to wage another fight — for the 41st time! — against a law that’s already helping millions of Americans, including plenty of Republicans, qualify for affordable health insurance coverage.

It’s up to Speaker John Boehner, pictured above with his signature orange spray tan, to decide if he’s going to let the useless dolts in Congress continue to play games with the federal budget. Here at the Howdygram, we’re fed up and ready to kick ass. Therefore … click the link below right now to sign a petition and LET JOHN BOEHNER KNOW THAT SHUTTING DOWN THE GOVERNMENT IS NOT A VALID ECONOMIC PLAN. Thank you.

Hey. Ever wondered what Wallace Beery would look like in drag? It’s your lucky day! Apparently Beery made a bunch of silent comedies in 1914 dressed up as a character called “Sweedie.” Feast your eyes.

Thank you for reading this.

I enjoy nausea and exotic turds as much as the next guy, but this is insane.

First, don’t miss this exciting, limited-time offer! Howdygramsters … let me know if you want to try a free sample of Wal-Mart’s excellent store-brand Great Value toilet paper and I’ll send you a nice, unused piece to enjoy in the privacy of your own home!

Great Value is the best toilet paper EVER, people. It’s half the price of name brands, stronger, softer, TWO-PLY, and only $6.47 for a dozen big rolls. However, according to online reviews it’s usually hard to find in Wal-Mart’s retail stores because it sells out really fast so you should probably just think about ordering it online like I do. And you’ll even get FREE SHIPPING if you spend $45 or more, which is easy to do if you throw in some Ziploc bags, a couple cans of coffee, socks, Velveeta and a big tub of Tide Pods. (I love Tide Pods.)

And now for the latest from Club Meds, my never-ending struggle with prescription medications and their killer side effects. A couple of days ago I posted about Trilipix, a cholesterol medication that Dr. M prescribed after my checkup a couple of weeks ago. I found so many negative patient reviews online — thank God — that I wouldn’t even let Sam pick it up from the pharmacy. So what’s next? This morning I find out that Dr. M wants me to take Cholestyramine instead, a cholesterol medication with none of the same side effects as Trilipix or the statin drugs. (Statins tried to murder me.) So Sam stopped at CVS today and picked up my Cholestyramine prescription.

Unfortunately, here’s the thing. Cholestyramine is a DISGUSTING POWDER, like from the 19th century. Not a pill, not a capsule: A POWDER. It’s orange-flavored and comes in little individual-dose packets that are loaded with sugar. SUGAR! You’re supposed to stir this horseshit into juice or applesauce twice a day to try and disguise the texture and flavor, but the big snag is that I’m DIABETIC and I don’t — actually, can’t — consume juice or applesauce because it’s loaded with carbs. Holy mother of crap.

But wait ... there’s more! I did some research online this afternoon and apparently Cholestyramine is most commonly prescribed for uncontrollable diarrhea, NOT high cholesterol. The most common side effects include constipation, gas, bloating, black tarry stools, abdominal pain and vomiting.

Look, I enjoy nausea and exotic turds as much as the next guy, but THIS IS INSANE.

So I guess I’m back at square one again. I refuse to take Cholestyramine just like I refused to take Trilipix, Pravastatin, Atorvastatin and Lopid. The point is, if you don’t advocate for yourself, nobody will. I sincerely hope Dr. M isn’t getting sick of me because I’m still extremely fond of her.

I’ve got a lot more fascinating material waiting in the wings — including a double-whammy Putz of the Week award — but I think I’ll publish this post for now and start another one after dinner because all of a sudden I’m really hungry. Thank you.

Dodging bullets, eating cheesecake.

I dodged a bullet today, people. After I got a call from CVS pharmacy this morning that my new cholesterol medication was ready for pickup I decided to research Fenofibric Acid (Trilipix) online ... AND I REFUSE TO TAKE IT. I won’t even let Sam pick up the prescription. The side effects listed are worse than the miserable statins that almost killed me, and 75 pages of patient reviews on WebMD.com include terrifying comments like “intolerable muscle fatigue,” “developed gall stones and cysts on my kidneys, liver and thyroid,” “take this lousy drug off the market,” “don’t take Trilipix, it will ruin your life,” “my husband’s legs are so weak he had to quit working” and “muscle pain so severe I don’t want to live.”

