I feel like the only person in d-land who hasn't been duped by whoever it was that's been putting up a fictionalized diary as if it were real. I hate feeling left out. It's like a bad day in sixth grade.
In other news, I had to go to one of those absolutely horrid meetings today, the monthly meetings at school with all the department heads where nothing is ever ever settled or done and everyone talks as if he or she were the ultimate educator who ever lived. This august body is known as "the academic council." (Okay, vomit ... now.) While I was sitting there doodling on my copy of the agenda and wishing that all my neurons could cease firing at that exact moment, I came up with the perfect slogan. It should be on stationery: "The Academic Council: Beating Dead Horses Since 1943."
I may have failed to mention that the SCM is having some sort of legitimate health problems, among them high blood pressure, which let me tell you, he has earned. No one has more right to high blood pressure than this guy. He makes himself totally crazy on a regular basis. He seems to have had the idea that if he ate right and exercised and never went to a doctor that he would not die suddenly at 50 as his father did, and he hasn't, and that he would live forever. He's 57, and as paranoid a hypochondriac as has ever lived, with the exception, of course, of my mother. Now that he's gone and gotten his blood pressure checked, and is on medication, he's a complete basket case, and checks his blood pressure, literally, about a dozen times a day. Some insane wacko doctor told him to get a home b.p. machine, and he's off and running. I'm not saying he doesn't have real concerns -- he's going for some kind of angiogram on Thursday -- but this is not the way to deal with illness. You know that and I know that. He said the other day that it was so hard to tell his younger brother that he has these b.p. problems and is having an angiogram. I said that I could relate; it was really hard having to tell my parents that I had A FREAKING BRAIN TUMOR. It's the whole SCM syndrome: anyone that self-centered cannot imagine that anyone else has, or has had illness, or that it could possibly match his (as if it were a contest, and he's got to win). Anyway, I do wish him well and hope that this turns out to be a fixable thing (which it will, I'm sure, though perhaps not without a bit of surgery). If not, well that's just a bad thing, of course, but if they can't fix it right and soon, I think the top of his head will just pop off, like the mercury rising in an old thermometer and then exploding out the top. If his blood pressure isn't high enough, he'll stress himself out until it is. Thank god he never had to give birth, or have cramps.
--------------------------------------------------
I'm watching Raymond
--------------------------------------------------
last ::
next
Sweet Sorrow - 06.12.2007
So ... - 12.19.2006
Christmastime Is Near - 12.18.2006
Fifteen Years - 12.17.2006
A Message From Our Sponsor - 12.16.2006
|
