It's Raining, It's Pouring...

Well, it's raining today. My husband is on the roof as we speak since it seems to have sprung a leak. Good grief.
It's been a bit of a rough couple of weeks for me. First, the bad test results at the doctor. Second, I have been feeling lousy and almost ended up in emergency. And now this. That's right. I don't have any cute little rubber boots to wear out and about in the rain. The best shoes I have for this weather are my patent leather black heels because at least they wash off the mud well. But they might look a little funny with the sweats that I am supposed to wear to my sleep disorder test tonight at the hospital. Hmmm...Don's work rubbers or my patent leather heels?. Maybe if I wear my nice yoga pants no one will notice them. (Either pair - picture whichever combo makes you smile the most ;)
But seriously, I do feel things piling up a little lately. Kind of like the puddle of water pooling on my kitchen floor. Drip, drip, drip. Yup. Just keeps getting bigger. But if anyone can fix it, my husband can. Have I mentioned what an amazing man he is? And I also want to take a moment to say what a fantastic support system I have in general. My family is always there for me (including my in-laws...who can say that?! ;), I have fantastic friends who know just how to brighten my day, and my medical team is exceptional. I just switched endocrinologists (The doc who monitors my diabetes and other hormone issues) and he too is thorough and excellent. I couldn't possibly put into words how highly I speak of my G.P. He is the most caring, considerate, take-the-time for you and get-the-job done doctor I have ever had. (Sorry, not taking new patients ;)
So, whether I am referring to my health issues, my support system, or the leak in my roof, I have just one more thing to say...
When it rains, it pours ;)

In Sickness and in Health - Making a Royal Vow

So William and Kate are married. I will be honest, I don't have PVR and had a rough night so didn't get up to see the festivities. I did see some pictures and Kate was a beautiful bride. I am very happy for them.
Whenever I see two people vow their lives to each other and genuinely mean it, I get a little teary. I am honored to have a man who takes those vows very seriously. Not just as a binding commitment he is tied to, but unless he is lying to me, he really wants to be with me.
Sometimes when I think of the "in sickness and in health" part of our vows, I wonder if he had any idea what he was getting into. There is no way he could've predicted all my health woes, but those clingy, pesky little buggers (the woes, I mean) still never seem to shake him.
While I was sitting at the doctor's office yesterday in the waiting room, there was a couple there that caught my eye. She was sitting in her walker and he was sitting behind her. My best guess is that they were in their mid-late 80's.
What was remarkable to me was how they were sitting. The man was leaning forward and had both arms wrapped around her and her walker, holding her tight. They would whisper the odd thing to each other but for the most part, they just sat there quietly, comfortable with each other's company. And I could see in the man's eyes how much he loved her.
Wow...I think that's how it was meant to be. Two people, so entwined, so in love, still wanting to touch each other as they grow old together.
In sickness and in health.
So William and Kate, I wish you much joy and happiness, such as I have felt.
And know this...
A Royal vow, in essence, is a loyal vow.

Just an update since facing the beast...

The good news is...I am not wearing a hospital gown. The bad news is...the problem is yet to be solved.
I didn't have to go to the hospital but am being sent to a specialist asap. In the meantime, I have to do a nasty procedure at home so you can still feel sorry for me ;)
My doc instructed me to check in with him tomorrow and if things haven't improved...well...I'm not sure what then.
So I will continue to try to avoid the emergency room while sitting uncomfortably at home...in my sweats!

Facing the Beast...In Sweats!

Headed to the doc this morning. It's probably not going to be good. Definitely more tests. Possibly even an admission. It wouldn't be the first time he has sent me to the hospital next door.
I think I'll wear flats today. And I had to pack a bag just in case. What do you pack for an occasion such as this? I went with sweats. There may be others as well, but there are definitely two places that sweats are appropriate to wear in public - the gym and the hospital.
I didn't pack any hair flowers though. Thought of throwing a scarf in but that might be a little over the top with a hospital gown don't you think? ;)
Well...here's hoping. I mean...I need answers but it would be really nice to avoid the whole hospital thing. The beds are uncomfortable and the not-so-subtle hint of antiseptic floating through the air just doesn't cut it for me.
You can rest assured that I will be checking out what people are wearing today though. I should have lots of opportunity to spy some pretty nifty ensembles. I guess it would be etiquette-inappropriate to take pictures with my cell phone? They'd never have to know. It would look totally natural to "text' with my arms straight out in front of me hovering in the air wouldn't it?
Well, I suppose I cannot avoid it any longer. Time to face the monster. (My flawed body, not the doctor. He's a really good guy.)
Have a better day than me please. And maybe...put a flower in your hair?

