I have a few more amusing (to me!) vet clinic stories. Please bear with me for a few more days, since, as you can imagine, I don’t feel like doing any serious research right now. I must say, though, that things are going very well: Piccolo is eating and drinking again (and dumping toy balls on our bed at night), and tonight I am giving Puzzola her last shot of antibiotics. Life is good…but we need a few more days to recover from THE big scare.

Before I start telling today’s story, I should mention that there were other pets recovering from various ailments in Piccolo and Ciccio’s room at the clinic—two or three turtles, two black rabbits, one white and brown rabbit, two teeny tiny kittens, a German Shepherd and even a dove…

Okay, now for my story. On Wednesday morning, as soon as Stefano and I arrived at the clinic, the head vet told us that Piccolo was well enough to go home. Yippee! While we were paying our bill and discussing Piccolo’s post-clinic care with the vet, a man and woman sauntered into the clinic, loudly announcing that they were there to visit their pet rabbit. The vet told them that they could go right inside and that he would join them as soon as he had finished with us. The couple disappeared around the corner…

We continued to discuss Piccolo’s antibiotics and whatnot with the vet. After about ten minutes, the man hurried back into the waiting room, exclaiming angrily: “Hey!!! That’s NOT my rabbit!!!” The vet looked up from his computer…completely taken aback, “Er, excuse me? Not…your…rabbit???”

“That’s right,” the man continued, “We’ve spent the last ten minutes looking at the wrong rabbit…we finally discovered that ours was in a different cage. We thought something was wrong, since our rabbit has a white mark on its chin, whereas the other one…” He broke off in mid sentence, probably realizing how silly it sounded.

The vet blinked, at a complete loss for words…while Stefano and I turned away from each other, trying very hard not to burst into laughter. Realizing that he would receive no sympathy from us, the rabbit man turned on his heels and disappeared from our view. The three of us exchanged smiles and sighed in unison: “Mahhh…!” (= “mah” is an Italian word expressing perplexity…similar to “beats me!” or “go figure!”).

Last night Stefano and I were still chuckling…

“That’s not my rabbit!!!” is now our favourite sentence in the world…

A quick update. Piccolo still has occasional, visible abdominal spasms, and his former formidable appetite is gone…but he clearly is ecstatic to be home and well on the way to a full recovery. How do I know this for sure? Well, this morning I found one of Piccolo’s toy balls on our bed (he must have dumped it there during the night)… 🙂

To our utter surprise, he has turned out to be THE purrfect patient. He licks his medicine right off the tip of my finger. No kidding. No running away and hiding under beds or behind boxes in the attic. No need for us to search the house inch by inch to find his hiding place. No need to stalk, grab and hold him down (=all of this is more or less what we have to do with Puzzola, our eldest kitty). None of that. Piccolo is making my nursing duties so MUCH easier …

And now for an amusing story (I think so, anyway). On Monday afternoon, as I was waiting for Piccolo to have his ultrasound, I heard a cat screaming bloody murder in one of the examination rooms. Oh, you have no idea…and this terrific meowing/screaming ruckus went on and on and on. I finally asked the secretary what was happening to that cat. Her answer: “Oh, he is having an ultrasound.”

An ultrasound…er, I see…

I retreated to my seat. Images of me sneaking Piccolo out of the clinic began flashing through my mind. But my sensible side took over, “forget it, Piccolo will be fine, this won’t hurt him a bit”… And, in fact, Piccolo was extremely brave. He didn’t even meow, let alone scream. He tried to get up a couple of times, but that was it. 

As “luck” had it, Mr. Scream-My-Head-Off, a gorgeous five-year-old kitty named Ciccio, occupied the cage next to Piccolo’s. A sign that read “MORDE” (= “HE BITES” in Italian) hung ominously on his cage door. I felt really sorry for Ciccio, who had one of those horrible Elizabethan collars circling his little neck. He looked totally miserable and growled almost constantly, which was very unsettling for Piccolo, as you can imagine. Early in our acquaintance, I tried cooing reassuringly to Ciccio, but that only seemed to make him angrier. I can hardly blame him. I would probably growl, too, if I were stuck inside a cage with a plastic torture device around my neck, AND a complete stranger making weird noises were looking in at me…

Anyway, on Tuesday morning I met Ciccio’s “owner,” a very nice, classy Florentine lady. We fell into conversation almost immediately, since we were the only visitors there. She told me that, like Piccolo, Ciccio also had acute pancreatitis.

