At Least They're Committed

If I’d had the results in hand I would have looked through them and ceremoniously tossed them into the waste basket. But I didn’t. They’re online, so I instead roll my eyes and click off the link. Another false alarm. Liver panel: normal. Basic metabolic panel: normal. In each of these reports there are a series of tests they’ve done on my blood and the ranges for optimum health. My numbers all fall in the extremely healthy range. Oh, and my blood pressure is 112/64 and my pulse-ox is 100. My body temp was 98.1 and my weight is good by their standards (not mine) and I’m having to grapple with the knowledge that I’m never getting out of here.

I created this blog under the false pretense that I would not live long enough to know my grandchildren, but now it seems I’ll be going to your high school and college graduations; I’ll be in a special granny seat at your weddings; I’ll be attending your children’s baptisms!

I know, I know, I should be thrilled to be so healthy and I’m more than a little embarrassed that this is making me so grumpy. The truth is I don’t want to grow old, but it looks like I’m going to have to. I pop a horse-sized pill to help heal my swollen lymph nodes and look at the empty wall in front of me that should bear my “future.” Barring any wayward beer trucks or terrorist attacks, I guess I’d best find something to put up there.