Sorry, but I’ve been through enough. I’m done. After my miserable experiences with Atorvastatin and Pravastatin I refuse to go through this crap again. I already have enough challenges staying mobile with arthritic knees, plantar fasciitis and neuropathy … why should I deal with exhaustion, paralysis, permanent muscle damage, uncontrollable urination, acid reflux, gall stones, kidney failure, itching, dizziness and debilitating back pain on top of that?

I sent an email to Dr. M a couple of hours ago with my discoveries and decision. I haven’t heard back from her office yet but I’ve got the cordless phone on my lap and I’m waiting. As always, stay tuned for further developments but please feel free to continue your normal routine in the meantime.

I need cheesecake. Thank you.

Buy your prescription eyeglasses at a real optical store run by full-time people who actually give a crap.

I’ve got a late-breaking news flash from Club Meds here at Howdygram headquarters: I HATE STATIN DRUGS. Actually, it’s possible that “hate” isn’t a strong enough word, so let’s also throw in LOATHE, DESPISE, DETEST and ABHOR. Everybody should invest in a thesaurus.

Some of you may recall that I stopped taking Lipitor (actually, the generic Atorvastatin) in February for high cholesterol when the side effects attempted to murder me. (See previous post.) When my routine lab results a couple of weeks ago indicated that my cholesterol and triglycerides were creeping higher, Dr. M put me back on a different statin (Pravastatin, pictured here) at a lower dose. Sadly — just like the last time with Lipitor — I immediately descended into a nightmare of side effects that included: 1) severe muscle and joint pain in my legs; 2) pain and weakness in my arms and lower back; 3) difficulty standing or walking for more than a couple of minutes; 4) dizziness; 5) nausea; 6) difficulty breathing; and 6) chills. I sent Dr. M an email a couple of minutes ago to let her know that Pravastatin is destroying my life and I officially stopped taking it yesterday when I tossed Tuesday’s pill into the kitchen garbage. And you know what? I ALREADY FEEL WONDERFUL TODAY. I just stripped the sheets off our bed and threw them in the laundry, something I never could have done two days ago, and I’ve just decided to bake myself a low-carb cheesecake this afternoon. Maybe low-carb brownies, too! Glorioski!

Here’s a follow-up to my post from a couple of weeks ago about my new progressive trifocals from Costco. I was positive something was wrong with my glasses because I couldn’t read anything smaller than 12-point type, and I was right. Sam had an eye exam this morning and took my new glasses along so Dr. Field could check them against my prescription, and sure enough ... she said Costco screwed up!

Bottom line: although I love Costco as much as the next guy for cheap bagels, giant cans of tuna and toilet paper, we all might be better off buying prescription eyeglasses at a real optical store. You know, run by full-time people who actually give a crap and know what they’re doing. I’m just saying.

I’ve got a really adorable YouTube video for you. Entertainer Christina Bianco takes a hit song from the 1980s — Bonnie Tyler’s “Total Eclipse of the Heart” — and sings it as 18 different divas, from Adele to Julie Andrews to Barbra Streisand to Celine Dion to Britney Spears. And she really NAILS it. I especially love her imitations of Cher and Bernadette Peters. Enjoy!

And finally, please click the link below as soon as possible and add your name to this petition to protect Social Security from the Republican thugs in Congress. Speaking as a senior citizen with lousy knees who will begin receiving Social Security checks in less than 90 days, thank you a million times.

Have yourself a really swell day, okay?

Today is Doris Day day on TCM. Let’s all watch TV and eat things!

I think I jinxed myself when I started off yesterday’s Howdygram post with a diabtribe about contaminated food, because a couple of hours ago Dr. M’s office called to let me know that E.coli bacteria was responsible for my bladder infection and I should be sure to finish all of the antibiotics she prescribed for me. Holy crap.

