All’s well that pee’s well. So sayeth Dr. Pee, who told Dad that rather than getting the RotoRooter treatment, which sounds plum horrific, he’s going to get stents in his bladder which allow fluid to bypass his kidneys, thereby saving his kidney function. Oddly, this is comforting, which just goes to show what craziness we’ve succumbed to.

Stents is better than RotoRooter any day.

The routine is beginning to show in me. Yesterday I was so out of it that I hardly spoke in the car the multiple times we went back and forth to the doctors’ offices. This week and next are the hard ones since radiation happens every day right at rush hour, so we’re navigating through terrible traffic for four times as long as Dad is actually in the office getting nuked.

My brain is defying me because I’m so distracted. I’m absolutely fascist about paying bills on time, but we’ve gotten three totally surprising late notices for bills because I’ve…I don’t know. Misplaced them? Eaten them? Recycled them by accident? I haven’t a clue–they just disappeared like smoke only to be revealed to me after they were overdue. This clearly indicates that I’m out of my tree because I’m normally so diligent paying obeisance to the gods of good credit.

What else is falling through the cracks? I hate to imagine. If it’s bigger than our credit, we’re screwed.

But, like I said, All’s Well that Pee’s Well, so things are looking, if not sunny for Pop, at least sunnier. We’ll take it. What else can we do?

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