“Ciccio is the sweetest, most darling little thing,” she beamed, snatching her hand away just as Ciccio reached out to scratch her. (No, I swear, I am not making this up…) “Yes, he is a really gorgeous cat,” I commented cautiously…

Anyway, I am happy to report that Ciccio had a loving (and rather oblivious) human family that visited him as much as we visited our Piccolo.

This morning I had to go back to the clinic to pick up Piccolo’s papers. I asked about Ciccio. The visibly relieved secretary informed me that he had gone home, too. She added that sweet darling little Ciccio had scratched the classy lady’s arms to smithereens right before they left the clinic…

I went to visit Piccolo (see previous post) yesterday morning. In the beginning, he was unresponsive. I cooed to him but he remained motionless in a corner of his stainless steel cage, staring into space, without seeming to recognize my voice. A scary moment for me, but luckily I remembered that his painkillers (administered via an IV line) must be making him a bit dopey. In fact, after I had been calling his name for about 30 seconds (it seemed like forever…), he looked straight at me and meowed the following, which I will translate for you: “hey, where the heck have YOU been??? Take me home, I don’t like this place!” Then he got up and made his way slowly to the front of the cage so I could reach him. I opened the cage door and gave him a good scratch. The nurse had asked me to try to get him to eat or drink…I tried and failed. Since Piccolo is always the first cat to appear at mealtimes, this was the most upsetting part of the morning visit.

Okay, let me shorten the story. I realize that not all my blog readers will understand how Stefano and I feel about Piccolo…only those who really love cats/pets will. What can I say? Our cats mean the world to us…and Piccolo’s illness has been very scary and upsetting, in part because everything happened so swiftly, but mostly because we came very close to losing the cat who still fills our bed with toy balls during the night, hoping that we will wake up to play with him…the cat who talks to me when I get home from work…the cat who scolds me whenever I return home late after playing cards with my girlfriends, then throws himself on the carpet so that I can scratch his tummy…the cat that bumps his forehead to mine to let me know that he loves me, too…our exceptional cat.

Oh sorry, I got carried away. Okay…well, basically, let’s say that I wasn’t very happy after my morning visit with Piccolo…apart from refusing to eat, he didn’t purr at all for me, whereas normally he is the biggest purr-box in the universe.

In mid afternoon, I managed to speak with the vet that had first visited him, day before yesterday. She told me that Piccolo’s condition was “stable,” but that they had waited long enough for him to begin eating on his own. They would have to begin force-feeding him (=giving him food inside a needle-less syringe) that afternoon. My presence was not required…she assured me that they would be very gentle.

When Stefano and I arrived at the clinic a few hours later, the vet informed us that Piccolo had swallowed the food from the syringe and had NOT thrown up. That was a very good sign, she added. She told us that we should learn how to feed him with the syringe because his fever was gone and his vital signs were so good that he could probably come home with us on Thursday. Another vet showed us what to do, but Piccolo stubbornly refused to open his mouth.

After the vet had left us alone with Piccolo, I had an idea. I put some of the mushy food on the tip of my finger and offered it to him. He licked my finger clean. Triumph! After a few minutes of finger-licking, Stefano tried putting the bowl in front of Piccolo. Our boy stuck his head inside and ate hungrily….on his own. I skipped off happily to tell the vets. Yaaay!!!

Well, as a result, it looks as though Piccolo will be coming home with us this evening, not tomorrow. The vets wanted to keep him one more night (cats in his condition must be kept under observation at least 48 hours), but they also know that he will recuperate MUCH more quickly at home with us. We will have to keep him on a special diet AND give him antibiotics for ten days plus another liver-protective pill for about one month. Easy peasy.

