Well, the witching hour is almost nigh -- we leave tomorrow for the Mayo Clinic, with a quick drop-off of the sickly spawn in suburban Chi-town on the way. Not my first choice for Spring Break, but hey, it's getting me outta the house, so there's that.
In classic "someone's-fucking-with-the-crabmeister" fashion, my appointment starts at 7:15 a.m. on Friday morning. I have to have fasted for 12 hours beforehand, which will fucking blow, but the kicker is, they said I should expect to be there for two to four days. Understandable, sure, but they DON'T FUCKING COUNT SATURDAY AND SUNDAY, GODDAMMIT! So they'll poke and prod and finagle my finagleables a bit, then I sit on my fucking ass for two days, and then they resume the finagling on Monday.
We have tentative plans to drive up to Minneapolis for the day on Saturday to hang with a friend, but if the Mayo-nazers perform that heinous bone marrow biopsy on Friday, well we can fucking kiss those plans goodbye. After the last one (a mere two weeks ago, if you're keeping score), the last thing I wanted to do was clomp around crowds of fucking hosers with my newly-depleted-of-marrow pelvis. The Old Lady is welcome to go -- I'll just sit in the Kahler Grand Hotel and watch teevee all day, with my fucking numb finger jammed into my goddamn marrow-extraction hole.
I'm vacillating hourly about whether they're going to end up giving me good or shitty news. I guess any news is better than nothing... unless it's shitty news. I'm pretty sure nothing is better than shitty news. But apparently they know what the fuck they're doing up there, ya hey dere, so we'll see what these almost-Canadians have to say, eh.
Oh, did I mention that Mr. Z now has Miss O's plague and he stayed home from school today, too? No? Hm... must've slipped my completely fucked and frazzled mind. It was fucking nuts today -- running upstairs to give Miss O some soup, back downstairs to find a movie for Mr. Z to watch. Oh, I bought my first OnDemand movie today for the spawnage-- Shrek 3. $4.99 for that fucking green turd. I made up for it, though, with a selection from the "free" menu -- Beethoven's 2nd. If you told me I'd ever stick my kids, unsupervised, in front of a goddamn Charles Grodin dog movie, a sequel no less... well, I'd have told you you were krazy with a "k"... and two "e"s instead of a "y." I just hope they were able to understand the plot, not having seen the original and all.
Anywhich, I'm off. I'll be bringing the laptop up Nort', so barring any unforeseen blood-letting snafus or biopsy-bloopers, I'll be sayin' "Hey-oh!" from the Mayo.