Tag Archives: Humor

John Friedlich

Chain Letter Health Services

(This is a satire. It is not to be taken seriously and I do not condone this system actually being utilized. The use of any medical treatments without the guidance of a professional medical practitioner can be dangerous. The distribution of prescription drugs by those not licensed to do so is also illegal. It would also put a great many very nice people out of business. That said…)

Want Effective Medical Treatments Quickly and Inexpensively?

No calls to your doctor or office visits required.

Before you become skeptical or think this is another one of those magic bullet promises please read this in entirety.

This is not a commercial promotion. It is not a ploy to get you to purchase the latest sea scum treatment, a new extra strength magnetic defunculator, or a recruitment to have margaritas at a south of the boarder dispensary. It is not an effort to convince you to personally subsidize the impoverished pharmaceutical industry, or a solicitation for the HMO Harry and Louise established when they realized the Republicans knew where the money is.

Its implementation has never been considered for integration into a national health care system. It could offer medical care at significantly reduced cost to consumers while eliminating the insurance industry from its self imposed pivotal role in your life. It would greatly facilitate getting the government and doctors out of the health care business.

This system is not sanctioned by the American Medical Association, the American Hospital Association, the Pharmaceutical Association of America, the American Association of Insurance Underwriters, or the Public Health Department. Need I say more?

Now that you know what it isn’t let me tell you what it did for me and can do for you.

I had grown very frustrated at the lengthy time it took to see physicians and reading all the dog-eared magazines in the waiting rooms. I made endless trips to the pharmacy only to be told that my prescriptions were not ready, and danced with the insurance company way too often. For all that the health care system had to offer, I had spent an inordinate amount of time, energy and money without getting any healthier. Then a letter came introducing me to Chain Health Services (CHS). I too was skeptical, but desperation drove me to giving it a try. That was a month ago. Now I received all my medications and medical supplies delivered to my door at no cost. As an additional benefit I’ve met a lot of wonderful people and gotten a lot of treatment advice. Now I want to share these benefits with others.

Instructions:
1. Go to your medical cabinet and get out 5 prescriptions, medical supplies, or health related pieces of paraphernalia you are no longer use. Send one item to each person on the enclosed list. Also enclose a friendly note and offer related advice. In this way you are offering a medical service. Chain Health Services is a “service,” so you need not worry about Title 18,h sections 1302 NS 1341 of the Postal Lottery Laws that regulate the use of postal services for chain letters.

2. Eliminate the top name on the list (number 1). Move all the names up one and add your name and address to the bottom of the list (number 5).

3. With your name added, send the list and these instructions to 15 people. You are now in the Chain Health Services mail order business.

4. Within a few weeks you will receive all the prescriptions, medical supplies, and health related pieces of paraphernalia you could possible need. Retain a copy of these instructions in case you need any more in the future.

5. Keep a list of all those who send you items. Such a list can be a valuable resource and you can actually sell the names to brokers for extra profits.

Note:
Retain a copy of every letter you send or receive. They will be proof that you are providing a service in case the IRS, Post Office, or other government approach you. Odds are they won’t though since they will be so pleased that you are contributing to this revolutionary approach to health care for all.

Remember:
Chain Health Services can only succeed if you participate. Feel proud that you have been able to do more for advancing health care services than the 103rd and 104th Congress was able to. Please do your part now to become a member of this growing movement. Help return health care to the consumers.

1. Laura Inklesdorf
126 N. Templeton Rd.
Tucson, Az 86024

2. Jeff Brooks
18 Dove Terrace
Seattle, WA 76486

3. Ellen Dickson
42 Hilltop Lane #15
Witchita, KS 61720

4. Donna Finch
84 Riverbottom La.
Richmond, VA 21808

5. Andrew Bates
240 Sandbar Rd.
Duluth, MS 49123

The following testimonials are from satisfied participants in the Chain Health Services system.

