Tag Archives: Caregiving

It is too bad that such a doll wastes all her time being good. How can she make any money from that?Nicely, Nicely.

I know you’re not going to believe this….but the world is full of nice people. People who don’t even look nice.

This was my week:

Monday…attend a Town Hall meeting with our Republican Congressman. Now, he’s been kind of avoiding these meetings since the %$&* hit the fan. And he’s had quite a few run-ins with unhappy people since the last presidential election. Also, I had some trepidation about going to this town hall. First, my husband was going too. I didn’t know if they would make us sit on opposite sides of the aisle, because we are often that way, even in our living room. Second, I have to be honest, there’s so much anger out there, I was a little scared. But let me tell you, this audience and this Congressman were respectful, intelligent and willing to listen to everything. Well, almost everything, the audience did ‘boo’ one time quite loudly when the Congressman said he had to look at a case-by-case basis for drilling in National Parks. But everyone booed….so I found that nice.

Tuesday–My mom and I  were to meet with a representative from the American Legion who was going to help get my Dad’s name memorialized in his home town of Beacon, New York. At the last minute, my mom found the documents we were missing and the American Legion guy no longer needed to help. But this guy was going to come from the next town over just to make sure a Veteran, killed in service to his country over 55 years ago, would be solemnly recognized for his service and sacrifice. Nice, right?

Wednesday–I met with my sister and brother-in-law to help them with some legal matters. Of course they were nice, too. They better be! But the notary we went to at AAA was extraordinarily kind.  But here’s the thing, at first glance, she seemed kind of cranky.  You took one look at her and thought “uh-oh.”  She was extremely thorough, made sure everything was correct, and was not rushing us at all. And she was super nice. As we chatted for a bit between documents, and later, she revealed that she has been a long time caregiver for her parents. When they passed away, she continued, as she does today to go to the nursing home to visit her dad’s roommates. They have no other real visitors.  She said it helps her have a purpose and in some ways keep close to her dad. I don’t care what you say…that’s just nice. Really nice.

Thursday–I received an email from a total stranger who heard of me through a class I had taken. I don’t know what pleased me more…that she thought I was funny in that class or that she googled me and I seem to have taken the lessons we learned to heart and put them into action. I think I was just happy to hear from a nice person.

Friday–I received my weekly free email newsletter from Dan Blank at WeGrowMedia, Dan is kind and generous with advice and support to artists of all kinds. The best part of Dan’s newsletter today was at the end. He said this:

What can you do this week to support someone else’s dream?  and this:

What small action can you take this week to support the work of someone around you? Something that, if the dominoes fall correctly, will have them thanking you more than a decade later for the profound effect you have had on their life?

How’s that for nice? Do it. You can, you really can. There are nice people all around you, and you are one of them, too. I just know it.

So from now on…laugh and assume everyone you meet is nice…they just may prove you right!

“You Just have to Laugh…..”

©2017 Cathy Sikorski

Sometimes, I should just namaste home……

I know we are all trying to get a bit of Zen in our lives, and I’m all for it. I just recently returned to the practice of yoga. About four years ago my neck decided it didn’t want to turn left or right. I don’t know why but I had to stop yoga. My therapist thinks I’ve been holding onto a lot of bad karma, and she’s my physical therapist. I’m not saying another therapist couldn’t help, but the return to yoga certainly has. Perhaps because I take classes where all the teachers are over 80 years old.

Yesterday, I went to class, really yearning for some ‘centering.’  I had a conference call in the afternoon and some intense conversations ahead of me, so I thought a nice gentle yoga class would put my mind and body in the right place.

When I entered the soft-lit, quiet studio, the teacher was talking to another student about her upcoming family vacation at a sizable house she rented in the Poconos.

“I just don’t know how I’m going to handle it,” whined the yoga teacher, “I mean they are coming from Oregon and from Sweden and I have to do everything.”

“Well,” her friend replied, trying to console her, “you could just ask them to help.”

“I can’t do that. They’re coming from so far. So I’ve bought all the groceries and our car is full to the brim. My husband is asking how two 80-year-olds are going to get all this stuff into the house! And I’m telling him we can’t say, “Hi, Welcome to Pennsylvania and go get your own food out of the car!”

I’m thinking during this interchange, well this isn’t very namaste, now is it? This yoga teacher needs some yoga.

