Tell Me a Story: Day

Skitter and her bunny wunny

Erin's Patrick who is now six!
Now I am Six,
I'm as clever as clever,
So I think I'll be six now for ever and ever.

I’m headed in for an eval with Doc Plotkin’s nurse practitioner, Christine this morning. This appointment is to suss out whether my recent-ish complaints are, possibly, pointing me toward brain-ola slice and dice action.

My neighbors new adorbs puppy going for a ride in the skiff

IF not, I just continue on with this BIG fun getting old shit. If my kvetches are indicative of those pesky meningiomas not playing nice with the other boys and girls up there in Tête Town…well…dunno.

I’ve been assuming I’d be headed for OR Land but who knows. Doc P’s an innovative wizard here in neurofibromatosis type 2 world. My sister Celeste, at the ripe old age of 52 still has hearing thanks entirely to his big brill brain (my own sound system crapped out at 46 – I missed out on his awesome discovery by a few short years. Yeah, invent/discover faster, Scott)

I don’t think I’ll have any rock solid answers after today’s appointment. In fact, I don’t even know if they’ll shove me in a damn tube. Just in case, Imma bring my stash of magic calm me down pills. I NEVAH indulge in these bits of wonder except for MRI times, so I've got a few left over. I’m totes NOT keen on pharma highs, ‘cept when abso-necessary.

Ten and I will hit the gym before motoring up to MGH. Ya know, burn off some of my agitata.

In the meantime, here are some cute and calming pics from Jen’s camera/phone.

You’re welcome!

There cannot be a stressful crisis next week. My schedule is already full.
~ Henry Kissinger (the only funny or even vaguely human thing he ever said)