Super Duper Tuesday!

Blood was high-ish this morning - 6.4.
That's about when the day stopped making any kind of sense.

For those tired of the bait-and-switch, I'm sorry, that's really not what I'm doing. I'm just genuinely, ongoingly, almost, it seems, perpetually perplexed by what happens mid-week, and then what happens on Tuesdays.

In short - unofficial weigh-ins this week have put me roughly at 15stone 3.25 - up a solid three pounds on last Tuesday's 14stone breakthrough weight. And I've been altogether very zen about that, given the week we had.

Then today I got on the Nazi Scales.

"14stone 13.5," they said.

"Nooooo!" I reassured them. "Give it to me straight, go on, I can take it. I got back on.
"14stone 13.5," they said. "Next!"
"No, wait, you don't understand..." I explained. "What about the 15stone 3ness? Where did that go suddenly? You don't have to be nice to me. Truthfully, I'd rather you didn't." I sighed, and got on one more time.
"Is there something about numbers that troubles you?" asked the scales wearily. "Did you miss that day in school or something? Trust us, we don't want to be kind to you. We want to see you whinge and weep and call up on the floor like the little crying fat-fuck we know you really are." They sighed. "14stone 13.5, now don't make us say it again, it really puts a crimp in our day..."

I didn't make them say it again. I went around the house, saying a random "Wow..." in every room, sometimes interspersed with an occasional "Well that makes no sense at all..."

Still - quite happy to take an unexpected good day when one deigns to show up.

The day would get significantly better, however. Walked up to the folks' place in the warmish sun and bracing breeze, with old-school Doctor Hook on my iPod. Got there, and Ma was wincing, her eyes red and painful again - which was the catalyst that originally made her go and see her doctor.
"What a beautiful day..." sighed my dad. We all looked up, it was so unexpected.
"Well, it is," he underlined. He was right, it was.
"Mind you," he admitted, "the way I feel today, I'd probably say the same if it was pissing down..."
We blinked at each other - Ma rather more than any of us, with her red and aching eyes.
In the unlikely event that the significance is lost on you, he was back today My dad, who has flitted in and out of being well enough to give a fuck, was sitting up, taking notice, switched on, charged up and ready to have opinions about even something so banal as the weather. He was back!

Of course consistency is not one of his most noticeable traits at the moment, but just as in the case of the Nazi Scales, I'm grabbing the good day because it deigned to show up.

I drove Ma up to the hospital for her follow-up appointment. Strikes me as odd, really, that we meekly go to follow-up appointments for doctors and dentists - people whose life and career is essentially dedicated to hurting us. If someone on the street punched you in the face and then gave you an appointment card that told you to meet them there at the same time next week, I'm guessing you wouldn't go. I guess though that the fear of not knowing what they know is enough to get us trotting meekly to the practitioners of healthcare for more of the same they gave us before. This time, the doctor who last time advised ma she had "confirmed Glaucoma" said only good things - because he'd acted swiftly, she had downgraded her "confirmed Glaucoma" to merely a "predisposition" for Glaucoma. Her intra-occular pressures are down, and essentially - despite the redness and ache and grittiness in her eyes today - everything's pretty damn good. More lasers two weeks today, tahnks for coming, b'bye-now...

Feels almost weird to have had so uniformly positive a day, when the last week or so has been so entirely uncertain of producing one. But if you think that's stopping me from doing a "Life is freakin' great today, doo-dah, doo-dah" dance, you're out of your minnnnnd, Jack.

Now, excuse me, I have to indulge the one addiction at which d merely rolls her eyes in bored despair - I'm heading over to the BBC News site, so see which of the four men you wouldn't want to date your daughter looks like becoming the Republican challenger for the most important job on the planet.