Medical Miracles

The miracle is that I actually went, of my own volition, to a medical service provider in the past week. It’s a plural, actually, because I went twice over.
First to a physiotherapist about my back; she gave me some exercises and said it’ll be better in a couple weeks. Which I hope and expect it shall be. Today I even larked about in a field with a frisbee and didn’t end up in agony, so that’s a very good sign. (Although I admit being perturbed early on – after the injury, I noticed the warmth of the shower made me feel much less painful. So I applied a hot water bottle to my back and felt much better. Then a physiotherapist mate of mine asked me, upon learning of the injury, “are you icing it regularly?” “Er, yes,” I ventured, while the roasting heat of the hot water bottle gave my spinal column a thorough toasting.)
Second to a General Practitioner, to inspect a mole that had become Supicious TM. I’d been suspecting it of perfidy for some time, and after I caught it whispering in a foreign language the other day, I figured that was quite enough. So I popped into a GP and had the whole thing chopped out with a scalpel and sent off to the Guantanamo Bay for skin features, where they will test it to see if it was cancerous or if it was just suspicion-inducing. (In the War on Skin Cancer, moles are innocent until proven guilty.)
Good lord, Christmas is just around the corner. 2007 is almost done for!