Surgery--Again

I've only lost a half inch in height (that was a surprise, I thought it was more) but I'm way thinner over, let's say, six years time. Almost all my slacks/jeans are too long. I have different remedies - with jeans I roll up the bottom, just like I did in the fifties. With one silky wonderful pair of slacks, I roll up the waist and then belt it, under the roll. Sometimes I use a belt if there are loops and that'll do it. I still have a good old sewing kit, and uses it for a tear or button problem - but no way I'm hemming all my pants. When I get shorter than this, I'll probably start wearing cut offs...

Remember, Roberta has gone through brain tumor surgery. She is very cognizant of changes for lots of reasons. I agree though that remembering the questions on that testing is good.

On my new nondriver's driver's license, I gave a height that is an inch taller than the height they said I was the last time I was measured. I refuse to be a shrimp. (Can I be arrested for this?)

Gang, I'm not worried about my memory. A psychologist assessed me a little more than a year ago. She gave me three words to remember: flag, cat, apple. Why do I remember them? Dunno.

I'm concerned about confusion and disorientation. One major event scared the doody out of me. Other minor events make me noivous.

I appreciate the concern and support. But telling me to calm down is like telling the ocean not to be wet.

You guys is da best.

Just to be clear, I've understood memory isn't the concern.
If I remember correctly.

If it weren't for the labels on my underwear I wouldn't recall my name (BVD).

Blue veined dodobird?

There is one saving grace with regards to my diminished height. Apparently, my body got "squooshed" in the middle. I used to have to roll down the waistband on slacks. Now that manufacturers are making their pants to fit lower on the hips, they fit me perfectly!

There's a prime example of the loss of what was once a decent memory and awareness of what keys I meant to hit on keyboard.

I don't know to whom that was directed but I doubt it was for me. I was/am aware of what your general history has been as I've read many of your threads. Also I personally try not to tell people not to worry - especially true about people with legit concerns.

I'll worry with you.

Darn, that's a long time to wait when you're anxious/worried. Waiting sucks!

I was at Bellevue yesterday. Had my annual post endometrial cancer checkup. Clear. However, I mentioned something I noticed in the general vicinity. I thought it was no big deal. The doctor had no idea what it was. I now have an appointment with other doctors. May need a biopsy. Gulp. Feh. Phooey.

I'd been trying for months to get appointments with my endocrinologist and my internist. I asked the doctor I saw if she could help. The techs tried to get me appointments. Nope. But they suggested I go to the endocrinology desk and the general medicine desk. Waited in lines. I now have an appointment with endocrinology. My former doctor is gone. And I have an appointment with an internist. My regular doctor is there but booked up. I said I'll take another doctor.

Could not wait in another line to get a flu shot. I'll be there again next week to see the neurologists. I'll get the shot then.

Total aside: I received a mystery package. A T-shirt. Nice. Funny. No info about who sent it. I tried to find the company that sent it from the return address. Nada. There was no info on the packing slip. If I'm charged for it, I won't pay. Anyone know anything about this?

Semi-aside: I haven't been posting much. Aside from feeling noncommunicative, I'm editing a book online. Eyestrain. Headaches. Yes, I know, I need new glasses. Saving my eyes.

No more asides. C'est tout.

toot.

package is still a mystery.

I announce mine ahead of time, and I can't see you being a big t-shirt person.

but.

if you are, I have a ton of concert shirts that I won't wear.

you can take your pick...

(((B)))

it's not a coca-cola t-shirt with 5th avenue on it is it...?

if it is, it might be worth millions.

or not...

No, not the Coca Cola shirt. A pretty PC saying something nasty.

Keep your shirts, RH. But thanks for the offer.

I worry when you're not communicative.

Hope the thing is no thing.

I'll try to communicate more. Don't want the bunny to worry.

oy gevaldt... and enough already.

Same as dlowan, I am hoping on the thing being no thing.

Thank you!

To satisfy Deb's desire to get me talking and to make osso smile, I'll tell you about my dinner out last week with my friend Sheila. Not exactly relevant to the thread, so sue me.

Last week Sheila and I went to dinner at my current favorite Italian restaurant. It was a Friday night and crowded. We had a reservation, so they put us in a semiprivate room off the main dining room. Very nice. The bread was divine and there were little slices of bread with chopped fresh tomatoes and other stuff. Delicious. The butter was the perfect temp. Not too cold, not too soft.

I was in the mood for veal piccata. Sheila got chicken parmagiana.

The veal was tender and had the perfect amount of lemon. The spinach had exactly the right amount of garlic. Scrumptious.

A threesome was seated at the only other table in the room. A quiet group.

The following week (Nov. 8) was a big day for Sheila. Not only was it her birthday, but it was also her retirment day. Less than two weeks after her birthday is my birthday.

Even though we rarely order dessert, I had a plan. I ordered dessert. The waiters were touting homemade tiramisu (sp?). I ordered it. When it arrived, I pulled two birthday candles out of my wallet, stuck them in the dessert and lit them. We wished each other HB, made a wish, and blew. The people at the other table noticed. They were celebrating a birthday too. We passed them the candles.

The tiramisu was beyond delish. Beyond divine. Light, airy, sweet, sumptuous. Magnifico. I was carrying on (what a surprise). The woman who made it was brought in to visit me. I carried on some more. "My mouth is in heaven," said I. She wanted to sing HB in Italian. The waiters were fussing with three birthday celebrants in the room. They brought us free limoncello. I haven't had any alcohol in decades, but I tried. Very good--and strong. The whole room toasted everybody else in the room.

A wonderful time was had by all. Fact is, I haven't enjoyed myself that much in a long time. It felt good.

Digression over.