Dear Chain Health Services participants,
For many years I had been a very frustrated consumer of traditional health care services. All it did for my was add to my medical problems and drain my bank account. While I have had to driving an 8 year old Yugo the chief executive officer of my HMO drives a brand new Porsche.

Then I tried the alternative route. When I asked my insurance company if they would cover dandelion root suppositories and a magnetic repolarization healing chamber the line went dead. I had to sell my Yugo. I then became a distributor of some all natural products and told lots of people how much they helped me. I think it was really all the walking I was doing until my feet got too soar and I had to stay at home. Finally I became a telephone solicitor, but that was a big improvement because less people hated me and thanks to my insurance company I was accustomed to be hung up on.

Finally a friend introduced me to Chain Health Services. Now I get all the health care products I need for free, but that’s not the best of it. I’ve had to lease a warehouse and I have a lucrative business selling health care products to all the local hospitals. And the chief executive officer of my old HMO gets really miffed when I pass him in my red Ferrari.

Thank you to all those who have taken part in the Chain Health Services system. If anyone considering participating in Chain Health Services wants to speak to me please feel free to call me at the New England Polo Club in Prides Crossing, Massachusetts.

Very sincerely,
Always smiling

To whom it may concern,
For many years I had direct deposit for my payroll check. It didn’t go to the bank at all — it went to my medical insurance company and all those I had purchased medical products and services from. When Mastercard called me to say that my account was past due I told them Blue Cross was supposed to be sending me a reimbursement check and they could call there. The woman laughed and said, “No. They leave everyone on hold the same way we do.” I said, “We can practice what you preach” and left her on hold. I tried 18 more doctors and 74 more treatments before the bank cut me off.

Then one day a letter came about Chain Health Services. I didn’t believe it. I’ve wallpapered my bedroom with all the lottery tickets that never won. A month later some else sent me the same thing. I figured why not; I had several things that had never helped my medical problems. Not long after I sent out my old pills and my letters I was getting every treatment I had ever wondered about. I also started selling my list of names to yacht brokers, vacation clubs, and other lucrative companies. Mastercard now calls me asking if I want a gold card.

Very grateful,
Dan Blake

Dear Friends,
Not long ago I had spent almost an entire afternoon in a waiting room for a 10 minute check up with my doctor, Dr. Dandy. Finally I was brought into an examination room. As the Dr. Dandy whisked in and out some papers fell from his pocket. I picked it up and the first one was about Chain Health Services. The second one was a newsletter about gold futures and the third one was a letter to the hospital about his taking early retirement. I knew he couldn’t be doing that well as a proctologist. When I asked him about it he smiled and said his new career was very much the same, only that it wasn’t patients he was sticking it up the rear end to, but the medical system. He said the income and perks were a lot better and he wouldn’t have to see any more patients.

I decided to scope it out. Sure enough, I found several other very healthy wealthy people who are part of Chain Health Services. I can’t say I have gotten rich from Chain Health Services yet, but I am able to play golf every Tuesday afternoon with Dr. Dandy and tennis on Thursday mornings with him. What’s really nice is that I now get to see him for more than 10 minutes at a time and he never tells me to bend over. Well, not for the same reason.

Thank you Chain Health Services
Jennifer Thompson

Multiple authors

Brainfog Funnies

Today I went into a store (my social outing for the week) and tried on one new shoe (I didn’t have the energy to take both shoes off/on). I walked a few steps over to the uncarpeted floor to make sure it would feel just as comfortable there, and turned around & saw one shoe on the ground by itself.

My thoughts were as follows… ” Why would someone leave one shoe in the middle of the floor?” Then, “That shoe looks familiar… where have I seen it before?” & “Gee it has an insert just like I sometimes wear.” Then I looked down at my feet & at that point realized: “Oh gosh, that’s *my* other shoe.” ~;-D

Suellen

Great story about YOUR shoe…yea, we NEED funny stuff like that… in fact I think we should start a “brain-drain” short story list!!! I thought about that today when I couldn’t find the pencil I just had in my hand…turns out it was in my dish drainer, where you put the silverware!

