Tag Archives: mental-health

May 29, 2026 · 11:10 am

Calendar Girl

Photo by Nothing Ahead on Pexels.com

Jackie Wells-Fauth

I am a person who is devoted to calendar watching. I have to be, because otherwise I wouldn’t be able to remember what day it is, let alone the month or year! When I get up in the morning, I chant to myself, “Today is Thursday, May 14 in the year of our Lord 2026.” Okay, I don’t say, “year of our Lord” but it sounds elegant and sophisticated.

I am a devoted calendar girl. I always carry a large, book-sized calendar and when I am making any kind of appointments or plans, I have that calendar in front of me to write it all down. I refer to it fondly as “my brains.” And because of all this care and attention, I manage to make it to about half of the things I have scheduled!

I do try. I check it every day at breakfast and then hope that I will still remember that I have a hair appointment at 2:00 that same afternoon! People give me those little appointment cards, and I am grateful for them. But if I don’t transfer that information immediately to the calendar, I’m in trouble. The cards accumulate in my purse and get used to make other notes on, or to mark a page in a book, or just to pick my teeth, but I must have the appointments they proclaim written down on the calendar or I will be getting a call: “Yeah, this is the eye doctor—just wondering if you remembered your appointment that is like, now!”

It’s disconcerting: I have had to rush to massage appointments in my sweaty garden clothes or the dentist’s office with sticky caramel desserts still on my teeth! This year, I even tried putting together two calendars: one for carrying with me and one for my desk at home. Surely that would make me more efficient. It doesn’t. Now, I just miss half of the appointments on one calendar (that I didn’t write on the other one) and half of the appointments on the other calendar!

My children did not inherit this problem. In particular, Tracie has developed her father’s strong sense of organization. She is, of course, using a calendar that is on-line and she refers to it as “the family calendar”—each and every time she gently (or not so gently) reminds me of an event that should be there.

“I didn’t realize that you guys were going to Colorado next week,” I whine. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s on the family calendar,” she replies (somewhat smugly I think) “Haven’t you been checking it?”

“Oh, sure! That’s right, I just forgot about it,” I say, even though we both know that I probably couldn’t find the family calendar with both hands, a flashlight and tech support.

So, I decided that it would be good training for me to try to use the calendar on my phone. Then, when I have mastered that, I could go on to tackle “the family calendar.” I got out my paper calendar and began entering events on my phone’s calendar. I was so excited when I got it all done! It was so easy! I might be ready to master the family calendar after all!

Except when I started checking events, every one of them was listed as starting at 9:00 pm. Birthdays, anniversaries, appointments of all kinds—every one was on that calendar at 9:00 pm. Well, that’s ridiculous! What good is a calendar where everything is automatically at 9:00 pm? You’d think they would have some way to set a time…oh, there it is. I forgot to make that little spinny thing turn around to the proper time. So, I spent another hour trying to make that ugly, uncooperative time wheel spin correctly. That little bugger spins really fast and now, not everything is at 9:00 pm, but there are a couple that stopped spinning at 1:00 am! And I decided I would just be fine with that!

All right. So now, between the appointment cards, the two paper calendars and the phone calendar, I’ve got my schedule all down. No more missing appointments or forgetting birthdays for me! It takes me an hour and a half to check what’s going on for any given day, and most of them don’t sync with each other, but I’m on the right track, okay?

So now, all that’s left is to tackle “the family calendar.” I either have to figure it out (without direction from the Microsoft corporation) or I have to admit that I can’t make it work. And that’s going to be a little tricky.

“Mom, I heard that you are planning to visit next month. I don’t see it on the family calendar,” Tracie said this last week.

“About that, I’m sending you a letter through the US mail complete with stamps and everything. Be looking for it. It’s called, “Confessions from a failed Calendar Girl.”

Leave a comment

Filed under Humorous Column

Tagged as , , , ,

May 15, 2026 · 7:03 am

Take a knee–please!

