So, I've Got That Going For Me.

Wednesday, July 1, 2015

It's What I Do

I posted what I thought was an accurate Cliff's Notes Version yesterday. Then today I thought I'd plump it up a bit with more fun details (in red).
So this will be what I hope is a funny look at my day yesterday. A friend of mine said "I'm sorry you had to go through this". I didn't have to "go through" anything other than sitting on a chair for 7 hours listening to mom repeat herself and teaching myself how to plug and unplug all of the wires she was hooked up to. I actually learned a lot, self diagnosed a current issue I have, and concluded that it wouldn't matter what insurance I am paying through the nose for, it would suck equally. The whole industry is a freaking debacle.

When we were kids, my mom would do something goofy like put the iced tea in the cupboard, and she'd say "I think I've had a stroke."

Kryssi Martin A)Kaiser sucks. This is an ongoing theme in my life.

Like · Reply · 1 · 16 hrs
Kryssi Martin B) Mom called an ambulance this morning that took her to Swedish, even though she said "I have Kaiser, take me to Lutheran". When I arrived at Swedish---before the ambulance, which I had to flag down because they missed her house---she had her driver's license, Kaiser card and two pieces of paper out. One had written on it mine and my sister's names with our phone numbers. The other said "I was feeling dizzy, I was afraid I was going to pass out. I called 911".Just in case she passed out before they got there she was ready. I said "I'll take you to Lutheran mom, don't pay for an ambulance" but she was determined. She said you get quicker care if you come in an ambulance. FORESHADOWING.

Like · Reply · 16 hrs
Kryssi Martin She had been up since four am very dizzy and thought she was going to pass out. She called me and I got there before the ambulance. She was on the phone with the ambulance when I got there (7.15ish?)

Like · Reply · 16 hrs
Kryssi Martin We went to Swedish Mom in the ambulance, me in my car. I arrived at the ER ten minutes before the ambulance. Mom said they had to wait in line behind several other ambulances before she was unloaded.

Like · Reply · 16 hrs · Edited
Kryssi Martin We left Swedish at 3.30 pm.

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Kryssi Martin In between it was sort of -ish determined that the likely cause of her severe dizzy spell was the fact that she had taken herself off of one of her meds---(Silixa, Cinemax)---cold turkey. On the ambulance ride in mom couldn't remember any of her meds. She'd written them down somewhere, but did not bring them, once they looked them up and told her the name of the med, she kept forgetting so we just called in "cinemax"Which is stated in bold print never to do according to whatever the nurse looked up, but mom swears "IT DIDN'T SAY ANYWHERE NOT TO STOP SUDDENLY". I know not to stop any med cold turkey and I'm in theatre for pete's sake. So they gave her an IV, put her back on the Cinemax, gave her drugs for nausea and dizziness, said they were checking her in, then said Kaiser wouldn't approve a check in but would approve an MRI, then they were checking her in, Then they asked if she wanted the MRI

We're letting patients decide what they need?
so she asked "what for" and they said "stroke" and she stuck out her tongue and said "Say a simple sentance" and put her hands over her head and said no thank you, can I not have the MRI i feel better. Mom spent most of our 7 hours repeating herself, and repeating the stroke test which only made me think she'd had a stroke. Except she kept passing the stroke test. She said she did it in the ambulance as well.Along the way she was walked down the halll several times, I had to take a nurse hostage to get her IV unplugged Mom hit her "call" button to no avail. I went into the empty hall which made no sense as every ER room had a patient in it, all elderly women with their husbands. I went to the nurse's station where there were at least 30 people, all clearly deeply immersed in working on charts or on phones dealing with insurance, or on computers, I had to wrench someone away to sheepishly ask if they could unplug mom's IV so she could pee. I had figured out how to unplug everything e baed on past bathroom adventures when nobody answers the call button. I'm not sure why they have it. at one point there were three call lights on in our little hall of four rooms. I almost went in to see what I could do, as nursess were working, doctor's were not present and two administrators just strolled past with their coffee.so she could use the bathroom, Kaiser sent in THEIR Doc because clearly the ER doc at Swedish is a 'tard, We didn't even see a doctor until 1pm. The PA was around-ish, we saw the nurse more than any one, and she was clearly overwhelmed.I learned how to unplug and plug everything back in so she could pee because nobody works at Swedish, she asked the same questions multiple times and told the same stories because her brain was fuzzy.
Kryssi Martin In short, I just spent 7 hours in a crowded ER with Dory from "Finding Nemo". If I check my texts I can clock how long it was between each nurse/ PA visit, but I would estimate an hour. When they said they were checking her in the PA said "The hospital doesn't have any open beds, so we'll check you in and you'll just chill here for ten hours or so." UMMMM....I'm sorry, am I in America? Yep, that was some "quick, emergency" care.

