Oh.
A second visit to the prostate surgeon for a blood test, a pack of Viagra and what I assume is a doctor prescribed dirty movie discretely wrapped in a single sheet of instructions. "It's really too soon to strike sparks, but give it a try." Ah, yes. (For those of you contemplating turning sixty, I'd advise against it, unless you absolutely must for, perhaps, religious or biological reasons. Turn thirty-five. Hell, turn seventeen. The psychological shock would probably kill me, greasy seventeen, but - and this, I can assure you, comes from deep within the heart, a magnanimous desire to take the risk for the benefit of all - I'd be willing to try.
Can we get this back on track?
Oh, I don't know. No dizziness today, although the roof of the mouth is as numb as ever, the top and the back of the head feeling much the same. The ears popped a couple of times this afternoon, as if there was some kind of movement inside, and I took this as positive, a sign things were breaking up and floating away. (What breaking up? Floating away where?) I'll take tired and numb, just the way I feel today, over dizzy, by the way. Numb and tired is better than dumb and tired, which is better than dizzy, dumb, numb and tired, let me tell you. Remember you heard it here. (Still want to turn sixty?)
Two days down. B & H opens on Thursday, so I can order the film scanner. Might as well pack the broken one up and send it to Nikon. Probably a burnt out LED or bulb or something. You would think you'd be able to fix that yourself, just pry off the top. Give me a minute.
Oh.
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