My husband and I often joke that I live the life of a housecat. The fact Jezebel has become almost a Voodoo doll for my existence takes this to the next level.
Case in point, she developed that aforementioned limp in her right front leg about the same time my right shoulder became painful. Fortunately, we both recovered. She must have landed wrong following a jump. While my injury is a mystery, a doctor’s recommended painkiller and exercise regimens healed me.
Meanwhile, I also related a false cancer scare caused by the well meaning vet technician who left a message regarding her blood test results. Guess what happened last week following my latest mammogram?
Yup. I got a surprise, dreaded call to come back for further examination.
No worries, though.
A complicated cyst was diagnosed during my follow-up ultrasound. Unsurprised, the doctor advised more scans in six months just to make certain the abnormality is stable.
That last bit of news left me much calmer. Things are looking up! Heck, last week we got our initial shingles vaccinations after being on the waiting list for almost a year. We’ll get the secondary booster sometime within the next six months.
My arm still hurts and itches a bit around the injection sight, but that’s preferable to the agonizing condition it’s meant to prevent. The Christian reverend I engaged to perform our 1997 wedding suffered a shingles outbreak before our big day. Fortunately, that considerate man got us into contact with a surrogate.
That fellow showed up late to the B&B I booked, late enough to make some folks nervous, but did a fine job. For me, it just meant we’d enjoy yet another engagement party before eloping. To my groom’s chagrin, my promise of an intimate service didn’t pan out like he expected. Both our mother’s hosted large pre-parties in Northeast Ohio and the wedding guest list doubled over what he expected. How could I have turned away friends’ and coworkers’ spouses?
As for the big day, those memories remain the favorite out of all my five decades. Nothing upset me, not even when my father smashed my three tiered cake against the wall. I’ll save that story for another post. The tell fits nicely with a strange bit of recent news.
Do you know the tradition of freezing a portion of wedding cake for the couple to share on their first anniversary? How about washing it down with sparkling wine for breakfast?
We did. Heh… What yummy decadence.