OK. I'm biased. It's created by Karla, my PFL. And even the cool logo is created by our friend Ray.
But subjectivity doth not exist. Don't you forget it.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Find Great Ways to Eat Cheap Food
Cool enough to have an ipod? Check out Chicago Cheap Eats by clicking on that cool app logo below. Spend less than a buck and discover six dozen-plus ways to eat and drink in a beautiful cheap way.
OK. I'm biased. It's created by Karla, my PFL. And even the cool logo is created by our friend Ray.
But subjectivity doth not exist. Don't you forget it.
OK. I'm biased. It's created by Karla, my PFL. And even the cool logo is created by our friend Ray.
But subjectivity doth not exist. Don't you forget it.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
A Successful Update
Monday Karla met me after work and we drove to the hospital. We waited in the waiting room. And waited. Then my name was called and I was escorted to the newer, fancier MRI.
This one'll pick up anything, said the technician.
The booms and the bangs and the stops and the starts accompanied my kabbalah prayers; it was an orchestral chant sung by a machine brain and a choir.
We drove home and I ellipticized.
Tuesday Karla met me after work and we drove to the hospital. We waited in the doctor's office. And waited. This always seems like forever. Results please, results. The door's closed. It's a small room. Bigger than the MRI maybe, but not while we're waiting.
We pray. Sometimes out loud, or out quiet, often to ourselves. Keep seeing her in your head walking into the room saying everything's better than ever--that's what the rabbi says--keep seeing her in your head walking into the room saying it's gone.
So we do that. Then she knocks on the door. And she walks in the room and says everything's OK. She shows us the MRI on the screen, compares this to that, blah blah blah; confirms my prescription amounts, blah blah blah; asks me how long I've been off chemo and says wow.
Is that good to hear wow from your doctor?
Yes.
We met friends at a bar, the same bar we always go to celebrate the victory, and with cheers, I say, with cheers, el na rifa na la.
P.S. Yesterday a friend shared good news re: her own brain MRI this week. K and I toasted her last night with our Friday night martini. Among other thankses. Wow.
This one'll pick up anything, said the technician.
The booms and the bangs and the stops and the starts accompanied my kabbalah prayers; it was an orchestral chant sung by a machine brain and a choir.
We drove home and I ellipticized.
Tuesday Karla met me after work and we drove to the hospital. We waited in the doctor's office. And waited. This always seems like forever. Results please, results. The door's closed. It's a small room. Bigger than the MRI maybe, but not while we're waiting.
We pray. Sometimes out loud, or out quiet, often to ourselves. Keep seeing her in your head walking into the room saying everything's better than ever--that's what the rabbi says--keep seeing her in your head walking into the room saying it's gone.
So we do that. Then she knocks on the door. And she walks in the room and says everything's OK. She shows us the MRI on the screen, compares this to that, blah blah blah; confirms my prescription amounts, blah blah blah; asks me how long I've been off chemo and says wow.
Is that good to hear wow from your doctor?
Yes.
We met friends at a bar, the same bar we always go to celebrate the victory, and with cheers, I say, with cheers, el na rifa na la.
P.S. Yesterday a friend shared good news re: her own brain MRI this week. K and I toasted her last night with our Friday night martini. Among other thankses. Wow.
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