Taco Tuesday?

This month BFF had to have surgery.  Twice.  Nothing major and everything is fine but she had to have some lumps removed from her breast.  All is benign and good!  So don’t you all go worrying cuz she would hate that.  She had what is called a phyllodes tumor, which is benign but can turn cancerous, so it had to be removed before it caused trouble.  Silly boobie.  So, surgery it was and I went with her and her parentals to be her support and to entertain her Momma so she wouldn’t be too stressed.   Let me tell you, BFF on meds is hilarious!  Also she was pretty hungry which led to the discussion of tacos. Because it was Tuesday.  And because tacos. Always tacos.

BFF had to have one of her lumps marked by a wire because it was small and the surgeon wanted to make sure she could find it during the surgery.  So that procedure was supposed to take place about an hour before the actual surgery.  That had to be done with a radiologist and she said it really was not pleasant.  But she returned with a numb boobie and we sat waiting in the pre-op area.  From where we were, we could see all the activity of the area and that was quite fun.  But the waiting.  Ugh.  So much waiting.  And waiting. And waiting.  BFF was scheduled for surgery at 12:45 and had not had anything to eat since midnight.  She was starving.  So guess what our topic of conversation was?  Yup.  The food she was going to shove in her gob as soon as she was released.  She had quite the list.  But topping that list?  Tacos.  It was, after all, Taco Tuesday and she wanted some tacos dammit.  She must have talked about the kind of tacos she wanted for like an hour. And this was before they gave her drugs.  BFF’s surgery time came and went.  Unfortunately for her, she got bumped back because of trauma patients.  This meant one thing.  Her boobie was now not numb and she could feel the wire.  Also, she was still hungry.  I imagine the wire felt like a giant splinter sitting in her boobie so it could not have been that fun.  Can you imagine?  So BFF did the only thing she could since she couldn’t have tacos.  She asked for pain medication.

This is where it got fun.  They gave her medication and a few minutes later she looked at me and said “Whoa”.  Immediately she said she didn’t like it and could not understand how people could get addicted to stuff like that.  Good thing to know BFF won’t suddenly become a drug addict.  I won’t have to worry about her becoming a bag lady pushing a shopping cart down the street that contain all her worldly possessions muttering to herself about demons and yelling profanities at people.  Oh wait.  Maybe I do.  But not because of drugs.  Just because.  Pretty soon the sleepy factor hit her and she was out.  Which means this happened.

She really shouldn’t sleep around me.

You knew that would happen right?  I mean what else was I supposed to do while waiting?  Luckily, only 3 hours after she was supposed to go back for surgery, the crew finally came and got her.  Which meant we were left with this image as they wheeled her back.

That is one sexy blue cap BFF

If you have ever waited for someone in surgery, then you know it can be so long even if it is only 45 minutes or so.  We had the joy of hearing some dude eery 15 minutes tell everyone within ear shot of him that he was going to go out and “smoke his cancer”.  You go right ahead buddy.  Thanks for telling us the umpteenth time.  I thought BFF’s Momma was gonna stab him in the eye with a spork from the dining room when he said it for the 4th time.  I would have handed her the spork.  Just saying.  Our hospital does this thing where they give you a tracking number and you can look up on this giant board to see where your loved one is.  I felt like all I did was stared at this board waiting to see if BFF was in the recovery room yet.  It just kept saying she was in the OR.  Even when the surgeon came to talk to us and said she was done and everything was fine, BFF’s number never moved her to the recovery room.  It was like she was stuck in permanent limbo! Maybe the Doctor came and picked her up in the T.A.R.D.I.S. and she is flying through time and space.  Wait.  And she didn’t come and get me?  Rude.

Eventually I knew she was in the recovery room.  How?  Because all of a sudden I got a text from her.  I looked at her Momma because I thought she had BFF’s phone but she didn’t.  I opened up the text message and started laughing.  The text was nothing but taco emojis.  A ton of them.  Only BFF would subtly let me know she was out of surgery and feeling fine by texting me taco emojis.  Best recovery room text ever.  Her Momma and I laughed pretty hard over that.

After being discharged, I was helping BFF to the car while her Momma went and got it.  She looked at me and said “I am starving.  Can you go get me tacos?”  Nope.  Not happening.  I carefully explained to her drug addled brain that I didn’t want to see tacos come back up and I would get her some the next day.  She sighed, agreed and again told me could never be a drug addict.  Well good, because I didn’t want to have to find her a shopping cart.  Although if it came filled with tacos at that point, I am sure she would have just walked down the street muttering to herself and eating tacos.  I mean it was Taco Tuesday.

