And Toto Too

While waiting for an appointment in an office building one day I was pleased that the music being played over the speakers was decent. A song I hadn't heard in awhile, Hold The Line by the rock band Toto, came up. It was a hit when I was a senior in high school, and I always liked it. It's a great, hard driving, almost arena rock staple.

Then it becomes your ear worm.

All I heard the rest of the day was,

Hold the line!

Love isn't always on time, no, no, no,

Hold the li-i-i-ine!

Love isn't always on time whoa whoa wo-oh

I don't care how great of a song it might be, when something gets planted in your ear and you cannot shut it off, it gets old, and more quickly than you think.

I had not heard Hold The Line in several years. Right this minute, I hope it's several more.

And there it goes again.

One Down

Three days, three medical appointments. Do I know how to live or what?

Yesterday I was in for a CAT scan of my troublesome left ankle. Today, my first colonoscopy. Oh joy, oh rapture. Thankfully it's simply for preventative purposes, another of those 'at your age' things to do. "At your age, Mr. Cosgriff, you really ought to have a colonoscopy," my doctor told me seriously this past September. I suppose he's got my best interests in mind. And I do get to moon people without repercussions.

So I honestly don't expect bad news from that. I don't expect particularly bad news about my ankle either for that matter, except that I may need minor surgery. The ankle worries me more only because when it hurts, it hurts. I'm talking about 8 on a scale of 10. It's woken me up at night. But the damn pain comes and goes out of nowhere, sometimes lasting days, other times not even 10 minutes. Even that doesn't appear to be life threatening in and of itself. It's when it comes out of nowhere, say, when I'm going down steps, that worries me. Falling down a flight of stairs can be life threatening.

I don't want to die that way. I mean, I want to get to Heaven. I pray every day that I do, but eventually. And there are enough dicey questions already that St. Peter, I'm sure, will be asking me. I don't want "Why are you here early?" to be among them.

Which leads to appointment Roman Numeral III. Friday I see the orthopedist to find out the results on my ankle. I wish I hadn't put my foot in my mouth so often over the years...