Drip, Drip, Drip

OK, first of all, I have had writer's block. Somehow, a chronic nosebleed and the threat of stroke are as funny to me as impending doom from an exotic cancer that ends up being misdiagnosed. Why? I have no idea.

I have a long story to tell, but that will have to wait. I am already staying up too late, and I have to get up early tomorrow. On the other hand, there will be more news tomorrow, and I love a cliffhanger (although, it's really hard to beat 2005's "will he lose his right eye or not" moment)!

Briefly, the surgery did not entirely work. The story of what happened later is a laugh riot for another time, but I have been left with a slow ooze of blood in my nose that gradually builds up and then spills out after a few hours. This leads to such great moments as the other day, when I sneezed bloody snot on my shirt in front of a patient. (He had a story to tell when he got home.)

Meanwhile, I can only take half an aspirin a day if I don't want my nose to be a bloody spigot, and that leaves my vulnerable to another stroke. It might not be the fun kind like the first two. I could be driving or something.

So, tomorrow, for the first time since the surgery, I will see the surgeon again. Maybe he will have another suggestion as to what to do. He will probably want to repeat the procedure. That would mean another two stabs in the crotch followed by all the joys that followed them last time (to be described lovingly in another post). After that, I see the stroke guy and hear what he's got to say. That'll be a real hoot too.

Until later,

Tumoriffic Tom

My friend, Ollie the Gray Seal, says it's all going to be OK.