In The Past
Tuesday. To bed and to sleep again early, up the usual too many times to take a leak, but that seems to be the norm anymore. Again, not much of a leak, I'm awakening I suspect more because I sleep on one side or the other without turning over and the resulting sore or stiff muscles demand I wake up. Seems rude, but I don't know how to make it change.
Up early again feeling good, off to breakfast with plenty of time to read the papers, although the cook and therefore breakfast arrived later than usual. No hardship there.
I need to get the blood work done after the doctor's visit yesterday, practice guitar and then head to the guitar lesson. My, my. Another hectic day, packed with activity. I need a sharp slap to the face to snap me out of all this excitement.
You're running that particular shtick right into the ground.
When have I ever not?
Later. A walk by the construction site to see what was up, the usual morning outing taking pictures from the three areas where I can generally get a shot. Overcast, a little grey as can be seen from the sky.
Home to find out when I can get the blood drawn for the tests the doctor wanted. He said he was going to consult with his endocrinologist at the end of the day and then fax the list of tests to the lab. You'd think this would be straightforward: call the lab, see if they'd received the instructions. Called the lab that answered with an automated system designed to set up an appointment. Hmm. Went to their web site. Similar situation. Tried to book a time at which point their web site booted me out.
Well, let's just go by the lab (he said). It's not that far. I wanted to get it done well before I set out for the guitar lesson and so a walk to the lab located across from the doctor's office. I knew I'd missed my bus down at the bottom of the hill when I left, but figured I could catch the bus on Broadway for the last leg. OK. Happens. I've walked to this area more than once in the past.
The lab hadn't received the request. A walk to the doctor's office (why hadn't I called them in the first place?) to talk with the nurse who mentioned my doctor was gone for the day and that he hadn't been able to talk with the endocrinologist late yesterday and so the instructions hadn't been sent. I'm feeling a little foolish in this.
What the hell? The day is nice, the sun is out and so a sandwich and a strawberry drink at a small deli in the lab building where I've eaten before. Small meals, lots of them, my usual routine I guess, now to be written in stone. Felt good yesterday after the long funky weekend, feel good - clear headed and such - today, so we'll not complain.
Waited on a bus on Broadway coming back, I'd done enough walking, caught the connecting Grand Avenue bus without trouble, home to take more pictures of the constructions site as I walked by (note the clear bright sky) and now back at the apartment. To take a nap.
Yes, before I'd set out, I'd asked to reschedule the guitar lesson in an email, my guitar teacher having responded in an email rescheduling it for Thursday morning by the time I got back. Good. Thursday is good. This day is good. Now, maybe another crack at that nap.
Evening. Ran the weekly Protime blood thinner test. Almost forgot I've got another one that involves pricking your finger and drawing blood. The numbers lately have been pretty good, but this one was off the block. Too thin by a good margin. Got a call almost immediately from the doctor's office: don't take your meds tomorrow. Any broccoli in the house? Brussel sprouts? No. Don't have any of those, but I do have frozen peas. Good: eat a bunch of peas and see if you can get into a pile of broccoli tomorrow. OK.
Two cups of microwaved peas later watching the television news. Nothing good happening out there in the world. Nothing else on television tonight either. There is an International Mystery series at nine that's set in Louis V era France, but I suspect, having seen one or two of these before, that I'll pass. I seem to have managed to develop aversions to all kinds of stuff I'd have watched in the past.
|