I really hate the ride. Ten minutes on the highway - cake - and the next seven miles on a main/secondary road which keeps changing, and so does the speed limit (which I'm trying to obey in more than my own town, since I'm trying to make my own town a better place). It's annoying that the facility is way out to hell and gone but (1) the north haven facility doesn't take my insurance (although the dr does) - over $2000 extra and (2) MyRide doesn't go up there, so I drove myself and I forewent the anesthesia again. 

Even so, it's just super uncomfortable, not miserable. I went in around 2:35. Blood pressure, go into the procedure room, "drop 'em", put in my headphones to try to relax, get swabbed. Doc comes in, pats me on the shoulder. I hear, "Pinch and burn."  OH YEAH it burns.  Then, "Pressure, pressure..." and I could feel the pressure down my left leg and in my belly. Needle out, no bleeding so no bandage. Lie still for a few minutes until I can bend my stiff leg. Roll over, get up. Show tattoos to the tech. give her Kenny Cuccaro's name. Go to Recovery, sit for a few minutes, then hear my alarm to remind me to take my 3:00 Lyrica. Ask for crackers and water, since I've been fasting since 8:40 (next time, per Doc, I can have lunch) a.m. As soon as I get my BP results (120/80 post-procedure), I go back into the sweltering heat - my car hasn't even had time to start boiling.

The tech told me that Panera was across the street! It's a big deal to those of us who have to travel five miles to the closest (to the damn mall and I hate the mall). I got a coffee (don't care that it was hot - I had finished my first and only cup at 7:30 a.m.!!) and an orange scone (because I love orange scones) and drove home. 

At least, with the annoying drive, I had time to contemplate: It was 100F in Wallingford. I can't believe that the Yankee Silversmith closed! I'm glad I have air conditioning in my car, and I really felt bad for the older people I saw driving with hot air blowing in their faces. I wished I could ride my tricycle on some of this road. I can't believe Walgreen's is torn down (though I think they may be rebuilding). I can't get over a restaurant, boarded up, catercorner from the train station. AND how it's not fair that gasoline prices are skyrocketing just as we need to use our car air conditioners. (If I didn't have after-work errands today, my leg be damned I would have taken the trike to work. It's only a little numb now. I can't take it tomorrow - we have a deposition scheduled, and I don't think that it would look professional for the Plaintiff's attorney's secretary to have a tricycle chained to the stairs...)

Ice on for fifteen, off for fifteen. My mom made me a salad for dinner - it was really good. And that should have been it.

Until I checked my MySpace messages. And saw Alli's Friend Status: Worried

Damn it ALL: Libby's cancer is back. Again.

When I'm in charge of the world, nice people won't get cancer, only evil people. And by the off chance nice people get cancer, it won't keep recurring.

With the exception of meeting her husband, Libby can't catch a flippin' break. It's just NOT FAIR and I don't care that life isn't fair. She's everyone's best friend. (I treasure her like a sister, truly like a sister.) Her post last night was about 1/4 news of what's happening, 1/8 "please pray," 1/8 asking about alternative treatments, and the other HALF telling her friends how much she loves us.) I haven't seen her since she organized a benefit for the cancer center. (that time was just a trim... the gas cost more than the cut, but I figured that presences in front of the TV cameras was more important than just mailing a check for the amount of the cut)

She's asking for prayers - that she can get surgery. If you know her, or if you're the praying type, or both...

I am going to ask her if, while she waits for surgery, an epidural like mine might be a source of temporary relief. Because they use X-Rays to assist in guiding the needle, it MIGHT be possible.

I'm calling her now. (Wish me luck getting through: the hosp. phone number was bulletined on Myspace; it's already busy.)