A trip to the doctor, mortality and an awakening, it was a busy day.

Last week my wife made me go to the doctor. My knee hurt, a lot, and she said I had to go. She was right, the pain was keeping me awake, and walking is difficult. But, going to the doctor makes my skin crawl, the place is filled with sick people, and doctors. Groups that should be avoided.

So, I called. And the woman who answered the phone said the doctor didn't have any appointments until late November, but I could see a Nurse Practitioner if I wanted. I didn't know what to do, so I panicked, and told her I would call back the next day.

In those cases, the times I don't know what to do, too many options, all of them bad, I call my wife and ask her.

"Call back and make an appointment with the Nurse Practitioner." She said, she was certain that was the right thing. And when she is that confident, even if she is wrong, there is no reasoning with her.

"I told them I would call back tomorrow. Maybe I should wait." A man of my word.

"They don't care, Tim. Just call." She was losing her ability to see reason.

So, I called back and tried to disguise my voice. However, my birthday and name proved too much to overcome.

"Oh, hi, Tim, I was helping you earlier. Help me out, which knee is it again?" She sounded happy, but there might have been an ember of anger and resentment somewhere in there.

"It was my right knee. I know I told you I would call tomorrow, and I'm sorry, but my wife made me call back today. I can call tomorrow if that's better." This might work, if I play my cards right.

"No, that's fine. We can schedule you right now." And, she did.

When I went to my appointment I checked in at the desk, everything was going as well as could be expected. Hardly any sick people and not a doctor in sight. I could start breathing again.

The woman at the desk looked at my name.

"Oh, hi Tim. How are you?" She smiled kindly, her voice was warm and friendly, she seemed sincere. And I panicked.

"I"m OK. How are you?" I said, looking behind me, finding the nearest exit sign, in case things went bad.

"How's your knee?"

"It's sore." Damn, things were taking a turn for the worse.

"I helped you schedule your appointment." She was smiling, cheerful. But, there might have been some latent hostility, I couldn't be sure.

"I'm so sorry! I know I told you I would call back the next day, but my wife made me call back the same day. I normally don't go back on my word so quickly..." five minutes of really going in for myself, laying it out there, I covered everything from my disappointing performance in the third grade Christmas Program, I was  Shepherd #5, and stage fright made me nauseous, until I thought I was going to pass out, to my difficulty staying in one job when I was older because of my resentment of authority. There was no way I could possibly be held responsible for this minor oversight.

Finally, she said. "It's ok. We don't mind." But, she seemed a little angry.

Then, I went back and had my appointment.

"It's arthritis. Osteoarthritis." She said, and I guess Osteo means aged. And she said the "x-ray shows some detritus in the joint that might need to be cleaned out."

In that moment I saw it all. The beginning of the end. I felt the icy fingers of the dark hand closing
around me. I almost cried. This was the first thing I have ever had that there was no coming back from. It wasn't going to get better, only worse.

I've done a lot of stupid things in my life. Stitches, sprains, breaks, times when I should have learned and didn't. But, they always got better. Not this time. Slowly, inexorably my body is going to start to fail. One joint, one organ, one twinge at a time, until someday it just gives up, surrenders to a light so much brighter than its own.

Then I thought, I'm not done yet. I will "not go gentle into that good night." So, I will limp if I have to, I will crawl if I need to, but I'm going to be around. It is going to get better, and better, even if it slows down a little. Hang on, it is about to get interesting.

Medical Problems, and Doctor Troubles

Yesterday I had an appointment to see my Doctor. It was my yearly checkup. It is always tense, and uncomfortable. But, over the last few years we have come to an understanding, I am trying to be a better patient, and he has become more patient. Tendinitis, and a the painful effects of an ancient elbow fracture have actually made us closer. He sees that I am willing to do my exercises if it will help me walk without a limp or return the feeling to my fingers. And I began to understand that he was really trying to help me live better, and longer.

