Wow, what a month.

I cried all over again today about Sam. I've already sent the animal hospital a thank you card because their compassion and professionalism made that difficult time a little more bearable. This wasn't the regular vet, this was another local one who could fit us in when we needed an appointment. So today we got mail from the animal hospital. Inside there was a sympathy card signed by the vet. No advertising, no handy fridge magnet with their phone number, just a very nice card.

Last Friday evening we got a phone call letting us know that my dad is in the hospital. He's got pneumonia and they put him in ICU because of some pretty serious complications. I started to make plans to fly out to Arizona to see him, but he's a fighter and responded well enough to treatment that he'll be going home in another day or two. We've gotten daily updates from his girlfriend but haven't been able to talk to him directly. It seems like we dodged one there.

Lastly, today I got some resolution about something that's been hanging over my head for a while now. Three weeks ago I had a biopsy done on my thyroid gland because they found a "nodule". Today the results came back (FINALLY!!!) and it's fine, normal, benign, whatever you want to call it. I'll be going back in a few months for another ultrasound, just to make sure it's not doing something scary. All the doctors were reassuring me that it looked harmless and wasn't frighteningly rare, but they still wanted all the tests done.

I think I mentioned that at my physical a year and a half ago, the doc put me on meds because my thyroid has slowed way down. This year, there were other indications that something wasn't quite right, so many tests were ordered. That's when they found it.

I went to the hospital for the "ultrasound-guided fine-needle aspiration". That's what the medical profession calls it. I called it "getting stabbed in the neck". What that means is that an ultrasound tech crushes your windpipe so the radiologist can aim reasonably well as he pokes you with a needle to get a core sample from the ol' carcass. It took them four tries, about an inch and a half deep into my throat, wiggling around inside to get 'em pointed where they wanted, with no anesthetic. The last two hurt like a mother. Afterwards, the adrenaline kicked in and I laughed like a madman (and it *hurt* to laugh) as Mookie led me through the hospital and to the car. I could've driven, but she was sweet enough to go with, so I let her drive. It hurt to talk for a couple of days and I couldn't shave for the rest of the week (boo hoo), and I worried myself sick over the results because they took so long to come back (what are they double and triple checking?!?!?!?). That, and I'm a damned baby.

So that explains the light posting lately. Dog dead, Dad sick, medical results pending... my life has been a freakin' country and western song.

C'mon November!

Posted by: Ted at 05:31 PM | category: Family matters
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