So she gathers her wits about her and we begin class, about 15 minutes in she instructs us to do the butterfly pose. She then relates this comforting tale.  “You know there’s a beautiful abundance of butterflies this year!” she exclaims. “My cat just loves them! But then she eats them, so I tell her no, no,  that’s not good.”

Now, I’m wishing I went to kickboxing.

She decides to water a plant half-way through the class. “All the rest of these plants are plastic, but this one is real and no one waters it!” I think I heard the plant crying, “Just let me die already.”

What I really look like doing yoga.

 

We ultimately get to ‘final relaxation.’ This is a critical part of every yoga class. Truthfully, every person who takes yoga, only comes for final relaxation. It’s like your glass of wine after going to the dentist. What? That’s not a thing? I’m pretty sure it is a thing.

We are authentically relaxing for three or four minutes. I’m feeling very serene, centered, able to take on my day when HER PHONE RINGS. Yep. The yoga teacher didn’t turn her phone off.

Okay, I thought, as I squeezed my eyelids trying to maintain tanquility, she’ll just turn it right off.

Nope. She picks up the phone and says, “Hello? Hello? Can you hear me? Can you hear me now? You have to call this number.” And she proceeds to give the person a phone number.

WELL, NOW I’M NOT RELAXED.

She returns to the class with, “I’m soooooo sorry but my husband’s car broke down.”

And then she says, and I’m not kidding, “Some days, you just have to laugh……”

©2017 Cathy Sikorski

I know you love me….

So many of you have already voted for me to be the guest Keynote Speaker at the National Caregivers’ Conference in Chicago in November. But in case you are not a Facebook Friend or I don’t have your email. I’m posting the link here in hopes that you will mosey over to this website, scroll to the bottom on the left where the names of all the finalists are and click on my name and then click the vote button! You can certainly look at my video, but it’s not necessary. Just need your vote. Thanks for your support, I will do my best to make you proud of me, my blessed readers! Tomorrow, I promise you another hilarious story!

Vote for Your Conference Keynote

Fun and Games with Lisa………..

What better time to try and laugh than now? I’m trying….really, I am.

My mom provides me with great material, although I don’t think she means to, and I don’t think she’s always happy to be the topic of a humor blog on a regular basis.

My friend, Lisa on the other hand,  LOVES being my topic. I was thinking of her today and all the antics we’ve been through in the last seven years since she fell down a flight of stairs and suffered a Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI). I know, I know, it doesn’t sound funny, but we became the Lucy and Ethel of healthcare.

  1.  There was the time I dropped her off with our best friend, Terri to walk a few blocks to the hospital for a check-up because there was a water main break and traffic was horrendous. I thought it would take me hours to navigate the streets and park. As Lisa and Terri literally waded through the streets of Philly, I found a parking spot in 5 minutes right in front of the hospital.
  2. Then the neurologist wanted to do a stay-at-home brain scan. This is where they  wrap your head like a mummy and put some electrodes in there and record you for three days. After they wrapped her head, we decided to go to Marshall’s to look for a hat to cover her mummy-head. Not one hat would go over the wrappings, no wonder the Mummy was so mad, not a fashion was made for him. From Marshall’s we went to the park to do a photo-shoot. Yeah, I just couldn’t pass up that opportunity.
    Fun with my Mummy!

    Before and After Photo Shoot. Lisa really is quite lovely!
  3. We had to drive an hour into Philadelphia every time she needed to see her eye specialists, which was a lot.  It took us at least 10 trips before we figured out that cheap parking was right in front of the hospital and easier to get to.
  4. Then there was the time they changed the procedure to check-in to the eye clinic. They decided that people could check themselves in, using computers. The computers were tightly packed into an area where you had to stand up to use them. This doesn’t seem weird, but a lot of the people in this eye clinic use walkers and wheelchairs. They can’t fit into the space where the computer is located and if they’re in a wheelchair, they can’t reach the computer. AND remember this is an eye clinic. All of the patients are having trouble seeing. We practically peed ourselves trying to figure out how this is a good idea.
  5. Then I took her for surgery and she had to be back in the hospital at 6:00 AM the next morning. It was a long day and a quick night, so we stayed at a hotel right across the street from the hospital. I forgot we were parked in a parking garage between two big cement barriers and ripped my side-view mirror right out of its socket. It dangled from its electrical cord attached to the car. After having it bang against the door for five blocks, I folded the mirror into the car, had to keep the window open for the 50-mile drive home in February snow, and the hi-tech mirror blinked right into my face every time I needed to change lanes or turn left.
For insurance purposes only, not to remind myself how dumb I am.
Wounded in the line of duty.

