Two and a half hours up the spout: the doctor’s other office failed to send him the results of Patty’s tests, so the whole thing today was a waste of everybody’s time. So we have to do it all over again on Monday morning. Meanwhile, it’s limbo. Not the dance: that place that’s neither Heaven nor Hell, where nothing happens.
Couldn’t jump the hurdle ’cause they never set it up.
Please continue to pray for us. We need it.
Gotta go get groceries for the weekend, and then it’s back to the doctor for Patty, to find out how her tests came out. Only then can we embark upon a course of treatment. The appointment is for early in the afternoon, which means it’ll take till suppertime.
Please pray that the news will be something much less than dire.
If it’s okay news, and we get back in time, we’ll see about Joe Collidge.
I’ve been working hard to type up the chapters of His Mercy Endureth Forever for Susan to edit. One legal pad down, three more to go. Huff-puff.
Looking back to last week, it seems I finished writing the book on the very last day I could have written it, before bad weather kicked in till next April. Providential!
Pausing from these labors, visiting the old blog, I find myself asking, “Where is everybody?” There were even spaces available in our town’s last parking lot today, and an empty waiting room at the doctor’s: what gives?
Well, I’ll wait till after supper (meat loaf tonight) and then post a cat video, hoping that will draw readership. (“That’ll fetch ’em!” he thought…)
I had my regular checkup today, everything’s cool; and as no one else was waiting to see him, Dr. Swan took the opportunity to pump me for more information about the Bible and Christianity. He took notes on my answers, so I had to pray I told him nothing but what was true, and acceptable to Our Lord.
It humbles me, whenever I’m called upon to minister to someone. After all, I’m not an official and bona fide Bible scholar, not ordained. To perform this service makes me acutely aware of my limitations. It makes me careful to stick to what I read in the Bible itself, and to what I’ve learned of history. Dr. Swan grew up in a village in Burma, and the Bible is unfamiliar territory for him. So I have to get it right.
Not your typical visit to the doctor’s office.
On Friday Patty will see him to discuss the results of her recent tests. He hasn’t read them yet but he told me not to worry, “Everything looks pretty good so far.” Please pray he’s right.
Sorry, just couldn’t write up any nooze today.
Tomorrow I have to take Patty back to the doctor’s for more tests, I don’t know how long that will take, and please pray that the test results are good.
I’ve prepared for a couple of posts to be published in our absence.
Well, I find myself looking forward to our first Christmas Carol Contest, and steeling myself not to open it until the day after Thanksgiving. We always post a lot of Christmas hymns around here, and I hope the contest makes it even more fun for all of us.
It now appears that when I finished writing my book on Thursday, I finished on the very last day I could have finished. It’s been brutal weather since then.
I hope to be back with you sometime tomorrow afternoon.
The nooze I’ve heard so far today is too disgusting and disheartening to write about on Sunday. But let me tell you about the dream I had last night.
In this unpleasant vision, our civilization had been pretty much wrecked, everything looked like a Mad Max set, and somehow predatory dinosaurs were back, hunting the poor humans who dodged around the ruins. I wasn’t in the dream. It was done from the point of view of a young dinosaur, desperate and starving because he lacked the experience to catch enough people to keep him fed. He kept breaking into abandoned warehouses and ruined high schools, always just a step too late to capture any prey.
I can’t say I enjoyed it much.
And I don’t think anyone would need a crystal ball to interpret it.
‘Tain’t just dogs and cats who crank themselves up! We’ve got ’em all–even a lizard that plays with a cat toy. I’ve had at least 15 different kinds of lizards, and never saw anything like that before. And if you can figure out what the cockatoo is doing with the plastic cups, you need to apply for a job as a clairvoyant.
As our glorious one-party Democrat Paradise labors to transform itself into an urban hellhole, life around here gets more and more trying.
This morning it was jackhammers at 7:30. Nice! And then some guy comes to the door to tell us we won’t be able to get out of the parking lot today, unless we get out now–I’m not even dressed yet–because the big repaving job they did this summer, that locked up our parking lot a whole week… well, they screwed that up so now they’re gonna do it over. Whatever. We pay to park there. Hah.
Why do we have to park there? Because our building has neither lot nor driveway. You can always park on the street, if you can beat the odds and find a space. We used to do that. The problem with parking on the street is, drunks smash their cars into yours. And when it snows, forget about it.
I’ve lived in this town all my life. You wouldn’t believe what a lovely town it used to be. Democrats are turning it into Mordor. Somehow they benefit by creating Tartarus wannabes like Detroit and Camden. They do it to every place they can get their filthy thieving hands on.
We have no Republican Party here. We have no defense.
It’s not raining. The church across the street has finished running its gigantic sidewalk vacuum cleaner–which makes enough noise to cause this apartment building to shake–up and down the sidewalk. It’s cold, though. Cold enough so that the ink is shy and slow, coming out of the pen.
Avanti! On goes the sweater, the hat, the winter coat and hood, and out the door I go, to try and write the last chapter of His Mercy Endureth Forever.
Yeah, yeah, it’s sort of an eccentricity, to insist on writing all my fiction outdoors. But I can’t help it–I need my sky. I need my birds, my trees… and my cigar. All of those things help me concentrate.
The sun’s out, but the forecast is for yet more rain tomorrow.
Please, Lord, help me to finish this job; and may my work be fruitful in your service.
Well, there we were–lost again, thanks to Mapquest’s so-called “directions.” They’re really great at sending you on a wild goose chase for streets that don’t exist, and the ever popular “slight right” turn onto some blind alley that takes you farther and farther from your goal. We’re probably lucky we didn’t wind up in Mordor, or Venezuela. I had to stop at a library and ask directions–which turned out to be radically different from those provided by the jidrools at Mapquest, a lot simpler… and correct!
Really, it would have been easy to find this doctor’s office if only we’d had the right directions. “It’s easy to get there from here,” said the librarian; and she was right.
So Patty had a couple of tests, she’ll have the last of them on Monday, and then Dr. Swan can decide on a course of treatment. Naturally, we’re worried that the tests will indicate a whole passel of truly dreadful problems–so please, please, keep those prayers coming. And thank you all for the prayers you’ve prayed for us so far.
My own short-term prayer is for us to have a normal, peaceful day tomorrow.
And maybe I can finish writing my book!
