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This morning, R. took A. to her 2 week follow up appointment, where the fine medical professionals that put the extremely sticky clear plastic adhesive and cotton balls on her got to be the ones to remove the extremely, you get the idea. She asked them to go slow, she tells me, and they did. Despite it being clear from her shaky tone in telling me this story, she had a smile on her face. Which is powerful evidence in support of the hypothesis that people don't get sued because of whether or not they did something incompetent or painful under the guise of Helping You -- it's whether they listened to you and incorporated your preferences where possible. (I'm not suggesting that the people being sued were not ALSO incompetent -- I'm noting that incompetence often is regarded as Excellent Care when communication and respect happens in conjunction with it.)

I'm just glad I didn't have to remove the adhesive. Because I am terrible at that and my personal preference is, as you probably expect, for fast vs. slow, which makes me the worst person to assist A. with this.

Everything looks great. I got to look at the results from pathology when R. and A. came home. Supposedly there is a picture of the appendix somewhere, possibly at the patient portal. A. and I watched a little video about the appendix in the course of me trying to figure out what some of the phrases in the path report meant. This turned out to totally gross my walking partner out, so she left in a hurry. I feel a little bad about it, mostly because it didn't even occur to me that it would be an issue.

Since the sitter wasn't due to arrive for a while, A. and I went to the bank to get me money and her a lollipop, then Roche Bros for cheese and candy. I then turned her over to the sitter; they were pretty happy because with the followup done and everything A-OK, A. can now swim! Woot!

R. headed out for a bike ride. I vacuumed my car out (I've been thinking it needed it for weeks, but it took until today for me to be bored enough to actually go do it. It looks so much better now!). I went through my sock drawer, and found a pair of child's socks that had somehow gotten lost in there, as well as numerous tall (?) socks that don't really work with my calves and honestly never will. In the course of figuring out which ones to get rid of, I realized that there are actually pairs of tall, wool socks that _work_ with my calves. Who knew? They are a different brand from the ones that don't work. I know -- in retrospect, an obvious result!

ETA: I've also been reducing the number of messages languishing in my inbox. Along the way, I ran across R.'s rec of Biffy Clyro "The Captain", based on my affection for Imagine Dragons and Maroon 5 (this rec was from slightly more than a year ago). Neither "The Captain", nor the more recent "Howl" does it for me. But, you know, I finally went and gave them a listen over on YouTube, so that's something. (That is some odd imagery in the videos.)