Our summer adventures continue as we just returned from three days in the Ozarks with David and Gretchen Miller, the couple from Burlington, Iowa who have been “with us” since our “c” adventure began. We enjoyed ourselves and as is the custom, I am not allowed to touch any moving part of their 46-foot boat, aptly named On Sabbatical.
I had a little health scare this week. Of course, in my case, this is a bit of an oxymoron since all health scares are blown out of proportion by me. A couple of weeks ago I had taken some strong antibiotics to treat some severe bug bites. No problem except this medication kills good and bad bacteria in the body. For the past week or so, I’ve had a bit of mucous and had some trouble swallowing. On Saturday, I woke up, charged into the bedroom, at 5 a.m., flashlight in hand, and exclaimed, “Good God, Diane, look at this, I’m toast.” Poor Diane. She looked in my mouth with the flashlight and got a very pained expression. Little white spots were everywhere. Oh no, we thought, here we go again. It was Saturday, no doctors around unless we wanted to go to the ER. I had a tough night Saturday and decided to rest Sunday fully expecting a trip to Burlington to see the Ear, Nose, Throat specialist on Monday. Diane went to church and while there talked to Dr. Rick Iverson my former GP. She told him the story and he said, “Is this the same guy who jokes about having me for a doctor for 25 years during which time he developed love handles and gray hair which he never had before he became a patient of mine?” Diane and Rick chuckled and then he said, “sounds like thrush to me since he was on an antibiotic.” The good news is that his diagnosis was confirmed this morning with a visit to Family Practice Doctors, and I am now taking Clotrimazole lozenges five times a day. What we worried about turned out to be nothing at all. BUT, it was something affecting my throat!! AND that drives us crazy. See, another funky thing.
Living in a small town like Macomb has its advantages and limitations. As for the latter, you get to really know people and enjoy small talk as you traverse around the town square. One of our landmark businesses is Ford Hopkins Drug Store. Diane and I got to know the staff there quite well when I was on heavy medications. As a matter of fact, Diane would walk in on almost daily basis and like Norm on Cheers, she would be greeted by “Diane” from the employees and patrons alike. As I began to recover, Ford Hopkins became a daily stop for me. I would walk in, say hi to Roberta at the front cash register, proceed to the old-fashion soda fountain/lunch counter where I would ask Chris to prepare a milk shake, then visit with Marilyn at the prescription area who would laugh as I attempted to take my blood pressure, harass owner Rick Crossett, pharmacist and owner, a little and then exchange pleasantries with pharmacist Leslie. Of course, Jim and Ann Lantz were having coffee at the counter so Jim and I would exchange skin cancer stories, Ann would generally tell me to behave myself, I’d pay Chris for my milkshake and then be on my way.
This little routine was both enjoyable and important to me. I “got out,” had a little exercise, visited with nice people, and took in some needed calories. Then a month or so ago I tried to walk in and the door was locked. Simple as that, Ford Hopkins was gone—the victim of corporate America. Rick simply couldn’t compete with the “big boys” so it was time to close the doors. It is a sad passing for Macomb. For those of us who like to patronize the “little guy,” it is difficult to say goodbye to place of business that had become a virtual part of the family. Will Diane and I survive? Sure we will but make no mistake, Macomb has been diminished by the exit of this iconic fixture that has been such an integral part of Macomb’s history. To Roberta, Chris, Marilyn, Leslie, and Rick I can only say good luck and thanks for the memories. Ford Hopkins, you will be missed.
I had a little health scare this week. Of course, in my case, this is a bit of an oxymoron since all health scares are blown out of proportion by me. A couple of weeks ago I had taken some strong antibiotics to treat some severe bug bites. No problem except this medication kills good and bad bacteria in the body. For the past week or so, I’ve had a bit of mucous and had some trouble swallowing. On Saturday, I woke up, charged into the bedroom, at 5 a.m., flashlight in hand, and exclaimed, “Good God, Diane, look at this, I’m toast.” Poor Diane. She looked in my mouth with the flashlight and got a very pained expression. Little white spots were everywhere. Oh no, we thought, here we go again. It was Saturday, no doctors around unless we wanted to go to the ER. I had a tough night Saturday and decided to rest Sunday fully expecting a trip to Burlington to see the Ear, Nose, Throat specialist on Monday. Diane went to church and while there talked to Dr. Rick Iverson my former GP. She told him the story and he said, “Is this the same guy who jokes about having me for a doctor for 25 years during which time he developed love handles and gray hair which he never had before he became a patient of mine?” Diane and Rick chuckled and then he said, “sounds like thrush to me since he was on an antibiotic.” The good news is that his diagnosis was confirmed this morning with a visit to Family Practice Doctors, and I am now taking Clotrimazole lozenges five times a day. What we worried about turned out to be nothing at all. BUT, it was something affecting my throat!! AND that drives us crazy. See, another funky thing.
Living in a small town like Macomb has its advantages and limitations. As for the latter, you get to really know people and enjoy small talk as you traverse around the town square. One of our landmark businesses is Ford Hopkins Drug Store. Diane and I got to know the staff there quite well when I was on heavy medications. As a matter of fact, Diane would walk in on almost daily basis and like Norm on Cheers, she would be greeted by “Diane” from the employees and patrons alike. As I began to recover, Ford Hopkins became a daily stop for me. I would walk in, say hi to Roberta at the front cash register, proceed to the old-fashion soda fountain/lunch counter where I would ask Chris to prepare a milk shake, then visit with Marilyn at the prescription area who would laugh as I attempted to take my blood pressure, harass owner Rick Crossett, pharmacist and owner, a little and then exchange pleasantries with pharmacist Leslie. Of course, Jim and Ann Lantz were having coffee at the counter so Jim and I would exchange skin cancer stories, Ann would generally tell me to behave myself, I’d pay Chris for my milkshake and then be on my way.
This little routine was both enjoyable and important to me. I “got out,” had a little exercise, visited with nice people, and took in some needed calories. Then a month or so ago I tried to walk in and the door was locked. Simple as that, Ford Hopkins was gone—the victim of corporate America. Rick simply couldn’t compete with the “big boys” so it was time to close the doors. It is a sad passing for Macomb. For those of us who like to patronize the “little guy,” it is difficult to say goodbye to place of business that had become a virtual part of the family. Will Diane and I survive? Sure we will but make no mistake, Macomb has been diminished by the exit of this iconic fixture that has been such an integral part of Macomb’s history. To Roberta, Chris, Marilyn, Leslie, and Rick I can only say good luck and thanks for the memories. Ford Hopkins, you will be missed.
