Today is the seventy-first anniversary of Davemas, aka my birthday.

The lead-up to it has been inauspicious to say the least, as I spent Tue/Wed/Thu of this past week in the hospital (leave out the ‘the’ if you’re from the UK).

As Stephen had the flu, he insisted that I go to a nearby walk-in clinic to get swabbed.  While there, we discovered that my heart was racing at double the normal rate, and the doctor insisted that I go to the ER, which I did.

With no symptoms that I was aware of, we discovered I have AFib.  Wish me well.  (I insist.)

My only relief during my hospital stay was my day nurse, ‘a well-made youth’, as sweet and charming as could be — made all the more charming by (though he tried) an almost complete inability to make smalltalk.

How prescient my previous post;-)