Hooray! Mama’s lungs look clear!

YAY! We just got a call from the doctor (I finally paged him) and he called the radiology department (who hadn’t sent anything to him or called him)–and they say the films look exactly like they did in March, so go ahead and take the steroids! She was so stunned that she hung up then . . . and then asked me what I thought that meant.

“It’s good, of course! No spots or whatnot. Your lungs aren’t perfect, and you still have COPD and asthma and thus some damage, but hey, they look okay!”

She just fell over with relief. Then she wanted me to start counting out those pills. She takes four pills twice a day today and tomorrow. That’s a LOT of prednisone. But I told her, “First I’m gonna announce to my LJ posse. They are thinking of you!”

“Thank them for me!”

*whew*

Now, if she just gets to FEELING better. These infections are beasts. . . .

(And I just won an eBay auction for a replacement battery charger for our digital camera. Found this morning that the battery was zonked and the charger was nowhere to be found. Hope it’s just the battery and not the camera! But anyhow, maybe I can actually take some photos again now. Not of ME, naturally. Maybe for a “Canyon Creek Daily Photo” blog.)

Thank you all!!

(Even the ones who are only now hearing about it. Thanks for reading.)

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Author: shalanna

Shalanna: rhymes with "Madonna" and "I wanna," and is not a soundalike with "Hosanna" or "Sha-Na-Na." Aging hippie with long hair, husband, elderly mother, and yappy Pomeranian. I've been writing since I could hold a crayon. I started with fiction, which Mama said was "lying." “Don’t tell stories,” she would admonish, in Southern vernacular. “That's all in your imagination!” When grownups said this, they were not approving. So, shamed, I stopped telling stories for a few years--rather, I stopped letting anyone read them. I'm married to a fellow computer nerd who doesn't really like hearing about writing, but who reads sf/fantasy and understands the creative drive. I'm actually a nonconformist/hippie still wearing bluejeans and drop earrings and the Alice-in-Wonderland hair with headbands and sandals. Favorite flavor is chocolate/orange, favorite color is either Dreamsicle orange (cantaloupe) or bubble-gum pink, favorite musical is either Bye Bye Birdie, Rocky Horror, or The Producers . . . wait, I also love The Music Man. Is this getting way too specific and irrelevant yet? Obvious why I don't sell a ton of flash fiction, isn't it? To define oneself, I always say, it is good to make a list. How about a booklist? Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird Frank and Ernestine Gilbreth, Cheaper by the Dozen C.S.Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (all the Narnia books) J.R.R.Tolkien,The Hobbit/LORD OF THE RINGS trilogy Gail Godwin, The Odd Woman F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby J. D. Salinger, Catcher in the Rye (before dismissing it, actually read it) George Orwell, 1984 Kurt Vonnegut, Cat's Cradle Donna Tartt, The Secret History Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn James Allen, As A Man Thinketh Mark Winegardner, Elvis Presley Boulevard James Thurber, My Life and Hard Times The Wizard of Oz, L. Frank Baum Winnie-the-Pooh/House at Pooh Corner, A. A. Milne Peter Pan, J. M. Barrie The KJV and NIV Bible (each translation has its glories)

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