Gail Dahlen

I catch myself using the remote control to try to turn down the volume of my son’s vocal cords! When my husband catches me, we laugh like it’s a joke, but I actually expected his volume to decrease, and was thinking we needed new batteries!

Cyndi Russell

Even though CFIDS is a SON OF A **#@@ it does occasionally have it amusing moments. Like the other day I went to spray some bug spray on a single roach who had invaded my apartment.

To my amusement after spraying him I noted the roach’s hair appeared to be now held in place. Because I had sprayed him with hair spray by mistake. So now this roach has natural-looking and easy to manage hair with hold that lasts. As a wise person once said, “isn’t that a hoot.”

Jim

Two years ago when we went on vacation I sent postcards to family and friends with my home address. I came home to a mailbox full of mail for my friends and family waiting for me. LOL!

Kathy Peters

I haven’t had a real classic one lately to start off with — so I’ll dig up an old one: going up to lie down with the newspaper in one hand and a full cup of coffee in the other, and figuring out too late that the hand you use to turn the doorknob has to be the one with the newspaper, not the one with the cup of coffee …

Didn’t hurt — just made one hell of a mess. That’s also what happens when you pour the coffee before remembering to put a cup on the saucer first …

What HURT was when I was demonstrating for my daughter how to make great corn bread (a couple of weeks ago), which means you have to heat an iron skillet (or in this case my favorite porcelain-covered iron skillet) in a 400 degree oven, put the skillet on the stove, put a little bacon grease on it, pour the batter in (it sizzles), and then put it back in the stove. Got the first part okay — used two hands and two oven mitts. But when I went to put the bacon grease on it, I grabbed the handle with my left hand.

Now, you have to understand that not ONLY do I have slow reactions from CFIDS, but ALSO my left hand doesn’t have all the sensation it should because of an accident years ago. So I was going about my business when I realized my daughter was screaming at me incoherently, and I looked down and realized I was holding a 400 degree handle, and I dropped the skillet (fortunately didn’t hurt it). Then I realized this was going to hurt, so I shoved my hand in cold water. (And left it in ice cold water for the rest of the evening.)

Dang thing never hurt after the first day, but it’s still peeling … I look at it from time to time and say to myself, Huh. That looks strange. Wonder why …

Mary Schweitzer

I have trouble remembering the calendar year. This can get mighty sticky when trying to write checks.

Not quite as funny to me, I can’t prepare the simplest meal in my kitchen without either cutting myself on a kitchen knife or burning my hands. I could function with greater safety at the age of five than now. I forget to use potholders or have them in my hand and “miss” the spot. I tried slicing a slippery wet Vidalia onion yesterday, and, yes, sliced my finger instead. Those onions are supposed to be white! Last week, I decided to shave my legs again, after some hiatus, with a safety razor, of course, and I actually cut into a vein. I almost painted my bathroom red to match the mess I made, but ended up cleaning it instead.

What I need is a padded cell sans knives, heating elements, or razors, but, of course, WITH tv, music, books, and a great view. Do they have those?

Elaine Katz

I too write checks incorrectly as to year. And I too have developed motor skill problems via this DD…. I have dropped boiling water on myself too many times while being stubborn & trying to help cook. I have also burned myself (forgetting what a pot holder was) and cut myself way too many times while trying to help prepare food (and have scars to show for it). I buy knives & utensils with rubber handles whenever I see them (Farberware has some), it helps a bit (we even have one pot with it – which is too heavy for me to lift anyway).

