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Here I am, the most compliant sheeple around, who promptly jumped the hoops to get a passport, waited 17 weeks for it to arrive--------and what happened? Today when I was crossing back from Mexico with gout medication, our crack Homeland Security personnel hopped to a frenzy passing up and down the pedestrian line but focusing on me with two little black boxes with red lights. They immediately asked, "Have you had a stress test recently?" Umm, yes, yesterday. So, complete with my new passport I was ticketed to the inspection lane, where, in front of hundreds of Snowbirds, I was scanned with a bigger black box, then another smaller one, then had my name, passport #, and DOB written down for being entered into who-knows-what-database. I've got to say they were polite, but this was ridiculous, embarrassing, and scary as to the tentacles of Big Brotherism. And, no, I'm not in the mood to hear that it's "necessary." I had no idea I was radioactive. I called the heart clinic nurses and asked, "Umm, is there something you forgot to tell me? I went to Mexico..." And she said, "OMG, and they pulled you out of line!" In response to my questions she said the radioactivity should last 48 to 72 hours, that drinking liquids more would help, that beer was O.K., that I might stay away from pregnant women and children, that my dogs should be O.K. So an O.K. for beer: Finally a medical person giving me a palatable message, at any rate.
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