Save the Plumbing System, Save the Family

So, after eating the heads off my chocolate brethren on Sunday, I headed down to Bellingham with my mom for a little R&R (and a brief trip to Target). We stayed at a cozy little cottage overlooking Emerald Lake that had a huge deck. The birds were chirping, the deer were out - even the neighboring wiener dog paid us a visit (though we suspect she was after our breakfast).

When the sun broke through the clouds, we tried to absorb as much vitamin D as possible (pasty white things that we are). I think it was the first time since last October that my body temperature has been above zero.

Today, I have the pleasure of going for a bronchoscopy. A little camera will travel down my throat to see how and when more radiation might be useful to treat a lesion in my right lung.

A bronchoscopy is not supposed to be a big deal, except that I was given a rather unfortunate description by the referring doctor that has remained with me. When I asked what the procedure entailed, she replied, "Oh, it's kind of like a roto-rooter going down your throat."

Uh, come again? Isn't that the massive spinning drill-bit they use to unclog gunky bathtub drains?

Sensing my alarm (likely evident by my near gagging and grabbing my throat), she reconsidered and came back with "Well, no, maybe not a roto-rooter, more like a fat piece of spaghetti."

Personally, I would prefer not to have pasta or a plumber anywhere in the vicinity.