I Can't Even Spell Those Tests...

Today the funny returns. I know, I know, it's been a bit depressing as hell less funny than usual around here lately.

I've made you all cry with my letter to Deuce and my anniversary post. In fact, I'm surprised anyone is still here! Wait, you're here, right?

Today, we will laugh at leg casts, strep throat and brain tumors! HAHAHAHA HaHaHaHa hahahaha....ug.

Shoot me.

So, yesterday was my eighth anniversary. Steve was home all day. You're thinking it was because he wanted to be with his lovely wife, right? No, Dorkfish had the balls to go out and get strep throat on my our anniversary. Pfft.

The nerve of some people.

So I had the pleasure of babysitting him and Deuce who is STILL in a full leg cast (8 days, people EIGHT MORE DAYS).

Between "Hoppalong Deucey" and the "Strep Throat Kid", I was pretty damn miserable. (And we all know it's all about me.) Speaking of me, me, me, I found a new symptom to my brain tumor "mystery dizziness". My vision in my left eye is intermittently fuzzy. I changed my contacts. Nothing. I switched eyes with my contacts. Nothing. I started drinking. Nothing. (But the dizziness got a helluva lot worse with the beer. Odd, huh?) So I called the doctor. Low and behold, miracle of all miracles, they found me an appointment for today.

I drug poor Jennifer along for the ride in case I died so I would have someone to laugh at me with me. We joked the whole way there. Okay, I cussed A LOT and she giggled at my nervousness.

They were all impressed when I had to check "yes" by the box where it asked if you've ever had any metal in your eye; but the belly laughs came when I had to write out that I had a butcher knife in my right eye in the early 90's. (Thanks, Mams! Your "Best Grandmother in the World" trophy is on it's way!)

When the battery of touch-your-nose-wiggle-your-toes tests were finished, the doctor admitted that he wasn't sure about it all but wanted a barrage of tests. By "barrage" I'm talking things that will probably cause problems just in case they can't find any. I have an appointment with a neurological ophthalmologist, a full-brain MRI with and without contrast, a electronystagmography and a videonystagmomgraphy. Seriously, a twenty-one letter word to tell me that my gerbil fell off it's wheel. Good grief.

The doctor also casually mentioned that apparently that noise that I hear in my left ear that sounds EXACTLY like when you hold a seashell up to your head...that could be an aneurysm.

So I called Dorkfish to tell him all this and he says, "You need to find out about the deductible when you're scheduling all this stuff so we know what to expect."

Me: *blink, blink*

Him: "You know, just so we can prepare."

Me: "You realize you're stressing me out and that's not good for my aneurysm, right?"

He's trying to kill me.

But until then, I'll be riding this wave of FOR HEAVENS SAKE, DON'T STRESS ME OUT, I'M A TICKING TIME BOMB WITH THE ANEURYSM AND ALL! (Wonder how long before he starts calling me Edith?)