A Good Day To Not Die
Well, no news on the scan result front today. I phoned the magic number at the medical records department, and the real live person who actually answered by the third ring told me my chart was gone again. She said this time it had been sent over to the family practice minor surgery clinic, where I have an appointment tomorrow morning to have my port hole stitches removed. Monday's a holiday, so it'll be at least Tuesday before I have another chance to find it.
So I just figured, oh well. I'm probably not going to die today anyway whether the scans are good or whether they're bad, so I might as well just go ahead and have myself a great day. And that's exactly what I did. I had lunch with a very dear old friend, then later on Miss Wanda came over to hang out on my front porch and watch the zydeco parade go by. Yes! How totally cool is that, that the damn zydeco parade, with horses and bands and floats and dancing politicians tossing tootsie rolls to the crowds, went right down my street, passed right in front of my shack!
What's that you say? Did I take any pictures? Why yes, as a matter of fact, now that you mention it, I did:
Superman on the front porch, waiting eagerly for the parade to start. "Is it here yet? Is it here yet?"
"Oh boy, look, Miss Lady! Here it comes!"
Superman and Miss Wanda ogle the majorettes.
Hey! I know these guys! These are the people who teach the zydeco aerobics class at my gym!
Here come the horses! It's the zydeco cowboys!
Superman is about to give this poor horse a heart attack.
Superman and Miss Wanda sadly watch as the last float rolls by. So long, parade.
So no answers yet, but it was an extremely lovely day and sure enough, no matter what the scans end up saying, at least I didn't die today. And I probably won't die tomorrow either. Now I have to go rake all the tootsie rolls off my front lawn and shovel the piles of horse doo in the street onto my roses. Remind me to never again live in a town where parades don't go marching down my street, past my house, on a very regular basis.
So I just figured, oh well. I'm probably not going to die today anyway whether the scans are good or whether they're bad, so I might as well just go ahead and have myself a great day. And that's exactly what I did. I had lunch with a very dear old friend, then later on Miss Wanda came over to hang out on my front porch and watch the zydeco parade go by. Yes! How totally cool is that, that the damn zydeco parade, with horses and bands and floats and dancing politicians tossing tootsie rolls to the crowds, went right down my street, passed right in front of my shack!
What's that you say? Did I take any pictures? Why yes, as a matter of fact, now that you mention it, I did:
Superman on the front porch, waiting eagerly for the parade to start. "Is it here yet? Is it here yet?"
"Oh boy, look, Miss Lady! Here it comes!"
Superman and Miss Wanda ogle the majorettes.
Hey! I know these guys! These are the people who teach the zydeco aerobics class at my gym!
Here come the horses! It's the zydeco cowboys!
Superman is about to give this poor horse a heart attack.
Superman and Miss Wanda sadly watch as the last float rolls by. So long, parade.
So no answers yet, but it was an extremely lovely day and sure enough, no matter what the scans end up saying, at least I didn't die today. And I probably won't die tomorrow either. Now I have to go rake all the tootsie rolls off my front lawn and shovel the piles of horse doo in the street onto my roses. Remind me to never again live in a town where parades don't go marching down my street, past my house, on a very regular basis.
posted by Lymphopo at Thursday, August 30, 2007
6 Comments:
Will the clinic removing your stitches have your chart while you're there? Maybe they'll let you steal a peak.
They usually do their official darnedest to keep the patient as far away from access to the patient's own chart as possible. But I certainly intend to try to sneak around the armed guards and grab it, if I possibly can. You know, something immensely distracting, perhaps along the lines of, "Excuse me, Dr. Surgeon, is that a really gross scab you have stuck to the sole of your shoe?"
I love that dog.
Oh there is my boy again....you are a wonderful, positive inspiration to all of us...((((hugs)))))
Whoa, Nellie! Can you put fresh manure on your roses? Don't you have to compost it first? Don't ask me, I live on a city street where horses NEVER go by. I'm glad you had a great day today, may you have many, many more.
Wow. Fresh horse turds delivered practically to your front door. Some women have all the luck.
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