Also, in case you care, I got my blood work results today, too. My hemoglobin A1C (the “holy grail” blood test for diabetics) is down to 5.9%. This is such great news I might watch a few Doris Day movies tonight! Everything else looks good, too, although my cholesterol and triglycerides are up because I stopped taking Atorvastatin (generic Lipitor) back in January when I found out it was causing the severe muscle pain in my legs, back and arms. Dr. M actually wanted me to cut my dose in half, but I couldn't do it. (I mean this literally. A store-bought pill-splitter crushed the damn things into powder.) Also, around that same time the FDA released a study that Lipitor had been discovered to cause permanent muscle damage and kidney failure, so I decided to throw that crap in the garbage and see what my cholesterol results looked like after my next round of lab tests. Now I know. Dr. M is starting me on a low dose of a different statin prescription.

Hey, movie fans ... it’s August, and time for TCM’s popular Summer Under the Stars festival! Today was officially Doris Day day (seriously) and there’s still a chance to catch several of her movies. In my view, her best are yet to come tonight: Please Don’t Eat the Daisies (1960) co-starring David Niven and Love Me or Leave Me (1955) co-starring James Cagney. Other featured stars during the next few days include: Alec Guinness on Saturday, August 3; Mary Boland on Sunday, August 4; Charlton Heston on Monday, August 5; and Joan Fontaine on Tuesday, August 6.

If you’re planning to record some movies on your DVR, my picks for a few of the best include:

• ALEC GUINNESS, 8/3. The Lavender Hill Mob (1951) and Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949).
• MARY BOLAND, 8/4. Ruggles of Red Gap (1935), The Women (1939) and Pride and Prejudice (1940).
• CHARLTON HESTON, 8/5. Soylent Green (1973) and Ben-Hur (1959).
• JOAN FONTAINE, 8/6. A Damsel in Distress (1937), Suspicion (1941) and Rebecca (1940). While two of these films — Suspicion and Rebecca — can be seen pretty regularly on TCM, A Damsel in Distress is NOT, and it’s absolutely worth watching for a couple of excellent reasons: 1) co-stars Fred Astaire, George Burns and Gracie Allen are in rare form and fantastic; and 2) this movie features some of the funniest musical comedy scenes EVER, especially Fred Astaire mocking the faces of a madrigal choir that’s performing at an English country estate. First time I saw this thing I laughed so hard I almost wet my pants. Also, there’s an unbelievable number where Joan Fontaine dances with Fred Astaire, thereby demonstrating all the grace and rhythm you’d expect from a serious dramatic actress: ZERO.

And now, at last, it’s time for dinner. I’ve been pondering a number of different options but think I waited too long because it’s already past 7:30, my blood sugar is plummeting and for expediency’s sake I think I’ll probably just nuke the rest of my leftover Mongolian chicken ... proving yet again that Chinese food solves damn near ANYTHING. Thank you.

In case you’re into vitals, I have blood pressure and a pulse. Also a urinary tract infection.

So here’s the scoop, people! I saw Dr. M this morning and it’s official: I’ve got a urinary tract infection. She started me on an antibiotic called Sulfamethoxazole twice a day and I’m supposed to try real hard to stop peeing all over myself every time I stand up. (Damn. I was just starting to get used to it.) In case you’re into vitals, my blood pressure was 110/68, we found a pulse and I’ve lost 59½ pounds since my last appointment at the end of January. Lab results will be available tomorrow in the event you give a crap.

Now for some news from our Everything’s Better in Texas department. At the end of May a pair of rookie cops in Fort Worth responding to a burglary call accidentally went to the wrong house and ended up killing the homeowner due to “poor lighting.” Despite being sent to investigate a possible break-in at 409 Havenwood Lane, officers Hanlon and Hoeppner began searching across the street at 404 Havenwood instead. The officers’ said there was “no lighting around the home” of 72-year-old Jerry Waller and his wife Kathy, and they only had the use of their flashlights. Which probably explains why Jerry Waller, frightened, grabbed his .38-calibre handgun for protection and encountered the two officers while still standing inside his own garage. He was immediately shot six times in the chest and died at the scene. A police department spokesperson said an internal investigation was underway but the trigger-happy rookies have resumed full-time duty. The adorable Wallers, pictured below, had been married for 46 years.

The following photo should explain why Hanlon and Hoeppner had trouble deciphering those annoying house numbers. It’s just another example of the Lone Star State’s fine system of higher education.

