Blame It On The NyQuil

Yes, I had it backwards. Actually what we were hoping would be discovered today was that Amy's "stoma" was constricted and would require "dilating", not a dilated stoma.

What do I know? I'm certain though that God, mercifully, can sort this stuff out. Unfortunately Amy's stoma is fine, although I guess technically that's a good thing...see how confusing this gets?

Anyway the procedure did find a couple of small ulcers nothing more and that's not the source of Amy's problems so we're going to have to have a meeting of the medical minds and think of some new things to try to further bewilder our insurance carrier.

I stayed at the hospital all day since Amy hates this particular procedure...I'm sure I was of great comfort, sleeping off my creeping crud. I'm fairly sure I'm on the mend at least.

Amy was not able to come home with me and we have no timetable for liftoff, although we haven't been told of any new procedures being planned, so I don't see why she couldn't come home to be treated with antibiotics. Then again I don't know a stoma from a hole in the ground.

I came home this afternoon to the surprise greeting of our three dogs...in our front yard. They must have somehow opened the gate. Luckily they have the collective IQ of a grapefruit and hadn't ventured more than a house away. The good thing is they're all tired out from their freedom frolic. I think they sort of think this was some type of reward for the fact they've been ignored for the past few days. I am not one to shatter their illusion, although I did reinforce the gate.

The dogs are excited by the prospect of what's beyond the fence, but once there they really have no idea of what to do.

I don't want to dwell on that the thought, but in that respect I don't think we're too far apart on the evolutionary ladder, although I don't have the desire to pee on plants.

At least not yet.

Yes, I realize I'm rambling...I'm caught up in stomas, and frenetic dogs who'd break into a chorus of Bobby McGee if they knew how to sing.

Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose,
Nothing, that's all that Bobby left me, yeah,
But feeling good was easy, Lord, when he sang the blues,
Hey, feeling good was good enough for me, hmm hmm,
Good enough for me and my Bobby McGee.

The little ones do howl in harmony by the way... that gives Amy great joy.

I confess it occasionally makes me want to deliberately leave the fence gate open.

Okay, maybe I still have a slight fever.

Hopefully you can sort this stuff out too.