This was going to be a story about how I visited the Rheumatologist again today, and had the blog post written in my mind before I got there, but was surprised by an additional diagnosis of seronegative arthritis which came with a prescription for some hard hitting medication that will help keep the inflammation down but also supress my immune system and require me to take monthly blood tests indefinitely to make sure it's not destroying anything important, such as the odd liver here or there. Instead, it turns into a story about Eilidh.
She has a job. A small paper run near our house that she applied for on the weekend and got news today that she'd been hired. Just a small run on a small flat street, with a small amount of pay, but she's so pleased that her first act after the phone call with the newspaper was to go straight to her iPod and send her Dad a message. You know it's exciting news if it gets sent straight to Dad.
I know she'll do it well and diligently and save all her money, and all the cash that she is now solely in charge of will further inspire her to greater and greater glory until she most likely ends up ruling the world. She's just one of those kids. Bless. I don't understand it, am not made like it, but am inclined to bask in the glory of having birthed someone who is.
Damn about the arthritis though. Pops a few illusory bubbles I had been quite happily believing in.
