This one was better

I haven’t even dried off and I’m jumping in again.

So back to back posts. It’s like Christmas in June right? But I’m sitting waiting on food after taking Cheese to west side story practice so here you go. We met with a new palliative doctor today. The old one, well, after making us terribly uncomfortable (again, ask me about the story if you ever see me because the tale would horrify my kids) combined with turning my wife into Nikki Sixx from Motley Crue hours after running out of smack with withdrawals, we were done with her. So we met with a fresh one today. Younger woman. Super nice. Remember the story about the marinol? The synthetic thc that insurance may not cover, might be $3000/script? Here’s a script, go see (covered by the way). There were other parts/remedies that weren’t “endorsed” by mayo. She made that clear as she shrugged her shoulders, nonchalantly. Nothing illegal nor nefarious but, if it gets you through the day, yeah, go for it. We talked about some other things but it was about what I expected the first time. More a “how are you feeling, how can we help you” rather than the sex, drugs, and rock and roll than the other. She set us up for a psychology consultation on Friday. So that’ll be fun. The doctor said he’s bald, little goatee, smaller, quiet. Sounds like a little mini me. Either way, she was great and glad she’s on the team. So, tabs here, sandwich is gone and they’re telling me I’m “inappropriate”. So anyway, love you guys and blog at you later. Mahalo.

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