I am hooked on Dr. Pol.  I have learned a lot of things.  How to pull a calf, how to recognize polio in a goat, how to set a broken llama leg, and on and on.

The first degree I got was in Pre-med.  My plan was to go to med school.  Ken was back from Viet Nam and told me to go do whatever I wanted to do.  He said I had been a good sport being dragged around the country while he finished his career as a Marine Pilot.  He told me he would be a house-husband.

But I got a tumor in my heart, which once removed, left me pretty helpless.  My two girls took over with the help of a woman who came in to assist.  It was complicated by the fact that Jonathan was one year old at the time--our unexpected surprise.  I was useless for a long time. 

Three years later when I was finally back on my feet, I realized I would never be the same physically, so I gave up on med school, but never lost the fascination of surgical medicine.  I watch Dr. Pol.  I went back to school and got a math degree--and taught at NEO.  

It satisfies something to watch Dr. Pol.  Lots of blood and gore, and sewing up rips and tears.  Cutting and stitching.  I was a seamstress.  Maybe that's why it appeals to me.  I always felt satisfied when I fitted a sleeve to a bodice and it was perfect.  Or taped up one of my kids who had ripped skin that needed to be smoothed back into place and taped and kissed.

Friday night, I thought I broke a bone in my wrist.  I caught it in a cabinet, then fell backwards until the wrist was completely distended.  My solution was a popsicle stick and tape.  Nobody else agreed with me.  

Turned out I just bruised the bone.  It's still sore.  No, I didn't go get it X-rayed or cast.  It's just going to hurt for a few days.