Sidewalk Seens and Black Limousines

I had a pretty good visit with my endocrinologist earlier in the week. He reminds me a lot of Gru from "Despicable Me" both physically and how he talks/thinks not that I think it's the world's greatest idea to ever tell him that unless I'd like to start taking all of my prescriptions as enemas, and I think he'd be the guy to do just that.

My white-coated, stethoscoped posse is now so large I discovered my nephrologist went to high school with my endocrinologist-wait for it-when they were both growing up on the other side of the world. Think of me as the UN, with a gown that doesn't quite close in the back. In the circles in which I now move medically, the six degrees of separation are more often measured in Celsius than Fahrenheit. If I 'friended' but half the folks who treat me, I'd more than double the number of Facebook friends I have.

My endocrinologist is, beneath his gruff exterior, the possessor of a gruff interior but he has great taste in reading materials and wound up, as we spoke about state of mind influences on your state of health reminding me of both a marvelous former fellow traveler here on the Big Blue Marble, Portia Nelson, and my favorite non-story about urban renewal, There's a Hole in My Sidewalk. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Someone told me one of the original beatitudes was 'blessed are the brief for they shall be invited to return.' And since I hope you'll return tomorrow this is a close to brief as I can get for today.

-bill kenny