Then there is my egg story….. One day I was determined to make a favorite sandwich of mine all by myself (it is very hard for me to ask for help, it feels like I am a burden). The sandwich entails a fried egg, and there were no eggs left, but – duh uh, I only found that out after the other preparations were underway for the sandwich. So my Fiancee took me to the supermarket & we bought a few additional items. He doesn’t want me to carry anything (for obvious reasons) so when we got home, he grabbed all the packages quickly, so I would not try to help & he accidentally dropped the eggs in the driveway…. Well I was sympathetic, as that is typical of something that would now happen to me, and we just went back to the store to purchase another dozen eggs. Then upon arriving home, I tried to finish my sandwich & take an egg out of the refrigerator. Well, plop it went onto the kitchen floor which he had just washed….. Gee was I glad I was sympathetic to him earlier… and we both laughed at the predicament & he helped to clean it up. OY…. a sense of humor is imperative!

In that ‘vein’ I hope you don’t take to shaving your arms, as the emergency room personnel may think you ‘slipped’ on purpose! !;-D Besides, red is not ‘in’ for bathrooms….

Suellen

My personal favorite with checks is when I have to pay my hubby’s business bills on his account…well…I’m supposed to fill out everything and then he signs it. (yeah, right) I’m busily figuring out who gets how much..make the lists…then fill out the check and SIGN it. oooops…so, I tell my self “that was REALLY stupid”, void the check, go to the next one and do the same thing again! I have to actually put a sticky note on the signature part that says, “DO NOT SIGN”. THEN I remember not to sign 🙂

Oh and then there was the time I put the checks in the wrong envelopes….that was NOT fun 🙂 But….when I called to try to straighten it out…I said it was the “new” accountant 🙂 Think anyone believed me?

Muerial Sorenson

The way I usually mess checks up is I put the wrong things in the wrong places — like my signature where the amount is supposed to go, for example.

Mary Schweitzer

Off our kitchen, perched atop a front-loading dryer, sits this wonderful hot plate in the form of a large thick pyrex glass tray, a great gift from my parents years ago. It sits there still, but no longer plugged in for easy access. As with your stove, folks kept laying thing down on it, and then somehow that little knobby would get turned a few degrees, and voila! Baked catalogs, braised plastics, toasty folded laundry, hot tv program schedules, and the like.

Back to cooking. Opening cans, say, of soup, is one of my specialties. When I’m eating alone, there is soup left in the pot after I’ve helped myself. So I usually figure I’ll set the burner to “warm” just in case I want seconds. Eight hours later it gets discovered, usually by my husband. Makes a great coating for the inside of stainless (oxymoron) steel pots.

The spouse usually brings it to my attention with a gingerly, “Now don’t get mad, but I need to tell you something” approach. Of course I only get mad at me. But I really watch for those absent-minded things that normies sometimes do, and BOY, when he does one, I gleefully give him, the “I need to tell you something” approach. In the past, I’d let those things go (like catching him leaving the house with a stove burner still on). Not any MO-ORE! I call it “brain fog’s revenge.”

Elaine Katz

I LOVE it!! I do that stuff all the time. Like putting my sweater on in the car after fastening my seat belt….getting to my destination and not being able to figure out why I can’t get out of the car…(couldn’t see seat belt with sweater covering it…never mind that I could FEEL it holding me in…)

The other day opened little packets of cat food and instead of dumping the food in the storage tin and the wrapping in the trash can…I put the wrappers in the storage tin and threw away the cat food….good thing we can laugh about these things.

I wanted my husband to bring me a pain pill (Motrin) and said “Honey, I need a valentine.” (Maybe I’ll get one this year…) In church someone asked me where my daughter was. I told them she was in the check-out lane… isn’t that what the FOYER is called???

Debi Savage

So, here’s one of mine. My husband gets this new (manly-man) truck and decides to take my car one day, leaving that damn truck with me. Well, I had to go somewhere really important (can’t remember where, but if I drove that truck.. it had to be important.) Now, I get in that truck, start her up and the windshield wipers are going….back and forth. It’s a beautiful, sunny day, so ok, I’ll just turn them off… Well, I couldn’t figure how to do that particular task. I pushed, pulled, cursed, every possible thing I saw, but nothing made them stop. To make a long story short, I had to drive everywhere I went that day with, you guessed it, the wipers just going…back and forth and on high speed, I might add. So, I decided that if I squirted the windshield washer thingy, a lot, maybe everyone at the red lights wouldn’t notice and think me totally wacko. Needless to say, as soon as I pulled up in the driveway, and tried one more time, THEN I discovered the secret. I still, to this day, hate that damn truck.

