Suzy Says

The 13th, though not a Friday, started out unlucky for our heroine, who stepped in cat poop in her bare feet on her way to the salle de bains. I suspect the 13 year old Clyde of thinking outside the box, having observed his merrily hopping outside the litter box while still in mid-poop, leaving a trail of calling cards behind him as heads off to the next adventure. I’m not sure if he’s too impatient to get on to the next thing or what. I also don’t understand why he comes in from the Outside, which, let’s face it, is a giant combined litter box and scratching post, and immediately goes to the litter box and scratches the carpet. Maybe he considers outdoor pooping to be as uncivilized as the help does.

It set the tone for the day, which turned out to be the kind where you drop your lip gloss and forget your lunch. At least my top wasn’t inside out, the way it was a couple of weeks ago when my co-worker (and healthcare provider) kindly pointed out that particular sartorial error. At least I had clothes on before I went to work.

Even though I was appropriately attired, I was unprepared for the call from the front desk telling me that the cops were at the front door. Also my boss.

For some reason, the police station was alerted that there was an alarm at the clinic, even though I had turned it off when I came in as usual. I later learned that a coworker had come in the delivery door about the same time I came in and that had confused the system. Or something. The police officer was really nice about it, and looked about 12 years old. It turned out he went to school with a colleague’s daughter, which upgraded him by about 10 years, but still perilously close to grandson age.

Given the inauspicious start to the day, I could be forgiven for worrying about Megan, who was headed for the operating room in San Francisco while I was chatting with Kindergarten Cop. But she came through the surgery like the star she is. She had the entire thyroid removed and I am hopeful she is cancer-free. Her incision is pretty big, and her vocal cords were stretched by the tumor, but the surgeon expects her to get her voice back.

Megan is home now, with Rob and the dogs, and just has the hard work of healing ahead of her. She has to sleep sitting up, like the Elephant Man (I remember how fun that was), and swallowing is painful, but she’s on the road to recovery. I hope it’s a short one.

A YEAR AGO: There’s no place like home.

FIVE YEARS AGO: My car and I were under the weather.

TEN YEARS AGO: File under miscellaneous.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Farewell to the Lovely Rita. I still miss her.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Airport (mis)adventures.