A few days ago I promised you good folks a couple of movie reviews for The High and the Mighty (1956) starring John Wayne and Robert Stack and Station West (1953), a film noir western starring Dick Powell and Jane Greer. Let’s begin with The High and the Mighty, a silly, drecky all-star-cast disaster film that’s genuinely hilarious enough to earn permanent cult status. Sam and I are still surprised that Irwin Allen’s name wasn’t in the credits. (Yes, it’s that bad.)

The plot? John Wayne and Robert Stack are a pair of pilots in the cockpit of a commercial flight from Hawaii to San Francisco. When one of the engines craps out halfway across the ocean Robert Stack becomes unhinged (see above photo), causing John Wayne to punch him in the head and drink a lot of coffee. With fuel leaking from the damaged engine it’s likely that they’ll have to ditch the plane into the ocean and hopefully get their bodies picked up by a coast guard rescue team. The passengers, each a lunatic in his or her own right, naturally get hysterical when they hear the news and start flying off their respective handles. Among them are a pair of floozies, a big shot businessman, newlyweds trying to continue their honeymoon in seat 12, a snotty little kid traveling alone, an inventor with a briefcase full of secret documents, a homicidal maniac with a gun who’s only on board to kill the aforementioned big shot businessman who was horsing around with his wife in Honolulu, a stewardess who can’t stop crying because she’s still single with no immediate prospects and now she’s going to die in a plane crash, and an Italian fisherman who’s traveling with his own salami.

The performances are so hammy and idiotic that much of it wound up in 1980’s disaster parody Airplane. It just doesn’t get much better than this. I won’t tell you how the story ends so you’ll make an effort to buy the DVD or look for the movie on cable. Sam and I plan to watch it again. Often.

As a side note, The High and the Mighty was produced by BatJac, John Wayne’s personal production company. At the time, Wayne — a rabid anti-Communist — was busy “naming names” and ratting out his peers to the House UnAmerican Activities Committee. As a result it was damn near impossible to cast this movie except for a handful of right-wing crackpots who could stand being in the same room with him. 

And now, Station West. The “film noir western” is a strange genre but perfect for a pair of hard-boiled characters like Dick Powell and Jane Greer. She’s a dame who owns a saloon and sings the same song every seven minutes; he’s a secret government agent sent to investigate who the hell keeps robbing the stage.

Others in the cast include Burl Ives as a musical hotel clerk and Agnes Moorehead as the owner of a gold mine. Everybody else is either meaningless or one of Mister Big’s snarling flunkies at the lumber mill outside of town. For the record, Dick Powell looked pretty good riding a horse.

I’m definitely ready for an afternoon nap but will probably have to hold off at least another half-hour until my maid is through cleaning things. At the moment she’s on the patio scrubbing several dozen silk plants and trees. I told her she didn’t have to bother because it’s 101° out there, but this is a woman who totally loves what she does. Such as the time she announced, “I’d like to clean out your refrigerator today.” Holy crap. How perfect.

I have no personal first-hand experience with Depression-era reformatories.

Howdygram headquarters narrowly averted a LAUNDRY ROOM DISASTER this afternoon. You may recall that I switched to those adorable little Tide Pods a couple of weeks ago (see portrait below) because I finally got sick of sloppy liquid detergent leaving goo on my hands and stains on my nice white shelves. Tide Pods are cute, pleasantly squishy and smell delicious. You need to try this stuff. Trust me.

So today I decide it’s probably time to throw out the rest of my giant bottle of liquid Gain — which is maybe one-third full — except as soon as I pick it up the damn thing splits down the left side AND DRIPS ALL OVER THE DRYER. What a mess! I never want to see another bottle of Gain for the rest of my natural life.

There’s breaking news today from the Howdygram’s Gouge My Eyes Out department. A man on a tour of Chicago’s city pound was arrested over the weekend and charged with HAVING SEX WITH A PIT BULL. Seriously. Gerardo Perez was arrested after he broke off from the tour group and an employee of the pound saw him sneaking into a restricted area. The employee told Perez to leave, but he came back a few minutes later and was eventually caught inside a cage getting it on with a white and gray pit bull. According to police Perez made “inculpatory statements regarding sexual conduct with the dog” to several employees of the facility. WTF! Such as ... hey baby, see ya later? Even though I can’t wrap my head around perverted horseshit like this, I don’t know why I’m surprised. Chicago has always been famous for its hot dogs, right?

