When I tell my wife that I would die of smallpox for her, she laughs.
It is clear that she does not understand romance.
Driving to Chicago tomorrow afternoon, then back to C-U on Saturday.
Results from Mayo Clinic?
They've done everything from electrocuting Sara's muscles to making her sweat until she is stained purple (not joking) but they aren't going to be able to analyze the results.
Not until they do more tests.
For which she needs to come back in about a week.
For another week.
And I won't be able to go.
Fuck all this fucking shit.
b
EDIT -- I read her this entry and she said, "You forgot to mention how they drew 36 vials of blood in one sitting."
Bastards.
She needs that stuff.