So this is very good news. Oh, I forgot. After eating yesterday evening, he lay down and, in response to our caresses and reassuring voices, began purring and kneading the newspaper that covers the floor of his cage. That’s my boy!!! 🙂

Update of the update: Piccolo was doing so well that the vet sent him home with us this morning. He is now fast asleep in a comfy chair downstairs, where I will join him after lunch. All is well in the feline household again…

In my May 26th post, I mentioned that my kitten, Pinga, had a sore throat and needed antibiotics…our vet taught me how to give her a shot, since she wouldn’t take her antibiotic in pill form (yes, I have seen all those “how to give your cat a pill” supposed-to-be-funny stuff, even though some of it is NOT funny at all but very anti-cat…). Giving shots is really fast and easy, even though I can’t do it by myself…I still need someone else to hold Pinga, as small as she is…

Now for the “pouring” part of today’s post title…Well, I actually have two stories. Let’s start with the not-so-bad one.

Puzzola, our eldest cat (9 years old), has a urinary tract infection…so she needs shots of antibiotics, too. How did we find out, you ask? Simple, she peed on our cotto floor. Luckily, I managed to draw up (into a syringe) a teeny tiny sample, which I took to my vet’s office last week. The sample contained enough blood for the diagnosis: cystitis. Treatment: antibiotics.

Puzzola is not as easy to fool as Pinga, though. I expected trouble from her, and trouble has in fact been the name of the game!!! She is a big strong girl with a stubborn streak when it comes to medical procedures (kind of reminds me of someone else… 😉 ). Anyway, we took her by surprise with the first shot, but now Stefano has to stalk her, grab her and hold her down while I rush in with the syringe…yes, it’s a real pain. But it’s A LOT easier than trying to get her to take a pill…sigh, you have no idea…

But this is nothing compared to what happened over the weekend. On Saturday, Stefano and I took Piccolo to the vet for a routine check-up. The vet found nothing terribly wrong with him…she told us that he is a bit overweight, but his kidneys are fine (he is 7 years old; male cats tend to develop kidney problems as they get older…so this was a big relief for us). He needs to go on a diet, she said. Fine, we replied.

But that very same evening we noticed that he had teeny tiny spasms in his gut area…and he threw up a couple of times. By Sunday morning he was much worse. He spent all day on a chair…he stopped eating and drinking. We knew it was serious, but since it was Sunday, all we could do was worry and sit with him…and wait.

I was at the vet’s office before opening hours yesterday morning. As soon as she arrived, I told her about Piccolo, and she said that he probably needed an ultrasound, that he might have swallowed something that was causing these symptoms. She sent me to a bigger clinic (=that has an ultrasound technician) on the opposite side of town. I rushed Piccolo over there…

To make a long story short, he has a case of acute pancreatitis that has inflamed his stomach and liver. The vets think we caught it in time, but his recovery will be slow. No question about that. But get this: the only way this particular condition can be diagnosed is with an ultrasound.

Nothing peculiar, except for a slight elevation in his white cell count, showed up in his blood tests. Nothing in his urine tests and X-ray. Yes, he had a fever, but the vet at the clinic thought he had some sort of infection, nothing serious.

She asked me if I still wanted Piccolo to have the ultrasound, and I said “oh yes, absolutely.” Thank goodness I always follow my gut instincts. Otherwise, we might have lost him (no, I am not kidding)…She would almost certainly have sent him home, you see, and he probably would only have gotten worse, in spite of the antibiotics that she undoubtedly would have prescribed for him. So we were “lucky” in our misfortune, as the saying goes (I think)…

That ultrasound saved his life.

Anyway, he spent the night at the clinic where he is receiving fluids and antibiotics and painkillers and anti-inflammatory drugs. He may have to stay there for a few more days…as you can imagine, I left the clinic in tears, with an empty cat carrier…but I am stronger now…and determined that he is going to be okay. I must be positive!