Oh yeah.  I didn’t die today.  I did, however, have to explain to BFF why she couldn’t have tacos fresh out of surgery, but I didn’t die.  I am Fat Girl with a BFF who texts me taco emojis from the recovery room Running.  The experiment continues…



When Friendship Leads to Christening a Car…With Urine

Remember how much of an asshole my kidney was being?  Well, I went into to see the Pee-Pee doctor a couple of weeks ago to see if I had flushed that damn stone out. I mean I was drinking so much water that I was sloshing around as I walked.  I went in feeling confident it must have passed only to have Pee-Pee doctor tell me it hadn’t.  Asshole kidney.  Guess what that meant?  More surgery to remove it.  I could have waited, but I was due to travel to Seattle and didn’t want to end up at Seattle Grace with McDreamy looking all up in my business, so surgery it had to be.  BFF was unable to take me to surgery due to work so enlisted one of  my other friends MA to help me out.  Damn asshole kidney.

So there I was, having more surgery on my lady business…but at least this time I did it at an outpatient surgery center and knew I would go home that same day.  Unfortunately, Pee-Pee doctor told me I would have to have another stent placed that I would then remove when I was up in Seattle.  Oh joy.  That sounds like so much fun…not.  Good thing I did the Fat Girl gymnastics to shave the jungle forest that was growing down there since I was gonna have a bunch of people all up in there, including BFF who was gonna have to pull the stent.  Also a good thing was the anesthesiologist was one I knew and gave me good drugs before wheeling me into the OR.  A little propofol, or MJ juice as I like to call it, was given to me and quickly I felt like my head was swimmy and I told MA that all while waving my fingers in front of my face like an idiot.  I am pretty funny on the good drugs.  Then the nurse started asking me questions and I could barely concentrate on what she was saying.  Believe me, I tried.  I even tried a deep breath as she was talking to me…who asks a patient questions about their allergies after the MJ juice has been given?  For reals.  When they wheeled me into the OR, the nurses asked me where I was going on my sleepy vacation.  Duh.  Disneyland.  As I fell asleep, we were discussing rides at Disneyland.  Good times.

I woke up rather quickly in the OR and felt the device they used in my airway called an LMA. I know now why patients pull at tubes in their throat…it was all I could do not to pull it out.  Thank goodness they removed it right away.  Immediately upon arrival to the recovery room, I told the nurse I had to pee…and BADLY.  She put a bedpan underneath me but not before I had involuntarily peed on the gurney.  WTH?  I freaking peed the gurney.  Awesome.  I chalked it up to coming out of anesthesia at first till she put the bedpan under me and I still could not control my bladder.  MA came in to see me and help me get my clothes back on.  As I stood up, more urine ran down my leg.  Seriously WTH?  This didn’t happen with the last surgery.  Now I can’t control my bladder?  MA asked the nurse for a maxi pad as I was standing there naked, peeing myself.  Great friend that she is, she even got all up in my lady business to check the stent and it was fine.  Really glad I shaved now.  I asked to be wheeled to the potty once I was dressed, feeling urine leaking the entire time.  By the time I got to the bathroom, the pad was soaked so I put on another one, which I also immediately soaked.  Seriously.  This was crazy.  MA at least thought to ask for a pad to put underneath me in her car.  The nurse never once said anything about this bladder leaking.  I was worried I would not be able to control my bladder for the rest of my life at this point.  MA and I started laughing in her car about me having to wear an astronaut diaper on the plane to Seattle when I looked at her and said “I am peeing my pants.  Right now.  In your car.  Your car has just been christened…with my pee.  Awesome.”  That led us to hysterics and for me to completely soak my pants with my own urine.  Yup.  Totally christened MA’s car with my urine.

Upon getting home, I opted to go straight to the toilet and sit while MA went and filled my prescriptions and got me Poise pads to put in my underwear.  Great.  It had come to this.  At age 43, I was gonna have to start wearing Poise pads in my chonies and astronaut diapers while traveling because my kidney was an asshole.  I was sitting there on the potty, leaking urine, when I got curious about the stent.  So I took a look at my own lady business.  There staring back at me was..the stent.  Or at least a good chunk of it.  Hanging out of my urethra franklin.  This could not be good.  Pretty sure that was not normal.  I quickly walked to grab my phone sans pants at this point with a pad shoved between my legs.  I am so sexy.  A quick phone call to Pee-Pee doctor’s office and they confirmed this was for sure not normal.  I was instructed to take two pain pills , wait an hour and pull it out.  The office even told me if I didn’t pull it out, I would leak urine all the time.  Well…this makes a bit more sense.  It must have been dislodged from the minute I hit the recovery room.  Awesome.  Of course this was me.  Nothing is ever simple or normal with me.  A quick call to MA and I explained the situation.  At this point, Bubby and Pocket GF have come over to stay with me and all I can do is tell them the situation from the potty in my bathroom.  Pretty sure I do not want either one of them all up in my lady business so I wait for MA to come back from the store.  Good thing I have great friends.  MA returned and looked into my lady business again to also confirm that the stent was now hanging out.  I was done with sitting on the potty, not controlling my bladder, so MA and I decided just to pull the damn thing out.  Good thing I am also not modest as we grabbed the offending stent and pulled it out of my urethra franklin.  Immediately, I could control my bladder and I was more comfortable.  Whew.  My fleeting vision of a lifetime of astronaut diapers and Poise pads was dismissed.  Again, I am so grateful for my friend MA and the laughter we had that day.  Let’s hope my kidney quits being an asshole now.  Jerk.