Photo by Ron Lach on Pexels.com

Jackie Wells-Fauth

If anyone asks you in the next month or so, what I am up to, be so good as to tell them that I am having a baby. That is all they really need to know.

And of course, no I am obviously not having a baby. But it is a better story than what is actually happening and that is knee replacement. There, you see, the minute I say knee replacement, you immediately think of some horror story having to do with knee replacement! Or if you don’t, I have a few hundred that have been related to me every time I tell someone I am having a knee replaced.

So, until the operation is over and hopefully successful, I am just telling everyone that I am having a baby. No one has horror stories about that because most old women such as me don’t have babies. It’s a simple psychological trick so I don’t have to wonder, while listening to one more sad knee replacement story, whether I should stay with what I’ve got.

I assure you, however, that I have no desire to stay with what I’ve got. Ever since the doctor gave me the sad face a few years ago, “I’m afraid you’ll be facing knee replacement—on both knees,” I have known that this day was coming.

There were some false starts. The first stage I went through was, “Oh, well, I come from hardy stock—I can make do with the knees I have.” Then my knees began to formally protest any time I climbed up steps. Okay, I’m getting my knees replaced, and I’m starting with the right one; that’s the worst.

“Oh, my grandma had her knee replaced and they put it in backward. She never did walk right after that!” Okay, I can hold out a little longer.

Next, came shots. Now, those shots did help a little bit, but after a while the knees began to send up signals that the drugs were no longer doing the trick. By send up signals, I mean they would crack and pop like a bowl of Rice Krispies everytime I bent down to pick something up. Okay, I’m getting my knees replaced, and I’m starting with the left one because it sounds more ominous.

“My great aunt had knee surgery, and they had to go back in twice and readjust things.” No, I don’t know what that means and what’s more, I don’t want to know! I’ll just hang in there and suffer a little.

The next phase was braces. Just wear those elastic bands on your knees and everything will be fine. Except the braces wore nasty welts on the back of my legs which caused parts of my knees that had never created issues to start hurting. That’s it—I’m having my knees replaced, and I’m definitely starting with the right one because it protests more when I sit down or stand up.

“I don’t know…when my sister Carol had her knee replaced, she landed in the hospital with heart problems, and her knee hadn’t even healed yet at the time of her funeral.” Okay, if you insist, I’ll stick with the knees a little longer and put off that funeral as long as I can.

Now we are at the “I can no longer pretend that my knees are going to cooperate for the duration of my old age.” I crawled into the surgeon’s office (crawled is metaphorical—I haven’t been able to crawl on these bumpy joints since my last child left home) and announced, “Okay, okay, I give up! The knees have sued for separate living accommodations, and I am ready for them to go! Take a knee, please!”

So, in a very short time, I will be getting my knee replaced and every time I say that I am having my knee replaced, someone cheers me up by sharing a knee story.

“My uncle had his knee replaced—he’s permanently in a wheelchair now.” I don’t care! I’m having my knee replaced—I mean, I’m having a baby; and I’m definitely going to start with the left one!

Leave a comment

Filed under Humorous Column

Tagged as , , , ,

April 3, 2026 · 2:27 am

Except for the pain

Photo by Towfiqu barbhuiya on Pexels.com

Jackie Wells-Fauth

Before I begin, I would like to state in no uncertain terms that I am grateful beyond words for the fine medical care available in Miller. Not only the doctors, but the long-suffering hospital nurses and aides who have to put up with me the most—especially when I am in pain! Thank you all!

And my pain is the topic of my column this week. Not that there’s anything funny about that, but sometimes my adventures with it bring their own comic relief. Without that, it would really be…well, a pain!

My medical woes come from an unpredictable, incapacitating pain in the joints. It’s never brought on by any trigger; just a random, happy notion that can hit anywhere from my jaw to my toes. Its favorite target, however, seems to be a knee or a hip—either one on either side will do. Just so my leg is immovable without a considerable amount of bad language and pain.

