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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Zhure" data-source="post: 1143043" data-attributes="member: 308">LOL, not going to try to get rid of Lyrique. The monsters might, but I won't, there being a subtle distinction.Been a bit off posting this week. Lots of medical related issues. (Futurama quote: "I can't swallow that.""Good news, it's a suppository!")Only arthritis, which I already knew, but you have to go through the procedures. Let me tell you, I made some bad decisions. Not knowing exactly what tests they were going to make, I didn't urinate before the doctor's visit, thinking if there was a pee test, I'd be golden. (No pun intended). So I sit in the waiting room for half an hour, mentally doing the pee-pee dance and I pick up a - no kidding - 1988 National Geographic. I don't even realize at first it's 1988 because it's in pristine condition. Probably worth some money to a collector. I only finally notice because there was an article on ancient man that had some dated information.As I page through it, everything is related to water. A story on modern Venice, with pictures of men in gondolas rowing about in choppy settings. Photos of watery reflections of the old house of the Doge. It's killing me.Next article, the Amazon. Seventy-one million gallons of water flow into the ocean per day, with only a two-inch drop in average water elevation per mile of flow so there's no true Amazonian delta. More water. By this time, I'm near bursting. More mental pee-pee dancing.The ancient doddering (but I'm sure sweet old man) fellow sitting next to me has a respirator and sounds suspiciously like Darth Vader. He turns to me:>wheeze<"I have to pee, Luke.">wheeze<Blessedly they finally call me in. The chair is cold exacerbating the problem. The nurse takes my blood pressure and asks some questions and leaves with a "he'll be right in."Twenty minutes later, I'm still sitting alone and cold about ready to put all the pressure into my secondary bladder. I know I don't have one, but I fear the swelling will create one. Probably somewhere horribly obvious, like my neck. At this point, I don't care.Doc finally comes in. He looks like Yoda, as always, and I'm starting to think the Star Wars connection in here isn't all in my head. We talk, he listens to my chest, asks some questions, manipulates my joints and renders a verdict we all knew was coming. Arthritis in the left knee, keep taking the anti-immflamatories you're already taking for acute tendonitis, blah blah.No urine test.>blink<I get my prescriptions updated and dash for the pharmacy a few blocks away. I get stuck behind a funeral procession that I swear is going in orbits like they're re-enacting a pre-Custer wagon circle. Either that or there was more than one hearse. I'm sitting behind an Evian (bottled water, for you out-of-country chaps) truck. Picture of splashing water cascading down a waterfall into a pristine pool.The secondary bladder theory is looking better. I have to keep switching feet on the brake. Can't hum any tunes or listen to the radio. Vibrations are penetrating too deeply.Custer finally gives up the ghost and screech into the parking lot, hop one-legged into the pharmacy and THE RESTROOMS ARE CLOSED FOR CLEANING. God clearly has me on reality tv.In finally charm my way into past the cleaning personell and it's a lovely constutional, my walk out is jaunty and I'm whistling. The pharmacist has to make a call back to the doctor's office (horrid doctor handwriting translation issue or because my insurance changed or whatever) and I get paged back because the nurse wants to talk to me.Apparently they forgot to ask for a urine test.ARGH. Hope that wasn't an overshare. <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f600.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":D" title="Big grin    :D"  data-smilie="8"data-shortname=":D" /></blockquote>

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