I watched a gritty pre-Code movie on TCM over the weekend that really impressed me. It was The Mayor of Hell (1933) starring James Cagney and Madge Evans as an administrator and a nurse, respectively, trying to overhaul a thoroughly despicable reform school for boys. Although I have no personal first-hand experience with Depression-era reformatories, I’d be willing to bet most of this was based on reality.

Others in the cast included Dudley Digges as the sadistic warden, Frankie Darro as king of the incarcerated delinquents and Allen Jenkins as Cagney’s sidekick and comic relief, frequently referred to as “Uncle Mike” even though I don’t think he was related to anybody. (Uncle Mike was actually a little creepy.)

And now, here’s the latest pharmaceutical scandal and another blossoming class action suit, this time concerning Pfizer’s popular cholesterol drug Lipitor, which has been linked to a number of serious health problems that include muscle deterioration, kidney decline and causing type 2 diabetes. In my case I was already diabetic when I started taking Lipitor but developed problems with my kidneys and such severe muscle failure that I couldn’t stand or walk. Dr. M finally told me to cut the dose in half and start taking CoQ10 to relieve the muscle pain. (I actually stopped taking Lipitor altogether and finally feel human again.) According to the news report, Pfizer knew that Lipitor was causing type 2 diabetes and serious side effects but continued to market the medication as safe and effective. I volunteer to be first in line to whack their brains out with my cane.

Lipitor was just one more pathetic episode in the ongoing drama of Club Meds. During the last four years I have also taken: 1) Actos, a diabetes drug now known to cause bladder cancer; and 2) Byetta and Victoza, two injectable diabetes medications linked to pancreatic cancer. Thank God I never took any of these drugs for very long. After 18 months on Actos I was so sick from side effects that I had to change physicians when my doctor refused to stop prescribing it. HOLY CRAP. Don’t diabetics have enough baloney in their lives without taking drugs that cause cancer?

FYI, I also learned a few days ago that Amitriptyline, an antidepressant that I take religiously for neuropathy pain, is now known to cause erectile dysfunction. Fortunately I have not experienced a problem with this in any form whatsoever. I think my erectile is functioning quite well.

It’s after 8 p.m. and I’m officially hungry. Mongolian chicken would be awfully nice tonight but I need something faster, like pickles & biscuits or a jar of gefilte fish. I’m thinking gefilte fish. With chia seed pudding for dessert! This is almost too good to be true. Thank you for reading this.

The Trazodone Incident: A Thursday evening update.

Thanks to a bizarre twist in The Trazodone Incident (details follow) I’m finally catching up on a lot of lost sleep. Today, for instance, I was already unconscious on the chaise in the family room before Sam left for work at 1:15, which makes me sad because I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye. Plus, when I finally woke up at 4 p.m. I was still partially brain-dead. You know … where am I? who am I? how the hell did I get here?

And now: The Trazodone Incident. You may recall a Howdygram post from a week ago when I couldn’t refill my sleep aid prescription at Wal-Mart because the dose I’d been taking had been discontinued by the manufacturer, so the pharmacist sold Sam a bottle of 100mg tablets instead and said I should cut them in half. When that didn’t work out (every attempt shattered the tablets into dust) I sent an email to Dr. M asking for another suggestion — can I take 100mg instead or try a different sleep aid? — her nurse (Diana) called and said it was okay to take 100mg but I should look out for any side effects and call if I have problems. And I definitely had problems. Six days of miserable side effects (documented here in case you need a quick refresher) prompted another email to Dr. M’s office, at which time Diana called back with some VERY ANNOYING NEWS. She investigated at Dr. M’s request and found out that Wal-Mart’s pharmacy had been the bearer of some serious “misinformation.” The manufacturer never actually discontinued 50mg Trazodone … WAL-MART JUST RAN OUT. By the time Diana spoke to the pharmacist the tablets were already back in stock and they filled my 90-day prescription.