Now, these attacks appear to be random, but I don’t think it’s such a happy accident that they like to hit late—after medical office hours and especially long after Roy has gone to sleep.

I’ll wager some of his least enjoyable moments in married life are when I pull him from a sound sleep with the loving words, “Roy, wake up; I’m in terrible pain!”

“What shall I do?” comes the sleepy voice from the dark.

“Take me to the emergency room or shoot me; right now, I don’t really care which you choose!” I lied. I do care, but I always like to make sure he has options.

Then comes the whole procedure of getting me to the car…down the front steps and into a vehicle…hopefully without bending my leg too much. He has learned that there is no possible way to do this gently, so he assists the best he can and when necessary, bends the leg for me. I’m always glad when he does that. “Oh! My Lord! D**m it! Thank you so much, dear!”

Now one of the first things I ever noticed about Roy was that he is always very dapper in his appearance. He’s always dressed appropriately and neatly for whatever errand he is on. That’s why it has to be so hard for him to take me to the hospital in the middle of the night, because my nightwear is not exactly designer and I am not inclined at those moments to get changed.

Mind you, at that point, I don’t care if I walk in dressed like Lady Godiva; I just want to get there. But Roy does care and he knows I will care later, so he tries to drape my pajama rags around me as best he can and away we go.

Once we get to the emergency room, his job kind of slows down. He knows from vast experience that the medical people are going to take good care of me and that once I stop screaming that “somebody please for the love of heaven do something about the pain or hit me in the head,” (I wonder how often that appeals to them) he can relax.

The problem, of course, is now, he’s up in the middle of the night, with a day’s work ahead tomorrow and he has to sit around and wait for me to finally decide that I’m going to live yet another day because the aforementioned fine medical care takes care of the problems.

A lot of times he’s a little out of what has happened. This last time, they asked if I had vomited. At the same time, I said, “Yes,” and he said, “No.”

I turned to him showing him my gown and its suspicious stains and said, “Stay away from the small wastebasket in the living room. You won’t like it.”

He cares so much. He is so diligent about getting me there, but he is also in need of his sleep. However, I don’t worry about him so much anymore. The first time I was in, he sat in a very comfortable chair near me and just as I was really freaking out about the pain and keeping him up, I distinctly heard a snore come from directly behind me! I was getting what I needed, and he was getting what he needed. That’s fair.

Every time I have one of these midnight adventures, I pray it’s the last one. I’ve learned enough about the problem, though, to know it might not be; and that’s okay, I guess. After all, I have the best ambulance driver in the world and the best care for the problem. I think I’ll live to fight another day!

Leave a comment

Filed under Humorous Column

Tagged as , , , ,

January 1, 2026 · 9:04 am

History Humiliation Game

Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com

Jackie Wells-Fauth

I am reminded this week of that old saying, “Sometimes I think I am smart enough to conquer the world, and other days I try to get out of the car without unhooking my seatbelt.”

Most of us, me included, would like to believe that we are at least of average intelligence. I can’t calculate the subversion of PI in my head or anything, but on most days, I can read a label or follow the weather report on television.

However, years ago, I stopped playing the board game known as Trivial Pursuit because I always felt stupid not being able to answer sports or science questions and even some of the history questions, which should have been easy for a history major like me, tripped me up because they were just too…well, too trivial!  I don’t know when binoculars were invented, but I know it was before the Titanic; everyone knows the ship sank because they didn’t have theirs! That should count for partial points, right? It didn’t!

My confidence in my own intelligence isn’t so great that I could take the blows caused by not knowing which of the planets is the hottest (hint here: it’s NOT Mercury) or who owns the Miami Dolphins (No hint here.) So, I put the Trivial Pursuit at the back of the closet and felt better about myself—living in my little false world!