I didn’t go to work this morning. In about a half hour I am going to visit Piccolo and speak with the vets again, and Stefano will meet me at the clinic this evening (unless Piccolo is well enough to come home with me, fingers crossed…). Our house is turning into a small hospital…just in time for my parents to arrive from the U.S. (next week!). Oh well…

The important thing is that Piccolo, our boy, is going to be okay. Nothing else matters…nothing at all…

This has been a very busy weekend…so I decided to post a quick joke. I find some of the “dumb blonde” jokes quite funny…a friend (thanks!) just sent me this one…oh, and by the way, I am a dark blonde (or used to be…now I have some white hair, too 🙂 )…

A blonde, wanting to earn some extra money, decided to hire herself out as a “handy-woman” and started canvassing a nearby well-to-do neighborhood.

She went to the front door of the first house, and asked the owner if he had any odd jobs for her to do. “Well, I guess I could use somebody to paint my porch,” he said. How much will you charge me?” The blonde quickly responded, “How about $50?” The man agreed and told her that the paint and everything she would need was in the garage.

The man’s wife, hearing the conversation, said to her husband, “Does she realize that our porch goes all the way around the house?” He responded, “That’s a bit cynical, isn’t it?” The wife replied, “You’re right. I guess I’m starting to believe all those dumb blonde jokes we’ve been getting by e-mail lately.”

A short time later, the blonde came to the door to collect her money. “You’re finished already?” the husband asked. “Yes,” the blonde replied, “and I had paint left over, so I gave it two coats.” Impressed, the man reached into his pocket for the $50.00 and handed it to her.

“And by the way,” the blonde added, “it’s not a Porsche, it’s a Lexus.”

Okay, I admit, I was beginning to flip out about the bloody test result delay. Last night, for example, a silly incident set me off: my kitten, Pinga, has a bad sore throat, poor dear…the vet prescribed antibiotics. No problem, we thought. She will be the easy one, we thought. Hah. Last night she pig(cat)headedly refused to take her pill in any way, shape or form. And, after she stubbornly walked away from our umpteenth attempt to administer the crushed pill in a yummy morsel format, I had a sort of meltdown. Pinga was the icing on my stress cake, I guess. Luckily, my meltdown didn’t last long…

And even more luckily, the wait is over. A big fat envelope was sitting peacefully in my mailbox today…it didn’t even apologize or look the least bit contrite for having shown up so bloody late…! Surprisingly, my hands didn’t shake at all as I went to my computer to compare these tests with my previous ones. I didn’t even miss a heartbeat as I opened the envelope. I was in complete and utter control, ready for anything, good or bad…

Okay, comparing these results to my December 2009 set, my total IgGs have gone down, from 3410 to 3360 mg/dL…not much, that is true, but hey, even the slightest slide in a downward direction makes me happy. My other Igs are still holding their own…my brave little troupers! 🙂

My M-spike is slightly up, but only an itsy bitsy bit: this bit of news is less comforting, but, after all, it is still less than 3 g/dL. Can’t complain. I will push it down again.

Going down the list in order, now. My white cells have gone down but only a fraction of a fraction and are still within the reference range. My red cells have actually gone up a tiny bit and are thus well established within the normal range. Hemoglobin is 13,1 (down just a drop compared to December’s 13,5). Hematocrit is more or less the same. My platelets went up from 264 to 291, though. Good.

Total protein: slightly down. It was 9,9 in December and now it is 9,8 g/dL. Every little bit counts! Beta-2 microglobulin: was 2,7 in December, now is 2,6 mg/L. Holding steady! My CRP (C-reactive protein) has also decreased a bit: from 0,29 to 0,23. Creatinine also slightly down, which is good. Uric acid: down a fraction…from 5,0 to 4,7. And now for an increase…a slight increase in my albumin, which is good…my albumin/globulin ratio is now heading toward the normal range. Not quite there, yet, but going in the right direction!

