Beggars can't be choosers

When Molly got her fancy-schmancy leather recliners around Christmas, her LaZBoys were supposed to be whisked off to LaZBoyland for repairs, then returned to live with us.  Until the furniture store "misplaced" them.  These little babies had been abandoned (or upgraded on) by someone at the furniture store,  so a substitution was made.  All's well that ends well.  Although it does all sound like some hospital/baby mix-up storyline on a soap opera.  Frankly, these, while not exactly my choice if had any choosin', are more comfortable than Molly's.  So, if Susan Lucci comes around here in a few months wanting to swap our "babies" back, no deal.

I realize I'm reaching with a recliner post here.  It was TAKS test day.  And the next two days are benchmark tests "with a TAKS feel" schedule.  Then our social studies benchmark is during class time next Tuesday or Wednesday.  And I've got to squeeze in an actual test for my class next week.  And have the kiddos look like they're doing something worthwhile because our evaluator has decided to do our annual reviews next week.  And next Friday is an early release day.  And I've got morning duty all next week...

Is it any wonder I thought I was having a stroke--or at least an "event"--yesterday at the end of 7th period?  Seriously.  After a day of covering EVERYTHING on my walls for the TAKS test and a class of listening to some awfully weak roast/toasts of New Deal events/figures, I glanced up at a kiddo asking me a question and all of a sudden saw bright lights,  squiggly lines, and a jagged line that looked suspiciously like a chart of Great Depression unemployment figures.  This is what my last glimpse of sweet life is gonna be?  I didn't die, but I did freak out as soon as the bell rang.  Because the weird lights and unemployment graph were not going away.  So I hoofed out to my car--yes, I drove.  I am a Texan.  And called Loverboy, who called my doctor, who, of course, was gone for the day.  The office told him to tell me to go to the ER, which is where I had just arrived--it's basically across the street.  And I could see to drive.  And I wasn't numb, or droopy, or in pain.  Just FREAKED out and panicky and diabetic.  Tip if you're ever in the ER and want to go to the front of the line but don't want to fake labor or a heart attack--say diabetic and feeling weird.  Sorry little crying kid with a fever so high you're glowing--Mama Nockinbird's on the triage fast track!  To continue dragging out a long story, blood work (including a pregnancy test--like I need that kind of bad juju Ricky Bobby), EKG and CT scan--the one where they just stick your head into the super magnety donut thing,  I think that's a CT...what's a CAT?...I know it wasn't an MRI.  I remember having one of those when I had a torqed ovary--the size of a basketball that one!  That's another good way to get some face time in the ER instead waitroom time.  Barf up saliva every sixty seconds and experience so much pain it makes other people hurt to just LOOK at you...my, I do have an interesting medical history.  Anywho, back to the story.  I'm okay.  Brain's good.  Heart's good.  Sugars were okay.  NOT PREGNANT (wasn't worried about it until they brought it up!).  The ER doc referred me to an opthamologist and Loverboy, dear, persistent Loverboy snagged me an appointment for tomorrow afternoon.  No more flashes, graphs of WWII munitions production, nothing at all today.  I do feel like I've over-reacted a bit.  But the diabetes--I'm not messing with that.  I'd like to keep my sight.  And my life, thank you.  Blindness, heart attack, stroke--let's not forget nerve damage, infection, amputation...Want to know more?  Click here.  It's become quite easy for me to turn down the box of donuts in the teacher's lounge.