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A SPECIAL POEM 

A row of bottles on my shelf
Caused me to analyze myself.
One yellow pill I have to pop
Goes to my heart so it won't stop. 
A little white one that I take
The blue ones that I use a lot
Goes to my hands so they won't shake.
Tell me I'm happy when I'm not.
The purple pill goes to my brain
And tells me that I have no pain. 
The capsules tell me not to wheeze
Or cough or choke or even sneeze.
The red ones, smallest of them all
Go to my blood so I won't fall.
The orange ones, very big and bright
Prevent my leg cramps in the night. 
Such an array of brilliant pills
Helping to cure all kinds of ills.
But what I'd really like to know...Is what tells each one where to go!

 The lighter side of dealing with Pulmonary Hypertension ​
Send me your thoughts, poems, jokes -- whatever it is that makes you smile or think a little ~~   
​OHPA.PHER@gmail.com  
Laugh a little each day ~ it's better than chicken soup....  at least that's what the chickens say      *;*
                      This one is a thinker.....      When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a small hospital near Tampa, Florida, it was believed that he had nothing left of any value.        Later, when the nurses were going through his meager possessions, They found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital.         One nurse took her copy to Missouri          The old man's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas  edition of the News Magazine of the St.Louis Association for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem.         And this little old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is  now the author of this " anonymous" poem winging across the Internet.      
                            ​Crabby Old Man 
        What do you see nurses? ..What do you see? 
What are you thinking.....when you're looking at me?        
        A crabby old man, ...not very wise,
        Uncertain of habit .......with faraway eyes?
Who dribbles his food.......and makes no reply.        
        Who seems not to notice ..the things that you do.        When you say in a loud voice....."I do wish you'd try!"  
        And forever is losing .. A sock or shoe?
        Who, resisting or not...........lets you do as you will, 
        With bathing and feeding .... The long day to fill? 
        Is that what you're thinking? Is that what you see?
        I'll tell you who I am .......... As I sit here so still,        
Then open your eyes, nurse......you're not looking at me.
As I do at your bidding, .....as I eat at your will.        
 I'm a small child of Ten.......with a father and mother,        Brothers and sisters .........who love one another         
A young boy of Sixteen ..with wings on his feet       
        Dreaming that soon now. ......a lover he'll meet.  
A groom soon at Twenty .....my heart gives a leap.        Remembering, the vows......that I promised to keep.         
        At Twenty-Five, now .......... I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide .... And a secure happy home.         
A man of Thirty ......... My young now grown fast,         
        Bound to each other ........ With ties that should last.
        At Forty, my young sons ...have grown and are gone,
But my woman's beside me.......to see I don't mourn.        
 At Fifty, once more, ........ Babies play 'round my knee,        Again, we know children ....... My loved one and me.        Dark days are upon me ............... My wife is now dead.        
        I look at the future ...............I shudder with dread.  
        For my young are all rearing......young of their own.
        I'm now an old man.........and nature is cruel.         And I think of the years....... And the love that I've  known.
Tis jest to make old age ......look like a fool.         
        The body, it crumbles..........grace and vigor, depart.
There is now a stone........where I once had a heart.       
 But inside this old carcass ...... A young guy still dwells,        And now and again .......my battered heart swells        
 I remember the joys........... I remember the pain.       
 And I'm loving and living.............life over again.       
 I think of the years ..all too few......gone too fast.       
        And accept the stark fact........that nothing can last.  
        So open your eyes, people .open and see..
Not a crabby old man. Look closer....see........ME!!    

       Remember this poem when you next meet an older person who you might brush aside without looking at the young soul within.....we will all, one day, be there, too! PLEASE SHARE THIS POEM The best and most beautiful things of this world can't be seen or touched. They must be felt by the heart. God Bless 
HAPPY MOTHER'S DAYThis is for the mothers who have sat up all night with sick toddlers in their arms, wiping up puke laced with Oscar Mayer wieners and cherry Kool-Aid saying, "It's okay honey, Mommy's here".Who have sat in rocking chairs for hours on end soothing crying babies who can't be comforted.This is for all the mothers who show up at work with spit-up in their hair and milk stains on their blouses and diapers in their purse.For all the mothers who run carpools and make cookies and sew Halloween costumes and for all the mothers who DON'T.This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies they'll never see.  And the mothers who took those babies and gave them homes.This is for the mothers whose priceless art collections are hanging on their refrigerator doors.And for all the mothers who froze their buns on metal bleachers at football, hockey or soccer games instead of watching from the warmth of their cars, so that when their kids asked "Did you see me Mom?" they could say, "Of course, I wouldn't have missed it for the world? and mean it.This is for all the mothers who yell at their kids in the grocery store and swat them in despair when they stomp their feet and scream for ice cream before dinner.  And for all the mothers who count to ten instead, but realize how child abuse happens.This is for all the mothers who sat down with their children and explained all about making babies.  And for all the (grand) mothers who wanted to, but just couldn't find the words.This is for all the mothers who go hungry, so their children can eat.For all the mothers who read "Goodnight Moon" twice a night for a year.  And then read it again ~ "Just one more time."This is for all the mothers who taught their children to tie their shoelaces before they started school.  And for all the mothers who opted for Velcro instead.This is for all the mothers who teach their sons to cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot.This is for every mother whose head turns automatically when a little voice calls "Mom?" in a crowd, even though they know their own offspring are at home -- or even away at college.This is for all the mothers who sent their kids to school with stomach aches, assuring them they'd be just FINE once they got there, only to get calls from the school nurse an hour later asking them to please pick them up ~ Right Away!!!This is for mothers whose children have gone astray, who can't find the words to reach them.For all the mothers who bite their lips until they bleed when their 14 year olds dye their hair green.For all the mothers of the victims of recent school shottings; and for the mothers of those who did the shooting.  For the mothers of the survivors and the mothers who sat in front of their TV's in horror, hugging their child who just came home from school safely.This is for all the mothers who taught their children to be peaceful, and now pray they come home safely from a war.What makes a good mother anyway?Is it patience? Compassion? Broad hips? The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a button on a shirt, all at the same time?Or is it in her heart?  Is it the ache you fell when you watch a son or daughter disappear down the street, walking to school alone for the very first time?The jolt that takes you from sleep to dread, from bed to crib at 2 a.m. to put your hand on the back of a sleeping baby?The panic, years later, that comes again at 1 a.m. when you just want to hear their key in the door and know they are safe again in your home?Or the need to flee from wherever you are and hug your child when you hear news of a fire, a car accident, a child dying?The emotions of motherhood are universal and so our thoughts are for young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep deprivation.And mature mothers learning to let go.For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers.Single mothers and married mothers.Mothers with money, mothers without.This is for you all. For all of us.Hang in there.  In the end we can only do the best we can.Tell them every day that we love them.  And pray.
They say the early bird catches the worm but it's the second mouse that gets the cheese from the mouse trap.
Phriends are like the walls of a house ~ sometimes they hold you up, sometimes you lean on them. But sometimes it's just enough to know they are standing by.

Mark TwainOld Times on the Mississippi When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much he had learned in seven years.
My dog is worried about the economy because Alpo is up to $3 a can.  That's almost $21 in dog money ~ ~ ~   Joe Weinstein   
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Believe that your life is worth living and your beliefs will help create that fact.   
Merle Reeseman ~ Support Group Leader
ohpa.pher@gmail.com