What do the cats think?

Yorkshire Pudding wondered where his cat, Boris, goes when he wanders off from the house. That got me wondering about my own cats. They're house cats and don't get out much. What do they think when I leave the house each day? My guess is they think I'm just standing on the other side of the door till I come back in that evening.

Tattoos

40 or 50 years from now there's going to be an awful lot of saggy, wrinkly geriatrics walking around with inked up arms, backs, ankles, breasts, necks and butts. That'll be a sore sight for eyes. And what will the then young generation think?
Some things I've learned about getting inked:
Never get anyone's name, except maybe your kids. Other people pass in and out of your life.
Make sure the design really means something, at least to you.
After you've come up with a design, think about it for a while. Because you'll own it for a while.
Remember that someday you'll be on a job interview, just in case you don't make it as an artist or musician. So if possible, ink discreetly. Another advantage to discreet placement is the less the ink is exposed to the sun, the less the chance that it will someday morph into an unrecognizable blue blob.

Breaking the Circle

I'm six pounds over what I consider my ideal weight, and I'm smoking way too much, and I'm not sleeping well. Once this scar heals I'll buy a new bike (or maybe scour the neighborhood and see if I can steal back mine) and get back to riding and generally getting back into shape. That should help sleeping and hopefully lead to a cut back or elimination of smoking, a bad habit which has gone on too long. And since this is the year of dropping bad habits the timing will be good.

No Answer Yet

I went to work today. I could've stayed home as it was pretty quiet. I'm a bit sore in the area, and walking slowly, but it's not annoying enough for pain-killers. I'm stitched on the inside and taped on the outside and it's starting to look bruise-y, like it's bleeding underneath. I called Z to see if that's expected but I haven't heard back. It's not infection-sore so I'm sure it's fine and I can shower tonight. I should know Monday.

The Heat Broke

Finally! It's been so hot lately that when I heard this morning that today would be in the mid 80's my first thought was should I wear a light sweater.

Keeping Good Records

One of her first pieces of advice was to write everything down, and save all correspondence. That has come in handy as I have a record of the lunacy that's going on. The other side of the table is so delusional it is impossible to have a discussion. If we all sit down together it's my hope that I won't need to speak. I'll leave that to my mouthpiece.

The Lump Goes

I arrived at the hospital at 7:30am. It was already 90 degrees. AM (not to be confused with AWM) was waiting for me even though I had tried to dissuade her from coming. Her continued tenderness and caring touches me. Mother was expected some time before the 9am cut time.

I checked in and the woman at the desk handed AM one of those vibrating/lighting buzzers they sometimes give you in a restaurant to alert you to when your table is ready. This would be used to summon her when I was done. Then I was taken to do the paperwork, given 2 gowns (one open in front, the other in back), pajama pants, slippers (which I kept) and a bag for my belongings.

At 9am I was taken upstairs to an O.R. wating room where the various people waiting to be cut waited for their time and were questioned by nurses and residents about their surgeries. Dr. Z wandered in, looking like he had just showered, or come in from the heat.

Mt. Sinai is a teaching hospital, so in addition to Dr. Z and the nurses, there was a resident surgeon and a 3rd year medical student in the O.R. Everybody got a chance to feel my lump. Everyone scrubbed up and they took a big sheet to cover me and to prevent me from seeing the proceedings, just as well with me. At first, the sheet covered my face and I asked if something had gone horribly wrong that I should know about and was I about to get a toe-tag. That got a laugh from everyone but Z.

Next, Z used a sharpie marker to outline the area to be cut. I said "ouch", the code for "I need more anesthetic" at which time he is supposed to stop and shoot me up again. Z said "I'm just using a marker" and I replied "I'm just testing".

I get a shot of anesthetic and another and we begin. Z is explaining what he's doing for the benefit of the resident and student, and I'm not feeling much, certainly not pain. When he gets deeper, I feel a twinge and say "ouch". Z immediately calls for more local, just as he said he would. This call and response continues until they finally run out of "local" and have to send for more. I had warned him. I get a little nervous when he tells the others that the lump is right above the femoral artery and I'm hoping his hands are steady that day.

After about an hour, we're done and my sample is sent to pathology. All in all not too bad an experience, and Z tells me he should know by late Friday or Monday.

Lunch

She Whose Name Must Not Be Spoken has officially moved up the list, replaced on the bottom by Repulsa, who has been feasting on her children for over a year now.

What Was That All About?

AWM & I were supposed to get together for a movie up in the north country last night. Needless to say I was very much looking forward. Then I got an e-mail from her in the morning cancelling. She had awakened ill and was going to spend the day sleeping. I wished her a speedy recovery and that should have been that.
But as the day wore on I found myself getting depressed and frantic so that by the evening I was almost beside myself with grief. And as it was going on I didn't know what was going on. Then she called and that was a disaster. If I were her, I think I'd run in the opposite direction, and my guess is she will.
So what was that all about? My reaction to awm was totally out of line and (I think) uncharacteristic of me. So I think I must claim the last straw defense. With everything else that's going on, from the girls and Repulsa, to work, to that pesky little lump I've been trying my best to be upbeat so as not to upset the girls. They get enough of that from Repulsa so I try to over compensate.
I think the dissapointment of last night put a crack in the veneer. I do feel much better this morning so I probably got some shit out that needed outing. I just wish it had been something else that provided the crack.

Surgeon

Another blazing day and a new doctor. A nice enough guy and a humorous visit. First I took my shirt off and he got a look at the tat on the top of my back. I don't think he was expecting it and wanted to know if there was a drunken story to go along with it. I'm sure he had no idea what the design is. Then I took my pants off so he could see the lump and there was the dragon and others. He said, "Oh. I see the show is just starting". We both laughed. When he was done and I sat up he saw the other one on the bottom of my back. "I had no idea I was going to be seeing the Illustrated Man today". I think he got a kick out of it and our conversation from then on was less formal. Anyway, he also doesn't think it's a big deal, I don't have any other symptoms. He'll do it at Mt. Sinai next Wednesday under a local. I told him my usual, I don't care if he has to numb my whole right side. I don't want to feel anything.

Lump

Went to see Dr. C this morning. The lump is definitely bigger than a pea. She thinks it's probably nothing but it should come out and be biopsied anyway. Considering the history. I have an appointment with a surgeon tomorrow.

Kiribati

Kiribati is a group of islands in the Pacific, including Christmas Island. My question is this: Why is it pronounced "Ki-ri-bas"? Why not spell it that way? I e-mailed William Safire, but so far have received no response. And that was several years ago.