Yesterday was different, though. Things were more subdued, even by the standards of our new relationship. He was polite, in an odd way, in a way that made me more than a little nervous about things. I began revising the estimates of my probable continuation downward, sharply. He must know something, I reasoned. But, what, I hadn’t had my blood test yet. Did he see something on my chart, had my expiration date changed since my last visit? What did he see staring at that computer screen?

“Well, your blood pressure is good today.” He said, smiling.

Here is where he drops the bomb, I thought. He will start with my weight, my diet, my appearance,
the grey in my hair, the shape of my glasses clashing with the contours of my face. Something, anything.

“You have quite a buildup in your ears.” He said. “I will send the nurse into flush them clean.”

He smiled, warmly, pleasantly, it filled me with dread. I am doomed, and he wants me to be able to hear the last rights clearly.

I was shaking with terror as the nurse forced warm water into my ears, she was humming “Nearer My God to Thee.”

“Would you like to see?” She asked taking the water, and the gunk from ear to flush it down the sink.

“No, not at all.”  I shuddered at the thought.

“Some people do.” She started humming again.

The doctor came back and sat down on his little doctor stool and looked me in the eyes.  “I have something to tell you.”

Oh, God, No. I am too young to die. My mind screamed. I snapped the pencil I was holding.

“My wife got a job in California. And we are moving at the end of July.”

I had finally had a good appointment, one where I didn’t hear all the things that should worry me, we had finally decided I was doing ok, and now he is leaving me. And I will have to break in a new doctor. But, at least I’m going to live.

My life, so far, this week.

We are eligible to upgrade our phones this month.  We are probably going to stay with our carrier, Verizon, and probably going to stay with iPhones.  Why not, we have apps that we know and use.  And I have a lot of money tied up in my apps. We are comfortable with the way the phones work, and we are happy with iPhones.

I know there are people who hate Apple, and I can live with that. And, I would never try to change your mind.  But, my phone does everything it should and often more than I expect.

As with most things, if we decide to upgrade I will be completely unprepared. Except for the few headlines about the benefits of the newest iPhone I am in the dark. It has a great camera, and makes calls, and is fast, and is cool. I have started reading about the iPhone8 already.

Technical jargon is wasted on me. I do a lot on my phone, I have written blog posts, made movies, compiled comic strips, but as far as computational abilities, processor speeds, refresh rates, don't bother. You might as well be speaking a foreign language, a dead foreign language. It's not that I don't care, well yes it is. I don't care enough to try to decipher the cryptic language of the technically skilled.

Sports is the same, I like sports, but I don't care about zone coverage, or blitz packages, or offensive sets. I don't want to work that hard. That is why I watch the game, for the vicarious thrill of competition. If my team loses I am more than comfortable blaming the officials, luck, fate or the gods of chance. "It wasn't because they weren't trying" is my motto.

Tuesday I had an appointment at the optometrist, or ophthalmologist, let's just say the "eye doctor" and it went well, and poorly, like most doctor's appointments. In the insanely appropriate words of The Grateful Dead, "every silver lining has a touch of grey." It started terribly, I had to put on a bulky pair of terrible looking glasses and find which circle in a string of three looked as though it was raised. There were ten rows, and only the first one had a noticeable difference.

"They all look the same except for the first one." I said, starting to panic. Why didn't I see the difference?

"OK, thank you," the polite young man replied.

Read the smallest line you can.

"Is that bad?' I asked, the room seemed to be getting darker. The corners were becoming rounded, blurred, everything was losing color.

"They're supposed to get increasingly difficult." He answered politely.

"Let me clean my glasses and I will try again." Everything was getting fuzzy, slipping in and out of
focus. I couldn't blink, my eyes stopped watering. What wasn't he telling me?

He sent me back to see the "eye doctor," who said my vision hadn't changed that much, My distance vision was slightly worse, but nothing to be concerned about.