Judgement Day

There are some bad outfits out there! Come on...we've all seen 'em. We've all worn 'em. There is simply no denying it.
Don and I were at the mall last night (exchanging, not spending ;) and we decided to get Starbucks after we were done. There is one just across from my new favorite store, so we just went to that one and sat and watched people. Man, I could do that all day long!
Anyway...we saw everything from white socks and sandals (on a woman none-the-less!), to a rope belt tied around a woman's waist (which happened to be the largest part of her body), to tights with short shirts on people who shouldn't be wearing tights with short shirts...if you know what I mean ;) It was a fun exercise but one that got me thinking...
Would you ever go up to a person and tell them "Hey, that is one bad outfit you are wearing." I should think not. And if you would, then let me suggest a class called "Learning Etiquette and Curbing Judgement; A Guide to Considerate Living."  Just saying...
But I have had those kind of really? Did they just say that? kind of experiences. No, not in reference to my style, but to my diabetes. I'll never forget the time a person at my local grocery store who was standing in line behind me and knew I had diabetes said, "Susie, do you really think you should be buying those cookies?" Seriously?! I wanted to retaliate so bad with "Oh, well I see you have your period." I mean, really? First of all, I have a husband (who eats cookies). Second, I get low blood sugars sometimes. Third, I think people have no idea how hard it is to never put anything sweet in our (people with diabetes) mouths. Try going on the cabbage soup diet for the rest of your life and tell me how that works out for you. Okay, so that sounds a little angry and defensive and it is. I am not proud of it. But having diabetes is hard. And I am trying really hard. My low-carb diet is super strict and I can deal with that...if I allow myself a little indulgence once in a while.
So next time you see someone with diabetes putting that ooey-gooey brownie in their mouth, please, think "bad outfit" if you must, but then remember "cabbage soup diet" and keep your thoughts, your thoughts.
And I think next time I see someone in a bad outfit...I might just look past it and tell them honestly what a beautiful smile they have.
Yes. I think that's the way it should be.

Flower Power

Spring is finally here! And I love what the changing of seasons means - a switch in the colors and textures of my wardrobe. That's right...my hair flowers are in full bloom!
Sometimes what I wear is dictated by the mood I am in, and sometimes it is determined despite the mood I am in. And nothing speaks fun, flirty and flamboyant like a bright hair flower.
A few years ago I got some bad news just when scarves were coming in style. I was very thankful for this fashion trend since it couldn't have happened at a better time. You see, I found out rather by accident (at least in my mind) at a routine eye examination with my friendly neighborhood ophthalmologist that I had very serious eye disease and might one day be a blind woman. After many, many painful laser surgeries the disease progressed and on different occasions, I had major bleeds in each eye which caused me to lose my sight. To correct the CSI-like bloody massacres blocking my vision, I needed to have surgery, which basically consisted of the doc cutting my eyeball open and sticking a vacuum cleaner in the hole to suck up the blood. As gory as that sounds, I am thankful for the technology we have these days because he was able to save my sight in both eyes. It's not the same as it used to be but I'll take what I can get. And it could be a lot worse, so no complaints from me there.
There is always the threat that it could happen again or that my retinas will detach due to the added strain on them, but I've decided I will not let the fear of that happening consume me, and I choose to live as a seeing person as long as I can. I will tell you though that I've declared war on my diabetes (which is what caused this eye problem in the first place) and will fight to control and subdue it with whatever power I have. Back off Mr. D. I will NOT let you win! 
But back to the scarf trend. As I was going through one of the darkest (no pun intended! ;) times of my life, throwing the soft, warm fabric around my neck gave me comfort. I felt embraced, as if it was a symbol of all the love and support surrounding me. It also offered a feeling of protection from the nastiness of my situation, which I so desperately wanted.
So for those of you who feel that an interest in fashion is self-focused and unnecessary...I suppose it might just be. But for me, a cute skirt, or classy sweater or hair flower or scarf can lift my spirits and help get me through the day.
And I think that's okay.

Age-appropriateness?