Thanks a lot, Wal-Mart. ALL THAT HELL FOR ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. I’d seriously like to kick the crap out of somebody but I’m not the spring chicken I used to be. I might have to swing my cane at them instead.

It’s 7 p.m. and time to ponder dinner. At the moment I’m considering a bowl of zero-calorie kelp noodles with zero-calorie Walden Farms Asian dressing and a handful of Schwan’s nice frozen shrimp. The kelp noodles will be a “first” for me. Reviewers say they have a crunch like bean sprouts and look like ordinary clear rice noodles, but apparently you don’t have to cook them. You just rinse them off, chop them up a little and eat them raw as a salad with sauce or dressing. It’s slightly possible that I’ll hate these things so I’ve already decided not to waste any shrimp until I know for sure. (Plan B involves pickles & biscuits.) Please stay tuned for further developments, okay?

For the record, Walden Farms Asian dressing is FANTASTIC. I just stuck my finger in the bottle so I can make this announcement with complete authority.

Thank you for reading this.

Mexican Velveeta is the official cheese product of Club Meds.

It’s a lovely, sunny Friday here in Texas — 65° with a stiff breeze from the northwest — and as I write this post I’m trying to avoid working on edits to a client’s website for the following three reasons: 1) I don’t want to; 2) I’m hungry; and 3) I’d rather being doing this. I wish somebody would please send an email and tell me to retire already. Thank you.

I’m having another hypothermia battle today. At the moment I’m hot as hell, but when I went to bed at 1 a.m. last night my temperature was 95.4° with severe muscle and joint pain, and the cycle repeats every five or six hours. I was unconscious on the chaise in the family room when Sam left for work this afternoon and don’t remember even saying goodbye to him. Thank God FedEx is delivering my Mexican Velveeta today! There’s always something to look forward to, isn’t there?

In case you don’t know what’s going on with this “hypothermia” crapola, it’s one of the many exciting side effects of diabetes — a form of autonomic neuropathy — that results in an unregulated body temperature. My personal best was a low of 95.2° a couple of weeks ago, which technically felt like a fever of 103° except my skin was cold as a mackerel. I feel sorry for Sam watching this idiotic baloney all the time.

As long as I’m whining about medical issues I suppose I should go ahead and include the latest news from Club Meds! A couple of days ago I tried to refill my 90-day prescription for Trazodone — an antidepressant that I take as a sleep aid — and the pharmacist said the 50mg tablets I’ve been taking since last summer have been discontinued. They sold Sam a bottle of 100mg tablets instead and told me to cut them in half with Wal-Mart’s best-quality 88¢ handy-dandy pill cutter, which skillfully crushed the first four tablets into dust.

So I called Dr. M and asked if I can just take 100mg every night or does she want to prescribe something else. Turns out she thinks it’s okay if I try the higher dose even though the list of possible side effects still scares the living crap out of me. These include: 1) extreme mood swings; 2) pounding heartbeat; 3) fainting; 4) panic attacks; 5) blurred vision; 6) tremors; 7) memory problems; and 8) a painful erection that lasts six hours or longer. (I’m pretty sure I won’t have to worry about number 8.) Another possible side effect is a condition known as Palinopsia which, despite obvious indications to the contrary, has nothing whatsoever to do with hallucinations about right-wing moose-killers from Alaska. Palinopsia, in fact, is a brain disorder that causes an “after-image” visual disturbance. This actually makes sense. Palin = brain disorder.

From our Funniest Thing I’ve Read All Year department comes this story of a Twitter feud between Jon Stewart and the pompous comb-over king, Donald Trump. Trump thought he was throwing a nasty shot at Stewart by revealing the comedian’s real name — Jon Leibowitz! He’s Jewish! — prompting Stewart to shoot back with a joke about Trump’s actual birth name being “F**kface Von Clownstick.” Check out the whole article, a screenshot of their Twitter war and some hilarious reader comments here on Gawker.com.

Thank you for reading this. Have a really nice evening, okay?

Flushing has nothing whatsoever to do with toilets.