That about covers my week. Stay tuned Here for exciting developments. I don't want to give away anything, but it will be great.

Have a nice weekend, or Thursday, or afternoon, or don't, I don't want to come across as all pushy, and demanding.

Until next time,

Tim

History Explained, Part 1. Not Part 1 of History, though.

Eight months ago I had my yearly appointment with my doctor.  He is a very nice man, normally, and he takes pretty good care of my whole family.  But, he was a little upset about elevated cholesterol, and a few extra pounds.  After hearing my admission that taking my medicine was not high on my list of priorities, he was was stern.

Telling me about the risks associated with the things he felt I was ignoring, he went on, at length.  I sat, on that examination table, looking at my feet, being scolded, criticized, and feeling ashamed.  One by one he detailed my risks, as I looked around the small room, thinking of escape, there were posters, and signs about insurance, and co-pays, and the need to use the proper code for a visit.  Apparently, this doctors office would not call a procedure an emergency, to save a patient from having to meet a deductible, or call a cold a chronic illness.  There was nothing about humiliation anywhere, I hoped our insurance covered disgrace.

I was soft, and he was right, I had no discipline, too lazy even to get up and take my medicine, it was embarrassing, and I vowed to do something about it.  Oatmeal for breakfast, medicine every night, fruit and vegetables constantly.  It was a start.

Then, my wife told me they had opened the gym at the school where she works to spouses.  It was a ticket to redemption.  Going three times a week, and feeling good about myself.  My body is shaping up, and thanks to the miracle of podcasts, so was my mind.  I have been diving into history podcasts with the enthusiasm of an evangelist called to witness, and each episode makes me hungry for more, and each workout makes me want to push myself a little harder next time.  In four months I will march into the doctors office a changed man.

So, here is the first installment of History at the Gym.

"After us the people of our race will wear garments of gold.  They will eat sweet, greasy food, ride splendid corsairs, hold in their arms the loveliest of women.  And they will forget they owe these things to us."  Genghis Khan.

Genghis Khan was born into war, at least into a endless battle to stay alive.  He lived his life in a constant state of arms, and conquest.  And, though, the Mongols had no written history at the time there was certainly stories told about ancestors who had unified the nomadic tribes, and swept down with a vengeance on the sedentary people, smashing, destroying, a force of unbelievable ferocity, only to be seduced by the eases and comfort of genteel society.   Genghis Khan probably understood the peril that faced his descendants was more insidious than destructive.  A gradual softening, a process of assimilation, and he probably understand how powerless he was against this irresistible force.

But, that was not a problem when he invaded The Western Xia Dynasty.  Leading his forces through a complete destruction of the Northern Portion of the Xi Xia.  Mongol intelligence gathering was phenomenal, and Genghis Khan was an expert at using the internal strife of his enemies to drive them apart.  This may have been a common tactic among Steppe nomads, but it was certainly a strength of Genghis Khan.

Knowing well that the Tanguts, and Jurchen tribes would not support each other, and that the ethnic Chinese did not care for either tribe, Khan drove through the Tanguts, leaving cities destroyed, and the landscape riddled with destruction.  It was a complete rout, and the Tanguts were powerless against the highly mobile, disciplined Mongol army.

After sieging the fortress at Kiemen, (a heavily fortified, well provisioned garrison guarding the only pass through the Helan mountains) the Mongols were unable to breach the defenses.  One of the most widely used tactics of the Mongol army was the feigned retreat.  It seemed to work almost every time, even when it was known in advance.  Perhaps there is a mentality in a fighting unit that forces them to pursue a retreating foe, an uncontrollable instinct to destroy, that will not allow any discretionary behavior.  And, it worked superbly.  The army of approximately 120,000 men flowed from the fortress, and were slaughtered (a fairly common result).

