Monday, Monday

 I have this week off from Mass General Hospital. YIPPEE! Next week I'll begin formal prep for my upcoming brain surgery. On Monday I'm to stop taking all vitamins, supplements and NSAIDs (aspirin, ibuprofen, etc). I'm wondering if this means I can't take my nightly weed gummy too. I expect it does and now I haz a sad—one little gummy helps me get off to sleep AND mostly stay that way. No gummy means bad sleepy. I get cranky when I don't have sufficient time with Morpheus. I'm less brilliantly likeable when I'm a sleep deprived crankasaurus. Just ask poor Jen and Ten.

In any case, later next week I'll have another raft of tests (CT and blood work {versus a bloodbath}) and a visit with my neurologist, Doc Plotkin.  I've already read the MRI results report and, as best as I can understand, my spine monster is stable (YEA!) but the multiple beasts living in my bean have been getting fat and rowdy. I'm unsurprised. Possibly, on top of early April's surgery, there's more proton radiation in the near future. WHEEEE!

Yes, in case you were unsure, I am in fact insanely jealous of all my similarly aged (i.e., OLD) friends who are hale and hearty enough to travel, hike, bike, go to live music venues and just fucking shop in actual stores. Hillel recently told me that he and his wife will be going to the Edinburgh Festival Fringe this summer. Afterwards they'll do a bike tour in the Highlands. I will need him to text me absolute boatloads of pics. DAILY!

I only mention it but having a rare, incurable and debilitating disease is less than ideal. 0 out of 10—do NOT recommend.

Meanwhile here in Valhalla, the crocuses are coming up. It's still chilly and a bit too windy for yours tippy-as-all-hell truly to be doing my rehab walking outside but SOON I'll be hobbling along the seawall again. On that note, time to shower and hit the Y.  

Whoopee!