Like · Reply · 16 hrs
Also, I started thinking maybe mom had a small stroke. She was definitely not firing on all cylinders, but I couldn't see what an MRI saying 'Yep, it was a stroke" could prove other than "Yep, it was a stroke". "Was" being the operative tense. Except she passed the repeated stroke tests by sticking out her tongue. Maybe a better test would be to give her a pitcher of iced tea and watch where she puts it.
Kryssi Martin She's home and in bed. You can text her. She may not reply, she's been up since four. She needs to sleep.

Like · Reply · 16 hrs
Kryssi Martin C) Kaiser sucks.Swedish is not a "Kaiser" hospital, you have to go to Lutheran or St. Joe's for Kaiser. Which is phenomenally convenient for those not living downtown or in Wheatridge. But the PA and Nurse both said there was a "Kaiser Doc" on staff at Swedish, and I guess it's his job to determine if you should be admitted. Because he knows more than the ER doc? So another hour of waiting for a "Kaiser Doc" to examine mom, and to make the same determination that the ER doc and PA made: Whatever it was has passed, putting the med back helped and MRI's are expensive but you can have one if you'd like. *** Both the nurse and the PA rolled their eyes at the word "Kaiser" and the PA said "We have a Kaiser Doc on staff, we're used to dealing with them." She seemed to think she knew how to word it so they would admit mom, but she was wrong. If they had taken her to Lutheran, they would have done the ER there and then transferred her to St Joe's for admittance, if they had room. Because that's just good Business.

Like · Reply · 16 hrT
The nurse (who looked like a 60 year old Chelsea Handler and was my favorite) said they get all the "neurology" patients at Swedish because that's their strength. So that's cool, as long as you don't have Kaiser, apparently. According to my mom's neighbor, whose daughter is a nurse, Lutheran is known for "being terrible", and from personal experience I know St. Joe's is too small and they boot you out fast to get the bed.
FYI DO NOT GO TO ST ANTHONY'S NO MATTER WHAT YOUR INSURANCE IS IT WON'T MATTER. THEY FUNCTION AS IF THEY ARE A FOR PROFIT BUSINESS. DO NOT GO THERE!!
Kryssi Martin D) It's possible Swedish sucks as well. Maybe they' re just HIDEOUSLY understaffed. It is unconscionable that a civilian (me) was walking into a room with a call light button on to see if I could help because nobody else----not a nurse, PA, Doc or administrator---could be bothered. The nurse must've seen me as she came out of nowhere to help. Maybe they have a "malpractice suit" radar. So if you are in an ER and nobody's responding to your call, have your friend go wander into the next room. That'll get their attention. I kinda want to know what would have happened if I had continued. I eavesdropped and all the woman wanted was her bed adjusted and a blanket. I could have done that. She was like 90, dude. ALSO I am positive there was ONE ER Doc. ONE. 20 nurses, a few PA's and one ER doc, plus the "Kaiser Doc" but he wasn't helping unless you were a Kaiser patient. It was crazy pants.

Like · Reply · 16 hrs
Kryssi Martin Scene.

Like · Reply · 16 hrs
Tracy Wyckoff Fischer Thank you!!!! Dory? Just keep swimming?

Like · Reply · 16 hrs

Kryssi Martin Mostly because she kept asking the same questions, forgetting she'd already asked. I'd say "mom, that's the third time we've had this conversation, do you not remember?"

