Patient: My aunt
Status: Released from hospital
Notes: Significant improvement from when I first arrived in CT. Gnarly scar on her neck from carotid surgery that’s going to be lots of fun to explain to my grandmother, but otherwise on the road to recovery. Has 23 pound cat now providing round the clock snuggle therapy when not eating my aunt and uncle out of house and home.
Prognosis: Long recovery, but good.

Patient: Chaplin
Status: Still in hospital
Notes: They’re going to try pulling his catheter tomorrow to see if everything’s healed properly. Cross your fingers - if everything went well he won’t need any more surgery. Prognosis: Short term unclear, long term he’ll be fine.

Patient: My MacBook Pro.
Status: At Apple store, awaiting part (new Logic Board, supposed to arrive Monday).
Notes: I really, really, really hope they can fix my computer before I leave. I’m going batshit crazy without it as is, and really can’t afford to be without it when I go back because it’s my work computer in addition to my Distraction Provider.
Prognosis: Questionable. But frankly, I’m happy the inanimate object is the worst of my three patients.

More to come as I have it.

Chaplin’s procedure went well this afternoon, so there’s a good possibility he won’t need any more surgery! And even if he does, it’s surgery that sounds a lot less severe and complication-ridden than the worst case scenario that they were discussing.

I can’t even describe what a weight this is off my mind, and how it lets me leave for Connecticut in relative confidence that he’ll do okay just hanging with the people at the animal hospital for a little while, so I can go focus on my aunt and the rest of my mom’s family.

I was being superstitious and not packing until I heard one way or another, so I’m afraid I have to cut this short and, you know, pack and otherwise prepare my house for the fact that I won’t be here for a bit.

Thanks so much to all of you who’ve been keeping my little guy in your thoughts, I really appreciate it.

I hope all of you have a very Merry Christmas and Happy Channukah, especially those of you who have also been going through a really, really trying time. I know I’m not the only one.

I thought the earlier barfing incident was just Chap’s usual adventures in hairball-tasticness, but apparently not.

He got really listless and cranky tonight, and after puking IN his litterbox then barely being mobile and crying in pain, I took him to the vet. He’s got some sort of urinary blockage that they’re going to have to surgically remove.

The bill just to walk out the door tonight was $1800. The estimate on keeping him there 2-3 days, which is what they anticipate, is $3000.

As much as that upsets me, what upsets me a lot more is the dead silence in my apartment right now. And that’s why I’m paying the money.

He’s my little buddy. I can’t bear the thought of him not being here when I come home. Not trying to randomly bite my arm off. Not eating me out of house and home.

And frankly I feel bad about how bad I feel about Chaplin, because my aunt, my mother’s sister, is also in the hospital right now.

I haven’t really written about this much, but she had a major heart attack two weeks ago that led to a whole bunch of major surgery - triple heart bypass AND surgery on both carotid arteries. I found out this afternoon she’s probably going to be stuck in the hospital for Christmas.

And yet the thing that’s just destroying me right now is my cat. Physical distance is probably part of it - once I get to Connecticut and see my aunt it’ll probably hit me a lot harder.

But right now, just listening to the clacking of the keyboard and the cracking of the furnace, I miss the crunching of cat food and the yowling at the possum or the other cats that sneak onto the patio.

This is going to be a loooooooong week. Updates on all fronts as I have them.

Mom went to go visit the non-lapsed Catholic members of her side of the family for Easter, and came back with some fun news.

Father Michael McGivney, who founded the Knights of Columbus and was also my Great Great Grandmother’s brother (I think making him my Great Great Great Uncle) is now one step closer to sainthood. Next up: Beatification.

My dad joked when I was 13 that I was probably the only kid in my bat mitzvah class related to someone who might someday get declared a Catholic Saint.

So I am here now, and I will make several observations.

1. It is not nearly as cold as I feared it would be. However, at about 27 degrees, it is still painfully cold for a SoCal wimp like me.

2. Good lord, Wheaten Terriers have a lot of energy. My mom had thought my aunt’s new dog was a Bichon Frisé, but it only looked like that when she was a puppy. Now she looks like a Honey I Blew Up The Bichon Frise, and was dragging me all over the black ice in the parking lot when I helped my aunt take her for a walk.

Still: Not taking me for a walk anywhere near as much as the late, lamented Rosie the Rottweiler.

3. Guest passes to health clubs are ridiculously expensive. My uncle was nice enough to get me one to the L.A. Fitness he goes to, and just for a week, it’s more than I pay for a month at 24 Hour Fitness. I felt bad, but I’m way too broke to make a magnanimous offer to pay for it, and will accept it as my xmas gift from him.

4. My god, Grandfather clocks are annoying if you’re not used to them. My aunt and uncle have one that BONGGGGs every 15 minutes, and I don’t know how the hell I’m going to be able to get to sleep tonight.

My cousin Mark, who enjoys the Halo series very much, sent me the following video, which he said captured his feelings about Halo 3 very well.

I’m not a gamer much beyond Tetris and desperately trying to find a Wii (and then finding it at the one point I couldn’t afford it) for the last few months, but I thought this review by a Brit for an Aussie magazine was hysterical:

Now every time someone says the words “Easy Street” I’m going to picture a little sign below it that says “We’ve got hookers!”

On a separate but related note, I was listening to one of my BBC podcasts and I heard a member of Parliament (a Conservative who was chairing some committee related to finance) describe the missing data fiasco I wrote about the other day as “a major cock-up.”

It still sounded more dignified than anything anyone in Congress has said in some time.

I have a story I recently learned about from my mom to share with those of you who are having kids. You are a percentage of my group of friends which is increasing at an alarming rate, so I feel a need to warn you.

This is the story of what happens when a joke goes too far. This is the true story of my grandfather and his three younger brothers.

My grandfather was the firstborn, and his parents named him Tom. His next youngest brother came along, and he was named Richard, and called Dick. Naturally, the third brother was, in due course, named Harry.

And then, my great-grandparents had a surprise. So they wound up with Tom, Dick, Harry…and Bobby.

Bobby, as you might imagine, wound up with something of a complex. It is widely suspected within mom’s family that his family’s naming scheme contributed to his eventual drinking problem.

So please, my friends, name your children well, and avoid silly naming schemes. For the sake of your childrens’ future sanity, do not be like my great-grandparents.

I am not the only member of my family with a job that is a bit unusual.

My stepbrother Rob does PR for Chik-Fil-A, which is how he ended up doing the weather in a cow costume on the local Fox morning show in Atlanta.

My dad and Ray Ann went to Antarctica in January, and since Ray Ann refuses to go digital, they just got their Picture CD back and passed along photos I can actually share.

And they have some awesome pictures, most of which were taken by Ray Ann (click to see full size versions):

I’ve got assorted parental units in town starting today in celebration of Dad’s 70th birthday tomorrow. Weirdness alert: My boss’s mom recently turned 70 as well. I suppose that’s what happens when you wait to have kids until you’re 45.

Speaking of weird, did anyone else watch Jericho (shut up, it’s the most unintentionally hilarious show on television) and notice that Aasif Mandvi from the Daily Show was the doctor? That was just bizarre, especially because he was randomly using a British accent.