The Pink Flamingo

Okay, went to neurologist #1. Sweet lady, took my wife so she wouldn’t ask me to fix her computer. Anyway, gave me an anti-epilepsy drug to try. Woohoo! Good thing I have the shrink to give me the more entertaining meds. Okay, so tested negative for diabetes, lyme disease, and a couple of other things.

Went to neurologist #2. Big dog. I think he’s head of neurology at UW Medical Center.

After the general questions, the bastard asked me to do something else I didn’t realize I couldn’t do. Stand on one foot. They had to catch me twice when I fell over. What is this, some kind of entertainment for docs? What’s next? Handstands?

Then of course, the usual 47 vials of blood. This time we’re testing for cancer, and a bunch of other things.

Pink FlamingoAs we were leaving the building, I told my wife that I had already given up my retirement career as professional bowler and ballroom dancer, but now I had to give up my hopes of becoming a pink flamingo in the front yard. -sigh-

Fell down three times since my last post. One time I got that horrid skin crawling thing that comes with neuropathy. I pulled into McDonald’s to get something to drink, and knew something was wrong when I could hardly put on the lid, and it was serious work not to drop the cup.

The UPS man was leaving just behind me, so I tried to open the door for him, and down I went.

Another time was getting out of the car, and the other was when my backpack on wheels took off at a dead run, with me still clinging to it.

Oh, and what’s really cool is that the postmaster approved my request to replace 4 doorknobs I struggle with, with levers. Guess he isn’t the dick I usually tell him he is. Er, forget that last sentence. Love you Len. And I mean that in a manly way, ahem.

P.S. There are times I struggle to do simple things, and I almost come to tears. Don’t tell my wife. I’ll have to kill you. Probably by falling on you.

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