Like · 16 hrs

FOLLOW UP Mom was able to get a hold of her neurologist via email, as all Kaiser docs function only via email. Nobody uses a phone and if it's an emergency, well....call an ambulance. Anyway, the Neurologist said she doubts the entire episode was the result of stopping Cinemax. So off to the MRI we will go...
I would switch insurances if I thought the private option was any better. I used to have it, but switched when Jim was unemployed so he could be on my policy--Kaiser was less expensive than the other choice back then. which has its own issues with "In Network" docs only. I pay over $600 a month for shitty insurance, and I have only two options through school "Shitty Kaiser" or "Shitty Private". Thanks to Obama, I'm now paying even more for worse care.
For those who do not know, Kaiser was forced to take on new customers when Obamacare was passed. No FUNDING to help them handle it, they were just told: you have to do this now. Over night they were overwhelmed with seven thousand new patients they do not have the phone staff to handle or the doctors. They were forced to change their system to accommodate the volume without the money to hire more staff, so people like me who have been a customer for years can't get through at all. These are facts, guys, look them up. Don't yell at me for being Anti-Obama, just look up the facts. The Docs now spend a total of ten minutes with each patient. The Kaiser psychiatrist saw my daughter for fifteen minutes once every month and made psychological and medical and pharmacutical decisions based on those fifteen minutes. We had to pay an outside Pysc $150 an hour to untangle the mess the Kaiser Psych had made. Again, these are facts. And the psych we went to is outside all insurance systems because she was disgusted with them.

Monday, June 29, 2015

The Carnage of Gatos Diablo '15

29 June 2015

In past summers I have enjoyed sitting on my back deck with my morning coffee. Smelling the Colorado air, listening to the birds happily chirp away, wondering if the peach tree will come back this year. I even put a hammock back there.

Last summer, I scaled my backyard respites back because every morning when I awoke, I was greeted with beheaded bunnies strewn across the porch outside the sliding glass door. And rats, and mice and birds. All beheaded. All strewn on the concrete porch, next to the deck and in front of the sliding glass door. Placed precisely as if for display.
I know my cats are killers. We have tried the bell thing but they just take off the collars. But for years I never saw the carnage, because they had a pact with the foxes next door: "We'll kill it and leave it on our porch, you can eat it." It was a beautiful example of nature in balance.
But then last year, the fox den disappeared. There have been at least eight dens that I counted on our block alone. But last year, no pups. No adults. No dens. Gone. Vanished. I haven't seen a fox up here in two years.
With nature out of balance, the cats began killing for, what I can only guess is, sport.
I would pull out my garden hose every morning and wash off the patio like a Jersey Bodega owner. I stopped walking into the yard as I feared stepping on severed heads.
This year I have only two words: The Hell?
The escalation in violence is unsettling. Instead of ripping off the bunnies' heads, the cats have started bringing them, alive and chewed up, into the house.
Last year I assumed they were leaving the heads around as either a warning to other cat gangs, or as an invitation for the fox to return.
Now I believe they are warning me.
In May I found one terrified baby bunny downstairs in Jim's bathroom, cowering in the corner. He seemed unscathed and I set him free.