Sandra Ponce

My daughter had just been accepted and attended her first day at a new private school. I was driving her home, lecturing her about the importance of paying attention, not zoning out as she was prone to do. I advised her to sit in the front row to help her remember to pay attention to the teacher. In the midst of my lecture, I pulled in to the bank to get some cash at the machine and told her to wait in the car, I would just be a minute.

After getting the money, I was studying my receipt as I walked back to the car. I opened the door, got in, put the key in the ignition and it would not fit. I heard a gasp and looked over at the passenger seat. There was seated an enormous Hispanic woman with her hand over her mouth and her other hand crossing herself and she was muttering in Spanish and looking absolutely terrified! Needless to say, I was in the wrong car! It wasn’t even the same make as mine.

I scrambled out, apologizing, mentioning my new glasses, etc. When I got to my car, my daughter was rolling with laughter, pointing at me and laughing so hard she couldn’t speak. When she finally got herself under control, she asked me to please continue my lecture on paying attention, especially the part about sitting in the right seat ….but then she started laughing all over again! I know she will never let me forget it.

Farraday McGuthrie

Who said Brain Fog can’t be a wee bit funny – just gotta laugh sometimes, or it is too easy to 🙁

Suellen

Most of this exchange took place on the SASYFRAS email support list.

John Friedlich

Justice

I marched myself down to the sea
And waded in up to my knee
Then went deeper–up to my chest
Until a shark became quite a pest
It ate my head, my foot, my knee
Ha! That damn shark came down with M.E.
 

Reproduced with permission from CATHARSIS, volume 21, February 1995.

John Friedlich

A CFS Chain Letter

To whom it may concern:

This chain letter was started by a person like yourself, in the hope that it might bring relief and a bit of fun to other people afflicted with CFIDS/FMS.

Unlike most chain letters, this letter doesn’t cost anything. Simply send a copy of this letter to five other PWCs who’s lives have become equally dull and who are of the same sex as yourself. Then bundle up your spouse or significant other and send him/her to the person whose name is at the top of the list, and add your name to the bottom of it.

When your name comes to the top of the list, you will receive 6,478 companions … some of them will be dandies!

Have faith – do not break the chain. One person broke this chain and got his spouse back!

Sincerely,
Another exhausted PWC

P.S. At the time of this writing, a friend of mine received 163 lovers. Boy did she have a CFIDS flare! They buried her yesterday, but it took 6 undertakers 4 hours to get the smile off her face.

Anonymous

:: Yawn ::

OhmiGAWD what a night! I really must commend the gods of slumber one of these days for their unique sense of humour.

There I am, snoozing away, when I realize there’s a cat on my head. Ohhh kayyyy….

Wait a minute: A CAT ON MY HEAD!?!?! (Where’s the dog!?!)

The dog is at the foot of the bed, contemplating how she can get at the cat without stampeding over me and thereby getting herself killed. Every now and then she bounces in place, woofs, and makes a swift foray to one side of the bed or the other. The cat purrs louder and makes rude gestures at the dog.

“How the h*** did you get in here, Arthur?” I enquire. Arthur purrs and investigates my ear with a wet nose. “Silly human,” sez she, “I slipped in while that idiot dog was out in the kitchen, of course.”

Well this is unacceptable. I detach the cat from my head…the dog bounces joyously, thinking it’s feeding time. For the next ten minutes I try to evict the cat (RUN, kitty!!!) while holding the dog back. Nope. Cat looks at me like I’m out of my mind while the dog nearly strangles herself by leaning on her collar, front feet suspended at least six inches from the floor.

