Since we last spoke, Judy tore her rotator cuff in her right shoulder. MRI reveals about a three inch tear. Afterwards, she trips over a box outside the house falling on the sling first on the concrete. I see her going down head first and am yelling thinking she has a concussion or fractured skull since she doesn't picked up her head or make a sound. I am about to call the ambulance when she asks me to help her up, and she screams in pain. It's not a concussion.
We go back to the surgeon the next day. She has made the tear worse, and now has a hematoma (time to call ace physical therapist Tiffany for insights) on her leg, and souped-up Vicoden (she hates pain killers, but takes these, strangely enough because of extreme pain. When 6 pound Jakenstein walks on her leg to sit in her lap, she involuntarily screams, so she is taking the pain killers...for the cat). Gimpy has surgery Feb. 19.
Finally, I have found out that urology means that a big dude sticks the chromed tailpipe from a '32 Studebaker up your ass and takes a look around, and uses 80 psi of air to move things around if they get in the way. Getting older is a pain in the ass. Stay at age 40, refuse to grow up. I miss you all. See you soon. No pictures for this one either. More soon!