 

And you thought dealing with health issues wasn’t any fun!

“You Just have to Laugh……………”

©2017 Cathy Sikorski

 

Having Fun is Hard……

I have been working diligently on my new website as well as doing a wonderful amount of speaking engagements for the last three months. I am so happy with my work right now.  I think I forgot how old I am, having fun is hard.

I was fortunate to get a free pass to the party of the season, the Kentucky Derby, two weeks ago. This was between some intense prep for speaking and trying to work on two online classes I’m taking to be a better speaker, a booked speaker and an entertaining speaker. Steve Martin is one of my teachers. I got an email from Steve today asking me where the hell have I been? How do you expect to be funny if you don’t show up for Steve’s class? I was working on it while having fun. I did my best at the Kentucky Derby to be hilarious. Just ask my friend Jim, who saw me trip in front of 158,000 people and still keep my hat on.

 

See, Steve. Jim is laughing.

Last night at a dinner party, I was doing my best to wow the crowd with the antics of my mother and her kleptomania.

You can’t be trying out new material while taking a class, Steve.

I’m procrastinating right this minute as  I’m supposed to be practicing my talk for tonight. In an effort to ramp up my hilarity, I have changed my talk completely, added props and new stories, mostly because the venue doesn’t have PowerPoint capability so I had to come up with some new crutches. Since Steve is my mentor now, I thought emulating him would be my best effort.

I don’t know how to make balloon animals and I didn’t have time to go find an arrow like Steve’s but these turkey legs were just hanging around my house. I hope I can find just the right words to integrate this into a talk about the legal and practical issues confronting caregivers.

Never be chicken to laugh at yourself!

Perhaps it will be funny enough that I will bring a free package of Depends as a door prize for the participant who laughs the hardest.

See why I’m tired? Having fun is really hard.

By the way, that picture is with Jim’s mom. At least I have two fans!

“You Just have to Laugh…..”

©2017 Cathy Sikorski

One Man’s Trash…is a Girl’s Night Out!

When you spend a good part of your time or life as a caregiver you find forgetting to be a common occurrence. I have classic tales about my Nana forgetting where she put her shoes, her wallet and most disturbingly…her teeth.

My mother-in-law would hide her “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up” button in ‘safe’ places. Every time we went to the assisted living facility we would be ready for a game of hide-n-seek with the magic button, a button she would never push anyway.

My brother-in-law would forget where he put bills, checks and insurance papers all the time. He was actually happy when I agreed to clean up all his paperwork and just take over.

Eventually, with all this stress, the caregiver starts to be the one to forget. We all experience this as we get older. I’ll admit, it makes me panic a little. When you are too close to forgetfulness you start to think it’s a bad omen if it becomes a part of your day.

Since my caregiving has dwindled quite a bit in the last few years, I take bad memory very personally, like my brain is betraying me. I know it happens to all of us, and it is definitely a symptom of stress. But I have always known it’s a source of hilarity. And today was no exception.

As you may recall we have a very long driveway. So we put our trash cans and recycling in my SUV and drive it to the end of the driveway. A few months ago our new trash hauler required us to start using a large container for trash.

My husband’s pet peeve is that large, unsightly container defiling our cul-de-sac. So several yards before we get to the end of the driveway we pick up the large trash container,  which is tucked in the woods, and wheel it down to the end of the driveway. Then we take the trash out of my car and put it in the container.

As the SUV is my car, my husband said,

“Hey, I loaded the trash in your car. Drive me down to the bin on your way to your dinner with your girlfriends.”

“Okay,” I said.

The real culprit

I stop the SUV where the bin is tucked away. My husband gets out. And I drive away.

Down the driveway, past the mailbox, through the cul-de-sac, down the steep hill to the end of the street.

My car makes a few weird noises. Now, I’m mad because I just got new tires. And my car stinks. What’s that all about?

I turn the corner, go around the bend, there’s that noise again. I look in the rearview mirror

A fun place to take your trash!

and see the trash. I was taking the trash with me on a ‘girls night out.’

I found a driveway, turned around, went back up my street to the cul-de-sac, and I see my husband slowly walking back towards the house shaking his head in disbelief.

