I've written and re-written this post a few times now, then decided that if I were to post what I'd written I might as well rename this blog "Why It Sucks To Be Becca(blog)".
Faithful readers, when there is a gap in my posting, and if you listen very carefully, you can hear -- carried by the cold Midwestern air, through the pine forests and over the glass-like lakes -- the high-pitched, keening wail of me feeling sorry for myself.
Reasons:
A. Illness
1. Henry last week (bad cold)
2. Me this week (ditto)
3. Della the dog
a. some kind of liver issue discovered yesterday ($5000 from now we'll find out what it is)
B. Doctor/vet visits
1. Pediatric neurologist diagnosed Henry's Autism last Saturday (no surprise there)
a. Ordered further tests, including an MRI tomorrow, a sleep-deprived EEG next week, various blood tests to rule out any underlying cause
2. Our local vet did an x-ray of Della the Dog, saw a "mass"; said mass, upon further evaluation by the crack team at the U of MN, turned out to be her (enlarged) liver
a. Next step is an ultrasound
C. Homework
1. Enrolled in a seminar this semester, against my better judgment
a. realized last night, when I sat down to do my assigned reading, that I accidentally "returned" my own textbook with a stack of library books yesterday. Such fun. My sides still hurt from laughing.
It's hard to feel sorry for one's self in outline format. It's so tidy, so rational.
Maybe I'll put this all in a Power Point presentation, to dispel that last vestige of self-pity.
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