another shockeroo . . .

to say we were blindsided by Mel and Anoma's divide and conquer technique, is putting it mildly. Who figured the conniving duo would take up separate domiciles in two of the five portals used for a previous surgery?

Our options seemed to be either radiation or surgery . . . surgery requiring the removal of some ribs. EEK . . . Roast rack of 9TS. Where is that bottle of Ativan???? But finally the Amazing Dr. Z called and the team is recommending a systemic approach. So there I am in the middle of the dealership . . . another story . . . frantically pulling out my pocket dictionary. S. ST. STEM. Oh, heck, just ask the good doc. Chemo! Which was yet another shockeroo since we've been told all along that there was no poisonous cocktail for those miserable lowlife cousins of calamity. They will imbibe any morbidly noxious concoction . . . chuckle . . . and high five each other in continued good health . . . dastardly curs that they are.

And so we are waiting yet again for the phone to ring . . . Dr. K. . . . queen of all things chemical. In the meantime, just to keep us occupied, the 9TS, Kidlet and I dragged our sleeping bodies out of bed at the ridiculous hour of 4 a.m. and shuffled off to Buffalo . . . oops, sorry, Tampa, for another brain MRI, had a wonderful breakfast at First Watch and gallivanted home once more.

Two of the three of us are still snoozing away . . . the third is of course, blathering away on her blog.