It all hit before 9 AM. I waltzed off to see Dr. Bunas, or Stanley Bunass, as I secretly refer to him, to proudly show him that I took out my own stitches, you're welcome. I forgot the part where he tells me the results of pathology, because the past three times have all been the same; basal cell carcinoma, early catch, off with you now.
This time it's didn't get the margins, let's have you heal a bit and then we'll have another go, shall we? I guess we shall. Bigger punch, more stitches.
Stop by the vet after seeing him because it is on the way to the golf course where I am going to play nine with some buds. Gus' x-rays don't show any breaks or disc damage, but we feel there are spinal contusions, shall we do a MRI? No, no we shall not. What we will do is acupuncture, it helped me, it helped Bombay, and it will help Doggus Dorkus.
On the way to golf, phone call from the Mister to tell me that a friend of ours is recovering from brain surgery to remove a cancerous tumor. He'll be doing Chemotherapy Light (pill), and the prognosis is good, but still.
I guess I should have just expected that the golf schedule got docked up so I couldn't play with my group (someone erased my name), but I just hitched up with another foursome and had a delightful time. I played with a woman who has been a member since 1952, all 4'8" of her. It was like Dorf golf. She didn't hit far, but it was always straight and she never apologized for any shot. I'm gonna be just like that when I'm that age. I shall golf the way I want, rules and scorecards be damned.
That is my blahg report for today.
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