And here is more good news: my free light chains have improved…A LOT. My kappas have dropped considerably and my lambdas are up, which means that my kappa/lambda ratio is still a bit high, but not AS high as it has (always) been. The ratio has gone down almost 38 points…now, I am not an FLC expert by any means, but I am quite sure that that is good. According to the Binding Site interpretation chart, I am still “MGUS with BM suppression.” Ah, how I would love to be MGUS without BM suppression…but okay, one can’t have everything!

Ah, one more thing. I am going to stop taking vitamin D for a while…both of my vitamin D results are above the normal range! But, yaaay, my parathyroid hormone is now smack in the middle of the normal range…! Super!

Stefano told me that he is going to uncork a bottle of spumante this evening…good idea! I think we need to celebrate the fact that I am still rock-solid stable…oh by the way, after these good results, ashwagandha has been promoted to Vice President of my basic protocol (curcumin and fish oil). Curcumin, naturalmente, has been confirmed as President…

Just got home from work. No test results today, either. I need a nap…

My blood test results would have been ready on Tuesday, yes, the 18^th of May, sigh!, if only I had chosen the “pick-up” option. In Italy, you see, cancer patients (or patients with any chronic, serious medical condition) can have their test results mailed to their home for free, which is lovely, of course…but it means that they might have to wait an extra day or two or three or…four or…MORE, as in this case, urgh. 

It all depends on the Italian postal service, which has improved immensely since I was a kid but clearly still isn’t perfect. The delay wouldn’t normally bother me…getting my results mailed to me is sooo much easier and certainly less “risky” than picking them up at the hospital lab, where I might have to wait in line behind/near someone with flu symptoms (yes, the flu is going around Florence again!).

This time, though, I am feeling a bit antsy. It’s probably mostly due to the fact that these are my first tests since mid December…oh well…just a few more days…I will have my results early next week, I am sure.

Luckily, I have a VERY busy social life, plus my cats keep me vastly entertained (see photo of Pinga trying to make friends with a virtual bulldog…this friendship attempt will seem even cuter after you click on the below link…), so I don’t have much time to dwell on test results.

Besides, many of my blog readers and friends (and my sister, too) keep sending me the most hilarious stuff (thank you all!), which also helps A LOT! Just the other day, a friend sent me the link to a fabulous screen cleaner that cleans your computer screen from the INSIDE…no, I am not kidding…this is a bit of amazing new technology…and no, it is NOT a virus, I assure you…Just click here: http://tinyurl.com/2pzegg

Point 1. In a recent post (http://margaret.healthblogs.org/2010/05/08/resveratrol-trial-in-multiple-myeloma-suspended/), I discussed the recent SRT501-chemo trial that was halted because some of the participants, advanced multiple myeloma patients with relapsed/refractory disease and who had failed at least one prior treatment, developed cast nephropathy, a common condition caused by myeloma that can lead to kidney failure. These patients, it turned out, had been taking what boils down to large amounts of resveratrol contained in a new formulation called SRT501…now, according to what I have read, SRT501 is able to get five times more resveratrol into the bloodstream than other resveratrol supplements on the market. These patients were taking 5 grams/day, which would be, unless I am horribly mistaken, the equivalent of 5×5=25 grams/day! Whoa!

I looked up the clinical trial and found that some of the patients were taking bortezomib (Velcade), too. And Velcade certainly can cause several bad side effects (see, e.g.: http://tinyurl.com/3a4sufe).

However, according to the Myeloma Beacon article (the link is in my above-mentioned post), the patients who developed cast nephropathy in this study were taking only the SRT501. Some folks apparently experienced nausea and vomiting, which may have led to dehydration…and that might possibly explain what happened…but this is pure speculation…we will just have to wait until the results of the investigation are released…

Point 2. I recently read about a vitamin D study (http://tinyurl.com/334a6ex) in which women aged 70 and older were given a single, annual, humongous dose of vitamin D: 500,000 IUs. All in one shot! Gee. Anyway, in a nutshell, these women ended up being more susceptible to falls and fractures than the women in the control (placebo) group.