I’m laughing so hard, it’s silent. I can’t speak. He just looks at me.

“I was waving my hands and yelling, ” he said so plaintively. “I called your cell phone and you didn’t answer. I couldn’t believe in a nano second you forgot that you had the trash in the car and just drove away.”

He’s officially worried.

“You Just have to Laugh….”

©2017 Cathy Sikorski

 

 

 

Terrible 92’s………..

I have been steeped in getting out my book…which you will see below! And, okay, I took a vacation. But boy, do we need some laughter now, right? And it’s National Caregiver’s Month…so, you know…….the life of a caregiver never disappoints.

I was thinking about my mother-in-law the other day and how she was seemingly so content, no matter what was happening. She would read any book you gave her and would comment, “oh that was a nice book.” I used to say I think I’ll give her a copy of  “Mein Kampf” and see what she thinks. The point is that she saw the good in everything and was pretty content with her life wherever she was and whatever she was doing.

Except that one time.

She had left her stove on in her apartment one too many times and the fire department started to know her by name like Norm in “CHEERS!”.  This was not a good thing.  We bit the bullet and started to look for assisted living quarters near our home, so we could go see her on a regular basis. She lived almost an hour away, so living within 10 or 15 minutes of us seemed like a dream come true for everyone.

We found a lovely place, which she approved, sold her condo, packed up all her things, and moved all her own furniture into her new assisted living apartment.  I really hoped it felt like home. Plus, now it was so convenient I could visit her every day, my mom could visit, and my mom could bring some of her friends to visit. Plus, my mother-in-law would now be around lots of people on a daily basis and not feel so isolated.

The day came to move her in, and for the first time in the 25 years I’d been her daughter-in-law, she threw a tantrum.

“I’m not going!” she said.

“Mom,” I reasoned, “you like it there. We went lots of times and you liked your apartment, the food, the people….remember?”

“Why can’t I stay here with you?” she countered.

Indeed, why can’t she?  I don’t have any bedrooms or shower facilities on the first floor and steps were becoming impossible for this 92-year-old.

“Mom, you can see, I don’t have a bedroom or bathroom down here on the first floor.”

“Well, I could go live with your mother. She has lots of room and she could use the help.”

Use the help? Not use the ‘company.’ Use the help. What’s she going to do, be my 80-year-old Mom’s washer woman and cleaning lady?  This was not going well. Next, she may tell me she is going to get a job and her own apartment.

“Mom…..” I was stuck, I didn’t know what to say.

“I’m not going. I’m just not going, ” she pouted, and….not kidding….she stomped her foot like a toddler who doesn’t want to take a nap.

I took my only recourse.

“Get your coat. We’re leaving now. And no more shenanigans.”

Sometimes everyone responds to MOM.

The next day I went to visit. She told me I had to leave because it was lunch time and there was no room for me at her table.

“You Just Have to Laugh…..”

Cover by Dwayne Booth!!
Cover by Dwayne Booth!!

©2016 Cathy Sikorski

 

Medicare….not for the weak……

As I continue down this unrelenting path of caregiving, even in death, I can’t help but see the irony in statements that come my way like, ” what are you doing now that your brother-in-law has died?”

I’ll tell you what I’m doing:

“Hello, Medicare? I’ve now sent you a request for permission to speak to me as Executrix of my brother-in-law’s estate with all the supporting documents. I’ve waited the requisite 50 days for you to process it. I’ve waited longer than that because the first instructions I received were to take those documents to my local Social Security Office, which resulted in absolutely nothing, and now I have finally received a letter saying you will talk to me. Yay.

Medicare Person: What can I help you with?

Me: I’m trying to find out when a claim I have submitted will be paid?

Medicare Person: Why did you submit the claim Ma’am?

Me: Because the provider refused to submit it. They provide drugs and drug paraphernalia to the nursing home where my brother-in-law was residing at the time. They insist that they can only bill for the drugs to Part D Medicare and they have no authority to submit for the other items like IV poles, IV flushes and anything needed to actually administer the drugs.

Medicare Person (the THIRD Medicare person, because the first two couldn’t find the other conversations I’ve had and insisted that no such conversations took place). Yes, I’ve found the conversations you’ve had on April 4th , 11th, and 22nd.

Me: The last person I spoke with who connected me with you said she couldn’t find those conversations.

