​​     Fecal transplants?  What?

     Recently, I was having lunch with an old girlfriend (when I say ‘old girlfriend’ these days, I mean social security plus), and she asked me what I considered to be a very odd question.  If I needed a kidney, would you give me one of yours? Jeez, what a question.  Like a test, or something.  I answered very frankly that I loved both of my kidneys, and would have trouble parting with either one (my right kidney is my favorite).  But I softened this honest, forthright response by solemnly pledging that if the need ever arose in which she required a fecal transplant, that I would certainly step forward and unconditionally donate some of my cock-a-doodle-doo.   To this, she gave me this contemptuous look with her typical lip curl, gathered up her purse, and abruptly left me stranded at the restaurant (without even offering to pay half the bill).  I’m tellin’ ya, no gratitude with some people, and here I was offering a piece of myself – some of my pure, precious, bodily fluids … mixed with some solids.  Jeez!

​​First, let me say in advance that I am not a nutritionist and I don’t claim to have any special expertise whatsoever in this area relating to vitamins and supplements, except to say that my girlfriend once gave me a few bottles of multivitamins ostensibly designed for (ugh) ‘seniors.‘  (I think she was stuck on the idea of “high potency.”)  The box containing these supposed super pills was semi-dazzling.  It had the word “Centrum” printed on a beautiful silver package, leading  me to believe that I could live to a 100… or maybe even catch up to Methuselah (the biblical guy who made it to 969 – could this have been doggie years?).  Anyway, I took ‘em dutifully for a few months, and I still couldn’t return a serve.    Forget the lack of improvement in my ping pong skills, I just don’t think the pills were doing me a lot of good for anything.  So much for the hype.  I mean I still had some lucid intervals when my brain appeared to function, but there were numerous times when l couldn’t find my keys, when I’d forget to take the garbage out on garbage day or I’d forget to feed the cat ( yeah, Snowball missed a couple of meals – don’t fret, he needed to be on a diet anyway). And my back pain never let up. Additionally, I still went through several colds, my blood pressure remained high and my arthritis still made it difficult to put on my socks in the morning.  And did I mention my sore back?