From my viewpoint, the two stories are connected. If we say that the optimal daily dose of vitamin D is 1,000 IUs (=this is based on the Consumer Lab discussion further on, see Point 3, last quote), then 500,000 IUs, that is, the amount given in the above-mentioned study, is 5oo times that amount. 500 times! I mean, really!

Margaret’s crazy scenario: if, like me, you are taking 8 grams of curcumin/day…would you even remotely consider taking 8×500=4,000 grams? And consider this: if you respond well to a low dose of Velcade, would your doctor recommend raising it to 500 mg/m2? Or your Zometa from 4 mg to 4,000 mg? Or testing those amounts in a clinical trial? No, I didn’t think so…

It boils down to the “too much of a good thing may not be…such a good thing” theory. Just because a low dose is good for you, why multiply it 500 or even only 5 times…? Puzzling!

Point 3. Okay, at this point I thought it would be interesting for us to know what Consumer Lab had to say about vitamin D, including the above-mentioned vitamin D study (I received the entire report thanks to a very kind blog reader, incidentally, thank you!!!)…this is a long excerpt, I know, but I thought it was interesting…(my emphasis, btw):

Research has found that men with low levels of vitamin D in the blood (15 ng/mL and lower) were at increased risk for heart attack compared to those with sufficient levels (30 ng/mL and higher) even after adjusting for other risk factors and physical activity. A recent study suggests that this may contribute to the higher rate of cardiovascular mortality among black Americans compared to white Americans, as blacks tend to have lower vitamin D levels. 

Lower levels are also associated with a higher risk and severity of depression.  A recent study in Italy, for example, showed that older women with low vitamin D levels (below 20 ng/mL) were twice as likely to develop depressive mood as those with higher levels.  Older men with low levels were 60% more likely to develop depressive mood. 

Low levels of vitamin D are also associated with a higher risk of dementia, and, in women, a higher risk of developing rheumatoid arthritis. There is conflicting evidence about whether vitamin D helps reduce the overall risk of dying from cancer, although studies have consistently shown that higher vitamin D serum levels were associated with decreased risk of death from gastrointestinal cancers.

Studies suggest that vitamin D may also improve balance and reduce the risk of falls in older adults, for reasons that aren’t clear. However, a recent study in women aged 70 and older who were at-risk for bone fracture showed an increase in falls and fractures among those given an extremely high, single, annual dose (500,000 IU) of vitamin D3. This unexpected finding may have resulted from unusual effects of the extreme dose. Hah, no kidding!

Well, all this simply makes no sense to me…and really, it is starting to look as though there is some sort of bizarre “conspiracy” going on…I mean, it would not surprise me in the least if we soon heard about a clinical trial testing a super mega dose of curcumin, nanocurcumin or injectable curcumin, on patients who, as a result, might develop all sorts of weird symptoms, from orange nose hairs to…ah yes, quite right, it is pointless to speculate, but you can bet all your orange nose hairs that I would be the first to denounce such a study! Oh no…no…no!, I am beginning to sound like Mel Gibson in “Conspiracy Theory”…!  😉

Okay, back to the Consumer Lab report on vitamin D. Again, a long excerpt (my apologies):

D2 or D3? Several years ago, studies indicated that, at very high doses (4,000 IU per day for two weeks or a single dose of 50,000 IU), the D3 form of vitamin D is more efficient at maintaining serum 25-hydroxyvitamin D levels, than the D2 form.  However, a more recent and longer term study using a more common dosage, 1,000 IU daily, showed the two forms to be equally effective at raising and maintaining serum levels. An even more recent study showed that the two forms are also equally efficient whether taken daily as an oral supplement or in a fortified orange juice, based upon a dose of 1,000 IU per day.