As I age (I prefer this term to "get older" - somehow it seems softer or something) I often wonder not only if a  pretty little new shirt or flirty little flowery skirt will be flattering to my body shape, but also if I am too old to pull it off.
I used to hear comments about how women should cut their hair shorter once they reach a certain age (although I have no idea what that age was), because long hair makes them look older. Now I wonder...did it have more to do with the hairstyle itself or just the length. Was this "unspoken" spoken "rule" really a rule? Cuz I've seen some pretty fantastic looking older women with the used-to-be unapproved hair-length, and I think they look so good because they style it well and keep it healthy and clean.
But there is the question of fashion and this whole age thing. What is and is not appropriate as a woman creeps up the ladder of life? If the clientele at Forever 21 is any indication...anything goes. I'm just not so sure.
But this leads me to my next question. Shouldn't health issues also be age appropriate? When I was a child, I thought only old people got sick. And a small part of me still thinks that's the way it supposed to be. Good grief...at the age of nine when I was diagnosed I hadn't even heard of diabetes. Never mind words like "neuropathy" or "Fibromyalgia". Graves disease? Isn't a grave where someone gets buried? I had heard of blindness, but never fathomed that it could become a possibility in my future. Just to be clear, I am not blind but do have eye disease. That topic is for another day. Anyway...
It seems the world does not operate with the innocence of children in mind. Unfortunately that thought applies on multiple levels.
So I guess there will always be age-inappropriateness; both with fashion and illness.
Hopefully, I can pull them both off, cuz either one done poorly...doesn't turn out well.

Project Runway

Most people don't know this about me but I have dabbled in design. Not "Project Runway" material by any means, since on paper I can barely color between the lines and on the sewing machine...well...I can barely stitch a straight line. (Although I did pass Home Ec. sewing class in grade nine if that counts for anything.)
But what happens is I will be sitting thinking about nothing, or daydreaming about something, or having a random dream about flying cats and...Bam! My mind will create a new shoe, or dress, or coat. Sometimes a whole outfit will appear in what I can only assume is my imagination. And when this happens, I am convinced they are originals, because they are so fantastic (or bizarre) that I am sure I would have remembered them consciously if I had seen them before. I have tried penciling them on paper before I lose the vision, but sometimes it's floated away into infinity before I can get it down, and sometimes my darned fingers can't make those pencil crayons do the image justice.
That is not the only kind of designing I do. I also have visions of a new body. Sure, I'd like to reshape "this" and firm up "that" and Ooohhh, how I'd like to flatten "THERE!" But more importantly, and if I had the choice, I would redesign my inner systems. I would kick-start my pancreas, recharge my nervous system, energize my gastro-intestinal parts, disintegrate the tumor in my head...the list goes on. I sometimes dream of having a six-month sabbatical from disease. Yeah, a break would be nice.
But as I type this, I am realizing the first thing I would change is my heart. No, I don't have heart disease if that is what you are thinking; I wished I loved better. I wish I could permanently squish out the selfishness and instead ooze out compassion and forgiveness and generosity and hope. Yes, definitely hope.
So, I may not be able to draw or sew, but I can be a designer. And I hope the next time I am seen in a fabulous new outfit, those around me will be able to see new designs beyond the threads. And also be patient with me in the process of completing them.
I think this project is going to take awhile.

Splurging and Purging

I promise not to talk about throwing up. Not today at least...
We have a rule in our house. It goes something like this...Before going on a major shopping trip of any sort, I must go through my closet and purge. I suppose that's fair. Actually, now that I have accepted the rule as one that simply won't go away, I have found it kind of useful. First off, my closet looks a lot emptier after this little exercise, thereby relieving a teensy bit of guilt as I put my new purchases on the shelf. Secondly, I can actually see what I already have and what I "need". It is amazing to me how I can "lose" clothes in my tiny (well, not that tiny I guess) closet and forget I even had them.
Yes, soon it will be time to clean my closet. I am going to the Mall of America! The trip isn't until September but still...
I've known about the trip for a year now and have been saving my moolah ever since. (And often doing a poor job of it, I might add.) Not only will I get to shop my little heart out, but I get to spend a weekend with great friends. (Thankfully I like them a lot cuz it's a LONG trip!) Of course, I will be on a strict budget so no spending "spree" for me. Just what money I've diligently put away and can spend guilt free.
But back to my closet. Whenever I sort through the past season or past size (that I've under grown...yay!), I always give them to a good cause. And I would encourage you to do the same. One of my favorites is, of course, the Canadian Diabetes Association (CDA). They collect clothing and goods in order to sell for a small profit to further research and resources for those dealing with diabetes.
I have also supported my local shelters who service the poor. Regardless of what cause you might choose, please just think about it.
So go ahead...shop. But shop responsibly.
 And remember...sometimes, finding that "new" shirt that you forgot you had in the back reaches of the top shelf can be the best kind of shopping. Exciting and free!!