Finally, slowed by the walled capitol city, Ke-wo-luo-hai, the Khan's army began a siege.  Steppe nomads historically had trouble with walled, fortified cities, and Khan's army was no different, at this early point.  Using the slaves captured in the campaign they began to dam the Yellow river.  Damming a river is dangerous and difficult, and it did not work as planned.  The water flooded the Mongol camp, and they were forced to move to higher ground.  But, the Tanguts, knowing that the enemy facing them was not simply raiding, and was an threat to their very existence, most of their empire had been destroyed, and the Jurchen were not coming to help so they felt it prudent to negotiate.  

They gave gold, silver, silk, and all sorts of good stuff to the Mongols, and promised to be at their beck and call.  A promise they later reneged on, which turned out to be a hideous mistake. 

So, the Mongols have installed a buffer between themselves and the Jin Dynasty, received a lot of good stuff,  And created a lot of problems, killed a lot of people and went back to plan, and learn.  That is what they did.  Genghis Khan probably never learned to read, but he knew how to learn, and he could lead.  And he was just getting started.

Tonight, we have the treadmill, an added 15 pounds to each of the resistance machines and the campaign against the Jin Dynasty.

Security Measures, But, Don't Get Any Ideas.

Here, at the top secret Life Explained (#lifeexplained) headquarters, we are keenly aware of security.  Conducting research into matters vital to national security, world peace, the eradication of alien threats, the continued habitability of the planet, exploring, and colonizing deep space, disease analysis and prevention, fighting plaque, and gingivitis, and lowering serum cholesterol, blood sugar and blood pressure* can tempt even the most honorable competitors to unscrupulous, criminal attempts to lay their grubby, felonious, lazy paws on our stuff.  Nothing personal, competitors, and you know who you are, we have video tape, well it is not actually tape it is maintained in a"cloud storage," an ingenious, online, offsite, secure medium, that has revolutionized... well that doesn't really matter, we know who you are, and so do you, that is all we are saying.

Of course, we have your normal armed guards, your normal retinal scans, and your normal concrete doors with steel reinforcements, titanium dead bolt locks, and high voltage enemy dissuaders, your normal vicious attack dogs, and for good measure we threw in a few of your normal Inland Taipan snakes, and just to be extra cautious, we released a few of your not quite so normal Komodo Dragons, wandering randomly through the building.  We thought about adding some spiders, but that is just insane!  Who would do that!?!?!?!

You know, though, you can never be too careful, risks are everywhere, and dangers lurk behind every closed door.  Closet doors are especially perilous here, at the the top secret Life Explained headquarters, god knows what those things are hiding.  Bob, the accountant, opened a closet to get his jacket, in 1996, and was never seen again, nobody has opened a closet since.  Anyway, we have many secrets to protect, countless proprietary designs, and fabrications, many, many intricate, elaborate constructions, and devices that need to be kept from prying eyes
.

What more effective way to combat burglary, industrial espionage, and vandalism than vampires and ghosts?  It does make being the first one to clock in or the last to punch out a little uncomfortable, but you know the old saying; "Anything worth having is worthing sacrificing a few over achieving coworkers for."

*Tell your doctor if you have high blood pressure, or elevated cholesterol, or a nagging injury, sore feet, dry, flaky skin, or a general sense of uneasiness, or if you've been eaten by a ghost, or bitten by a vampire.  That is what they get paid for.

Not Every Idea is Great, But We Know How to Dine.

Life is a journey, starts here, ends there, and in between forward movement.  That is the biggest problem, only one direction, no options, no choices, no chance to correct mistakes.  Invariably, when traveling people, even the most thorough, and cautious, are going to get lost occasionally. Everybody needs to take a few steps backwards, and choose a different path once in awhile.  Life doesn't give you that chance, mistakes attach themselves, and stay to the end, a tattoo, a battle scar, screaming, "hey look, this guy had a lapse in judgement, go ahead and stare."

