"What blood work?" I asked.
"The blood work that was assigned to you six months ago when the appointment was made," she replied.
"No one said anything to me about making any such explorations of my bodily fluids," I rejoined.
"Oh, Dr. Beeblebrox, you say the funniest things. The appointment doesn't make much sense, does it, if the Doctor doesn't haven't any results to look at? Besides, if you will look on the back of your appointment card, you will see that there is a statement about getting laboratory work done the week before your appointment," she said with an audible smirk.
The notice was there, of course, but I was not about to let her get away with it. "What makes you think that I still have the appointment card?"
"For the same reason that you have every book that has ever come home with you during the passed 60 years. You hang on to everything that has been made from trees."
She had me there.
"If you can get to the lab in Provo before five this afternoon that will be in plenty of time". I told her that I would try.
At 11:10 StewJam and I went to play racquetball. We played one game. It lasted 40 minutes. The score was lopsidedly in my favor, but for the final 30 minutes I could not get the last point that won the game. I think that SJ decided to end my misery. And misery it was. As I sat there on the floor trying to recuperate, I had an old Bob Dylan song go through my mind over and over again. It was from "Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid".
Knock, Knock, Knockin' on Heaven's Door
Over and over again.
About two in the afternoon I went over to the Swiss Chalet in Provo where they extracted several vile vials for the blood tests, including, I might add, a ferritin check. The little vixen hurt me again.
Today at 2:00, I went to DW's office. They took their pound of Discover Card flesh and then ushered me into the cubical where they weighed me (I guessed 232) where they discovered that I am 236 in regular clothes instead of my PJs. Four pounds of clothes, keys, and wallet! Who knew?
She then prepared to take my blood pressure. "117 over 79", I said.
"That's what my blood pressure will be".
There was a moment of silence. "That is exactly what it is. How did you do that?"
"Know thyself, the philosopher saith".
Doctor Wurlitzer breezed in a moment or two later. "Everything's fine. Your creatinine is down from 2.0 to 1.8. At this rate, your kidneys will outlive you by 25 years".
"Lovely," I replied. "As long as I have something to look forward to. And my ferritin?"
He breezed out of the cubicle for a minute or two, and then breezed back in. "It is at 145. Well within acceptable limits."
"You don't know my sister," I muttered.
I have been trying to figure out how my ferritin could have gone up 25 points per month during the last three months when the previous three months it had hardly jumped a point. I suspect that it has to do with being sick for the past month. It is a case of false ferritin count caused by my body fighting the muck that I picked up while visiting the hospital. In any event, I am not particularly worried about it. I will probably have it checked in March. If it goes up again I know where to leave my excesses.
In the meantime I'll keep Knockin on Heaven's Door with StewJam. Tomorrow is another day of wheezing with a racquetball racket in my hand. With any luck at all SJ will whack me in the side of the head and take care of the next year's worth of phlebotomies.