Why is it when a gal finally finds herself in need of some healthful resuscitation, there’s no one around (no one even CLOSE frankly) with House’s acerbic wit, sadistic charm, or haggard, Vicodin-inspired, snarky smile?
Even more to the point:
Why – when I give a list of symptoms to the quackery farm known as my “team,” – do I get a perplexed, bordering on disbelieving look – as if I’m making up the disparaging symptoms for my own amusement or something?
Where’s my crackerjack team of House-adoring suck-ups, fawning over me in that hot-and-cold way that lets a daddy-damaged girl like me know they really care? I feel completely jipped that I’m being denied my self-righteous reaction to my doctor’s Don Ricklesque-inspired verbal tirade which only brings him that much close to a proper diagnosis.
(Those are not my stumpy legs under that 50-count thread sheet)
Where is the love?
All kidding aside, I did get some good news today. The CT scan came back normal, which means I don’t have cancer. Yep, kinda like winning lotto without the money, but I’ll take it 🙂
Now only two more tests to go…but honestly, I’m not sweating the rest of it. As long as it’s not the big “C” – we’re all good.
Thanks for sharing your concern and good wishes. I really appreciate it.