A mixed greens kinda day.
Nov. 6th, 2004 07:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ysobelleFirst thing:
http://www.indolink.com/Living/LighterSide/melvin110504-102352.php
I was horribly late this morning because, of course, I dragged my damned heels. I made the horrid mistake of overthinking this whole deal immensely, and that's just never a good idea. So, half an hour late, I showed up for my appointment with Dr. Dans, and my date with that awful blue paper dress.
I got several shots of Lidocaine with...er...something else in my back, and after that, nothing much bothered me. Well, except the sizzling sound and intense little biting of the good doctor cauterising that annoying little...thing on my shoulder that bled like a small ruby fountain back in August. (Apropos of nothing, I have just discovered there is no such word as "sanguinarium." I must amend this oversight immediately.) He then removed a mole at the base of my neck-- ick-- and turned his attention to taking a neat, small shred of skin from that other curiosity on my spine. Just a sample of whatever it is.
I am pleased to report at this time that, woot, I am a medical anomally. The good doctor seems to have absolutely no earthly idea what this odd rectangular patch is. He says there's something in a current medical journal about similar geometric bits on people that they're calling "medallions," but then he faded to a halt, not wanting to say that might be what this is. So I'll know in two weeks, when I go back to get my stitch out.
Until then, alas, I feel decidedly off. I went to the folks' with Mom, who had finally decided to show up whilst I was getting poked and chopped. I came out of the exam room to find her sitting in the waiting room with one of those incredibly odd magnifying visors on her head as she worked on her miniature needlepoint. Now, my father has been known to wear those horrendous flip-up sunglasses on his regular glasses, and that's mortifying enough to be seen with in public, but my mother? Oh, mother-- I thought you better than this!
My niece was ever so pleased to see Aunt Nissy, and seemed to forgive me for hugging her, kissing her, playing with her, and passing out. Due to, I assume, my innate tension last night, I got about four hours of sleep, so I curled up in my parents' room and made the world go away. I'd thought I'd be out maybe half an hour or so, but I think it was more like four-plus before I returned to the living, groggy and snaggly.
My loving parents plied me with quiche for dinner, and frozen stuffed clams for later. (Why are they called stuffed when they're more...piled? How do you stuff something shaped like a small tea saucer?) I hummed along to Neuroticfish on the way home to my own puppy, and, after checking my e-mail, welcomed [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] to the ranks of the Blogged. Huzzah!
West Wing is calling me. It's time for soup and Josh Lyman.
http://www.indolink.com/Living/LighterSide/melvin110504-102352.php
I was horribly late this morning because, of course, I dragged my damned heels. I made the horrid mistake of overthinking this whole deal immensely, and that's just never a good idea. So, half an hour late, I showed up for my appointment with Dr. Dans, and my date with that awful blue paper dress.
I got several shots of Lidocaine with...er...something else in my back, and after that, nothing much bothered me. Well, except the sizzling sound and intense little biting of the good doctor cauterising that annoying little...thing on my shoulder that bled like a small ruby fountain back in August. (Apropos of nothing, I have just discovered there is no such word as "sanguinarium." I must amend this oversight immediately.) He then removed a mole at the base of my neck-- ick-- and turned his attention to taking a neat, small shred of skin from that other curiosity on my spine. Just a sample of whatever it is.
I am pleased to report at this time that, woot, I am a medical anomally. The good doctor seems to have absolutely no earthly idea what this odd rectangular patch is. He says there's something in a current medical journal about similar geometric bits on people that they're calling "medallions," but then he faded to a halt, not wanting to say that might be what this is. So I'll know in two weeks, when I go back to get my stitch out.
Until then, alas, I feel decidedly off. I went to the folks' with Mom, who had finally decided to show up whilst I was getting poked and chopped. I came out of the exam room to find her sitting in the waiting room with one of those incredibly odd magnifying visors on her head as she worked on her miniature needlepoint. Now, my father has been known to wear those horrendous flip-up sunglasses on his regular glasses, and that's mortifying enough to be seen with in public, but my mother? Oh, mother-- I thought you better than this!
My niece was ever so pleased to see Aunt Nissy, and seemed to forgive me for hugging her, kissing her, playing with her, and passing out. Due to, I assume, my innate tension last night, I got about four hours of sleep, so I curled up in my parents' room and made the world go away. I'd thought I'd be out maybe half an hour or so, but I think it was more like four-plus before I returned to the living, groggy and snaggly.
My loving parents plied me with quiche for dinner, and frozen stuffed clams for later. (Why are they called stuffed when they're more...piled? How do you stuff something shaped like a small tea saucer?) I hummed along to Neuroticfish on the way home to my own puppy, and, after checking my e-mail, welcomed [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] to the ranks of the Blogged. Huzzah!
West Wing is calling me. It's time for soup and Josh Lyman.