Until my firstborn returns to native soil. You would think I've never seen her before; I'm so excited, and that her sister will be surprised by R's early arrival when she gets home on Thursday. I stopped off before and picked up those few things that R loves to eat (like romaine hearts, which is I swear her favorite food.)
The SCM, in all his whiny glory, called me this morning (we had a delayed opening of school, thanks to all the ice) and said that he had slipped this morning, probably walking the dog, and wasn't coming in. He then went on to complain about his back, his ribs, etc. This sounded like a real injury to me, so I asked if he was going to the doctor, Well, he doesn't know, he doesn't like doctors, he hates hospitals, on and on and on. This is the point at which I believe my mother would have said those classic words: Shit or get off the pot. Either you're hurt and you go to a doctor or you shut up. I said so, but nicer. His wife, however, also stayed home, and probably just told him he was going. Which he did, to an emergency room. He has a cracked rib. I plan to email him shortly and advise him to stay home tomorrow too. A) It would be better for him. Really. B) I don't think I could stand him all day.
Explain to me someone, anyone, what is it with people who think if they don't go to the doctor, then there's nothing wrong with them. ??? I guess you don't know there's something wrong, but that doesn't mean there isn't. This strategy would have killed me off some twelve years back, since the brain tumor would have slowly become larger than my whole head, at which point I'm pretty sure it would have been incompatible with continuing to live. It was there before I knew about it. Know what I mean?
But this is not an uncommon thing I've found in people. They don't like to go to doctors. Like this is some remarkable quirk they have. Guess what, neither do I. I've met very few people who do, with the exception of my mother, and once she found out she was actually very sick, well, she didn't like going anymore either. It stopped being fun for her, like trying to solve a mystery.
Okay, weird rant. In the meantime, the Sibs found out today that the ligament in her right ankle is virtually detached and useless. She's wearing a brace until she decides when to have the surgery, probably next summer. She's not too happy about that either, but she doesn't want to spend the next thirty years falling down all the time.
Where was I? Ah, time to plug in the George and have something to eat. Kids coming home this week, Good thing.
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I'm watching Raymond
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Sweet Sorrow - 06.12.2007
So ... - 12.19.2006
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