A Preference for Boob-Squishing

This morning over breakfast, I reminded Jeff that he should request an EKG at his physical with the family doctor.  He’d been putting off this visit by arguing that he sees enough doctors already, why invite trouble?  And as for that EKG, “Why would I ask them to do that?  They’ll just refer me to a cardiologist.” 

 

“So, if there is something wrong with your heart, you’d rather not know about it?” I asked.

He grabbed his pill bottle and grumbled, “I have to take my darn pills.”

I smiled and suggested he think of them as his life-sustaining medications instead of his “darn pills.”  And I added, "Maybe the doctor will have nothing but good news for you."

The poor guy is doing well enough to feel as if he doesn’t need doctors and pills.  He has had some mild depression – mostly because of fatigue – but that seems to have passed for now, as has the extreme fatigue.  And he has had some symptoms that warranted a visit to the urologist and a few fascinating urological tests (although I don’t think he would describe them that way).  After one of these tests I received a forlorn text, "I think I'd rather do a boob-squishing."  My sisters later insisted he would not prefer a boob-squishing.  However, this test caused bleeding and burning for days afterward.  Ladies, we'll have to give him this one.

It turned out to be a good doctor visit – good blood counts, good heart, good cholesterol, good kidneys.  Dr. Sullivan prescribed a medication which might help with the nighttime leg cramps that interrupt Jeff’s sleep 1-6 times per night.

 

Highlights of these glorious days include the long-awaited unveiling of Jeff’s latest metal sculpture (see photo), Rosie’s first steps and Amy’s graduation party.  Jeff is preparing a temple talk for Sunday in which he will talk about his journey and, of course, Wonder Woman Nicole, whose healthy blood cells continue to flow happily through Jeff's veins.  He hopes to convey how prayers are often answered in unexpected ways.