Omen....the sequel

I wonder if it's some kind of omen when you go to the bathroom in the morning and when it's time to reach for the toilet paper, you can't find the end of the paper?  You spin it and spin it and spin it and the end piece of paper never flaps free so you can carefully pull off an appropriate length.  So you spin and spin and spin it the other direction, and still no apparent end piece of paper.  Shouldn't this qualify as a justifiable reason to just go back to bed?  Well, except that you still, somehow, have to find that damn end piece. 

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Then there's the current family turmoil centered around grape juice.  Seems yesterday K was cleaning out the refrigerator and way in the back she found a half-full plastic jug of Welch's Grape Juice.  She was going to throw it out but I leaped to the defense of the poor defenseless GJ and forbade it. "I'm sure there are thirsty kids somewhere in the world who would love this, and since we can't actually ship it to them, I'll drink it in their honor."  (When I was a kid those other kids were always in China, but I hear they're doing better these days.)

Now I'm having to drink this nasty stuff.  It's so old I think it's turned into wine.  Really bad wine.  Is that even possible?

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I have an old football injury that really began giving me fits yesterday.  It dates from last year when, on several occasions, I sat in my chair and watched football on TV so long my left butt cheek went to sleep.  That somehow irritated the nerve in that region and pinched it.  It hurt so bad it was difficult to sit, and get up, and walk, and climbing stairs was just excruciating.  Combining the opening weekend of college football this year with a 3-day holiday has wreaked havoc on me....again.  TMF....oh, but I love it so!

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All right K.  If you read this, you win.  I'm tossing the grape juice.  It's really nasty.  I need to go scrape my tongue.  YUCK!

S

Doing my part for the economy

I had my appointment this morning with the doctors at the Texas Back Institute.  I went in with a pinched nerve and came out with "cervical radiculopathy syndrome", which is a $3 term for "pinched nerve".


My doc was about 60 and had a wall full of diplomas, certifications, and awards for published research.  One that caught my eye was for "a controlled biochemical and immunohistochemical study of human synovial-type (group II) phospholipase A2 and inflammatory cells in macroscopically normal, degenerated and herniated human lumbar disc tissue."  (He's either brilliant or a master of BS!)  Along for observation he brought 2 new doctors, one being from Beijing.


The fix:  an anti-inflammatory med, physical therapy starting next week, then a minimally invasive "selective nerve root block" in 2 weeks.  I'm hoping this will do the trick and I can put this behind me for good. (Ha...pardon the pun.)  As he didn't mention anything about surgery I'm assuming his Bentley is already paid for.


Now it's just a matter of counting the money in the coin jar and looking behind the couch cushions for stray quarters to pay for this.  I can only imagine how much it would cost us if we didn't have insurance.  Ouch!


S