The morning ended with a doctor's appointment for eldest son. Seems the emergency room visit he made last week yielded, along with the bronchitis that half the community has, extremely high blood pressure. So, lots of meds. And blood tests to follow.

Since we were there, I made an appointment for myself.

You see, last Tuesday evening, after a thrilling day of sitting at the fairgrounds, I felt a tender soreness.

Down there.

A more thorough inspection managed to squeeze a grain of sand out of my urethra (a simple task for a male, more difficult I suspect for a female).

First thought was "How the hell did that get in there?"

Whereupon the logic circuits of the brain immediately cut in...

It didn't go in stupid, it's coming out.

A kidney stone. My first. Like a rite of passage, except it's a rite you would rather skip, or at least postpone for a decade or two.

Nothing of any size. A grain of sand would still be the best description. Followed almost immediately by another of similar dimensions. Judging by email reports from others, I got off extremely lucky.

Well. No wonder I was peeing all over the toilet. Tube was blocked with sand. Explains the back pains the past half year or so, too.

So, anyway, got an appointment set up for that. Best I can figure from internet sites, there are all sorts of ways to get kidney stones. And some are just a pain in the you-know-what, others can be more serious.

I smell tests coming up.

Now, when we finally got some alone time last Friday night, the wife updated me on son's health problems, and I got to show her my two little souvenirs. Then, as this conversation was taking place in the bathroom, during the pre-bed routines, I felt my toothbrush hit something it isn't supposed to.

A lump. A hard, knobby pointed lump in the lower right mandible, buccal side, below the gum line.

Not painful or sore, but certainly hard. And not there the last time I checked. But then, how often does one check the lower mandible?

But still. A hard, non-painful rapid growth in the mandibular bone.

Great. It is so wonderful to age.

So, after setting up a kidney stone appointment at the doctor's office today, I drove across town to the dentist's. Just to see if this lump was the sort of thing that could wait two weeks for my regular six-month appointment, or if it was something that needed to be looked at ASAP.

Answer? ASAP.

As in, the hygienist had me wait until she finished the patient she had, and then got me straight in. And an x-ray. Which took an unusually long time to process, giving me opportunity to notice that most of the limited edition Vivi prints she has in her room were all the same number. Need to ask her about that some time.

Finally she comes back in, advising that her husband, the dentist, was going to take a look. Then leans in with a concerned look, tenderly touches my arm, and asks "Are you okay?"

Well, I was until just this exact moment. She looked like the news might be fatal.

His opinion?

It's bone. No cyst, no tumor, just a protrusion of the bone that decided to grow. Fairly common as one gets older. He has one on the lingual side. But more x-rays, just to be sure, and we'll check it at the regular appointment.

Stopped by the wife's office to let her know she would be getting a call on the x-ray results, and we decided then and there to make an appointment for getting the heeler mom in for her rabies shot.

She was actually due early this month, but I was too busy with deadlined reports to run her in to town for the hour or two a vet appointment usually takes. And the wife was running too low on sick leave time to do the same. So the poor heeler had to wait (like she would have minded, if she even knew).

The horribly busy vet's office?

Having a slow Monday today. Can I bring her in right now?

So, homeward bound, fetch the mother and her two daughters, then return to town. She was fine until we reached the office doors, then decided she wanted nothing to do with the place.

"This is the vet's! He cuts you open and then hands you puppies!"

But in we went. A little over an hour later, we are in line at McD's, for the obligatory double cheeseburger.

Plain.

Heelers don't like pickles, onion, mustard or ketchup, you know.