Penne pasta with sautéed chicken and pesto doesn’t normally trigger a visit to the ER, but then again, most things aren’t normal around this place these days. I can attest that endless pokes, prods and jabs have not gone out of fashion for such visits.
The kids were apprised of what went on over several mid-morning hours and as it turns out, I was no worse for the wear (that happens when the bills begin to pour in). Ellen and Reid read about it here and got updates via the phone, too.
September 6, 2016
Ellen/Reid: Who needs a gall bladder anyway? We’ll find out next week when I meet with the surgeon. There have been no more episodes in the ER since then and I’ve been feeling pretty good. That deal came out of the blue; I’ve never had any issues at all. I didn’t mean to alarm you with that text from a gurney but thought you ought to at least know what was going down. The weirdest part of the whole ordeal was initially while in the Urgent Care office. Their first concern was a ‘cardiac event’ but when they dismissed that, they said to go next door – literally, 25 yards away – to the Emergency Room. But since I was still experiencing abdominal pain, their protocol was to transport me in an ambulance. An ambulance? 25 yards? The nurse didn’t even smile as she described how long it would take to arrangements. Incredulous, I asked if there was a waiver and they allowed me to sign one. So I left the Camry were it sat and walked down one flight of stairs to the ER (where I was the only patient). I’ll bring you up to speed next week after my appointment. My preference is to keep the organ and my hunch is they will allow that in the absence of other symptoms or persistent pain/discomfort.
It was, and will be, a week with doctors. Had my routine physical the day before my trip to the ER (everything good); later last week saw a guy about my knee. An x-ray revealed only patella tendinitis and he prescribed some stretching and a pressure strap for the knee when I walked or golfed. The strap seemed to work okay in initial field trials. In about an hour I see the dermatologist and then the dentist on Thursday. Medicare, don’t fail me now.
Ellen, great before and after pictures of tree removal around your new house. That seems to really open things up and will ultimately be better for the lawn. Good for George to be there to help Tim out on that rugged job. Send more shots of the house inside and out.
I’m inching closer to my deal. Gave the garage a good going over last week and it’s in fine shape now. The downstairs living room, kitchen and upstairs living area, guest room and two of three baths are as good as they’re going to be. The &^%(*#$ Harley has still seen no action. It’s very unsettling to have the bike not sell. One guy called on the color and leather/non-leather bags but he didn’t call back. Not sure what next steps to take with it. It may well make the trip with me or be put into storage. We’ll see.
Going to have four friends over for dinner on Friday. The menu is still coming together but it will be a daunting task to perform in front of such a crew; both parties are very accomplished cooks. So I’ll have to be on top of my game. Burgers might be an easy way out since if I opt to go high cuisine, that opens up my culinary skills for silent scrutiny. Risotto or a tenderloin are other options. But what the hell. We’ll just play it by ear, serve a lot of wine and they’ll have no other options other than to be polite about what they’re served.
It was really fun to have Marge, the Labradoodle, for the long weekend. She is really a good dog. She’s not used to being around a lot of other dogs, however, and the concert was very unnerving to her; she got into it with a couple of dogs during their sniffing encounters.
Marge was pumped on the way to the concert at the Whitewater Center.
I’m not sure why that was and very uncharacteristic of her usual demeanor. Perhaps she was nervous but it made me wary of putting her into contact with other dogs. There were fireworks afterward that scared her to death. She pulled and pulled to get away from the noise but there was nowhere to run or hide. I felt badly for her.
The enormity of the concert and crowd, plus lots of strange dogs, were a bit too much for Marge.
The poor dear slept really close to me on the bed that night. It would be a great thing to have a dog, but what our three day weekend showed was that you have to be around for the dog most of the time, and my schedule doesn’t necessary fill that bill. Still, a surrogate pet is better than none.
Love, Dad
The Weight of a Single Page 