Odds and Ends

First, while G.andh.i is revered outside of India, inside of India he's not so popular. He is the fellow that allowed (? may not be the right word ?) Pakistan to secede. (This was explained to me by an Indian co-worker who wanted to know what the heck I was doing with G.andh.i and P.hotoSho.p.

Second, I pulled my head out of my ute long enough to try to take care of some stuff for Mama on Friday. When H talked to the Doctor/Nurse about the hitting, the nurse recommended talking to a social worker. USELESS. Still, H's talk about the hitting had not made it through to Mama's chart so THAT got rectified.

There is something... CHILLING (I can think of no better word) about when one is speaking with a HEALTH CARE PROFESSIONAL (ie, the social worker) and everything coming out of HCP's mouth is YOU NEED TO GIVE HER MORE DRUGS. I'm thinking, DUDE! Come ON! There's got to be something else, right?

Wrong.

Third, ***TMI warning! TMI Warning!*** almost as soon as I wrote "and the bleeding has stopped" the BROWN STUFF started to attack. It continues and continues and continues. One of the doctors said expressly, "I'm not concerned about the brown stuff, only the red stuff." So, I suppose, I shouldn't be concerned. Except OH MY LORD there's a lot of it.

Fourth, I went to my acupuncturist on Friday and told her the whole sad story. She stuck needles in "to stop the bleeding" and mixed up a new and TRULY EVIL concoction for me to drink. (Mostly ginseng and deer antler, I was told). Twice a day. My Accu is concerned that my blood and chi are being depleted. The first time I tried the new brew I threw up. The second time, I held my nose and got it all down. And then threw up. The third time, I added two tablespoons of honey, held my nose and it stuck.

Fifth, H and I have started a new tradition of going to church. Alone -- just he and I, as if it was a date. In the past, we've taken Mama along. Not always the best of ideas. Mama has a tendency to dance (if she decides she likes the music) and call out to the children (if they're cute) and generally act as if she's any place BUT in a house of worship. This Sunday, we were down on our knees, begging God please for the health of our children. Both our children.

Sixth, my next scan is scheduled for tomorrow. It's with the young doc, who I know I can bully into measuring "Twin B," better known as Scrappy. You may recall that my last doctor refused to even look at Scrappy. He kept emphasizing the good one. And, while I see the logic, well, I don't. I want to know about all my children.

Wish me luck.