Pumps and Stilettos

Ahhh...fashion dilemma's. We all have them. At least I hope I am not the only one.
Mine sometimes comes in the shape of a large cell phone or pager (do people even carry pagers anymore?) only I can't throw it into my stylish handbag which I carry at all times. That's because it is attached to me. Yes, I am talking about my insulin pump.
Wear does one put a small appliance when wearing a dress? (Or one-piece!)
Don't get me wrong. I LOVE my insulin pump. Getting it was the best thing that ever happened to me when it comes to my diabetes. It's the closest thing to a working pancreas that I have and it is a loyal companion. I call him Ned.
Ned works around the clock to give me stable blood sugars and I usually forget he is even there. It sure beats carrying around syringes and vials of insulin, which I have been known to drop and shatter in bathroom stalls at my favorite restaurants.
And after a history of over 40,000 syringe pokes, given by my own hand, it sure is nice to only have one needle every four days or so to change the small catheter-like cannula that sits just under the skin.
No, I wouldn't give up Ned for anything.
But when it comes to formal, dress-wearing events, it is a problem that I don't have a pocket or belt to hang him on. And he doesn't exactly portray class. It's more like he screams "Technology!" which is NOT the look I am going for in a shiny silver gown with my silver stiletto heels.
So, a person must get creative in these situations. I have discovered a couple of discreet hiding places to put him.
And I think he is pretty happy there. 

Drive-By Waxing

I got my eyebrows waxed for the first time recently. I was on my way (you guessed it) to a doctor's appointment and saw the spa out of the corner of my eye. Being a few minutes ahead of schedule, I pulled in to see if they could fit me in later that day. The answer was "yes, yes, we will wax eyebrow" in broken English. Good. That would be my treat for the day.
My doctor wasn't able to help me, other than to send a referral letter to yet another specialist to get in on the case. Well...at least I would be a touch more beautiful after my drive-by waxing.
Back at the spa, and having no idea what to expect, I lay on the bed (which looked suspiciously like a medical exam table) and determined not to cry. Surely, with all the tests and procedures I've been through I could handle a little hot wax and tape?
The first strip came off fairly easy and I thought... I can do this! After about strip number five,with my eyes tearing up, my thoughts changed to...Why am I doing this?  Then the plucking began. Never again! I have plucked at my own face before but this was somethin' else! She was relentless. Still, the whole process took only about 10 minutes and when it was over my thoughts changed once more to... I could do that again. Actually, I'm glad I did this.
Until the ride home.
My doorstep is about a 1/2 hour drive from the salon entrance and that was one crazy ride home. I could feel the rash bursting out of my face and the itch...oooh the itch...I dared not look in the mirror. What had I done?!
A few hours later the rash settled down and gave up on its anger, allowing me to once again look at my reflection without feeling total horror. Relief, sweet relief.
I used to want a tattoo. A nice lettering of a quote by Mother Theresa, "Intense love does not measure; it just gives." I've changed my mind. I still believe in those words wholeheartedly, but after all the involuntary pain my body has been through, and now being at an age when eyebrow waxing has become a necessary cruelty, I think I will "treat" myself to more pleasurable things. Like a Cappuccino or a good chick-flick or a shopping trip to the Mall of America.
Yes, those sound good. Until next time, Mrs. Spa Lady. And thanks to you...no tattoo for me!