For a limited time we, here at Life Explained, are offering select people with the proper credentials (Visa, or Mastercard will work) a chance to go back in time and fix certain mistakes.  Using our soon to be patented, awe inspiring, Time Machine, we can help you go back and "erase" those annoying little errors that are like a blot on your life, "undo" those silly, youthful acts that make you wince while traveling down memory lane.

Do you wish you had never grown those sideburns?  Well, it is too late to do anything about that.  The pictures are all over and if you change something like that it will set off cataclysmic shock waves through time that will destroy the entire planet.

Regret that failed marriage?  You should have thought of that earlier, or listened to your friends.  Even they were smart enough to see how wrong you two were for each other.  How could you miss it?  Not that any of that matters, there is so much time, effort, so many paper products involved in a marriage that if anything like that were changed it would create a "discordance effect" that would destroy the whole galaxy.

Would you like to choose a different major in college?  Sorry, those things are so ingrained into the fabric of of time and space any attempt to alter them would create such a shock the universe would collapse in on itself, crushing everything.

Hate your job, too bad, car run out of gas, sorry about your luck, choose the wrong entree at lunch, well, that is just your problem.  After careful consideration, this is probably not the greatest idea we have ever had.  There are a lot of things that could go wrong, and not an awful lot to gain, that whole risk, return tradeoff blowing up in our face.

Hey, anybody want to grab some lunch, we heard they are opening a new restaurant in the Omega Centauri galaxy, and the happy hours in that part of the universe can't be beat, and Dr. Dawg is buying, unless you have an intergalactic Discover Card.

Blood Work, the Bane of Modern Existence.

This is the pager used by the lab where I get my blood drawn. You register at the information desk, where they take your information, insurance, drivers license, and verify all of the things on file are correct, phone, address, date of birth, and they send you to the lab window.

When you get to the lab window, you put your name, doctor’s name and date of birth on a little yellow (goldenrod, for those of you in the stationary business) sheet of paper. After that they give you a pager.

Obviously, they are very thorough and cautious. It makes me wonder why they never seem to have the proper authorization to do my blood work. Why do I have to work so hard to disappoint my doctor?

via https://dayone.me/uLhzK

Your Post Vacation Health, Explained, Sort Of.

Generally speaking it is a very bad idea to schedule a doctors appointment after vacation.  Generally speaking you will probably spend too much time setting, not enough time moving, and too much time eating.  Moreover, the things you eat will not, speaking in general terms, be of the most healthy variety.  Doctors don't, most of the time, approve of the "All You Can Possibly Eat" breakfast buffet challenge, speaking in broad, unspecific terms.

It is impossible to predict what your doctor would say if you stepped on the scale in his office and it screamed in agony, and begged for mercy (it was widely predicted those talking scales were going to be a problem).  Likely, though, he would not be too pleased.

And, if that made your doctor a little anxious imagine the chagrin when the doctor asks, "so, what have you been up to?"  and you reply that you ate your way across three states, and spent four days "cruising the parkway, stopping for a cold beer, and an order of chili cheese fries, or a pitcher of margarita, and loaded nachos, or a bloody mary and cheesy breadsticks,or an extra large Coke and a palm sized slab of fudge."  Spoiler alert, your doctor will not be happy.

And when you say "I haven't been taking my cholesterol lowering, or blood pressure reduction medicine because I have been too full, absolutely stuffed!" you might want to be moving, discretely for the door.

Obviously, it is best to give yourself a few weeks between vacation, and a visit to the doctor.  That should be plenty of time to lower your serum cholesterol, and blood pressure, take off a few pounds, as dedicated as we are, it will be plenty, and maybe we can sneak in a nap or two.

A new honor, a very honorable honor.

This morning I was watching CBS Sunday Morning, it is a great show, not too heavy, some news, some entertainment, some commentary, a good way to start Sunday.  Following Sunday Morning is Face The Nation, a very topical show, dealing with politics, politicians and very important things.  Normally, I only watch this show during presidential campaigns, because it can make presidential politics extremely entertaining.  But, it is not really the show we want to discuss.

