Feeling Blue

I spent a good portion of the day at Walter Reed today trying to figure out why Citrus was crying when peeing.  No fever, no ongoing visible signs of anything wrong.  Cheerful all around.  Yesterday I rewarded her with a donut for trying to pee in a cup.  She angled for donut another today, but left empty-handed. 

Sometimes at the doctor’s office you feel embarassed for being healthy.  Other days you feel embarassed because you deserve it.

A few years ago I worked briefly at a public housing authority.  One day we got word that a colleague had been rushed in an ambulance to the hospital. 

That morning he had looked in the mirror and saw that he was ashen, almost blue.  Seeing himself in this condition, he noticed also that his heart was racing.  He was breathing rapidly and it was hard to get enough air.  Fearing a heart attack, he called 911.   A co-worker met him at the hospital.

As they wheeled him in to the hospital on a gurney, a nurse set up an IV.  She wiped his arm with some antiseptic.

The blue came off.

He had gone to sleep the night before on some new blue sheets that he had not washed.  By morning, after tossing and turning throughout the night, he was a shade darker.  Our witness, the co-worker who rushed to the hospital, managed to tell the story without laughing until the end.