Always there's a story. This one begins with what I thought would be my last session with my Cuban friend whom I tutor in English. About 8:15 on Monday night we showed her new tutor the books and the process we have been using for the past few months.
After they left the house in the midst of a major prairie downpour, I put on my own rain jacket and headed out to the farm for a very late dinner of slow roasted pork chops and fresh corn on the cob accompanied by a pleasant Aussie shiraz.
Hours later our guest from southern California, my hubby and I arrived back home and readied for bed — not for long. My way too full gut complained and then cramped and then went into spasms that refused to cease and desist. Guest and hubby tried to alleviate the pain by giving wise instructions. Finally, 911 was called and of course shortly thereafter the whole scenario repaired itself and I found myself stretched out on the couch, feeling much better minus the pain of a half hour previous.
Moving forward another fifteen minutes and beside me sat the county deputy sheriff, an ambulance team of two EMTs, a driver and a nurse, all of whom were politely assuring me that I belonged in hospital.
I begged off. They finally agreed and drove back to Bowbells and their beds, and I visited the next morning, as promised, with our local health professional. All travel plans are on hold awaiting a colonoscopy ..urgh.. 7 July.
Final note: I'm feeling fine most of the time but inclined to remain close to the bathroom facilities close to home.