Posted by TFG on 17th November 2012
Yesterday, it was waiting six hours for the dang Charter man to swing by and install cable internet at the doctor’s office of 40 years. They’ve been limping along with ATT DSL, but by jumping into the second decade of the 21st century with cloud-based electronic medical records…limping becomes paralyzed from the shoulders down. I was there as the “IT guy”, and I was doing infrastructure changes, for which you can read pulling cable. Except I couldn’t pull cable, as the extensive remodeling this joint has undergone over 40 years includes a shingled roof existing underneath another, higher, shingled roof. Roof #1 has a hole cut in it, but climbing through holes in roofs under roofs, well, that was 20 years in my rear-view mirror. So, I took the easy way out, and added a desktop switch on the other side of the office. None of which refers to the six-hour wait — “we will be there between 8am and noon” and they showed up at 2:30, so I’m rounding down. Two hours later, the new shizz is installed but only has one lonely blinking light which seems to mean that support has to activate it, and adios, gotta go to the next install. I’ll be going by to see if there are more lights going blinky-blinky and we have that blazing fast pipe, which actually isn’t blazingly faster, more like vastly bigger, but I don’t expect yall to understand that, maybe you do.
I’ll be on my way to my quarterly-for-me scan, a PET scan this time, and two weeks (TWO!) before the cancer doctor reads them, interprets them, and informs me of my fate for the immediate future, such as “carry on as you were” or “more chemo for you” or whatever might be more horrifying. That puts it past Thanksgiving, of course, a Thanksgiving I didn’t expect to see from the perspective of last year’s Thanksgiving. Actually all of this, being the “IT guy” and various other activities, I didn’t expect to see. I’ve got to change that outlook, I think, or not and continue to be gushingly thankful to my Lord that I am blessed. I need a synthesis of those two, somehow.
UPDATE: and now the cancer doctor’s people have called and, I quote here, “the PET tracer was coming in from Houston and it didn’t make it.” Absurdly, I picture a radioactivity symbol smoking a cigarette leaning on a car with it’s hood up on I-45 and Junior Brown’s Broke Down South Of Dallas playing in the background. More weeks of worry that I will endeavour to abstain from, as I have things to do.
Things such as drive to Rockwall and see if any more lights are going blinky-blinky.