Mrs C has been girlie-ing up the blog, so I had to take matters into my own hands and eventually convince the doctors to transfer me to a rehab center with access.
Here's my first post:
I’m in rehab, and not the good kind with partied out celebs. I’m here with your phlegm-y Grandpa. But I do have access to wifi.
I managed to get out of the hospital thanks to all your good thoughts and prayers. It certainly wasn’t due to the doctors who did their best find every test they could give me before screwing up.
“Sorry about lowering your blood pressure too much and causing that stroke, Crotchety. But that was actually a good thing because it was a minor stroke and now we know you have to be careful because you are susceptible to a deadly one.”
Yeah that was the quote, except for the apology.
I got hit with enough gamma rays (Noocular Medicine they call it) that I have the Hulk’s greenish hue, but not his strength.
I have catheters hanging out of me and more needle tracks than the average junkie.
And I’ve developed a taste for green jell-o and graham crackers.
I’ll try to be back tomorrow with some surprising news.