Friday

'Tis Friday, and that's a wonderful thing.

I got to sleep in this morning. Another wonderful thing. I had an odd dream, however. I dreamt that city was on a high terror alert because 7 people were muttering suspicious things and seen walking over a nearby major bridge, but disappeared. I don't know why the dream fairy insisted that this was a problem. If I called the police every time I saw a strange group muttering amongst themselves, a lot more teenagers would be checked out by the cops.

Anyway, there was much in the way of traffic jams and soldiers, etc.

Serves me right for watching Team America: World Police before going to bed.

Now I head out to Roseville to pick up my mother and take her to her much longed-for colonoscopy. She's spent the night purging her bowels and fasting, so I'm guaranteed to meet a more spritely, streamlined, chipper mother than I ever have before. Uh huh.

(no subject)

Today has been a fairly good day. Mom's procedure went really well. You know, as well as having a really long camera and cable up your colon could go.

When I arrived at me Ma's house, she was in bed, suffering a wee bit. She was still purging, and had not slept well. And the increased traffic of expulsion was taking its toll. So I sat with her a while and talked of other things until she felt like she could be far enough away from the bathroom enough to take a car ride. Then off we went!

We made good time to the hospital, breezed through registration, and up stairs. Gary was my mom's nurse. Gary was delightful. It was his birthday. Gary, you're a saint. Any man who does colonoscopies on his birthday is a saint. Or a freak. Anyway, he was a hoot.

An hour and a half later, she was done. I don't think they started right away, I was told there was some delays.

While waiting, I continued reading Neil Peart's "Ghostrider: Travels on the Healing Road". It is a mighty fine read. For those who have suffered the loss of a very close loved one, you might find it a very interesting read. For those who do not know the book, Neil lost his 18 year old daughter and wife within the span of a few years. His daughter went first in a car accident. She died instantly. His wife withered from grief and then cancer. Neil's psyche was as burnt as bread left in the toaster two long.

Mom was blissfully sedated when she was wheeled out from the procedure. She was definitely not all there, and kinda funny. Finally the sedation lifted enough so she could get out of bed. She got dressed and off we went back home.

I whipped up some dinner in the form of baked chicken in madeira, mushroom garlic tomato sauce, and parmesan cheese. She's knoshing happily, currently.

To cheer us up, we're watching Vera Drake, a movie about a woman in 1950s Britain who secretly helped impregnated women get miscarriages.