Onesies and Waistlines

So, I'll get to fashion in a minute but first...
I love food. Not meat (although that's a whole 'nother story for a different day), not brussel sprouts (although I will eat those), but pasta and ketchup chips and carrot cake. Ooooh, how I love carrot cake.
About four years ago I realized my addiction was killing me. Literally. And making me fat. As in about 90 pounds too fat. (I am obviously a slow realizer.)
A new-found 70-something year old friend at the time, with Type 1 diabetes, suggested I read a book called "Dr. Berntein's Diabetes Solution". It rocked my world. Not only did I gain a huge amount of control over my diabetes, but I also lost 50 lbs by following his advice. If you know of anyone with diabetes, type 1 or 2, I highly recommend the read.
But if you are any better at math than I am, you will have figured out by now that I still have about 40 pounds to lose. I am trying my darndest to shed those visual packages of butter I carry around on me everywhere, but my fat-fighting soldiers seem to be on a break. (Lazy Thyroid perhaps?)
Here's the thing. As I am thrilled with losing a big chunk of necessary baggage, those "few" extra figure-stealing cells are cramping my style. That's right. Jumpsuits are back.
Whether they are flowy, harem-like pant one-pieces or black capri-length one-pieces or the flowery shorts-style one-pieces, they all have one thing in common: THEY GATHER AT THE WAIST.
You need four things in my mind to pull off a onesie: Height, adorable shoes, attitude and a discernibly thin waist.  Let's review. I have the height, the adorable shoes, the attitude (most days) BUT, no discernibly thin waist.
Shucks.
I guess I'll have to hit the + speed button on my treadmill a few more times each stint, because someday I WILL wear a onesie. It'll probably be back out of style, but I WILL wear one.
 And  Dear Dr. Berstein...could you please right a sequel quickly?! That carrot cake is calling my name...

Feeling Brave. And Younger?

My new favorite store just arrived in my nearest city! "Forever 21" opened its doors about a month ago and I just can't get enough! Well...of course the reality of the situation tastes a little bittersweet. Sweet, obviously because it is my new favorite store and gets new items in everyday, and bitter because...you guessed it; my bank account blocks my path to the till.
It really is torture going in there after vowing not to shop until my next payday. (Did I mention I don't have a job and my measly disability cheque has recently been designated to cover our new car payments?) I shouldn't even tempt myself; I just can't seem to walk by the doors without the display mannequin's fashion-clad hands grabbing me and pulling me in.  I think I need a new coping mechanism.
You may or may not have noticed the other day that I was fighting the urge to shop due to bad news. Well, I am feeling a little more brave and decided to share.
It was Sunday afternoon at about 4pm when the phone rang. I stepped off my treadmill to answer it only to be shocked by who was on the other end. It was my endocrinologist and he phoned to talk, not about my diabetes which is his main role, but to tell me I had a couple of other issues in this messed up body of mine. First off, my thyroid needs medicating (which wasn't shocking, although now it was slow instead of fast, as it had been in the past). But secondly, and more disturbingly, he informed me that the tumor on my pituitary gland (which is classified as a brain tumor) was probably growing back. Yes, that's right. I had gone through surgery to have it removed about 16 years ago and now it is making a comeback like a bad 80's band. The possible options for treatment are medication or surgery. Trust me, I pray the answer is medication, because let me tell you this: I don't know if I can do it again. That surgery was one of the top three worst experiences of my life.
But all is not lost. I have not given up hope. And when I walk into that shopping mall, and see my favorite store...no matter what is ailing me, I have decided that I will feel forever 21.

Walk This Way, Shock This Way

So my shoe obsession sometimes gets me into trouble. Sure, my back account screams and tries to run away each time my debit card passes through the machine, but it's not just my back account that rebels when it comes to new shoes.
I bought a "last pair" at a discount price on one of my shopping excursions in the dead of winter. Their ultra-cuteness suckered me in and when I slipped them on and felt my feet sink into the leather I just knew; they belonged with me.
It was a long winter. These shoes were the stand alone kind. No socks allowed. As soon as the first sign of spring hit I lifted the lid of the shoebox, opening a present from myself. This was the day. It had finally arrived. I could wear my new shoes.
Here's the tricky thing; after a long winter of hiding in a protective layer of socks and boots, my feet are soft and wimpy. It doesn't take much to scuff them. My feet I mean, not the boots.
On this particular day of my brand new shoe extravaganza, I started feeling the consequences of my actions about 2/3rds into the day. Who knew the last 1/3rd could be so long.
You got it...blisters. And I'm talking a waterpark under my skin. It was shocking. This wouldn't be such a big deal if I was an average healthy person. But having diabetes complicates things. The word "amputation" has been thrown around in the air above my head over the years and they say it can all start with a blister. Well, that and nerve damage called diabetic neuropathy. So far I have had the blisters and have the neuropathy but no amputation. Thank God.
That day was a lesson for me though. Maybe it's wise to wear new shoes for shorter lengths of time to give my feet time to become more callous. (I see where that saying comes from now...)
Anyway, there has to be a better way, cuz' saving my feet is a huge priority but let me tell you...wearing those dang cute shoes is a very close second!

