The first event of the day brought me to Orange Avenue, near Winter Park. My dermatologist scheduled me for 9 that morning, and I was running late. I have a problem routing myself in the most efficient direction, instead, I weave to and fro through familiar streets, comfortable and slow. Actually, I’m not a slow driver at all. It’s one of my less charming qualities. But I got there 10 minutes late and it took all of two minutes for the nice nurse in the bright scrubs to take the offending thread out of my back. She was more impressed by my tattoos than the state of my stitches. Poof, they were gone!

The second order of the day also put me on Orange Avenue, but I was way past Michigan. I had time to kill (too much time) before that appointment, so I went to Starbucks, talked to D, and puttered about in the Delaney Park area. I miss Lake Davis. If you look at many of my bird pictures, not the ones of the Bird of Prey Center, you will see the tranquil glory of the lake and its inhabitants. I parked and watched the birds, and remembered much later that I had my camera with me and I should have taken some pictures. But, back to the doctor’s visit. I got there with time to kill, and then waited an additional hour because “the doctor was running a little late.” I HATE waiting, with a passion. I HATE tardiness (and yes, I am a hypocrite – so bite me). Fifteen minutes is understandable, but an hour? I am sure they saw the steam swirling out of my ears. The nurses knew I was pissed. They weighed me, and I am happy to say that it’s stable. Not a pound added, then again, not a pound lost. The main goal is not to make the weight go away but to move my ass for at least 30 minutes a day 5 times a week. Psychologically, that’s a manageable goal. After an additional wait of fifteen minutes, the doctor finally came in. “Wow, what a morning. We were doing well until 10 o’clock – then WHAM! Two cases of severe appendicitis and a lovely woman chest pains and a fluctuating heart.” Wiping his brow with his red tie, he looked almost happy when he read my chart, and then we began. I won’t bore you with the details, but I ended up with one shot of cortisone in each of my hands. The drug is supposed to relive the aching and pressure. He seemed very concerned when I told him that there was radiating pain in my shoulder and elbow. “You know, we could go on with a nerve test. It’s slightly painful, and it involves shocking some of the nerves in your arm, but then we can pinpoint exactly where the problem is.” When I found out the shot was the lesser of the two evils, I went for it. I hate shots more than I hate tardiness. Whip me. Beat me. Tattoo and pierce me, just don’t get near my body with a needle that’s supposed to screw with the inner workings of my body. It grosses me out.  For the next two hours I wore lovely blue bandages on my wrist. It looked funny. I’m not sure if it’s working or not, but I will know by the end of the day. That’s going to be the test.

My grammar final. So, I think I made it my bitch. I spanked its ass. I finished feeling wonderful. I did my best, and you know what, for the first time in my life, that’s enough for me. Although I didn’t get to study with my study groups like I wanted to, I think the solitary thing worked for me. I paced with my note cards, quizzed myself in the shower, really thought about the meanings of the terms and how they connected to their function. I ended up at school early, with plenty of time to study. My hands hurt, no doubt, but I didn’t have to type. I had to read. And read I did. Four cups of coffee, deep breathing, and remembering that I knew what I knew and that there was no more time to cram more crap into my brain left me feeling lovely. I looked around during the test. Less pale faces, more almost-smiles, calm, movement through the papers rather than staring at the ceiling, and when I finished early (I was home by 8:10) I immediately called D and told him how good I felt. And I still feel good. I called my mom as well, and told her that I kicked the final’s ass. She was at a town function (she’s on the town council and part of local politics in Frisco) and couldn’t talk but laughed when I told her my news. She asked me to call her today. I will. And if I didn’t do well? Fuck it. It’s done, and there’s nothing I can do about it now. I did my best, and like I said before, I am happy with that.

Our shuttle launch is looking grim. The weather doesn’t want to cooperate, and it seems the shuttle has suffered a small power surge. There is also concern about some of the glue on the rocket boosters. We are still planning on going, but if we don’t make it, I have a date with Johnny Depp and “Pirates of the Caribbean.” I love that I have a lot to do this weekend, a visit to Lush with Vanya tomorrow night, a gathering at a friend’s house on Saturday, and shitloads of time on Sunday for anything I want to do. I plan on becoming reacquainted with my solitude, the dog park, and my video games. There will be more time for friends and relaxation. We are coming upon my last semester, and I plan on relishing it. –

I have my last final tonight. I’m not sweating it. This is the end of my last winter semester. I feel good. And I hope you have a lovely day filled with peace and smiles. It’s Thursday kittens! Tomorrow is Friday!