I’ve got another medication update for you. Sort of a Holy Crap Report, chapter three. Dumping the cholesterol drug Atorvastatin on Tuesday has eliminated yet another grotesque side effect — aside from the crippling muscle pain in my back and legs — NO MORE BURNING HOT HANDS AND FEET! I always thought the hot hands and feet thing was a form of diabetic neuropathy, but it wasn’t. I learned yesterday that Atorvastatin lists “flushing” — which has nothing whatsoever to do with toilets or a city in New York — as one of its primary side effects, and in my case it was so severe that my extremities felt like they were on fire at night. No prescription medication on earth is worth horseshit like this, people! Had I known that Atorvastatin was responsible for so much of my misery I would have stopped taking it a long time ago. At 114 my cholesterol level is just fine, thank you, and I don’t need drugs to keep it as low as that. As a matter of fact, even before I started taking Atorvastatin it was still in the normal range (about 18o-something), which means I basically endured a year of horror for NOTHING.

On the plus side, I feel AMAZING now. My back and legs don’t hurt, I can stand up and walk around the house without pain, my hands and feet don’t feel like they’re on fire, and as a bonus I also get to dump my prescription sleep aid (Trazodone) because I only needed it to mask the agony of Atorvastatin! Life can be swell sometimes, can’t it?

I hope you like my Valentine’s Day graphic. For the most part this is an accurate representation except I have brown eyes and don’t own pink slippers. For your possible interest the mug contains sugar-free Howdygram juice.

I think I need a nap. Try not to make too much noise for a while, okay? Maybe you should go play outside.

Introducing an unidentified new species from California.

In Monday’s post I wrote about Atorvastatin (generic Lipitor), the crappy cholesterol medication I’ve been taking for the last year or so. Apparently this drug has some grisly side effects, most of which I’d been experiencing for quite some time without realizing it, such as severe muscle fatigue in my legs and lower back that have made it almost impossible to stand or walk. When I complained to Dr. M in an email on Monday she called right away and told me to cut the dose in half and start taking Co Q-10. Being smarter than the average physician, naturally I made the executive decision to stop taking Atorvastatin altogether, and you know what? I felt like a million bucks today!

No back pain. No leg pain. This was so damn wonderful I even cooked a screwy Italian feast for one (details follow) and reorganized the bottom shelf of the pantry. I don’t know if it’s really possible to feel this much better after 24 hours but I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth. I want my life back.

Regarding the aforementioned screwy Italian feast, this consisted of half a jar of low-carb pasta sauce, rehydrated beef textured vegetable protein, two 7-ounce packages of drained and rinsed zero-calorie Miracle Noodles, a pile of parmesan cheese and low-carb garlic bread. You might consider this a meal from hell, but I was so happy I called Sam at work to describe everything on my plate. Then I watched last night’s episode of “Dallas.”

Before I sign off for the night I thought I’d post these pictures of a deranged rock singer named Redfoo. I have no idea who this person is, but judging from his wardrobe choices he clearly thinks it’s cool to share his nipples with the general public and wear a stuffed zebra strapped to his belt. I don’t get it.

I have to get some sleep now. Thank you for reading this.

Oh boy! Let’s go to Club Meds!

Sam is working late tonight. VERY late. Such as being stuck at the office for 14 hours all by himself and not getting home until 3 or 4 a.m. tomorrow. Apparently he’s picking up overflow projects from the company’s sister site in Houston. I sincerely hope he finds time to eat and pee, because both activities are awfully damn important.

In case you’ve ever wondered where Sam works — and even if you haven’t — pictured above is a diagram of the Crescent Court complex in Dallas, an arrangement of three ritzy office towers, a five-star hotel and a bunch of snooty stores and restaurants around the perimeter. (The exact location of Sam’s window is an educated guess. I know he’s waving but I can’t see him from this far away.)

In the meantime I’m here at Howdygram headquarters, holding down the proverbial fort, so-to-speak, which isn’t too difficult due to a luxurious nap earlier today and not doing much else afterwards aside from ordering dinner from China City, writing a post and watching How to Marry a Millionaire (1953) starring Marilyn Monroe, Lauren Bacall and Betty Grable.

That was one of the longest sentences I’ve ever written. However I’m pretty sure there’s no formal recognition for this accomplishment or a cash award. (Never mind.)

