Tales of a Brown-Haired Freak

All is well. The surgeon said the surgey was textbook normal and my mom made it down to the wards with nothing unusual happening. Now, as long as she can avoid anything nosocomial, she'll be home tomorrow or saturday!

And, I've been promised copies of the pathologist's report. I'm hoping for pictures, but I'll be happy just to find out what exactly she's got. (She told me it was a 4cm tumor and that it hadn't spread and that it was probably due to years of smoking in her misspent youth, but I want specifics.)

I appear to be getting sick. At least I'm in good company - half the campus seems to be coughing and popping drugs. Why does this always happen right before exams? (don't answer - I already know about stress and crowding in the study halls and all. I'm just complaining).

Oh! How I hate you, left ankle
     of perpetual injury.
You sprained in July (I'm sure you remember)
     and continued to hurt for months
while running
    or in yoga
         or sometimes while sleeping
but
        you were getting
                                        better,
so I was okay with it.

But now! As I was walking
                                               with S
                                               and M
(but not in that kinky way)
      You failed me and
                                       I fell.
(I believe I stepped on a rock)
It hurt

      a
      lot

(an inversion sprain, I think)
but luckily,
                   M had ice, and it was
                                      lunch time.
So it wasn't too bad.

But now
               I'm home,
hobbling all the way
and
you still hurt
                      so I hate
                                       you.

No one can say for sure how the war first started. Some say it was the fault of one side, others claim that the other was to blame. The stories are countless, having been passed down through the decades until they had only a single fact in common - that the war had begun in july, some 25 years ago.

What happened that fateful july day is a matter of legend, clouded by the ages. Was it an argument over a man, or a misunderstanding about land boundaries? Who started it, and why? Whatever it was, it touched off an ancient enmity between our two foes that would be passed down through the years. On one side was R, your hero and beloved author. Her foe - the ground.

These two foes fought long and hard over the years, taking and relinquishing territories, at times one the stronger, others more evenly matched until at last a tentative truce was reached. R, foolishly believing in the promise of peace, breathed a sigh of relief and began to plan for the future. Little did she know that treachery was in the winds.

Last night, was the scene of a moment of trechery so heinous, so unprecedented that to hear it is to disbelieve. Out of nowhere, the ground struck when our hero's back was turned, leaping up in attack as she stepped down from the bus. Reacting too late to counter the attack, R was thrown to the ground, her ankle gravely wounded. As luck would have it, a nurse who had been on that very bus was available to help her to the side while a wheelchair was fetched. Gravely wounded and with her life in the balance, our hero struggled valiantly to the hospital where her ankle's condition was updated to "sprained," but it was too late. All hopes for peace are lost, and even as this is being written, plans are being made for a retaliatory attack. The battle continues...

Yup, not dead. Not even close, though it was touch and go for awhile. Luckily, the miracle of modern medicine has come through for humanity once more and the world may rest easy, knowing I'm still around to protect it.

Yes, I know things got a bit crazy in my absence. Messy, even. But don't worry anymore - fires, floods, hurricanes, and the return of my arch-enemy, Black-Rain-Hat Man have all been have all been put down with style, flair, and professionally-choreographed musical numbers. The wolves and cougars have all be rounded up from around town and returned to the forest, and several small, irritating children have been soundly spanked and sent to their rooms. All that's left is global warming, but it's getting late so I'll leave that one till tomorrow.

After some heavy fighting on their way through to the blood supply, the Penicillin army is currently approaching Castle Tonsils and preparing for a long seige against the forces of Streptococcus (and the Legion of Doom, but that's another story). Scouts in field have spotted traces of Ibuprofen's troops and are working to negotitate an alliance, but no word of that as of yet. Though the Strep Army managed to interrupt the supply chain for 3 long days, a small but elite strike force of Penicillin rangers have broken through to the mouth and are currently escorting much needed soup and orange juice to the trenches. Moral remains high, but boredom is a dangerous risk if this battle continues much longer.

Now back to your regularly scheduled program.

Strep! Again! Day three of crazy fever, so I pumped myself full of ibuprofen and headed to the clinic (driving very slowly and carefully, mind you), where my tonsils were described as looking like ground beef, my nodes as feeling like golf balls, and my body as needing antibiotics. A throat swab and $3 worth of prescription (I love my coverage!) later and I'm home again with my drugs, and due to fall over in about 10 minuted when the ibuprofen wears off. Go team penicillin!

It was a good event. Good socialiing, good fighting, and good carousing. Maybe a bit too much good carousing - I woke up Sunday with some sort of plague. High fever, headache, sore throat, the works. Might be strep, but getting up to look is too difficult. I'm alone this week, so no mom to take care of me. Stupid parental vacation - I want juice and ice cream and there's none in the house - does anyone care to bring me some?