Then, this Christmas, along came Trivial Pursuit – History Channel version. Now I will admit that I only actually heard Trivial Pursuit “History” and all my old bias against Trivial Pursuit collapsed. I am a historian, let me show you how brilliant I am!

Except that Trivial Pursuit is Trivial Pursuit and after I nagged everyone to play, I discovered that it contained the history of Culture, People, Geography, Science and SPORTS. Oh lord, just shoot me now…into the rough…miles from the putting green. (See, I know sports!)

So, I heard questions like: ‘What play is West Side Story based on?’ or ‘Which famous painter founded Impressionism?” Easy questions for me…except these were the questions other people got. When my turn came around, I got questions like ‘What is the most common element in the earth’s atmosphere (kids, stay awake in science class, I beg you) or, ‘In what decade was the Rugby Football Union formed in London?’ (Hint, the answer is not ‘Who gives a damn?’)

I protested, I shouted, I cried, but the questions kept on coming. I got the Culture category right away because I knew that Anne Frank nicknamed her diary Kitty. From there on out, it was a sea of sports trivia and me figuratively trying to get out of the car without unhooking my seatbelt!

I am positive the game was rigged: my daughter and son-in-law are neither one a sports fan. What were their questions? ‘What is the center of a target called?’ (In frustration, I shouted out a suggestion, but it was rejected and I can’t print it here.)

‘What does the NBA stand for?’ (I could have answered that one, but my son-in-law beat me to it.)

Now it was my turn. The question? “What substance do sumo wrestlers spread in the ring during a match?” (It wasn’t baby oil, what do I know about sumo wrestling?) and the one I finally fell on the sword for? ‘In cricket, how many runs are scored if the ball is hit over the boundary without bouncing?’

“National Basketball Association!” I shrieked. They all looked so sorry for me. But not as sorry as I felt for me!

I have only three things to add: 1) If you really want to try Trivial Pursuit and you don’t mind dumpster diving; you can have my game. 2) I made up the subversion of PI thing—I don’t really think that’s real. And 3) When did crickets start playing ball????

Leave a comment

Filed under Humorous Column

Tagged as , , , ,

November 23, 2025 · 10:36 am

The art of not being nervous

Photo by KoolShooters on Pexels.com

Jackie Wells-Fauth

I bet you think I’m going to give you tips on how not to be nervous in nerve-wracking situations, right? Well, you would be 100 percent wrong!

The only “art” I have when it comes to nervousness is how to make it so much worse! It doesn’t matter what I am nervous about, good or bad; I can always add to the drama.

If I’m going to the doctor, it’s a mad rush. I am always there early, bringing an entire backpack of self-care. Reading materials that I don’t read or maybe snacks—too much sugar might affect my blood pressure, so I’ll have chips with the satisfying crunch and lots of salt—which will affect my blood pressure. We can’t have that when my blood pressure is already going to be high.

So no self-care packet. I must do something to ease the tension, but what? I know, I’ll tell a few amusing jokes:

“These gowns are so chic; who is your designer?”  Or perhaps:

“I prefer cold instruments because then I know I’m alive.” No? Maybe:

“Awww…only two shots; how disappointing. I have four limbs to stab, you know.”

Yeah, maybe no jokes.

Waiting for planes, trains, buses or taxis is also very nerve-wracking for me. Again, I arrive very early, so while anyone else at the station is trying to uncomfortably nap, I am busy rearranging all the luggage, adjusting everything and taking inventory. That way, I know right away all the things I remembered and I have more time to stress over the things I forgot. And there’s always that nervous uncertainty:

“Is that our plane? I don’t think that’s it; it should be bigger.”

Or, standing in the cold morning air on a street corner:

“They are not here yet and it’s only ten minutes to the set arrival time. Did I give them the right address? What if I said it wrong?”

And if all else fails, I can make a joke:

“Well, if they don’t get here, we can always walk; it’s only five miles to the airport.” (Upon reflection, this is not a very funny joke.)

