Sleeping in a hour later than usual this morning (good), up to go to breakfast and read the three dailies I get delivered during the week, the sun out, the sky clear, a sunny day and week (I'm guessing) ahead. This MRI is coming up down in Los Gatos at 1:30, not a bad time during the day to drive, plenty of time this morning to go over yesterday's entry before posting and start this one for today. Take a bath, maybe, to get the hair in some sense of order. Do you wash your hair for an MRI appointment? I wonder. Probably not. Except I will, of course.

I did walk down to the local ATM early last evening and went by the KFC for a two piece meal, ordering two corn on the cobs for sides, walking then across the street to Splash Pad Park to sit in one of the chairs and eat. I got through the corn, got through the biscuit, ate the chicken wing and managed most of the chicken breast, but almost finishing that chicken breast was about as much as I could manage. A picture or two as I walked to and fro, but other than the KFC attempt (I still have similar reactions to pizza and the other basic American food groups), the day ended well.

So, we'll look at the parade pictures again this morning, see if we can't put some of them up on artandlife before the day is out. An MRI and guitar practice: that's what the day has left. Anything else is frosting on the cake. I'm thinking.

Later. It should have been an hour's drive, but it turned into an hour and three-quarters, arriving about thirty-five minutes late for my MRI appointment. An hour lying inside the tube - I was not expecting this to take an hour, really I was not - and now back home in the later afternoon.

The trip started when I realized I'd misplaced the paperwork for both the MRI and the later scheduled EEG. Misplaced? I don't misplace such things. It was sitting beside the phone in the kitchen, where had I put it? I remember recently looking at it to check the address for the MRI. Couldn't find it. Looked up MRI facilities in Los Gatos on Google, found the place, got the address. OK.

Googled directions, made notes on turning off Highway 680 for CA-17S and listed them in order. Taped the notes below the shift handle in the car, something I've done many times, I don't like to arrive at appointments late and I don't like to get lost, so my life has been a series of get there on times. It's a neurotic thing, but it's useful.

I somehow missed CA-17S. I made adjustments, returned up 680, took another highway I remember taking going to the first appointment with this neurologist, drove along, realized I was lost, made turns, made decisions, got to Los Gatos. Pulled into a small center with a sandwich shop, asked one of the customers if he knew the road. He did. I'd turned right instead of left. Such is life, but we're close. Except the address, 600, was really 800 and the road I was looking for started its numbering at 800. More running around. I arrived five minutes later than the scan was to start, thirty-five minutes later than the appointment. Much rushing of paper and such before being rolled into the tube. Not that far into the tube, but an hour? It took an hour?

I shall ask questions the next time they recommend a band aid, let alone an MRI. If you find bad things, what does that mean? They can't be cured, but at least I'll know when my end is coming and why? I'm feeling pretty good as I write, but a bit too interesting a day. Losing that paperwork makes me think I'm subconsciously dodging these tests big time. The doctor said not to be worried, ocular migraines are common enough and cured, except in a very small percentage of cases, by modifying the diet. Which I've done. The tests are for the very small percentage of cases caused by something less good. Maybe something inside is not believing this. Maybe my confidence in doctors is shot.