cous cous; no epiphany

DO NOT PANIC; I AM BACK IN A-FIB

Nurse Dean-who-should-be-a-doctor breaks the new to me:

Tikosyn’s the word.

For a consolation prize I get citrus cous cous salad (* required special notice, 4 hr advance to marinate!)

Neither the Chinese food deliverer or I know from which culture comes this exquisite delicacy. The Reform Rabbi of Rochester knows! This is her first pulpit, but before she was a rabbi she worked at a cooking school in France. The delicacy is North African. Okay—that’s a it general and it doesn’t reflect population trends in patients coming here. Rabbi points out that there might just be someone new in the kitchen. In any case, if you’re ever in hospital at Mayo, order citrus cous cous salad.

. . . . .another hour passes, more news:
After falafel (The Best! King Hussein was here!) it’s back on Flecanide, a drug but one I’ve had before. Then NPO (nothing per oral) after midnight and a cardioverson (=mini-electrocution, sans demise) tomorrow morning. Stay tuned for a report on the latest Mayoist trends in dosage of joules of electricity, and what meds are used in the damatic scenario.

Hope your medical care is much less complex than mine is and that your entrees are at least half as good.

“It’s the day the Wise Guys showed up” explains my husband and translator (from Christian dominant culture to Jew me) but NO EPIPHANY YET this January 6th.

Love to y’all
and ongoing wishes for a fab aught nine

(previous updates)