If you’re wondering where this rumination on nervous anticipations is coming from, it’s because I am at a drama competition where all I can do is wait for the students to compete. That might be the worst nervousness of all. Nervous anticipation on behalf of others.

So, I do the other thing I do when I’m waiting and nervous: I write. It doesn’t always make sense, but I write. My other choices here are to go around and listen to the competition:

“Did I tell the students to do that move when they are presenting? Oh, I couldn’t have! Oh, now I can’t look!”

Or, I can spend the time waiting with the kids about to compete, sharing my nervousness all around:

“Straighten your tie, and make sure your shoes are knotted. You look nervous; you’re not nervous are you? I’m sure not nervous.”

I have had students specifically request that I go sit in a quiet corner somewhere and breathe deeply.

“Okay, I’ll do that. Or, better still, I could tell a joke. I’ve got a million of them!”

Leave a comment

Filed under Humorous Column

Tagged as , , , ,

September 19, 2025 · 9:27 am

Talk of the Town

Photo by Darya Sannikova on Pexels.com

Jackie Wells-Fauth

“I need to get the clothes started in the wash early, because there are a lot of them. I wonder where the dog is. She was just here. I need a new pair of shoes; these are so worn out.”

This was the conversation I was having this morning and it’s pretty normal; just what anyone would talk about…except that I was alone and talking to myself. Go ahead, try and convince me that you’ve never done that! I talk to myself all the time.

“Mrs. Fauth, who are you talking to?” a student would come into my classroom and ask. “There’s no one else in here.”

“I’m talking to myself,” I would answer defensively.

“Don’t do that; it makes you look crazy,” they would chide.

“I love talking to myself,” I told them proudly. “I am the most sympathetic listener I have.”

I’ve always mumbled to myself, so it isn’t a symptom of old age, but my students and my grandchildren definitely think it could be otherwise. I was mentally arranging the things I had to do for the day in my head as I moved around the kitchen during a recent grandchild visit.

“Grandma are you talking to me?” asked my loving grandchild.

“Oh, no, I’m just answering the voices in my head,” I said, trying to make a joke. I’m not sure he got it and I’m also not sure he didn’t contact his parents that afternoon, asking them to come rescue him from the crazy lady!

The fact remains, however, that I have whole conversations with myself and they are usually the most satisfying! I can solve all of my problems and some of those in the world, just with a quiet conversation with myself over a cup of coffee in the morning. “If they would just put a stoplight on that corner, we would have no problems, you mark my word,” I observed one morning.

The dog, who was lying on the deck beside me, picked up her head and looked around for other people. None were there, however, and she is too used to my mutterings to be too worried about it. She went back to sleep while I continued, “I don’t know what to do about that bush. Should I trim it back, do you think? No, that would ruin the looks of it.”

Someone told me once that talking to yourself is not a sign of being crazy. However, if you answer yourself, then you have a problem. So, I have a problem. Because I answer myself all the time. Even worse, I get into arguments with myself…and occasionally, I lose them!

“You need to get that window cleaned, it’s filthy,” I will tell myself.

“I’ll clean that window when I’m darned good and ready and don’t tell me what to do!” I count that as an argument that I won.

Talking to myself in the confines of my own home is one thing, but I have been known to carry on conversations with myself in public places. If you see me out for a walk, I’ll usually be having a lively conversation, complete with hand gestures.

I don’t always know that I’m doing this, but occasionally, I will look up in some public place and see someone giving me a very odd stare and I’ll know that they were in on the conversation I was having about the best pain reliever to buy. Me, myself and I haven’t come to an agreement on that, so we argue it in public a lot.

The other day, I was driving the car down the street (I frequently compliment myself on my driving). On this day, however, I was having a heated argument with myself, and I don’t even remember the subject or which of me was winning. However, I was chattering away and as I raised one hand for emphasis, I noticed the person waiting on the corner for me to pass so they could walk. I quickly paused and indicated that they should go ahead. For a moment they looked at me and then turned around and walked the other way.

