Preparing to Meet My...

This afternoon, my mom received a voicemail from a woman in her Sunday School class, who urged her to call a nutritionist friend of hers, currently in Dallas from Pennsylvania. The nutritionist, to whom we will refer as Ugga Mugga, has successfully diagnosed multiple ailments within the aforementioned friend's family, and has her Ph.D. The friend suggested we call to make an appointment with her before she leaves on Wednesday, saying that she might be able to help me find the seemingly inexplicable source of what ails me.

In short, on Tuesday, I will be going to see a woman who I perceive as being something of a witch doctor.

She uses acupuncture methodologies during her diagnoses, and I have a two hour appointment with her.

Fortunately, my parents are offering to foot the bill, seeing as I doubt my insurance would have any truck with Ph.D nutritionists attempting to diagnose what supposedly was a problem to be cleared up by routine surgery.

What will be the outcome of my visit with Ugga Mugga the Witch Doctor? I don't know. I do know that I was able to pull myself together for long enough to discuss with her some of the ailment's background and the surgery, and hardly cried at all.

That, these days, is a triumph indeed.

And as we all know, the most important detail in life-threatening medical situations, after you've been crying, is to make sure your mascara isn't running. Never fear, dear reader: my mascara is still firmly in place.