OK, I pick UP the cat…warning the dog in explicit terms jsut what will happen to her if she tries anything…and heave her (the cat) out into the hallway. The dog gives chase and for the next five minutes all I can hear is the scrabbling of doggie claws on newly-waxed hardwood and a lot of hissing and spitting. Next thing I know…ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZOOOOOM! The cat is back in my room, now under the bed, while my 50 lb German Shepherd tries to wedge herself under six inches of clearance to join said puddy-tat. Arthur laughs mockingly and makes more rude gestures. The dog runs around and around the bed from one side to the other. “Hyuk hyuk! Get da kitty! Duh…yup!”

“No, you can’t have the kitty,” sez I, contemplating my watch wrathfully. It’s 4:30 of the a.m. Way too early to put the dog out (she likes to howl; my neighbors tolerate it by day, but I think they’d say it with bullets by night).

The cat hisses occasionally, just to keep the dog in a frenzy. I continue to ponder. Finally, the inevitable hits: I must lock the dog up in the laundryroom til it’s a decent enough hour to let her out. So I stagger once more from my wee trundle bed. “Come on Mozz, come on you *^%&$%$$%%^%&% &$^#^%$ &%^$%^ idiot dog,” say I in sugary tones.

She boings and leaps and bounces after me, leaving a smirking feline behind. Into the laundry room we go. She spies her door (the one that leads to her pen). “Oh GOODIE! I’m gonna get to go outside and bark and howl a whole bunch.”

WRONG!!

WHAM! I slams the laundry room door in her face, almost turning her into a pug. “Good night, Mozz,” I call sweetly, and stumble back to bed. It is now about 5:00 a.m.

The fun has only begun. Mozza begins to howl. Sheba, our little dog, takes up harmony. Arthur emerges from under the bed and re-establishes herself on my head. I spend the next half hour convincing her that she doesn’t really want to sleep on my head. She goes away and I slide into a coma. I wake an hour or so later to find another cat…this one MUCH larger (16 lbs worth of Maine Coon Tabby)…sleeping on my chest. I open a jaundiced eye and contemplate her furry little face. “Comfy?” I ask. Oh yes indeed, thank you very much.

I’m too tired to think, let alone move. I fall asleep again. I wake up half an hour later. I have one cat on my head, another on my chest. Both purring in harmony. Right. I fall asleep again. Half an hour later, I wake up. My head is now conspicuously cat-less (kind of hard to overlook), but I still feel like someone dropped a fuzzy cement block on my chest. Yup, she’s still there. I evict said cement block by the simple expedient of turning over (why hadn’t I thought of that before?). I snuggle down under the blankies and am about to drift off again when the dog starts howling.

“Tough s***,” I mutter, “You shoulda thought of that before you started chasing kitties.”

And I go back to sleep. For another whole half hour. It’s now 8 of the a.m. and as late as I ever sleep, before or since the dd, regardless of how little or how much slumber I’ve had during the night. I wonder if the dog has eaten my wheelchair (which is currently parked in the laundryroom while my car is off getting a facelift). I think in terms of coffee.

The cats, their duty faithfully fulfilled, have vanished. I sit up. I swear. I knock back a fistful of Advil to dull the thundering in my head. The dog barks. My bladder threatens mutiny. I deal with the bladder (in the company of the 16 pounder whose thankless task it is to supervise such activities). I stumble and shuffle to the laundry room. I open the door. Mozza leaps out, cavorting joyfully, sniffs noses with the cats, and starts galloping toward my room.

“FORGET IT!” I holler down the hall at her. “It’s time for you to go outside.” She’s not buying it. I wrestle her spring-loaded carcass out the dog-door and slam it. WHEW! She lopes off to the far end of her pen and barks a good morning to the neighbor’s dog, who replies in kind before they settle down for a good howl.

I go in search of coffee, tripping over assorted and sundry feline personnel in the process. Open the front door. The nightshift cats come in, the dayshift cats go out. The coffeepot gurgles and groans, slowly filling the carafe with the elixer of life.

And so begins a new day…