“Well, that was odd,” I told myself.

“Oh, I agree. What was their problem?” I answered.

Life is fun when you are the talk of the town!

Leave a comment

Filed under Humorous Column

Tagged as , , , ,

August 23, 2025 · 7:39 am

The Walkabout

Photo by Nataliya Vaitkevich on Pexels.com

Jackie Wells-Fauth

Because of all the health issues I’ve had and the health issues I would really like to avoid, I’ve come to the sad conclusion that I must stay physically active.

So, a few years back, I decided it was time to institute a daily walking program. I call it my “walkabout” because that sounds so much more fun and elegant than “the daily trudge.” In Australia, a walkabout is a hiking trip through the bush country—or so I understand. I can pretend I’m there and I feel so important!

It starts with the daily argument my body has as I am dragging it out of bed. Let’s see: whose turn is it to hurt today and turn the walkabout into a limpabout?

“The left knee has been hogging the headlines for hurting now for four days. I think it’s time to let the right ankle have a turn at hurting,” I will hear them say as I pull on my old clothes and my walking shoes.

“Well, okay, but don’t forget that the upper body has a lot of neat pains as well. The shoulders can make walking unpleasant and there’s nothing like a good headache to create just the right amount of strain.”

Once we have determined what is going to create the walking problem, it’s time to select the correct brace. An ankle brace or a knee brace? Is it a sling we need for an arm that’s out of commission or do we need a neck brace to be on the safe side? I have a collection of braces for various body parts that would put a hospital to shame and pretty much every day, I need one (sometimes more) for the morning walkabout.

The next question is where to walk. The health recommendation to keep all the body parts moving is to walk at least 30 minutes. My own health recommendation is not to walk on any major highway, because getting hit by a vehicle would mess up my walkabout a great deal. That does, however, limit my walking choices. I have determined that if I walk twice around the little housing area where I live, I will meet the recommended time. In order to do that, I have to walk by my own house several times and it’s always a temptation to just give it up and drag myself back into the house for a second cup of coffee.

If I can resist the temptation to cut the walk short and just tell everyone I did a full 30 minutes, I find that it’s upsetting for the neighborhood dogs to have me skulking by their houses several times. We have reached an understanding, though—I’ll stay off their lawns and they won’t sound like they are going to eat me! It’s a satisfying arrangement for all of us—especially me!

Weather becomes a real issue when it comes to the walkabout. When I was younger, I walked in any weather, usually very early in the mornings, because I had to get to work. Now that I’ve retired and regained my senses, I find walking at 6:30 in the morning, in the dark, in a snowstorm, to be a little too much. I do still try to go as early as possible because I have discovered a correlation between the time of day and my ambition: the later it gets, the less I want to walk!

So I aim to get in a full walk; except if it’s too hot…or too cold, or too sunny…or raining…or foggy. Foggy is the worst because that messes up my glasses and I can’t see where I’m walking.

I decided I needed a way to walk even when the weather is not cooperating, so I invested in a treadmill, which frequently doubles as a clothes closet. They say that is not as good as walking outside, so I do try to make it a walkabout in the great outdoors, because saying, “I went for my morning walkabout on the treadmill”—really loses a lot of glamour! But, if the weather’s too bad, or I’ve waited too long, I clear the hangers off the treadmill and go for my “walkabout” there!

The end result of this is that I still wake up in the morning wondering what things on the body are going to complain, but I’m assured by every medical source I’ve checked that it would be worse without the walkabout. So, if you see me out there trudging down the road, looking like I’m really not enjoying myself—I’m not, but I’m at least pretending I am in the bush country of Australia and doing something elegant!

Leave a comment

Filed under Humorous Column

Tagged as , , , ,