Tuesday. Another sunny clear morning, up at six with the alarm after getting to bed last night at ten. I don't remember when I drifted off to sleep, but it didn't take all that long. I think. Anyway, off to breakfast and back now at eight. I'm heading out on the bus to get the Protime test at the lab, figured I'd walk rather than drive. Not sure why I wanted to avoid the drive. Some weird aspect of something or other, but we could analyze it until it made us crazy. More crazy. So we won't. Not, at least, until the next paragraph. Or sentence.
Later. A walk to the bus stop thinking, well, it wasn't due for another twelve minutes, I'll just walk along a few stops farther down and catch it when it arrives at a later stop. This in whatever combination got me walking all the way to the hospital lab, good for the exercise, no complaints, and then, still thinking bus, a walk all the way back. So the Protime is done and we'll have the results later today as is their habit.
A call received on the cell while walking, a brief message from the ocular neurologist's office, not quite sure what it was about so I called back. They said the doctor's assistant was away from her desk, but they'd leave her a message. So good, maybe we'll get the results of that MRI now too.
Later still. A call from the doctor's office. They've scheduled a bone scan and then an immediate follow-up appointment the day after with the neurologist to go over the results. I'm thinking that's not a good sign. Only one thing they're looking for in your bones.
Evening. The laundry is done. So easy to do if you don't fight it, yet I fight it and let it go so often to the very last minute. An hour spent on the guitar, good. I need another hour with the chords to prepare for my lesson tomorrow. The Protime results came in late in the afternoon, the nurse saying they're perfect, go get another one in a month. OK, that's good. Sometimes things are good. Another month.