Drat.

Well, I heard back from the doc who reviewed my MRI. Unfortunately, the less-invasive procedure that I'd hoped to undergo, which has a two-week recovery time, is not an option for me after all. Instead, I'm looking at a surgery and an 8-week recovery period.

Phooey. That's quite a disappointment, needless to say. But what can I do besides allow myself a little bit of grumblng, and then move forward and deal with it?

And yeah, I'm going to grumble a bit. But not TOO much... there are a lot of people who will get far worse news from their doctors than this, and I'm sure they'd all gladly trade places with me this morning. So I haven't lost my sense of perspective. We do have the right to spend at least a little time acknowledging our disappointment with a bit of griping. But I won't wallow in those feelings, as they're counter-productive, and I'm not going to take it out on Mark and the pets. We don't have the right to make the rest of the world miserable along with us.

Still... DRAT. :-( Why does Mother Nature have to be so darn uncooperative sometimes?