Self-inflicted hair dye job.
I spent the day in bed... catching my breath.
My god-daughter Aneka left today to go back to Manila.
I am holidayed out.
Steve joined me in bed some time in the evening.
After which I got up and urged my dear sister-in-law and cook-extraordinaire to go out and take a break--I volunteered to do kitchen duty.
After Jimmy and Chari left for the evening, I took dinner orders.
I offered the children two choices:
Ramen Noodles or Macaroni & Cheese.
Amidst dinner prep, Steve appears at the kitchen with a worried look on his face.
Clearly he is not sporting an "after-glow."
He is feeling the onset of a kidney stone.
I make plans to drive Steve to a nearby ER.
Slight snafu, no insurance card nor ID, Steve left his wallet in the car that Jim and Char had.
Dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie, writhing in pain--He looks like a drug seeker--instead of one who does catheterizations at that same hospital once a week.
While stirring the mac & cheese and pouring the flavoring on the Ramen noodles, I call the ER.
I explain that Steve (who insists on walking to the ER-- he said the walk will help with the pain)
is in fact Steve B, MD--with no papers.
Luckily, the ER receptionist recognizes his name, says "yes I know him, he did his residency training here."
Eureka.
After his death march to the hospital, he is treated with pain meds and is able to pass the stone.
After dinner, we all oooh and aah his nice-sized stone.
Erica says: "that is so cool."
I go back to bed and hope that Steve does not associate "loving me" with a kidney stone.
Happy New Year.