We don't need no three rolls of TP

In my last job, it was all about the newspapers. They were always hanging on the grab-bars in the wheelchair stall. But I was working for a newspaper -- it sort of made sense.

Judging by what's left on the grab-bars in my current job, I apparently work for a toilet-paper conglomerate.

It's great, I guess, that the maintenance man likes to leave extra rolls of toilet paper in the stalls, although it's a third roll and if anyone needs three rolls, yuck. And the maintenance man is awesome.

But I cannot tell you how many rolls I have knocked onto the ground grabbing a bar. I am just waiting for the day I knock a roll into the toilet.

Maybe when he has to clean that up, he'll get the idea.

In this scenario, I am like Otto the bus driver

As I have said my niece and nephew have discovered The Simpsons. This is all kinds of awesome. They come into my room, turn on The Simpsons, and we just laugh and laugh. Recently, we watched Lemon of Troy followed by Bart on the Road, two favorites.

Also, as I haven't said but is pretty obvious, I have the emotional maturity of a fifth-grade boy.

And therein lies the problem.

The Simpsons occasionally have an entendre or an adult-ish joke. I don't know whether my niece and nephew get these jokes or just get that the jokes are jokes they don't get. But they look at me. And of course, I am cracking up.

For instance, a recent episode saw the Simpsons in Washington DC. Marge is looking at the Washington Monument, starts giggling, whispers something to Homer, who replies, Grow  up, Marge.

I don't know if my niece understood why Marge was laughing. But she turns to me and says, Oh grow up, Marge. I laughed.

I suspect I am a bad influence.

My sister is so smart

This morning I coughed a bit during my morning Metamucil drink. This actually is a bit of a surprise.

The day after the towel day debacle, my sister asked me if a straw would help me drink the Metamucil. I said it would because I could keep my head bowed when drinking, which minimizes the chance of liquid going down the air pipe.

I started using a straw and viola! No coughing (To explain today, I was trying to read).

This wonderful solution has one takeaway: When it is brought up that I am not coughing, my sister goes into her touchdown dance and a little song that depending on whether her children are present goes "Ooo, ooo, I'm/Mommy's so smart. Ooo, ooo ..."

Probably, this is the wrong time to mock my sister. Just yesterday I was showering and lost my balance and fell over in my shower chair at the waist. I was using both hands to keep the chair from tipping over, so I wasn't sure how I'd get up. But then she was there to help me recover. Of course, she also called me a pain in the ass for picking up my washcloth and not letting her get it.

Put off

Unbidden, an idea burrowed its way into my head the other day: What if my doctor cancels my colonoscopy-endoscopy scheduled for Wednesday?

My oldest sister already had her plane ticket to come down and help me. That would be wasted.  Not to mention the major amount of thinking/worrying I'd been doing, mainly along the lines of: How the hell will I survive this?

My little sister, in a comment that perhaps indicates the seriousness of the situation, acknowledged that  I am "pretty tough" and said we can survive anything for  day.

She's right, but just surviving is no fun, says the guy who just survives too much.

Plus, it took forever to find this doctor, then get an appointment, then schedule the tests. Another delay would be failure.

So I banished the thought to the backwoods of my brain.

Until Mom called me at work yesterday.

Mom never calls, so I knew it would be bad news.

My doctor had been called away on a family emergency.

I asked her to call back and see it there were any options -- another doctor perhaps? That would be less than perfect as I had chosen my doctor for a reason. But anything would be better than waiting.

Yes! Another doctor would do the tests, the office said. We all breathed a sigh of relief.

Until the office called this morning. The other doctor was not comfortable doing the tests. We have to wait for my doctor. What is in my file that scared off the backup doctor?

My doctor is no FA expert. We met once for maybe 20 minutes. My colon and throat aren't really FA-touched.

I guess I'll wait till November to find out.

Isn't it all about me?

The first time my new physical therapist came over, my sister overheard the end of the session and decided the therapist and I were well-matched.

I was telling the PT that I didn't need my feet back on my chair because I was just going to take a nap. She replied that she was going to go home and take a nap.

She is quite good. I have a set of exercises, but she prefers to develop new exercises to do. It reminds me of the last time I went to my favorite PT for help. She always had me doing new things that worked the same muscles.

And she doesn't make fun of all my toys ... although she did tell me when I was doing an exercise that involved me kicking at her: Kick me like I stole one of your action figures.

But she may have unknowingly crossed a line yesterday.

I was doing this exercise, and I took a break with a heavy sigh because it was a hard exercise. She responded: Why don't you give me three more because it is all about me and what I want?

I could have sworn it was all about me.