The next paragraph deals with what are considered to be the desirable levels of vitamin D: 30 ng/ml. Deficiency: anything < than 15 ng/ml. Insufficient: < 30 ng/ml. Then there is a paragraph on U.S. children and adolescents: 61 % of them have insufficient vitamin D levels. Wow. And an additional 9% are vitamin D-deficient, which means that they most likely have higher blood pressure and lower levels of HDL (=good) cholesterol than other children. This quote tells us how much vitamin D we should be taking (according to Consumer Lab):

A rule of thumb for raising serum levels of 25-hydroxyvitamin D is that about 100 IU of vitamin D2 or D3 daily will raise serum levels by 1 ng/ml in an adult.  With moderate (1,000 IU per day) supplementation, it has been shown to take about 6 weeks for serum levels to reach their peak. For example, during winter with no significant sun exposure, supplementation with 1,000 IU has been shown to increase levels of around 20 ng/mL up to about 30 ng/ml at six weeks.  In such a scenario, sun exposure or a dosage higher than 1,000 IU would be necessary to further elevate levels above 30 ng/mL.

Note: of course, we myeloma folks must be careful not to take too much vitamin D, since it can lead to hypercalcemia = too much calcium in the blood. That would not be good!…

But let us also not forget that, according to a 2009 Mayo Clinic study, multiple myeloma patients with low vitamin D had worse outcomes than those with normal vitamin D levels. Low is bad! See my December 10 2009 post on this topic: http://margaret.healthblogs.org/life-with-myeloma/what-is-multiple-myeloma/myeloma-and-vitamin-d/

So, if you haven’t done this already, please have your vitamin D levels checked…and if they are low (as mine were), do consider taking a good D supplement. Vitamin D levels should really be a standard test for all myeloma patients, especially newly diagnosed folks. We should really push for that to happen!

Yesterday afternoon, after getting home from work, I was typing away at my computer when all of a sudden, poof!, the lights went out. I saved what I had written and shut down the computer. I checked the circuit breaker box…no problem there. Since the phone was out, too, I fished my-almost-always-turned-off-cell-phone out of my purse and called, or rather, tried to call the electric company, but all I got was an unsympathetic automated voice informing me that I could not use my cell phone to call an “800” number.

“The number you have to call instead is incomprehensiblemillionnumbers,” the voice droned on. Great, except that I wasn’t able to locate a pen while trying to decipher the number. Click…line dead. Uffa. After finding a pen, I dialed the “800” number again, and this time I managed to jot down the number (note: before calling the electric company, always have a pen and paper handy…oh, and a cup of coffee wouldn’t hurt, either, to keep you on full mental alert)…ah yes, I know, this is turning into a long boring…yawn…convoluted story…

Okay, so then I called the correct number…only to be told by the same automated voice that it had been disconnected. Oh, how very helpful…I contacted Stefano at work, asking him to call the electric company’s “800” number. Since I never use my cell phone and (consequently) never ever charge the battery, I noticed that my battery was almost dead. Fantastico. The ONE time I really need my bloody cell phone, and it is about to konk out on me…(it didn’t…phew).

I heard voices out on the street, so I went outside to investigate. Some of my female neighbors had gathered together to complain about the power shortage and speculate as to what might have happened. I joined them, thinking they might have some news. But no, nobody else had thought of calling the electric company…

Like a fish caught in a net, it took me a while to disentangle myself. One of the above-mentioned neighbors is the biggest gossipmonger on Earth, you see. She knows what you are doing even before you do. She is always at her window, checking who is doing what with whom and why and where on our street. And, if you have the misfortune to bump into her, it’s almost impossible to get away…

But get away I finally did, with the excuse of having to call Stefano back. He told me that, according to an electric company representative (= a real human being!), an excavator had accidentally cut our power line, and that it would take two-three hours to fix it. Two-three hours? Well, so much for our dinner plans (it seems that you can’t make pizza in an electric oven when the power is out…although my helpful neighbors suggested using candles…).

I went back outside to tell the gossiping ladies…and once again managed to make a quick escape without seeming too rude. I settled down near a window to read Sophie Kinsella’s new novel while waiting for Stefano to get home. After dinner, a cold dinner!, I went to play cards with my rowdy girlfriends…their power was on, of course…and, by the time I got home, after midnight, our power was back on, too…so all’s well that ends well…

Oh okay, tomorrow’s post will be a bit more interesting… 🙂