Quick clinic recap

I've gained weight, 1.6 pounds to be precise. Everyone is happy. Almost everyone.
My first FVC test came in somewhere in the 60s. I did not have my glasses on so I could not see the screen. I got a do over and came in at 72%, only 1% different from three months ago.
My blood pressure in pulmonology was 146/87. In neurology it was 126/83. I just laugh at these numbers.
Unable to find a decent vein and because my labs have been consistent for some time, we did not have to draw any blood today. There was an attempt, however, and I'm wearing a Band-Aid to prove it.
The speech therapist was able to detect a difference in the way I speak and recommended I do voice banking. It's been on the list for some time, I've just procrastinated.
I did a runway walk so my OT and PT could see how graceful I am on two legs. I do believe I wowed them.
The psychiatrist determined that I was not depressed and agreed with my course of action concerning Cecilia.
My neurologist is going to prepare a letter that I'll need to request an accelerated death benefit from my employer's life-insurance policy. It's very morbid in that she must state that I am not expected to live longer than 12 months. No, I don't have to die, she just has to say that I will. It's all very gruesome.

Speaking of gruesome, that would describe the traffic we sat in on our way back from the clinic. It was a two hour trip door to door -- dreadful.

My evening has been spent preparing for tomorrow's departure. I am approaching this trip with a little bit of excitement, but it's bittersweet. The woman visiting Paris this time is so different. But that other woman, the one who visited before, sure did enjoy herself and has volumes of memories of running, biking, and walking in this beautiful city. I've said it before -- I'm very lucky.

Oh! I can't sign off until I tell you about my darling Adam. Prior to clinic we met for coffee at Starbucks. Lynne rolled me over in the chair and Adam remarked that I always had to make a grand entrance. Lynne had to take a call from work so Adam and I drank our protein shakes and had a cozy tête-à-tête. He offered to push me back to the clinic and, as we were crossing K Street, commented that I was heavy and suggested it was all the beer and bacon I've consumed in my life. I was laughing so hard I almost fell out of the stupid chair.

That about does it. I am off to drink wine through a straw.

À bientôt.