A week later we found another one downstairs, again. This one was wonky on her feet (we don't actually know if they are male or female, we just decide based on personalities) so we kept her. Genoa insisted that she was too shaken up to return to the wild, and it had at that point been raining for weeks and we weren't sure it was best to set her free in the rain. Which is stupid, she's a bunny, they live outdoors. We kept her over night and she died. No marks on her, we think the dog barked and scared her to death. Apparently baby bunnies have a self destruct mechanism that engages when they are too scared. It saves them the pain of being ripped apart.
While we were in Florida, my sister found another bunny at the bottom of the stairs. This one was dazed and also had no exterior wounds, and made friends with the lizard before being set free. I was not here, and therefore not available to make the official determination of male or female.
This morning I had to shoo Strumph away from a bunny she was chewing on in the rock garden. Strumph seemed to be playing, the bunny was not. The poor thing literally had its ass chewed, but was otherwise OK. I had to spray Strumph with the spray bottle we use for the lizard and then forcibly grab her by the scruff and chuck her in the house, (while navigating around unidentifiable guts), where she immediately started a fight with the other cats. Maybe they have a steroid problem?
Worse than the beheading has been the disemboweling.
Some mornings there may not even been a part of the animal, only its internal organs, which the flies are congregating on, plopped on the patio. Splat.
One of the cats puked in the house the other day, and when Harper cleaned it up she declared "there's part of a rat or something here."
I am not sure if the gang of Gatos Diablo are now just gutting their prey for fun or if they are serial killers who are devolving. ( I watch a lot of Criminal Minds.)
I like the name of the gang "Gatos Diablo" even though I'm pretty sure it's grammatically incorrect. If it's incorrect, they would tell me, Every morning when Jim gets up and the gang meows at him he says "You know I don't speak Spanish".
And because I don't speak Spanish, nor can I decipher the symbolism of disemboweling, I have no idea what the cats are warning me about. Are they dissatisfied with their brand of cat food? Am I to feed them fresh salmon? How can I fix it if I don't know what "it" is?
For the most part they leave their catch on the patio by the sliding door, not the deck itself. The deck, picnic table and grill seem to be off limits for some reason. I could, technically, have coffee on that side, but that's where the sun is strongest in the morning, it's more conducive to evening wine than morning coffee.
My own fears of catching the hantavirus ( HI KEN) or that other one you contract from being bitten by a flea from a dead animal, have been exacerbated. With the carnage mounting daily, I am hesitant to hose off the patio for fear I will disturb the fleas, and one will bite me, and I will die. My hammock was moved to the back of the yard for mowing, and I won't cross the yard to retrieve it, not even with shoes on. There are too many rotting corpses and internal organs out there that I know about, how many never made it to the patio to be hosed off? It's a Big Death Yard back there. I haven't enjoyed my morning coffee outside at home in two years. I'm cowering at the kitchen counter, looking longingly at the sunshine outside as I type this and drink my coffee.
   This morning as I rolled the lizard out to his sun spot, on the other side of the deck, the "safe" side by the grill, I was horrified to discover another pile of guts. In the Safe Zone!
What does it mean?

