Here we have my opening salvo in my struggle to be heard. As I sit, parked at the Rocky Point bhainoat launch, it is a beautiful sun filled day. I will soon begin cooking some hamburger patties from 93% beef 7% fat. I will make maybe eight, planning on eating two, the remainder as back up for times of hunger. I do have ice in a small chest, with the meat, cottage cheese, potatoe salad and milk. No room for other items. I do have a very large chest, which holds lots, and two blocks of ice, but I am not chilling food for a picknick, just for survival. I stay in the forests in Southern Oregon during decent weather. I have been having medical issues, and have need of a surgery to remove a “ganglia cyst” off my arm, apparently the result of an insertion of an artery blood collector for an IV my last hospital stay. It’s painful, although I feel little pain due to my morphine regimen I am on. It stops my annoying aches and pains from the “hnp” in my lower back. That’s a ruptured disc, hip beibg,doc speak for herniated nuculos propolsus, or near that. It is easier to say hnp, but I didn’t want you to think I meant hip. I can’t just go into the hospital because Brutus and Damnit depend on me being with them, feeding them and walking them. My last overnight stay my nurses took turns walking them from my truck, realizing that Damnit, at 15, required being lifted into the truck, and watched closely because of failing eyesight and hearing. That was certainly nice of them, not required, and when I left I found nec essay cleanliness items stashed in my truck. I was there because I mixed my meds up and mistakenly overdosed on my enalapril, my heart meds. I had to be”watched” so my heart didnt stop. I nnobnow use a urine sample cup to collect my nighttime meds in, so mistakes dont repeat. I will be 70 in November. Welcome to my world.