Another beautiful day in February. The tulips and daffodils are beginning to emerge from the soil and I am worried. I have seen robins in the backyard and am waiting for the big storm to hit. I just don't trust the weather and cannot enjoy it.
So, BPM, what's new? Actually, nothing is new. I did not hear from the big kid yesterday nor the doberman administrative assistant who received my fax. The report reads "tendonitis". Which busy uber-surgeon is going to want to squeeze a 19 year old college kid into his schedule for tendonitis? No one with half a brain will do it. And so, I go back to my original argument with my girl friend on the telephone....the report is wrong. Please just look at the actual MRI. Time is running out and he is scheduled for surgery that we are still not sure that he needs. Come on people! Where is the compassion for the little man....or big man in this case.
I had a weird dream last night that I was in high school and went to the prom in a nice white dress in a large building. The prom was on one floor and an ICU was on the next floor. So I spent my time taking the elevator and running between the prom (no date, naturally) and the ICU. Hmmmm...not that I think that dreams really mean much but this could have some significance as I battle health care professionals on a daily basis. I can't enjoy the prom or "my life" until everyone returns to their usual healthy status. Or, it can mean nothing.....although....why oh why do I never have a prom date? I guess because I take these battles on by myself since I have no fear about it.
And so, I ponder my next step. Should I try to contact Blue Devil's specialist and take the kid to NC next week during spring break? It would be quite a road trip as we pack up the car and once again head south. Perhaps we can see a few baseball games along the way, or not...I am sure that Buddy will be in no mood to see other guys using their arms fully.
We have already angered the team doctors. And I am angry with the surgical consult, so a trip to the south may be what the doctor orders. Let the uber-surgeon with the pit bull assistant barricade the office from seeing the little man...You know these fancy guys, they have Town and Country magazine rather than People or US. Yeah, I am going south...warmer weather, pecan pie, and a road trip with my kid. Perhaps once all is settled and we have a definitive answer, I can call the girls, put on a fancy white dress, and head to the clubs and dance ....naw, I'll just be myself, put on my sweat pants and socks with no holes in them, turn the music on in the house, and dance around the kitchen with Diva dog.....