Stone, stone, ferry me down there

Good news: Dr. thinks that the Jupiter-sized piece of me he kept as a souveneir was enough, if not plenty.
Bad news: Feeling like I am being stabbed with a hot poker in the guts every time I cough, laugh, sit down, stand up, or breathe (which is unfortunately all too often). "Mild discomfort" my ass. What does he know, anyhow?

I slept too well on painkillers last night, but had to drive today, and find that Tylenol is no substitute for decent barbituates.

Sorry, nothing cheerful about today whatsoever. Oh, except Softball! Wish us luck.