About two days ago, I was getting into my car when I got this sharp pinching pain in my upper abdomen. Like I’d been shivved, and whoever was giving me the knife wanted me to see the white of their eyes. Reaching down, I didn’t feel anything abnormal. Just flesh and later muscle. Nothing major, I hope.
The pain persisted to the next day. It happens when I sit down. That same sharp pain. When I got up this morning, the pain had gotten dull. Getting into the car this morning to drop off my son, it got worse. Damn, I thought, I had better get this checked.
So I dropped off the kid, came home, and texted in. I couldn’t see myself driving the hour commute, plus working an eight-hour day. I scheduled an appointment with my doctor at four o’clock.
I went into my room and watched The Bourne Ultimatum and Hostiles (good, but the last thirty minutes killed this movie for me.) Then showered and went to the doctor.
I got a med student at first. I don’t mind being a guinea pig. The girl was cute, pretty if you went by the picture on her badge. She wrote on notebook paper and asked the list of questions they were supposed to ask. My favorite is, “do you feel safe at home?” I said no, my house leaks, the cost to pay for it is weighing on me. She smiled. So did I.
My doctor came in, not feeling anything that would sound any alarm bells; she scheduled me for an ultrasound. I said, okay. I called for an appointment, and the girl said my doctor had said it was an emergency. Could I be there in an hour? She asked. “Sure,” I said, “I can do that.”
I called the wife and said I needed to go to the hospital. “My doctor wants an ultrasound,” I tell her, “I hope I’m not pregnant.”
The ultrasound went fine, except in order to do the job right, the guy had to press down pretty hard. If I had a hernia, I might have pressed it back in. I wish the pain persisted after I got out there. The guy was pleasant enough. His look didn’t betray anything he was seeing. “You play poker,” I asked, “because I could have a tumor there, and your face isn’t telling me anything.”
“No, maybe I should,” he says with a slight chuckle.
Then, I came home, and hung out with the wife and the kid for a while before dinner. I made my steak, hamburger patty, trimmed fat, and eggs for dinner. Water only.
Then, I left for my customary Tuesday night meeting.
I guess that’s what I want to talk about tonight. My Tuesday night meetings with the guys.
Usually, the meeting consists of Jerry, Jacob, Boyd, and myself. Boyd wasn't there tonight.
For as long as I can remember, my buddies and I have hung out on Tuesday nights. It’s been going on for about ten years now. The meeting is a holdover from back in our filmmaking days when we would meet once a week to discuss making movies. We would pitch ideas, do pre-preproduction, or hand out assignments that would need to be done that week. A long time ago we would meet on Mondays, but it changed to Tuesday. I don’t remember when. The thing is, my friend Jerry (who I’ve known the longest, going on twenty years now) works a graveyard shift for a local news channel. Sunday morning is his Friday afternoon, but he goes right to sleep. So he gets a “family day,” and then his next evening is spent with the guys.
The meeting now is a chance to catch up, complain about our lives, critique our spouses, and talk about politics and movies. Recently we’ve been talking about diets. There’s very little shop talk these days.
I like the Tuesday night meetings. People should get together often, especially if they like each other. I used to take the Tuesday night meeting very seriously, but now, not so much. It’s more of just hanging out.
All that to say, today’s pictures almost didn’t happen. I spent the whole day in the house, then at the doctor’s office, and went over to Jacob’s house for the Tuesday night meeting.
It wasn’t till I got home and saw Jezebel, our cat doing cute cat stuff. So I snapped a few pictures and edited one I liked.
In other news, so I guess this is going to be my online journal. They won’t be as brief as Dean Wesley Smith’s online journals, but hey, it’s my space for now, so I’ll do what I can.