A Pound of Flesh

More tests and more tests. Last time Katrina went to the doctor she felt faint so the doctor prescribed a battery of tests to make sure it wasn't just fatigue. They had us drive to Bay Shore on at 8am on a Saturday morning to get her blood glucose levels tested. Well, they actually sent us to the wrong place. You see, when a medical lab moves, they apparently don't tell anyone except the Weight Watchers supply office next door. For this glucose test, they used to take your blood, have you go out and eat a balanced lunch, and come back in two hours to see if your pancreas was doing its job with the insulin. Instead, they had Katrina drink 6 ounces of the sweetest orange fluid known to the likes of man. You could get diabetes just by looking at it. I checked the label, 54 grams of sugar in this little bottle. That's like the sweetness of a 20 ounce bottle of Coke squeezed into half can! Of course, that test came back negative.

Recently Katrina started getting this twitch under her left eye around where the socket is. Instead of prescribing more sleep and possibly a warm compress, she now has to go see a Neuro-Opthamologist to make sure she doesn't have Freaky Face Syndrome or something. They really don't leave anything to chance in this litigious land. They make her stress about everything. It can send you over the edge. Hell, even I've leaned back a bit. For me anyway. I let her have a bite of my bacon at breakfast the other day. See? I'm not made of stone.