He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. ~ Psalm 147:3

Archive for the ‘Humorous Memes’ Category

Life is Tough. It’s Tougher if You’re Old . . .

So, my plan was to help Buck pick up all the limbs in the yard . . . lots and lots of limbs. Big limbs. Little limbs. Way too many limbs for a young person, let alone a shriveled up bag of bones. After thirty minutes of bending and stooping and sweat burning my eyes, I quit!

Not my thing anymore!

Will never be my thing again!


I feel like crying.

NO! I feel like cutting down every blasted tree, pulling up every blade of grass and pouring cement!

Then I’ll cry.

A deep, overflowing river.

Long gone are the days of working in the yard from sun up till sundown, jogging twenty miles a week, cleaning the house from top to bottom, and working five days a week. Never again will I run up a flight of stairs, bend over and touch my toes, and press a hundred pounds.

Wait. When did I ever press a hundred pounds?

I’ve never been weak and helpless. I’ve always been able to pull my weight and somebody else’s too. Even as a kid I was strong as an ox. Stubborn as a mule, too. But we won’t go there.

I think you get my drift, especially if you’re where I am at the moment . . . old and tired and frustrated and discouraged and weak and puny and . . .

Stop! The list is getting too long!

When did it happen? When did old age wrap its bony fingers around my neck and choke the life out of me? When did it break my back? When did it chop off my arms and legs?

When I started jogging at thirty-six, I assured myself and everyone that I’d keep on jogging even in my seventies. I stopped at fifty-eight.

One of my many regrets. 

I did take it back up when I was seventy-one. But it was never the same and after my back injury, I had to stop. Even walking makes my back scream. But, occasionally I tell it to shut up and I do it anyway.

So, here I am. Wishing I could do the things I did five years ago and reality laughing like a crazed hyena in my face.

So, back to picking up limbs. Buck finished my job and is mowing, now. He likes to mow. And I’m happy he likes to mow. No. I’m ecstatic he likes to mow. Now, if he just liked doing laundry. And cleaning the house. And taking out the trash . . .


Oh, No! It’s That Time Again!

When I had my first colonoscopy more than eight years ago, I wasn’t surprised when the doctor came to my room and said he couldn’t even begin the procedure because of  a blockage.

I had been sick off and on for months; doubled over with pain and waking up in the middle of the night sick and throwing up and shaking like an earthquake. But, it wasn’t until I saw the blood that I was convinced something was really wrong and finally went to the doctor.

I am a cancer survivor of eight years, now. Thankfully, I didn’t have to do radiation or chemo of any kind. After seeing what that poison did to my sister, I wasn’t sure I would even consent to it. I’m just happy I didn’t have to decide one way or the other.

However, it was a totally different story for my husband, Buck. He was 68 and had never had a colonoscopy. He wasn’t having any problems, but since he was long over due, I convinced him to talk to the doctor and have him set up an appointment for one.

After the procedure, the doctor’s news couldn’t have been more alarming if he had delivered it wearing a black hooded cape and holding a scythe.

I couldn’t believe it! You’re supposed to have symptoms of colon cancer, right? You’re supposed to be sick and throwing up and hemorrhaging, right? This was just a routine check up. He wasn’t supposed to have cancer!

There were polyps. Lots and lots of polyps and several cancerous tumors. The worse the news got the more I wanted to cover my ears and run out the door screaming, “NO! I don’t want to hear it! He’s not gonna die! God, please don’t let him die!”

The doctor removed four feet of his colon, leaving him with only a foot, which was great news considering that the plan was to remove all of it and insert a colostomy bag. But, we were willing to live with whatever it took for him to survive.

Amazingly, twenty pounds of his infected colon was removed and he didn’t have to take one drop of chemo or radiation.

Last week, Buck was put on the survivor’s list at the VA hospital. YAY!

We are both 73. We are both colon cancer survivors. We are both grateful to God and colonoscopies for saving our lives.

Looking at the bright side of colonoscopies, I’ve posted a few humorous memes. But, all jokes aside, get that colonoscopy. It could save your life!

By the way, I have an appointment this week. March 11th, 2020 at 2:30 pm. That means, tomorrow I get to break in my brand new toilet.



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South Texas Watercolor Artist

Corpus Christi, Texas


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He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. ~ Psalm 147:3


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