Yesterday I had a mammogram done, came home, grabbed Michelle and went to the insurance broker’s to sign her up for health insurance, came home and dropped her off, went back to the clinic to the infectious diseases specialist, came home, grabbed a bite and typed that draft–
–and then Richard said, “Let’s go.” It turned out he hadn’t kept anything down since the afternoon before.
Dude. You’re supposed to say more than “I don’t feel well” in answer to your wife’s questions before that point. I *can* cancel appointments, you know.
I had a half-finished scarf in my purse, which certainly wouldn’t hold me, and I’d finished my shawl project. I had about twenty seconds to decide on yarn and pattern, no time to print out nor look for a hardcopy of a new one, so I grabbed some Kidsilk Haze and Shelridge Farm laceweight, a pair and then, thinking about it, a second size of needles, just in case (good thing!) and my book. I didn’t think in the rush to grab the Jerome Groopman book I wanted to finish. And off we went.
Urgent Care sent him to the ER at Stanford, where they wanted to know if he had (I kid you not) swine flu. Richard happened to mention that one of his co-workers was in the hospital and had spent a week in the ICU, of what, he didn’t know yet. Lovely.
I got to row 35 on my Wanda’s Flowers shawl before my hands made me stop.
We had assured the ER doctor that we had Zofran anti-nausea meds at home from my Crohn’s flare, no need to go looking for an open pharmacy at that hour. We got home, I added that bit to the draft, Richard de-wonked the computer so it would actually post while I looked for the Zofran… And it had fallen into a drawer. Took us both looking till 2:20 before we could fall into bed.
You’ll forgive my not posting a more complete story of the evening last night?