I want so little. I'd like to win the lottery and I'd like to make it to 90. I think 90 is a really good age. 90 is also when grandma started to lose her memory. I figure that if I make it to 90 intact then I can get hit by a bus or put down like a horse with a broken leg and avoid a possible downward spiral. Is that too much to ask? Three out of my four biological grandparents made it to a nice ripe old age. I figured I had a 75% chance.
When I went for my yearly physical last week the good doc heard something he didn't like the sound of in my neck. He described it as the sound a hose makes when you step on it and the water can't get through. Fuck. I mean FUCK!
My mom had carotid artery surgery on both sides. I went for a carotid artery sonogram today and I couldn't see a thing when she did my right side because I was facing the wall but when She did my left side I was facing the machine and I didn't like what I saw. Now I have to wait for someone to read my results and inform the good doc. I know what they are going to say. What I don't know is exactly how bad the blockage is.
Right now I'm annoyed at myself for wasting all that time with the new new undead therapist when I knew he wasn't going to help me deal with the weight and especially this last year when he was not performing up to par due to his own set of personal reasons. I have to get my health under control NOW and I'm exactly where I was 3 years ago when I met the dude. Frustrating. Stupid. Annoying.
One potentially bright spot in my day was when I thought I saw an intact bird on the yellow line en route to the sonogram place. I quickly pulled into a parking lot, grabbed a bag and skipped over to the road only to discover that what I thought was a bird was another grounds keeper glove turned mostly inside out and looked like a bird shape with fingers for a tail. It wasn't my day today from start to finish.
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