Harper just handed me Strumph and said "explain to her she can't just beat up the other cats."
I held the tiny kitty and looked into her eyes. And I said "stop being a bully". But she just blinked at me. She does not understand Because I don't speak Spanish!
I'm doomed.

Saturday, May 23, 2015

             There are an abundance of viewpoints on the latest Education Debacle.
             I am of course referring to the current calamity that began last year in DougCo, and continues in Jeffco. Since I know teachers in both districts and am myself a teacher, I feel I get to express my own viewpoint.

           Bull Shit.

          It is Bull Shit and it needs to stop.

          Ask DougCo teachers who have left DougCo why they left.

         Ask Jeffco teachers why they are frustrated and fear the future of their district.
Listen to them when they answer you.

           Do not think that, because you are a parent with a job that pays well, or you volunteered in the classroom that you know better than the educators. You Do Not.

          Ask. Listen. And then step up and get involved. With a fully loaded, informed cannon aim it at the appropriate target and light the fuse.

Gary Wyckoff, Very Important Guy

So I will depart from my education blatherings for a bit.
My dad.
So we have my dad over for dinner once in a while, and occasionally make him meet us at our pub. He's 72...73? He has CPOD and refuses to go for walks or lose weight. Several years ago they thought he had congestive heart failure and he just shrugged. He's that guy.
Every time we meet with him, I use my Google Machine until my phone battery is dead trying to piece together whatever movie or actor he's trying to remember. He gets the first name but not the last name, mixes up the movies--it's actually a lot of fun. Once he kept insisting that Clint Eastwood was in Wagon's Ho or Wagon's West and that Lee Marvin was in it with him and, embarrassingly, I didn't have to look that one up. I just said "Dad, that's Paint Your Wagon." Poor kryssi, sad sad sad.
So last night at the pub was no different. But it's how we got there. We wound up talking about Hawaii, and the once in a lifetime trip we were able to take to Kauai in 2007, with my inheritance from grandma W. I was describing the water falls on Waimea and the zip line, and dad perked up and said "That sounds like where they shot Donovan's Reef".
"Dad, have you been to Kauai?"
"No but that waterfall sounds like just like he one he carried the gal up...what was her name?"
So we had to split the conversation between me looking up Donovan's Reef on my Google Machine and Jim and I both asking dad about when he was stationed at Pearl Harbor, at first trying to determine if he had gone over to Kauai and forgotten.
Turns out I'm not the only person my grandfather W neglected to tell that we had a relative on the Arizona. My dad, who was stationed there in 61/62, did not know, either.
Because why would Grandpa talk about a cousin from Nebraska he rarely saw, even if he was on the Arizona when it was bombed? He had cows to milk, and one cow and one pig to slaughter a year, and he lived in what my dad calls "the basement".
Basements have a structure above them. Grandma and Grandpa lived in a hole in the ground for years until they could save the money to buy a house that was then trucked over from Limon and set down. Literally, a hole. They had a piece of tarred wood they pulled over the opening.This was a step up from the sod house my grandma had been raised in, also on the property. And dad and Uncle Carlton used to strip the tar off of their "roof" and chew it. "It was like chewing gum" he says. (kryssi takes another long gulp of her amber.)
So there wasn't a lot of quiet, by the fire, pipe smoking book reading family time for him to chat up his kids.
Dad was at Pearl Harbor in 1961/62 before the memorial was done being built, so he did not see the name "R.L. Wyckoff" on the wall like I did in '83 and '07. He said they polished the brass and the dock walkway out to the ship. He said there were a few markers, but not the memorial I have stood on, twice.
I pulled up Donovan's Reef and exclaimed---as I was truly surprised---that it was shot on Kauai and in Waimea!
The man knew the waterfall without having seen it?
Dad took the opportunity to also explain that the one cow they slaughtered a year was shot in the head by Uncle Howard, who kept the head to make head cheese, which dad tried once but didn't like. (The head cheese he tried and did not like, not shooting the cow.)
If dad had remained in the service he would have been around when they finished the memorial, and also likely sent to Vietnam, but he was given an honorable medical discharge when he was diagnosed with bone cancer. It was in his elbow, and in 1962 what they did for that was remove your elbow. You can't be in the Navy any more if you are missing a joint, apparently. So he became a Mail Carrier, which is a career in which you need an elbow,and did just fine.
So now he's a retired Mail Carrier with two pensions--military and postal, something I suspect that doesn't exist any more---living in a tiny trailer, refusing to get a dog or go for walks, driving around his 20 year old Town Car, having brunch with these guys, bowling with those guys, meeting the other guys at the VFW and firing a rifle at military funerals at Ft. Logan. Except this Monday, when he's shooting at a memorial in Morrison, and occasionally Fridays when he meets his daughter and son in law at the pub. And a few Saturdays when he drives to Fredrick with his bestie Uncle Bob (Uncle Bob of "c'mere, I'll cut off your ears and make tacos out of them") and they sit in his other son in laws Barber Shop and guffaw and chuck and get their hairs cut.
And occasionally, while at the pub, he has to take a call. It takes him a few seconds to determine if his phone is ringing or if he's being texted. If it's a text, he takes thirty seconds to reply. He only replies "yes" or "no" to texts, so don't complicate your life by giving him too much to read. Sometimes it's a voicemail, and he has to remember how to retrieve that. He has a flip phone from 1990 and is just as delighted as a kid with a new flip phone in 1990 when he makes it work.
His incoming call last night was from the woman who sets his Firing Schedule (I dunno what it's called, that's what I call it), and she was confirming that he was going to be in Morrison on Monday, and adding an additional funeral tomorrow (today, Saturday). Without a calendar in front of him, and likely no calendar on his flip phone, he said loudly "I'll be there. I'll put it on my calendar."
Is that living the dream or what?

