The doctor says I’m OK
Or as OK as I ever was, anyway. And he took off the Steri-Strips, so I no longer look like I’m auditioning for a part in Young Frankenstein. So much for my Hollywood career!
There was an amusing moment when he started to look through the X-rays and CT scans I’d been given in Montréal — he couldn’t figure out why there was a CT scan of my chest, and I sure didn’t remember having one done. After a moment, he looked at the name on the sheet, and it wasn’t mine (even misspelled, as the hospital folks tended to do). Nor were any of the next four sheets mine. Finally, he got to a sheet with “David Signer” and pictures of a brain on it and he was pleased — so was I, because I was beginning to wonder if I really did have a brain!
In View From The Heart, Al Hawkins mentions post-concussion syndrome as something I need to watch out for as an after-effect of my ice-skating adventure. So far, I haven’t noticed any of the symptoms — though I must admit to having been somewhat depressed when I came to work and found 500 e-mails waiting for me, most of which actually required work on my part to dispose of. Of course, this is how I normally feel when I come back from a vacation without e-mail, so I don’t think it counts. But I appreciate the pointer and the concern; it’s better to know what might happen than to be completely unaware.
We lived a long time without any pets, but we acquired a guppy at Shir Hadash’s Purim Carnival. Guppies don’t have the staying power of some other pets, so I’m thinking that we might need to get a new pet sometime soon.