You know we can either laugh or cry. Did you also know that “seg-way” is spelled “segue”. I’m sorry but, segue ? Sae-gooey? does not equal “seg-way” in my understanding of the pronounced English world. It’s probably some French thang that was adopted as part of our language with common usage after about 1,000 years.
At any rate, I choose to laugh. There is too much negativity in this world, heck in this country, and just in this tiny little, locality where we reside lately for me to be contributing to it. So I apologize for yesterday’s little hiccup…I’m still in a rancid mood today but at least now I’m optimistic about it. Winter will end soon no matter what Paunxatawney Phil sees, and on February 9th I am going to a new hemotologist downtown Chi-town. (He came highly recommended by a malpractice attorney so lets just say I am hedging my bets. 
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Two people I respect quite a bit have taught me a lot about liver health. First of all there was my water aerobics instructor, Sharon. Sharon worked us out body, mind, and soul. She was a recovered alcoholic who when not causing us agony in the deep end of the St. Peter’s pool was doing a talking circuit about her experiences. What an inspiration…what a firecracker!…and about one of the most positive people I have ever met. According to this fitness guru,
“Laughter is the only exercise for you liver.”
Gosh I hope so!
Hemochromatosis is a disease that attacks your liver first…that’s where the extra iron is stored. (Two lovely C words keep popping up in my research of hemo’s effects on the liver: cancer and cirhossis.) Plus I am one to imbibe the occasional cocktail so a little fitness help to my filter organ can’t be a terrible thing.
I think I’ve got this liver work out covered. I laugh A LOT! Things just tickle me. I laugh at farts. I laugh at the way a word is pronounced. I laugh at irony and impossible to fix situations. I laugh at cute stuff like my dogs and my nephew Charlie. (I DO NOT laugh at pain of others and humor of the 3 Stooges genre.) I laugh at the most inappropriate moments…such as my Auntie Mayme’s funeral…
1st of all I was 8
2ndly my stomach was growling
Finally it sounded like I was farting
Please refer back to the beginning of this paragraph regarding my views on scatalogical humor.
Probably the best person I ever met in MY LIFE was my grandpa. Pa was someone who enjoyed a beer and his wife’s cooking, and gathering his family and friends about him. He was positive…positively a bright-sider and I model my own thoughts after him. As a gentle-man he was not effusive. But, he laughed ALOT. The words he did choose to impart were always the best words. Pa always said, “Laugh it up, these are the jokes!”
He must have had the healthiest liver.
So that’s what I’m gonna do today…laugh it up! I hope you join me!
Dear Karin, So glad you are going to see the specialist in Chicago. I think the uncertainty of a diagnosis is the hardest to bear. I had a similar experience, and I don’t think I handled it as well as you. We are pulling for you. Meanwhile, don’t be too hard on yourself – you are entitled to some grumpiness. After Jerry’s stroke in ’96, his sister gave him a Maxine pillow that said, “Don’t worry…be crabby!”