I was watching Grey's Anatomy tonight, and they brought in a woman with a pulsing in her stomach, whose paranoid schizophrenic son thought that she had an alien inside her.
Mom said, "Ugh, what on earth causes that?"
And I said, "Holy shit, that's an aortic aneurysm, except I've never seen one down that far before."
And, well, it was.
And that's the only thing I've done of note today. Diagnosing the symptoms of people who are pretending to be ill, before the pretend doctors can do it.
Do wish I had a McDreamy in my life, though. I'd even settle for a Sloan, or an Alex, or a Chief Webber. (I know I said I'm not interested in older men, but for that one I might make an exception, maybe.)
26 years old yesterday, and I feel every day of that time in my bones. Mom bought me pink pearl earrings and a necklace. Single pearls on silver, very elegant and simple. I haven't seen anyone else yet, but we're going to my brother's house for dinner on Saturday, if I'm well enough. The five-year birthday curse managed to get bypassed yesterday, and for the first time in five years I WASN'T so sick I had to stay in bed. Today, though...yeah. I'm not sure what's wrong with me, but it feels a lot like the year that I had appendicitis. Which means it's probably a UTI. Whatever it is, I have to go to the doctor's tomorrow, with a surgical mask on my face so I (hopefully) don't pick up the norovirus from anyone. I'd wear a gas mask if I thought I could get away with it without getting arrested for terrorism.
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