Sunday, March 8, 2015

Ageism and bifocals

So Madonna stated in some music type article that ageism is wrong and she is a victim.
As much as I want to giggle at that, I read the article. She made exactly two statements about ageism, and the rest were about teaching her kids safe sex and her album. So clearly it's high on her priority list.
My sister used to work for a Doc at Northwestern University whose clients were older. She carried a bag that said: Age Is Not A Disease and because she worked in it, she had and still has many passionate opinions about ageism.
My mom was pushed into early retirement due to her age,and the accompanying health issues she battled. She was very capable at her job---arguably one of the best--but her age and ability demanded she be paid more, and someone younger can move more quickly and do more jobs for less money.
And here we are at my job, a teacher, where they do not openly say anything about your age, but it is frequently suggested that after a certain age you should take early retirement, mostly so they can hire a younger teacher that they can pay less, who doesn't know any better, and on whom they can load more duties.
Which is not ageism. But if you have a mind to do so, you can call the union and sue the district for ageism. You would probably win.
I am not a feminist. I am not an anti Ageist Activist. I am simply 49 years old and I feel like I'm 69 and I'm tired of feeling that way.
I am also, quite likely, menopausal.
There went the two guys who read my blog.
And I have, sadly, suggested that an elder teacher in our building retire becuase it's clear he's "done". But is that his age, or the mileage?
I pretty much feel "done" every year after the musical. I blame my age, but really it's the mileage. I hate that feeling.
The issue was severely exacerbated last fall when I went down with bronchitis for two weeks. It effected my vision, and it still is not ok. Ask anyone who has received a text from me how good my eyes are. At the moment I am writing this at the "LARGE" setting because I can't see.
It is not the arthritis, I've had that for years. It's not the weight, I've got that under control. I also have the weird allergies and asthma that attacked me in my late 30's under control.It isn't the lower back pain, the swollen joints, the knees that sound like they have ground glass in them: years. Wrinkles? Gimme a break, they prove I've lived: character lines. Stretch marks? Battle scars.
It is not being able to see well.
It is the bifocals.
That is what is making me feel old.
I haven't read a book for leisure in a year. I love books, I Love Reading, but my bifocals make it impossible to find a comfortable position with the "sweet spot", so I have to read without any glasses, and I get a headache and that makes me angry...and then I'm grumpy all day. So I watch a lot of TV now.
Wanna feel old? Sit in bed on your day off and watch reruns because you can't see well enough to read!! I'm not supposed to behave like this until I'm in assisted living! The Hell?
A Couple of years ago Jim tried to hike Bierstedt. We are not those people, and the lightning started right at he reached the summit, so he turned around. I didn't even make it that far, my arthritis won't make it past the boulder garden. I admire the hell out of him for that. He just suddenly started making statements about a Bucket List at 50, like he was not going down that easily.
I can barely drive unless I know the route, I can't see street signs. Forget about hiking, I can't see where I'm walking. I'm terrified daily that I'm going to misstep on the stairs.
Jim and I have talked about how many years I actually have left teaching theatre. Soon after I started at LHS I developed acrophobia, I actually start to get dizzy on the ladder. I stopped hanging lights four years ago, I can't be in the grid. It's only 12' from the ground and I'm swaying and graying out! OLD WOMAN.
It will not be long before I have to stop teaching tap dancing to my intro kids. Every time I do I come home limping, swollen knees and feet, mumbling at myself. My days of psuedo choreography are over, I cannot move the way I used to. And....our makeup is always a hot mess, because I cannot see from the center of the house to the stage well enough to determine how it looks.
These are things. They are real. If I am replaced by a younger person, would I cry "ageism"? Because the facts are that, due to my age, there are things I cannot do any more. Whether that's fair or not, It Is.
My friend Brian Freeland once told me that "Theatre is for the young". This was a direct comment regarding me not getting cast. I was too old, fifteen years ago. What does that make me now?
The Crypt Keeper.
Now, Madonna. She still moves well. She works out and can do her job as well as she could at 30. However, there is a phrase Stacy and Clinton used called "Age Appropriate Dress". Regardless of how great you look---and she does, she looks better at 56 than I did at 20--Shouldn't you alter your costumes a bit to indicate your maturity? Maybe to demonstrate that you've learned something over the years? At what age can you say "I am done proving my point" and just accept that you've proven it? Unfortunately in entertainment, so many women feel pressure to stay young, to look younger, blah blah blah. But those who refuse to play the game and rise above are generally regarded as Goddesses: Meryl Streep. Helen Mirren. Susan Sarandon. Dame Judy Dench. Beautiful, talented and sexy women who are done proving anything to anyone. And not a one in a leopard spank.
I am not sure "ageism" is what Madonna is up against. I think she's off the mark on that one.
Ageism is what I am up against. However, I am doing it to myself. Aside from harassing me pretty regularly about texts and rehearsal notes, nobody has said "You are too old to do this" but me. I am ageisming myself. And I should probably stop. Frankly it's making me grumpy.
We just pulled off the most beautiful musical LHS has seen to date, and it absolutely repelled negativity. So my grumpy was redirected to the classroom and my husband. Neither group is happy about that. Also, I sit instead of stand during class. I don't necessarily need to, I just do. When I sit I feel like my Nana, hands in my lap. I feel like my Nana. My Nana lived for over 80 years, I should not feel like my Nana, I'm 49!
In conclusion, all in all, in summation, overall, I think we do this to ourselves. For whatever reason, we either misname or misunderstand or give up.
For a woman whose theatre batttle cry is "Never Give Up, Never Surrender", It appears that I have done both.
Maybe I should knock it off.
Maybe I should go purchase a pair of leopard spanx and a torpedo boustier.