Medicare Person: Well, you’re both right. She can’t see these conversations, she’s in a different department.

Me: So, she couldn’t transfer me to you without wasting 30 minutes of my time and me insisting I speak to this department?

Medicare Person: I apologize for that Ma’am.

Me being Silent,

Medicare Person: Well, Ma’am I can’t find your claim. it takes 50 days to process.

Me: I filed that claim 120 days ago, and when your Medicare person CALLED ME ON APRIL

Provisions for speaking to Medicare
Provisions for speaking to Medicare

22 while I was standing in the middle of Times Square, and I popped into the closest restaurant and ordered a $12 glass of wine while on hold with your person, she told me that she was looking at my claim, it was paid to the nursing home and they would have to pay the provider. Then she proceeded to send me the wrong Medicare notices so I could prove to the nursing home, they owed the provider and the Estate of my brother-in-law was not liable for this bill.

Medicare Person: I can’t find that claim Ma’am. And so the only thing I can do is request a review.

Me: Okay

Medicare Person: I’m not allowed to request a review until 150 days has passed and it’s only been 120 since you filed the claim. A denial can take up to 150 days to process.

A missing claim is like a missing person. Maybe they went missing on their own. Maybe they are just at a friend’s house and forgot to tell you. Maybe they will use a credit card and then we can trace where they are and stop all this nonsense. But instead of waiting 48 hours, you have to wait 150 days. Imagine telling any person you’ve ever worked with that it will take 150 days to look at a piece of paper you sent them.

Medicare Person and I  then went on to discuss the many fun and esoteric ways that Medicare can screw up a claim.

Medicare Person: I know this is complicated and confusing Ma’am.

Me: I understand perfectly, everything you’ve told me. It’s not complicated or confusing to me, it’s just crazy! (Yep, I really did say that).

Medicare Person: Well, I know it seems complex, but we train for WEEKS to process this, so it would be harder for you to understand.

WEEKS? WEEKS? I’ve been dealing with Medicare for 25 years. And in all your weeks of training, the best you guys have ever given me is ridiculous, arbitrary waiting periods to process claims, a myriad of departments who don’t speak to each other, wrong information that has cost me precious time, and heartburn without the doughnut, wine or deep-fried food I deserve to go with it.

So glad your weeks of training have made you an expert.

I didn’t say any of that, I just got out my corkscrew and toasted the Universe for the never-ending supply of blog posts!

You Just Have to Laugh…………

© Cathy Sikorski 2016

Want a Laugh? Call the VA……

Although my caregiving duties have changed some, I still, like many a dutiful daughter have to deal with issues of the elderly.

As I warned you a few weeks ago, my Mom is steeped in a battle with the Veterans Administration.  They reneged on her insurance about a month ago. This insurance is for widows of Veterans. My mother was placed on this policy 15  years ago. She’s used it for all her health needs since then, until that  fateful day when they discovered their error. For points of clarity, my Mom was put on Insurance Plan A and should have been placed on Insurance Plan B.

As you can imagine, in the world of government bureaucracy, this is no easy fix. Nobody knows what to do or how to repair this problem.

What they do know how to do is create all kinds of havoc that sends little old 87 year-old ladies into shock and apoplexy.

They have begun to  take back all their insurance payments over the last year or so, thereby causing my mother to receive bills from all her medical providers day after day after day.  You may not know this about the elder generation, but if they get a bill, they pay it. Case closed. Even though these bills will eventually be paid by Insurance B, this generation can not abide being beholden to anyone, especially their doctor.

After yet another three and a half hours on the phone with fwo divisions of the Veterans Administration…Insurance A and Insurance B customer service, and  DEERS   (Defense Enrollment Eligibility System) a department from the Department of Defense, I had my Mom actually hear a customer service rep tell her not to pay any bills until this is resolved.

The first guy was named Kirk. He asked me if I had spoken to him three days ago. I assured him I had not since I was out of the country.

“Hmm” he said, because I ‘m sure I had a call from some lady about this same problem, which I never heard of until this week.I guess Insurance A is running a review of all their insureds to see who is on the wrong program…hahahha..”

Yeah. Hilarious.Oh, and by the way, I think my mother may have inadvertently started this shake down of widows from the VA about a month ago.