There was a commercial for Face The Nation, advertising it as the "#1 Sunday Public Affairs Show." Probably a well deserved honor, it is the only Sunday Public Affairs show I remember watching.  But, it is kind of a narrow definition.  However, you can't blame them, an award is an award.

With that in mind, though it humbles us, we here at Life Explained, are humbly honored to accept this fantastic honor.

We are not worthy, well maybe a little.

Now it can be told. (Does any know the statute of limitations on free lance dentistry?)

I like to think of myself as a pretty rugged guy, tough, resilient, laugh in the face of danger, "check my pulse, it don't change, stays 72 come shine or rain,"* kind of guy.  Of course, it isn't true, panic is a constant companion, I cringe at passing cars.  Every chill, sneeze, cough, sniffle, unexplained shudder signals a new wave of paranoia.  I am sure it is a signal of doom, the start of my death spiral.  The first shot in the war between my immune system and whatever fatal, debilitating, crippling, incurable illness that has come to claim my last dance.

Trust me, I pay close attention to the warnings that come with medicine, but, just as close to the warnings on televised advertisements for medicine.  And not just the potential side affects, either, though, those are a constant source of concern (sometimes the cure seems so much worse than the disease).

Last night I was watching television at home, and the commercials came on so I went and fixed myself, and my lovely charming wife, a cold drink, and a light, healthy snack, iced soda and chili cheese fries, for those keeping track at home.  I returned just in time to catch the end of the commercial for some medicine that would prevent, or solve, or delay some problem, or disease, or injury.

"Please tell your doctor about any unplanned medical or dental procedures."  The calm, reassuring voice said, calmly and with a comforting, reassuring tone.

"What medicine was he talking about?"  I asked my lovely, gentle, charming wife.

She sighed, rolled her eyes up to the heavens for strength, and said, "I'm not sure, but it wasn't anything you are taking," she said, and sighed again and it may be my imagination, but it sounded like she may have combined an "oh, for God's sake," into her sigh.

She seemed certain that it was not any medicine prescribed to me, but I was not so sure, so I thought about it quite a bit, and thought it was better safe, that sorry.

So I called my doctor this morning, and told him a little story, that I had never told anyone.

"This is going to hurt a little."

"Hey, Doc, how ya' doing?  I was thinking you should know about something."  I began, "when I was younger, I worked construction, and we were pretty macho guys.  One night, a Friday night, we all went drinking, and skipped dinner, and got a little wild.  It was pretty late, and you know how young, macho guys get after a night of heavy drinking."

This was a little embarrassing so the words started rushing out, and overwhelming my poor Doctor.

"That's right, Doc, we were a little too drunk, feeling crazy, and things got a little out of control and we decided to perform root canal procedures on each other."  Oh man, it was such a relief to finally get that out in the open.  "I thought you should know, because of any medicine I might be taking, or you might be thinking of prescribing for me."

I heard a sigh, and then he said, "I am going to have to raise your co-pay."

*Thank You, Jerry Garcia, you will always be on my iPhone.

Things were tough back in the old days.

Previously, on Life Explained, you learned that someone celebrated their 54th birthday.  And, you heard that life was a lot different, a lot more difficult back then, and it was, but, thanks to several recent lawsuits, and the "declassification" of several "top secret" documents we are finally able to bring you the "truth."

In those days you had to be tough to survive.  The birthing coach was there to help the infant, not the mother, she was an adult, and had to take care of herself.  First thing, when you were born, the birth coach would hand you a revolver so you could defend yourself.  There were only two bullets in the weapon, money was scarce, so you had to decide quickly who presented the biggest potential threat.

