WEEK 44

I have done well with the no-booze thing, but forgot and ate a hotdog in the hospital cafeteria. You would think a Catholic hospital wouldn't serve meat on a Friday. The hospital staff are nice. I saw at least three nasty nasty sets of leg ulcers. From what I hear there is no such thing as an "RPT" or "registered physical therapist" anymore -- you need a master's or a PhD. Since massage/physical therapy are not what I want to do, it's not worth it. Mom sez someday I'll be working in a nice clinic where I won't need another advanced degree anyway.