Person number 2 , after our second 20 minutes on hold, was David. He, too, was flummoxed by this account of our woes and told us that he could only suggest we call DEERS, because It looks like DEERS needs to confirm that my father died on October 10, 1961.

Person number 3. after a very brief 10 minute hold was Bill. Bill was ever so kind. He could see that this was a grand problem. He couldn’t understand why the two insurance companies,under the VA would not accept a death certificate (yes, my amazing, organized- with-every-shred-of-paper-ever-touching-her-fingers-Mom has  a death certificate from 1961). Then Bill searched the records and said because the ‘incident’ (meaning my father’s death on active duty) was so long ago they would have to put in  a request to …you guessed it….the Veterans Administration, to confirm my Dad’s death.

One more transfer to another department of the VA, with a lovely 20 minute wait to Stuart.  It was almost taking as long to explain this journey as it was to be on hold, but explain it I did. And, this is a true story, mind you, while searching the data base of all the information under my Mom’s name and my Dad’s name, I think Stuart thought he put me on hold. Alas, this is what I heard in his exasperated voice:

Only I KNOW the ANSWER...she said.
How do you spell “Cluster$#!!

“What a cluster fuck!”

Yep, I burst out laughing, ’cause well, yeah…indeed.

The journey continues with me filing some documents they’ve asked for, waiting for a confirmation that my Dad has been dead for 55 years to come from the Veteran’s Administration to my Mom, so that we can then send it to the VA insurance.

That’s how it has to be done they tell me. The VA can’t send it the the VA, the widow has to do it. And at least a few more weeks of comedic material for a blog called..

“You Just have to Laugh…..”

©Cathy Sikorski 2016

Gimme some sugar…………

I have found the Fountain of Youth, or so the news tells me.

For the last three or so years, I was trying desperately to get a medication removed from  my brother-in-law’s med list. The medication was called Metformin.

Larry was put on the medication to keep his blood sugar under control. One time…ONE TIME…when he was in the hospital or was having a particularly difficult medical time, he had a blood sugar test that was way out of line.

His doctor decided that he would put him on Metformin and keep an eye on his blood sugar just to make sure it wasn’t an aberration.

It was an aberration.

Every time he was admitted to the hospital in the last  years of his life, which was at least a dozen times and because he was on Metformin,  a drug used for diabetics to keep blood sugar under control, he had to eat a diabetic diet.

Larry hated a diabetic diet. Diabetics hate a diabetic diet. But Larry wasn’t a diabetic and about the only thing he enjoyed besides smoking and honey or sugar in his tea, was eating. None of which were permitted on a diabetic regimen.

He also had to have his blood sugar tested. This they did by pricking his finger before every meal. He despised that too. He couldn’t do it himself because MS robbed him of dexterity. Poking and prodding had become a daily occurrence in so many ways. Adding one more prick to the pile just…well pissed him off.

With each hospital admission, I would request that they review the medication list and his daily blood sugar and try to get him off the Metformin. In the meantime, he had to stay on that god awful diet and be prick insulted.

I won’t lie. I’d bring contraband into the hospital. I’d bring sugar for his tea. I’d bring hoagies and Peppermint Patties. Yeah, I did it. Sue me. If I could find one less thing to make his life miserable, I would do it. Because, by the way, he was NOT diabetic. Oh that.

I lobbied for that damn Metformin to go away with doctors in hospitals, doctors in nursing homes, doctors in rehab centers, and doctors’ offices. I even got some doctors to agree.

But here’s the rub.

Once a drug is on your list of meds at a hospital and you go back to the same hospital again and again, they never change that drug list. I’m pretty sure it takes an Act of Congress to make that change. Pretty sure Congress hasn’t agreed on anything since the 1800’s.

I went so far as to  change hospitals and was successful for a few days, until they decided he needed a heart healthy diet. It stopped the pricks (in so many ways) but he still couldn’t have sugar in his tea.

She could be 100 years old!
She could be 100 years old!

Yesterday, on a long drive to the airport during rush hour, I heard Robin on the Howard Stern show (yes, you now know one of my dirty little secrets….I love Howard) report that a new drug may help us to live to 120 years old!! Howard loved that idea, if you are lucky to be healthy and enjoy another 50 or 60 years.

This miracle drug is…………..you guessed it…………….Metformin. If you can navigate your healthcare or you want to live in a world of pricks.

“You Just have to Laugh…..”

© 2015 Cathy Sikorski