Socks and heels?

Have you ever been trapped in a parkade??? This is one of those things that should never happen when on your way to see the Diabetes specialist to find out your A1C (Short answer: average blood sugars over a 3 month period). I knew it probably wasn't going to be great, and this particular doctor frowned at me more than smiled at all my follow-up appointments.
I parked in the last row on the third floor, squeezing between a red Chevy 1/2 ton truck and a green Volvo. I remember this detail because it felt like I had just entered into a Christmas painting, and it was June.
Sitting in the waiting room I began to look around as I usually do (Discreetly of course. I could've been a spy) when I spotted it: an elderly woman wearing canary yellow socks in her white strappy comfort sandals.
Now...I should clarify something here. You can actually wear socks in strappy wedge heels these days. It's "in" right now. Just flip through the latest volume of Vogue. BUT...you must also be model-thin and wearing an ultra-cool outfit to match. This situation we had going on? Well...not so much. It was more "keep you guessing" rather than "Guess"-ing, if you know what I mean.
So after my (not-so-great) appointment, I headed back to the parkade. Sure enough, as I pulled out of "Christmas" and headed for the exit, I saw a huge boat of a car "parked" in the exit lane, blocking all traffic. My fear of being trapped began choking me, and I tried not to panic. My heart pounding, I heard sirens in the background and wondered if they were for me. Then I reasoned that I would just have to back my way out. Turning around all I saw was a huge long row of cars behind me, also trying to exit, but not able to see why I wasn't moving. The whole line of us ended up having to inch our way out backwards, which took a seemingly endless amount of time.
Fuming, I finally saw the light at the end of the tunnel (literally),  and I suddenly realized:
Who would be driving a Cadillac and be so silly as to park in the exit lane? An elderly woman in canary yellow socks perhaps?

Did I mention I hate mornings?

So it's a new dawn, it's a new day. I can say that now that I have been up for a few hours. Let me tell you...those first couple are rough. I suppose I am not the only one in the world to feel that way, but I'm all alone most days fighting the pull of the pillow and the demands of the alarm clock. Oh how I despise that alarm clock!
My blood sugar was a little wonky this morning, which probably (most definitely!) contributed to my bad attitude. I find the best course of action when I am "high" (SO totally NOT the same feeling as a little pot-smoking can get you...so I hear) is a high protein breakfast, a little extra insulin delivered through my pump, and a nice long walk on my treadmill.
I am feeling a little achy today, which may be contributed to my blood sugar level, having Fibromyalgia or perhaps the fact that I decided to break in my new 3-inch heels during that three mile treadmill excursion this morning. Who says exercise and fashion can't meet?
Well, it's time to raid my closet. My husband is taking me on a date tonight and it may take a few hours to decide what to wear. I still have a shirt or two with the tags still on from my last doctor's appointment. At least I know from my morning hike what shoes I won't be wearing!

A hint of things to come...

Diabetes and fashion you ask? Yes, those are two things that highly influence my life. My diagnosis of Type 1 diabetes came at the tender age of nine after almost losing my life. My love of fashion developed a little later on when I learned that buying a new pair of shoes would cheer me up after a rough doctor's appointment. Of course, this euphoria lasted only a short time numbing the truth very temporarily. Still, whether my Visa is ringing bells at the nearest mall, or I am sitting in the waiting room of yet another appointment looking at the array of denim and rayon, I will forever be fascinated by fashion.
Unfortunately, my story includes a plethora of diseases and disorders, as well as the most lovely medical tests you can imagine. Think MRI meets kidney biospy. I counted once, roughly how many blood tests had been ordered over the years, and the count was around 3000. That was six years ago. They always take it from the same vein too. I suppose I shouldn't have been shocked by the comment "you have scar tissue", from the lab tech who filled those nine vials of blood last time. I guess they are going to have to dig a little deeper and find some "fresh meat" next time.
Can I just say something? I am fighting the urge to hit the closest, biggest department store right now. That's right...two doctor's appointments today and neither of them were good. I think I'll save the news for another day when I am feeling brave. Besides...I can't give all my secrets away in one shot.
And...I have some shopping to do.