What Sarah Lena is cookin?
Okay, so already, I’m in a bad mood. I SOOOOO wanted to be in a good mood today. It’s Friday, after all. This weekend has some fun plans in store. Things are looking up… right?
But there was some disturbing news on the medical front last night. Can I just say that the Brown women are tired of medical news? It’s EXHAUSTING. Jenni’s fever had come back, and so had the pain, so she went back to the internist, who confirmed that, yes, there is still infection raging inside of her. In turn, the internist (hah!) sent her BACK to the urologist to have the kidney stones blasted. The urologist said, “No. Stay on these uber expensive antibiotics for a month and THEN if you don’t get any better, we’ll blast the stones.”
You know we weren’t hearing that.
So my mother called the internist’s office. My mother is where I got my speaking skills, as we both almost always get what we want that way. Before long, Jenni had an appointment with another urologist.. this one was recommended by the internists’ office.. not to mention being the retired chairman of the Board of Urology for the state of California AND the retired Head Surgeon for Henry Mayo clinic in Los Angeles. So she went and saw him yesterday.
Cat scans, blood letting, and an antibiotic IV drip later, the urologist called mom on her cell phone (the man is a godsend, truly). Jenni has one stone in particular that is the size of a grape inside of her, and it’s breeding infection. “That stone should’ve been blasted a month ago,” he said, barely containing his anger (and, again, you can ONLY imagine the revenge that the Brown women are planning for the old urologist). “The infection has started to spread to her other organs. We’ll take care of this first thing tomorrow.”
So my poor little sister is BACK in the hospital, but this time, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. She’s on my mind a lot today. She sounded so beaten last night when I talked to her. I did my best to make her laugh, but it was a weak laugh. Not like Jenni. Not like the Brown women. We’re belly laughers.
I’m a bit stressed about that.
So Boss texts me this morning, around 6:45 a.m. (Which GREATLY pissed Bryan off.. “Isn’t that above and beyond your call to duty, Sarah?”) to ask me a favor. Well, here’s the thing. He wanted me to go to his house to pick up a document so he could go play golf. Don’t get me wrong: Boss NEEDS to play golf. He needs a day off, badly. I understand that. But his house is on the other side of work, like, PAST the airport. We’re talking another 15 minutes on top of my half hour commute to work. I asked what was in it for me, he said nevermind, and then got mad.
Left me a voicemail telling me I was on “his list”. Um, hello? Who do you think types up your list? Who do you think laminates your list? I don’t think you have the right grasp on this situation. So he comes in to work just long enough to drop this off, starts to lecture me on how I’m not supporting him adequately..
.. and .. well .. I opened a can of whoopass.
But he left to go play golf, and I’m here, working on what he needs. Adequately, my ass.
