Patty went to the eye doctor today to have her eyes examined and tested for new glasses, which she’s been needing for a while. On the way home, she told me, “I think Dr. D___ looks like Bruce Willis. I said to him, ‘Has anybody ever told you, you look like Bruce Willis’?”
To which he replies, if I’m writing the dialogue, “That’s why you’re at the eye doctor’s.”
I told her the joke and it took a moment to sink in. I didn’t want my witticism to go to waste, so I’ve posted it here.
I’m up early today because I have to take Robbie to the vet and I don’t know how long they’ll keep me vegetating in their waiting room. She has this thyroid thing and it’s time for them to check her blood again.
I have prepared a nice post for you to appear while I’m at the vet’s. Tomorrow it’s my turn at the doctor’s, and Thursday I have to take Patty to the eye doctor–and they have just moved without telling any of their patients, I don’t know how she found out.
Oh, well, at least the cats will fight when we get back home. They always fight after one of them has been to see the vet.
Patty came out of the treatment room with a smile on her face, so I knew then that everything was all right.
The thing on her neck (I don’t do medical terminology) is gone, the doctor got rid of it, and he says he’s 99% sure it’s nothing to worry about. Well, no professional is ever going to say 100%, is he? She does have a few other medical issues to see to, but they’re mostly just annoyances, not potential catastrophes.
So thank you for all your prayers, everybody, and thank the Lord for protecting us today. Now we can relax for a bit.
Patty’s very pleased with that MDVIP plan she joined, and especially with its network of doctors. Coincidence: she’d already seen this dermatologist’s wife, who is also a doctor. I wonder if their children will grow up to be cowboys. Anyway, Patty and Dr. Paull took to each other and had a nice time. As far as the circumstances would allow.
I have to take Patty to the doctor today, and I’m going to try to get a full day’s work done in half a day: it’ll be better than sitting there worrying. I sweated out a Newswithviews column yesterday, so that’s out of the way and the rest should be doable, if I don’t fanny about.
Thank you for your prayers, please don’t stop–and I’ll let you know how we made out, when we get back.
Oh, boy! It’s the eye doctor’s waiting room tomorrow! Watching the hours trickle away, waiting for “The View” to come on, or else talk shows hosted by cable TV celebrities I never heard of with guests who don’t show up half the time, and the host has to go out to the parking lot and see what’s what–
I’m supposed to write a Newswithviews column tomorrow. I have a book I need to finish before the cold weather sets in–sort of like a farmer with a crop he’s got to get in before the frost. Couldn’t post anything here, earlier, because I was creating posts to appear here tomorrow while I’m trapped at the doctor’s. So now I have to catch up.
Say-hey, everybody! Any suggestions for a quick, punchy Newswithviews column? I’ll listen, if you’ve got ’em. It has to be written tomorrow afternoon.
And now to rush outside with my legal pad and try to get back into my novel…
Do you really want to read about the first “same-sex romance” on some reality TV show? Do you think I want to write about it?
It’s Tanystropheus time!
When the nooze is just too disgusting to bother with, it’s time to imagine going for a swim or playing Parchesi with one of those impossibly long-necked reptiles of a bygone age. They’re back in Lintum Forest now, if you can find the way.
Speaking of which, I think I’d better head out there myself. We have another doctor visit this afternoon, two or three hours of my work day lost… So please take the opportunity, dear readers, to browse around the blog archives for all sorts of cool stuff.
Some of you might find this anecdote a little gross, but stay with me: the point of it is to take note of a particularly puzzling example of weird behavior.
My wife’s doctor had her send away for a special stool sample kit. She was to provide a sample and send the whole thing back to the lab for testing.
Some weeks went by without the kit turning up in the mail. So finally she phoned the laboratory and asked why they hadn’t sent it.
Oh, but they had! They’d not only sent it, but it had already been sent back, complete with sample.
“But I never got it! That wasn’t me, who sent you that sample!” Happily, whoever had done it, had done it wrong and there was no point testing it.
But think about it. Suppose you receive in the mail a stool sample kit that you’d never asked for. What would you do? Uh, check the address, and if it came to you because the carrier misread the address, make sure it gets redirected to the right place? You may even live just a few doors down from the person who was supposed to receive it, and you can carry it over yourself.
Or maybe you’ll just leave the box on the foyer and tell your mail carrier he made a mistake.
Probably the last thing you’d even think of doing would be to provide a stool sample yourself and send it back to the lab for testing. Like, how many times does some stranger come out of the blue and ask you for a stool sample? Not even in San Francisco, baby! And if someone did ask you, would you oblige them? I’m not sure I want answers to these questions.
But even worse–what if this unknown kook hadn’t misapplied the instructions, and they tested the sample not knowing it had not been provided by the patient whom they were supposed to test? “Well, ma’am, we’re sorry to tell you this, but we’ve tested your sample and found you’re at high risk to turn into the Hideous Sun Demon! You’ll need all your internal organs operated on ASAP!”
I mean, what kind of weirdo does this? Shouldn’t you at least ask, Why does someone want a stool sample from me… and who is it who’s asking? And how many people are there out there wacky enough to do a thing like this?
I don’t know about you, but this incident really does strike me as surpassingly bizarre.
My wife was to have an additional mammogram or something this afternoon, and I was set to go to Keyport to get us some nice seafood. She got me to take her to the hospital. “We have lots of time,” she said. “What they want to do only takes a few minutes.”
Ninety minutes later… Well, at least they didn’t find anything wrong with her. I was wondering just what was going on back there. Finally I went to the desk and asked if my wife had been carted off or something–at which point she magically appeared.
In the interval, the guy I was talking to fell asleep and I resorted to the magazines. Entertainment Something-or-Other. I can’t even guess who would find any of this stuff entertaining.
On the TV, a lot of rather obese people were going wild over a couple of celebrities I never heard of. The celebrities looked like they would’ve been more at home on some of those posters you see in the post office. One of them had a very small and kind of pointy head.
I got an idea for a really dumb movie. Crocodile Dundee Goes to Australia. Surprisingly, it wasn’t being hyped in this misbegotten magazine. For those too young to know about Crocodile Dundee movies, Mr. Dundee lived in Australia so he wouldn’t need to go there.
Anyway, that’s how come I didn’t blog this afternoon…
Patty had a very bad night last night–which means I had a bad night, too–so today’s doctor visit had to be rescheduled. This business of several doctors’ appointments a week has not yet born much fruit and is beginning to take its toll. We were really hoping it would help. That first inhaler she got was practically a miracle until it turned around and bit her, and had to be discontinued.
Please pray for us: we need it.
Maybe I can work on my book today, if I don’t crash.
I love this hymn, and I’m so glad Erlene requested it–Bringing in the Sheaves, sung by the unforgettable Tennessee Ernie Ford. Patty heard me playing it and did a little dance: first time she’d done that in a while.
Her ear has begun to fill with fluid again, but the doctor said not to worry about that: now that he’s made the hole, it’ll drain out. Eventually it will all drain out. Meanwhile, she’s happy she can talk on the phone while holding it to her left ear–couldn’t do that while the ear wasn’t working.
I went to the supermarket after that, it’s only 84 degrees today but it feels hotter than that, and then had a cigar and wrote another chapter of The Wind From Heaven. For some reason I now feel exceedingly tired.
Thank you all for your prayers, and please keep them coming. We need ’em.