Rose's Cantina

To: Heart and Stroke Foundation Death Can Wait Department From: Rose Simpson Re: My email subscription Dear Death: Please cancel my subscription to your service. You have just ruined my Valentine's Day. Yesterday, you sent me an email asking me to "show a loved one you care by taking action against Death" on February 14th. Invite your sweetheart on a long walk before that romantic dinner -- research shows that walking before eating can counteract the effects of a fatty meal. Don't forget to record your healthy actions on your My Actions page (the place a person records their blood pressure)." Thanks Heart and Stroke. Thanks for then proceeding to tell me several stories about women having heart attacks and worse. I don't want to see this kind of crap on the eve of Valentine's Day. All I will be thinking about is whether I'll give my sweetie a heart attack if we decide to do the horizontal mambo. Now I'm re-planning my Valent...

I don't know about you, but the Heart and Stroke Foundation's newest round of commercials are scaring the crap out of me. They're giving me nightmares. All I can think about is that death loves older women like me. That while I'm protecting my husband, the bogeyman is coming after me. That one of the bum-cracked guys who is fixing my roof is going to drop dead before my very eyes -- because in a threesome of roofers, death is going to get one of them. Who's writing this stuff? Stephen King? I'm not saying the Make Death Wait campaign isn't working. I got myself to the doctor and I'm now on blood pressure medication that makes me feel like Margie, the pregnant cop in Fargo. Right in the middle of the gym today, I heard the famous bit in my head. Are you alright, Rose? Nope, I think I'm gonna to barf. The meds have got my heart racing like Roger Rabbit, after a sighting of Jessica Rabbit's boobies. Before I started this medic...

My Uncle Vern was mentally challenged. We didn't call it that in his day. We didn't really call it anything. Uncle Vern just never grew up. School officials put him through public school until they didn't anymore, and then he went to work for my granddad on our farm in Southern Ontario. Vern was a great guy and I loved him. Throughout my childhood, Uncle Vern was my playmate, a little man who pulled me in a red wagon and took me out for Hallowe'en. He always liked to dress like Freddie the Freeloader. One day, this boy-man of 54 went out to visit a neighbor, to help bring in the crop of apples. I didn't hear the ambulance. I only remember my mother saying that Vern had died from a massive heart attack. You might say Vern died with his rubber boots on. I couldn't believe it. I was heartbroken, as any child would be in losing not just an uncle but a playmate. I remember Vern putting a lot of sugar on his cornflakes but other than that, I think he ...

Beginning on Monday, I have been instructed to monitor my blood pressure daily, then report back to Dr. Ben with the results. To get ready, I ordered Chinese food for dinner and stocked up on the makings of some very nice gin martinis. Instead of going to the gymnasty yesterday, I went to the Slots to blow two hundred bucks and raise my pressure to blood curdling levels. By the time, I got home, my head was swimming and the beaded sweat had frozen to my forehead. Today, again, instead of going to exercise, I went to the laundromat. I'm considering making chocolate fondue for dessert. Maybe a nice margarita, extra salt. Dr. Ben might say that I'm being a bad patient. Oh, contraire, mon ami. I am the very best patient. I am getting in all the bad behavior before the blood pressure tests. Starting tomorrow, it will be back to lentil soup and the treadmill. The martinis will have been drunk, the Chinese food consumed, and the cupboard will have been re-stocked with...

About a week ago, two days after The Peanut was born, I received a letter from the Ontario government saying Healthcare Connect had found me a family doctor. Whoopee! It was as if I'd won the lottery. I had been on the waiting list for more than a year after dumping The Worst Family Doctor in Ontario (TWFDO), the one who refused to look in my vagina. My family would no longer have to wait in line for hours to see a practitioner. During my last visit to the local clinic, I was made to wait four hours and ended up going to the hospital anyway, only to wait another six hours. Finally, I gave up and turned to my home pharmacy for relief. Yesterday, I trudged down the street(!) to see Dr. Ben, who is a kindly older doctor from Morocco with an impossible name to pronounce. I showed my health card and was whisked in to see him in less than five minutes. We had a meet and greet chat, I showed him my sprained ankle, and he assured me that I was on the mend and gym-ready. We also ...