I write to you from the scholarly bedroom of Scholarly Sarah Milkes. I have commandeered her computational device whist she lounges upon her bed knittin' like a kitten. Soon we will be reunited with hometown girl Dyna Monster doing some fun-ass-shit thing in our nation's capital. For the record, I dislike our nation's capitol and will be leaving as soon as we are done doing fun-ass-shit.
The purpose of my trip, as most of ye know, was travelling to Balty-More to visit the Grand Poobah of Pectus Paving. I had my consult this morning and I am feeling a bit unsettled. I am trying to figure out if my unsettled feeling was due to:
1) The fact that B-more is a depressing ghetto-ass creeptown that made me want to hold my blanky and cry.
2) Grand Poobah is a pediatric surgeon and as such, his offices are painted in disturbing primary colors where gimpified children are sated with back issues of Highlights magazine.
3) I dislike the mid-Atlantic states.
4) Grand P. wants to do the fearsome NUSS procedure on my deep, delicate bowl. This is PAINFUL, UNCOMFORTABLE version of PE surgery that involves having one or perhaps TWO pressure-exerting METAL BARS in one's chest for TWO YEARS! Whereas the other one is more invasive (involves peeling your chest open like a piece of fruit) I can request the aforementioned invasive cartilage-removal fest the RAVITCH, but at that point, why travel to Charm City when I can have the same operation done in beautiful downtown H-town, Tejas, close to my home and my Luxury Lift chair?!?!?
Probably not:
5) Lounging about the examination table in my bra in front of the comely young resident! BOOYA!
I'M SCARED.
I got in touch with my Pectus Pal L., who lives in the Lone Star State and who I met down at the H-town Dr's office in February, and she seems to be leaning towards the H-town doc for her surgery. I just can't pin down anyone who has had surgery with him. At least not this surgery. ARRGH.
There is always Option #3: the doctor in LA. But I don't want to do that until my mom moves into her new house.
I think I'd feel better being closer to home.
Milkes is a better archivist than I, having produced for my amusement a piece of notebook paper I doodled upon in 1999! Hurrah! I made fun of people I haven't seen in years on it.