I’ll spare you the pictures of my pyloris

Last week happened.  Typical.

Monday started with the miraculous birth of my 12th niece/nephew, Lila Kay.  She was 7 lbs. 6 oz. of perfection, born to my brother, Nate, and Darcie at 7:38 a.m. via C-Section.  Her older sisters, Marryn and Ani, are thrilled with her.  Her 20 month old brother, Alec, is devastated.  Said Nate, “When he figured it out, the look on his face was the same was mine would be if I found out I was going to the Big House.”  The line between absolute joy and total devastation is fine.

Case in point, my friend Karen Runnoe died that same day at 1:30 p.m. in the afternoon.  She died at home, surrounded by family and friends, after a four year battle with cancer of a lot of things.  She and I were mentors together at church for our teenage kids and their friends.  She was a second mother to most, un-self conscious about her bald, chemo-ravaged head, courageous to the end.  She will be missed by many, but I can’t help but feel relief for her that she can take it easy now.  She leaves behind three sons – ages 15 to 22 – for whom it won’t be so easy to feel relief.  Hang in there, guys.

That brings me to my pyloris, which is fine.  I had the pleasure of being scoped from both ends, and everything checks out just fine.  I have beautiful pictures, but I’ll spare you the scanning of them and go with this cartoon.  I’ve never felt so clean both inside and out.  I’m still trying to figure out why I start every day feeling fine, but feel progressively more bloated as the day proceeds, but for the moment, I have the guts of Lila Kay and I feel pretty good about that.