Probably Will Turn Out To Be Heart Stopping News

In anticipation of going to the Big E this weekend, I went off my diet last night, and, man, I'm out of training. I didn't eat that much (comparatively) and this morning I was still too full to eat breakfast. I just ate eleven thin pieces of cheese, but I still don't feel any thinner.
In a few hours, Karen and I are leaving for Boston. Did you get that?  Karen and I are leaving for Boston.

Karen Had Her MRI Yesterday

All we know so far after the MRI is that Michelle in Radiology will be hearing from her supervisor after they get our scathing comment card.
On Monday, Karen will see her infectious disease doctor who will tell us if the latest tests reveal any signs of infection. If so, she won't be able to travel. We'll probably make a final decision sometime.
We tried our own tests at home using our in-ear thermometer which appears to be as accurate as consulting Nostradamus for today's weather. Based on those readings, Karen has either already been abandoned on an ice floe, or is about to burst into flames.

A Lot Was Riding On Karen's MRI Today

So, it's a shame she didn't have it. It's now scheduled for Friday, and the doctor's visit to finally decide whether she can travel will be on Monday afternoon, a scant day and a half before we leave. Or don't.

I Had A Dream. Three Dreams, Actually

Last night I dreamed I hosted Saturday Night Live. I was ad libbing, and I was great.  I dreamed something else that I forget, plus I dreamed that the toilet was plugged up. Guess which dream has already come true?

What Is Wrong With NPR?

It's possible that in the last few weeks, NPR has run a story on the Prostate Industrial Complex and one on kidney stones. I wouldn't know because at the first hint I turned off the radio and poured carbolic acid in my ears. I mean, come on, there's a limit, and if it's a kidney that's not also a bean, I don't want to hear about it.

Update: I posted this, came out to the living room, and was confronted by Karen who was waving a newspaper article recommending prostate screening. The PIC has gotten to her. Either that's really irritating, or I'm about an hour away from a migraine.

Sarah Called. We Don't Like The Same People

Sarah called yesterday because I had posted here that Karen had made a final decision that she couldn't go to the wedding. But by the time she called, we were way past that final decision. Now she's definitely coming to the wedding and as a token of her seriousness, tonight she went to Kroger's (what we provincials call Fred Meyer's) and right now is putting away the groceries.
Today they stopped her antibiotics, and Tuesday they are going to do an MRI to see if her discitis returns once the antibiotics aren't controlling it. After that, we're going to make another final decision.
The day before yesterday, I had a little migraine thing going. Yesterday morning I woke up feeling a little fragile.  Karen asked my advice about something and then promptly did the opposite, which is fine, but why even ask? Then Leah had alarm clock issues. She was all, "Can you wake me in five minutes?", and I was, "No, in five minutes I'll already be five minutes late for work." Now, Karen is somewhat disabled, moves slowly, and uses a walker, but somehow was able to keep positioning herself between me and wherever I was trying to get. Eventually, testily,  I made it outside and  pedaled frantically to work. Once there, I felt like everyone was just trying to get in my way. It was like, "Maypole walking!" and everyone ran to dance around in front of me, or like a thirties musical where people would come sliding in on their knees  from offstage blocking the protagonist. I was just infuriated. And then suddenly the aura started, and I was having another little migraine thing. I told Sarah about that, and said that maybe the rage and being irritated with everyone was really a precursor, like a pre-aura symptom of migraine. She said no, or she was having a migraine every day.

Up, Up (And Away?)

The Fat Cyclist blogged this week about gaining weight. I commented, "I've been trying to get in shape for a fall foliage tour. Unfortunately my training got me to peak condition in June, and now all the exercise I get is stepping over my scale."
Karen has made a final decision that she won't be able to go to the wedding. This is a household where "final" is synonymous with "not final", though, so we're still up in the air.

Doing The Two Step

Karen's recovery, so-called, continues. She seems to take one step sideways, and then one step backwards. After amazing everyone last week with her newly re-found abilities, she's back to being in a lot of pain and unable to sit up for more than a few minutes at a time. On the other hand, she can walk a little, which is more than she could do.  What does all this mean? Oh, sorry, that's not a rhetorical question. I'm asking, what does all this mean? She's going to see her doctor tomorrow, so maybe he'll do another block, or something. We'll see.
In the meantime, Sarah told me of a site, pedalr.com, and I just ordered a pannier. I'll let you know if I love it. The price was very good, especially if they ship it.
In other news, literally, other, and news, here's an odd little  news organization.

Take Up Your Bed

Friday, Karen needed an ambulance ride to come home from getting a block.
Today, though, she was up. And around. She was up and around.
Friday, she couldn't sit in a wheelchair, today friends brought dinner to us shut-ins and she sat up at the table and made animated conversation.
I didn't really have any point beyond that when I started this post, and then the power recliner I'm sitting in started to fold me up. So see, sitting is hard, and now Karen can do it. Life is good.

Sent from my iPhone

Saying It Doesn't Make It So

Karen called her doctor's office today to ask if they were planning on giving her another block today. The assistant had never even gotten the message that she wanted a block, but managed to get her in right away, so forty five minutes after Karen called, she was being prepped.
I watched a movie from Netflix on my iPhone (!!) until the doctor came out and told me that he thought this one had been more successful than the last couple. He'd managed to go to the exact right nerve with the exact right medicine. But just in case she had pain over the holiday weekend, he'd ordered some medicine for her. I went down the hall to the pharmacy, paid $3,847.50 to them for the second time in ten days and came back to find Karen unable to even tolerate being in a wheelchair. She needed an ambulance ride home.  The drivers got her in the house, and then one of them said, "Have a good day."
"You're kidding," I said.
As they walked down the sidewalk to their truck, he said it again, "Have a nice day."
"Are you going to keep saying that?" I asked.

It's A Good Thing I'm Not A Counselor, Either

Last week, one of my customers asked me about my experience with Zoloft. I told him that it allowed me to not obsess about things that bothered me. He said that wasn't his problem, rather, he just wasn't interested in his life anymore, everything seemed pointless. I hastened to agree, everything is pointless, or worse.
This week, he asked me about Zoloft's side effects, and how long it took to work since he had just started taking it. We talked about that, and then he said that hopefully he would start to feel better soon. "What a coincidence," I told him, "I've just been thinking about the word 'hopefully',"
In other, better, news Netflix now streams to iPhones.

Where Is Samuel Gompers When You Need Him?

...or, not getting the concept.

I'm being forced to work this Saturday in honor of Labor Day.