If you are like me, sometime in your life you’ve experienced a sense of satisfaction just by being right. But not just being right, being RIGHT when it mattered. I told you the show started as 7:30, not at 8. Good thing we got here when I suggested. There have even been situations when I’ve given myself permission to gloat over my rightness, although not for more than six or eight seconds, which I carefully count out loud. (No need to be a showoff.) We were saying our good-byes to The Levines Fri. morning at 10:30, right on schedule. With a good deal of help from the two Barbaras, we had pulled it off splendidly, just the way we said it would work out.

Richard, there’s no reason for you to leave at the crack of dawn. I know you’re concerned about the amount of traffic heading north. But just chill. We’ll get everything you need for Shabbat at Yohananof on Thurs. You’ll get up on Fri. at some reasonable time You’ll have something to eat. And if you claim not to be hungry, your Barbara certainly will be. We’ll make sure she is sufficiently caffeinated because the alternative, her driving back with you caffein-deprived, is too painful to contemplate. We’ll help you get everything down to the car, especially all the rosé wine Barbara just purchased. You’ll be on your way by 10:30. No matter how bad the traffic is, you’ll be home by 2:30. You’ll have four hours to get ready for Shabbat. All you will have to do is plug in the plata and set up the hot water urn.

It took a few repetitions, but it did sink in. It’s good when your guests – whoever they are – leave in good spirits, with a reading on the stress-ometer in the safe zone. It’s also good if the hosts are also in the less-stress zone, particularly as we were shortly expecting the next round of company. As I’ve already mentioned, Natania, Gil, Liel, and Gefen, were on their way, arriving just as I was about to take my pre-Shabbat shower.

When I returned to the salon, dried and dressed, I did a double take. What just happened? Why are all of those books scattered around? There’s a sheet over my spirits stash. It’s not Pesach; what’s going on?

It was actually very simple. My daughter and son-in-law were simply Gefen-proofing our apartment. (You could have given me a heads-up!) Gefen didn’t and couldn’t wreck the joint the last time they were here, but in the few weeks’ time since then… So, on the one hand, I was annoyed at the disruption, but that’s what happens when there are children around. They are supposed to grow and develop. Now our granddaughter can crawl around and get into anything and everything. And, yes, we will gladly put up with the disruption, and wait eagerly for her to get up and walk and get into even more trouble. Wait until she reaches the Terrible Twos. And then… My job is to stick around while all this is going on.

Meanwhile, I had places to go, things to do. Like head back to Ein Kerem the following Tues. for my follow-up appointment at the Urology Clinic. Let’s just get this over with. I really don’t want to return to the ‘scene of the crime,’ especially as it means going into the old building, which is depressing as hell, besides being almost impossible to find you way around, but no one was asking for my opinion. I had spent the last six weeks trying not to think too much about my return visit, but making sure that we could bring them all the test results they wanted. Except the one we would have to perform in the hospital. It has a proper name, but, essentially, it’s peeing into a bucket so the device can record your flow rate.

I had done this test before when Dr. Weiner was around. Even under normal circumstances, it’s no stroll through the park. You are required to fill your bladder until… And ten seconds before you would involuntarily wet yourself, you can dump everything you’ve got into the bucket. But it was only some weeks after they had taken out my catheter and my self-control mechanisms were not what they ought to be, which is why I was wearing an adult diaper. My first attempt at peeing in the bucket was dud; I obviously ‘jumped the gun.’ We didn’t have to wait for the printout from the little device next to the bucket to give us the results. I knew it; the technician knew it. Our old cat would have done a better job of relieving herself.

We had arrived early and had plenty of time before the scheduled appointment with a urologist. Let’s go down to Roladin. While we were munching our food and sipping our coffee, we got a phone call. Where are you? You’re next. (When was the last time you were called early for an appointment at a hospital clinic?) We grabbed everything we had ordered and hustled back upstairs, where we were ushered immediately into an office. We began conversing with the urologist and then… Do you mind if I try the test again? As in, I knew where to go and what to do. You will be pleased to know that this time I passed with flying colors. (Maybe I should say I pissed with flying colors, or some such.) I ran back to the urologist’s office, clutching the new readout, sighing with relief. If you ever have a patient who is having trouble with the pee in the bucket test, send him down to Roladin. That’ll do the trick!

What next? Return in six months. But instead of coming to the urology clinic, you should actually be seeing your surgeon, Dr. Lorber. (Although if you wind up back here, it’s no big deal; we’d do the same tests.) Back to the little office off the staircase on the first floor to schedule an appointment in Feb. and then, off we went.

So you’re free from medical scrutiny until then? Silly person, you! Of course not! Within weeks of our visit to the hospital, we were sitting in the office of Moshe Rubin, my gastro guy. First issue: May we assume that my pancreas will never in a million years start producing elastase, and I will be taking these capsules as long as I am around? Yes. Second issue: I’ll need a referral back to Alon Schwartz for him to deal with (as in, surgically repair) my umbilical hernia. (And the necessary paper work spun out of his printer.) The third issue, I did not expect: Said Dr. Rubin: There’s a stone in the bile duct of your pancreas. I’m sending you to Ari Benson for his opinion. He may say it’s nothing serious, or he may say we need to check it out (meaning one or more invasive tests.) Any more questions from my audience about ‘medical scrutiny?’

But for the moment? For the moment? It’s chol hamoed Sukkot here in The Land, and I’m feeling reasonably well (except for a cold). The big news is that I’m now diaper-free – like a big boy. Another milestone over and done with.

Actually, the biggest news is that we have finally begun work on a second website, a gallery to display my photographs. High time, indeed, sayeth I. We hope to have it done before they finish the newest light rail in Dec. The race is on!