Oh boy! Let’s go to Club Meds! On the menu for yours truly at this hour every night are the following bedtime snacks, prescribed for a variety of chronic conditions that include high blood pressure, high cholesterol, neuropathy pain, sleeplessness and type 2 diabetes:

1. Trazodone, 50 mg
2. Amitriptyline Hydrochloride, 30 mg
3. Aldactone, 25 mg
4. Atorvastatin Calcium, 40 mg
5. Benazepril/Hydrochlorothiazide, 20/25 mg
6. Lantus Solostar insulin, 100 units (injected)

Incidentally, I’d rather eat chocolate chip cookies. Thank you for reading this.

News flash: Einsteins eat at Denny’s and work at AT&T.

I know I’ve mentioned this before, but the Einsteins at AT&T must be borderline criminals or, at the very least, a pack of peabrains who can’t comprehend compound sentences. I’ve been calling once a month since April to find ways to reduce our monthly U-Verse bill, but every single time one of their employees makes an adjustment THE BOTTOM LINE KEEPS GETTING WORSE. For instance, last month I spent the better part of a week horsing around with AT&T (see post) trying to change the billing information on our wireless account (two cell phones) from Sam’s name to mine so we could combine it with our U-Verse statement — which has always been in my name, for reasons that defy logic — to qualify for a stupid discount. Didn’t happen.

And that brings us to today’s fiasco! AT&T emailed our August U-Verse statement this afternoon and (no surprise) the grand total was higher than July. Actually, a LOT higher than July. A tense 45-minute conversation with their Einstein du jour revealed that AT&T: 1) added an expensive unlimited family texting package to our wireless account even though I never asked for it; 2) forgot to credit us for three TV promotional packages; and 3) “accidentally” charged us for a movie package that I canceled two months ago. Eventually I was able to reduce our U-Verse bill from $319 to $219. I can hardly wait for September. Holy crap.

Now for our latest adventure at Denny’s, where we always find lots of handicapped parking spots and cheap meals for old people. After we dropped off Sam’s car at Pep Boys this morning for routine maintenance we drove over to our favorite Denny’s at Beltline and Interstate 80 for Senior Scrambled Eggs. Call it dumb luck, but we were seated directly behind the village Einstein who’s bellowing into a cell phone, whistling for the waitress and kind of smells bad. Bonnie (our waitress) told us he'd been wedged into the same booth drinking free coffee refills for THREE AND A HALF HOURS, driving her crazy and trying to get everybody in the dining room involved in a conversation. Obviously Sam and I weren’t expecting an experience like Tavern on the Green, but a little peace and quiet with our eggs would have been appreciated. The map below indicates: A) Howdygram headquarters in Mesquite; and B) the aforementioned Denny’s.

A portrait of Denny’s Senior Scrambled Eggs appears below. In case you’re interested we always ask for our pancakes on separate plates and I get sugar-free syrup with mine. Please let me know if this is too much information, okay?

Tomorrow Sam and I will commence an official Tex-Mex culinary tour of Dallas. I’ve compiled a list of the top five highest-rated Tex-Mex restaurants in the metro area and we’re figuring on visiting a different establishment every couple of weeks for a late Saturday lunch. These will include:

1. Pepe’s & Mito’s Mexican Cafe (featured on “Diners, Drive-Ins & Dives”) at 2911 Elm Street near Baylor Hospital
2. Amigos at 940 E. Belt Line Road
3. Avila’s at 4714 Maple
4. Mario Sabino’s Mexican and Salvadoran at 5404 Lemmon Avenue near Love Field Airport (they don’t have a website)
5. Rafa’s Cafe at 5617 Lovers Lane

I’m definitely stoked about this. Restaurant reviews will be forthcoming.

A quick report from Club Meds. I’ve discovered an unwelcome side effect from the insulin I’ve been using for the last few months: MEMORY LOSS. I inject the maximum allowable dose (100 units) of Lantus® every night at bedtime and for the last several weeks I’ve noticed that I’m not remembering names, years, people or words and sometimes get halfway into a sentence and lose track of what I’m trying to say. It’s a lot like being stoned except without the munchies.

Thank you for reading this.