As I leaped out, the birth coach tossed the revolver up in the air, thinking quickly I performed the classic leap, grab the gun, land, roll, come up behind the bassinet, and fire off a quick round.  Bang, I managed to pick off the obstetrician, who had stopped to reload and pour another scotch.  People drank a lot more back in those days.  One down.

Scanning the delivery room quickly, I spotted the next biggest threat, the head nurse, she was holding an AR15 complete with sniper scope and there was a red dot on my little Dr. Denton's, right in the middle of the panda's forehead, stupid thing was like a black and white target, right over my heart.  Reacting, without taking the time to think, I pushed over the changing table and lobbed a flash bang, lead nurse, red dot, and problem all removed with one well place toss.  Home free, I thought, and still had a bullet to spare.

Just as I was preparing to call a taxi to take me home to meet the rest of the family automatic weapon fire broke out, I had to act fast.  The anesthesiologist was using a 50 cal to lay down suppressive fire while the midwife was low crawling in an effort to flank my position. It was very accurate, too, considering the lit cigarette hanging from corner of his mouth.  People smoked a lot more in those days.  I didn't know how long the diaper cart would hold up under the withering storm of lead.

This could spell big trouble for our little hero.  Firing my last bullet I only managed to hit the doctor in the arm, just a flesh wound, and while it probably hurt, a lot, and there was an elevated risk of infection, and staph is nothing to mess with, it would take weeks for him to die from that, and I did not have that much time.

Fortunately, under the delivery table the last group of caring physicians and staff had forgot to take their light antitank weapon.  I rolled under the table, grabbed the tube, popped up on one knee, and with an impressive shot, leading to an even more impressive explosion, the cover fire was eliminated.  I threw a scalpel, impaling the midwife, causing her hookah to fall, and the water to spill dousing the floor in brown, stinking water.  People toked a lot more weed back in those days.

Thinking I was finally safely born, I sat back to enjoy the soft crackling of an oxygen fed, operating room fire.

Wait, what was that noise, oh crap, that sounds like 81 mm mortar fire.  Dang the luck, nobody said anything about "indirect fire capabilities."  What's next, an airstrike?

Fortunately, Mom woke up, threw the surgeon off the gurney in the hallway, he fell to the floor, breaking his hypodermic syringe, people used a lot more intravenous drugs in those days.  Grabbing me, the complimentary diapers, a bottle of Canadian whiskey and a few cartons of Lucky Strikes, she wrapped us all up in a sheet, threw the whole bundle on the  gurney and we beat feet out of there.  Thanks Mom.

Kids today have it pretty easy, you know?

Can I See Your Insurance Card and I.D., Please?

Recently, according to a report in the Columbus Dispatch, the Ohio Historical Society (working at the request of a Canadian researcher who is compiling a global data base of mummy x-rays and scans) sent their Egyptian mummy to a local hospital for a CT scan.

It turned into quite a procedure. The doctors jumped at the chance to use "Lamborghini of scanners," yes, it was THE "Siemens SOMATOM Definition Flash dual energy slice CT scanner." Which, according to reports, looks like a "big, white donut." Reports were not clear whether it was powder sugar or coconut glazed donut.

In less than two hours they captured over 8,400 images. Which is a significant number of pictures, so it was no surprise that they noticed an abnormality in some of the images. Being seasoned health care professionals they jumped into action.

Recognizing that time was of the essence for the 2500 year old mummy, they decided to order a a battery of thorough, expensive tests. An ambulance was summoned and the mummy was rushed across the street to the emergency room, where her priority status, due to the lack of heartbeat, and "greatly reduced brain activity" got her a place in line, to show her insurance card and I.D. to a surly counter attendant, dressed in medical garb.

After looking at her chart a doctor said, with firm, and confident authority "we need an MRI and a battery of blood tests, STAT!" As he headed to the Starbucks nestled conveniently between the ATM and the portable defibrillator.

At the time of this report the mummy was still waiting to see a doctor, or even a nurse, and was reported to say, "right now, I would be happy to see the custodian."

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