Ploppy, streamy, drippy wet paint Bow Tie o’ the Day spent time with me at my regular physician’s office this morning. Despite going to the urgent care clinic earlier in the week, where I got x-rays and the a-okay about my ribs, I went to my Dr. Blaze for a second opinion. Really, his opinion was the third opinion since I always give myself the first medical opinion.
Dr. Blaze also gave me a third opinion about the dangers of running down stairs and breaking the resulting fall with one’s ribs. I, urgent care, and Dr. Blaze are in agreement about the ideal way to descend stairs, which is to pay attention while you walk, and hold on to the bannister if at all possible. We also all three agree that tripping over one’s own shoes while speeding recklessly down the stairs is especially ill-advised. (No, I wasn’t wearing clown shoes when I tripped. But having a pair of those sounds fun.) I still believe if I had been cloaked in my cape when I tripped, I would have flown gently to the floor, feet first.
Why all this medical opinion fuss? Since my summer surgery, I’ve been overly overprotective of my innards, and I want to be extra sure I don’t have riblit shards impaling my lungs, heart, or what’s left of my pancreas– because Sunday morning Suzanne and I fly away for a week. And ain’t nobody wants to do their vacation sight-seeing from a hospital bed. As of now, I have been officially declared fit for jet-setting on commercial flights and for the conducting of unbridled antics in other states.
I’ve already packed my speshul, old timey swimming suit, which was such a hit with y’all when I posted about our Dauphin Island ocean vacay in September. We’re flying to Tucson and then to Las Vegas, so we aren’t gonna be hanging at a beach. But swimming pools grow everywhere in those cities, and I’m darn sure gonna find one where I can show off my swimmin’ duds, even if I don’t actually do any swimming. Up next? The packin’ o’ the bow ties! Choices galore!