If I begin a post with a cat who looks like Wilford Brimley, then you can safely assume that I'm in a pretty spiffy mood.
We received an encouraging report at our brief checkup yesterday. Now the good doc requests that I check my blood sugar a mere twice a day instead of four times, as I've been doing for the past month and a half or so. I couldn't be more enthusiastic to oblige him. Testing supplies are blasted expensive, and my fingertips are about as calloused as Jimmy Page's after all that constant poking.
He seemed very satisfied with my progress, and reiterated that Mini is still measuring about a week ahead of schedule. Then he whipped out the heartbeat ultrasound thingamajigger and proceeded to chase her around my belly until he pinned her down low and could make out her 148 BPM. It makes me deliriously happy hear that sound each time we come in. I'm no cardiologist, but I know a good ticker when I hear one. It sounds like Vinnie Colaiuta, not Stewart Copeland.
So here we are.... needles, cats, drummers... how do these updates become so convoluted? I started off purely with the intention of writing about our 26 week checkup, and now my poor baby's blog sounds like Studio 54 on any given night in 1978. Yeesh. Let's have some more Wilford Brimley to wholesome things back up a bit.
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