Hi, you’ve reached text support. How can we reassure you with inappropriate jokes today?

Another text conversation between myself and FoN….

(if you’re wondering, yes, we do actually talk on the phone.  But she was in Vancouver.)

 

Me: I got a really quick call-back from the doc on my gall bladder ultrasound.  It’s freaking me out.

FoN: Don’t freak out.  Gall bladder surgery is no big deal and really common.  For an 80-year-old.

FoN: When’s your follow-up appointment?

Me: Wednesday.  Expect doom and gloom until then.  Are you home yet?

FoN: Just waiting to board my plane.  That I’m pretty sure is going to crash and kill me.

Me: Are you trying to one-up my doom and gloom, or is the weather bad?

FoN: Just trying to be supportive.

Me: Lol.  Thanks.  Don’t feel obliged to MAKE the plane go down just to distract me though.  You’ll be dead and I’ll still have a liver tumor.

FoN: Liver tumor, huh?  Let’s go get SUPER drunk.  Then if the next day your abdomen hurts more than your head, you can worry.

Me: Or maybe a fetus that died in utero and then ossified.   I think I saw that on TLC.  Or maybe CSI.

FoN: Cool.  Think they’ll let you keep it?

Me: After they dig it out of me with sharp sticks and no anesthesia, probably.

FoN: I’m almost positive they will give you anesthesia. 

Me: They’ll probably leave bits of stick in me, though.

FoN: Then your fossilized dead fetus will have something to play with.

Me: I may have to blog this conversation again.

FoN: I would expect nothing less.