Oh yeah.  I didn’t die today.  I did think I was going to be condemned to wearing astronaut diapers for the rest of my life, but I didn’t die.  I am Fat Girl who christens my friend’s car with my own urine Running.  The experiment continues…







































































































A Birthing Tale…Part 2 and a Reveal

I regaled you all with the first part of my birth story of Luke the Kidney Boulder.  Trust me, that was not an experience I want to repeat.  EVER.  Surgery and I do not mix, even if they do come with Light Saber sound effects.  But what happens after you give birth to such a large kidney stone?  Well sit still, dear readers, and I shall finish my tale.

One of the advantages of working at a hospital where you are going to have surgery is that you know who you want to do your anesthesia.  I highly encourage any of you who are going to have surgery to ask nurses or people who have had surgery before to recommend an anesthesiologist for you.  I have trouble with the magic sleepy drugs and also my airway does not like to play well with the tube they like to put down you.  So, hearing I was going to have to be put under, I specifically requested the Sleepy Magic Doc that did my hysterectomy because I was hoping I would not have to have a plastic tube in my throat and not barf my guts out.  I wanted to rejoice when he showed up in pre-op and offered to do a spinal and just give me enough happy sleepy drugs to not care if I heard the laser sound effects and truly not remember them anyways.  And no tube.  Perfection.  When I was wheeled in to the recovery room, I could not feel anything from the waist down.  At.  All.  What a weird feeling to try to move my legs and they didn’t go anywhere.  I stared at them, like they were not my own, willing them to move.  “Ok left foot.  We are going to wiggle now.  Ready…go”  And using my best Jedi mind powers I tried to will that foot to move with no result.  Slowly, I was able to move them a bit but it felt very jerky and almost like my legs were being controlled by puppet strings.  So bizarre.  When BFF and the PACU nurse tried to get me up the first time, my legs would not hold their own weight and felt like jello legs.  Of course, in order to go home, which I desperately wanted to do, I had to be able to walk and pee.  Wait…you want me to pee after you shoved a Light Saber up my Urethra Franklin and destroyed the Death Star?  Huh.  Ok then.  Challenge accepted.

Since the Sleepy Magic Doc had done such a good job of giving me a spinal, it took 5 hours for it to wear off.  5 hours!  During that time I took that peeing challenge to heart, although my legs would not cooperate.  I wondered if I just wet myself if that would count.  But then sitting in a puddle of my own pee was not a fun thought.  First attempt to pass the challenge presented to me resulted in me sitting on a potty chair next to the bed because my legs were so wobbly I could not walk to the bathroom.  Yeah.  Like I was gonna be able to pee with an audience.  For serious.  Especially since I work in that facility and know half of the PACU nurses.  My bladder and Urethra Franklin both became very shy and the tiny amount of urine I eeked out did not count.  I willed my legs to work and somehow made it to the real potty where I completed the challenge and was able to go home.  I neer back down from a challenge I tell you.  Now, the other thing the Pee-Pee Doctor did was put a stent up my Urethra Franklin that had to stay in till I saw him in the office.  What is a stent you ask?  It is a tube placed there to help the Urethra Franklin heal with one end in my kidney and one end in my bladder.  The result:  I felt like I constantly had to pee for a week. Yup a week.  It was so uncomfortable.  That and the medication they gave me to stop the spasms turned my urine this nice bright fluorescent orange color that stained everything.  Don’t wear new unders when taking that medication or buy stock in pantiliners.  I did both.  Removing the stent was an experience I also never want to repeat.

To remove it, Pee-Pee Doc told me he was putting an instrument up my Urethra Franklin, fill my bladder full of water, grab the stent and pull it out.  Excuse me?  You wanna put what where?  Do what to who?  And I will be awake, just chilling while you are all down in my business shoving go knows what up into my Urethra Franklin?  Oh hell no.  Thank goodness I have the world’s best BFF who arranged to come with me and hold my hand.  The thought of anyone putting anything up my Uretha Franklin while I was awake actually put me in a state of anxiety for a week.  Yup, sure enough, there I was…my lady business all hanging out (thank goodness I had done Fat Girl gymnastics to shave the jungle) and Pee-Pee doctor reached for the scope to put up in there.  My toes curled, my eyes shut, BFF holding my hand and I hear him say he can’t get it into my bladder.  BFF quietly leans over and tells me to take a deep breath, which I did and magically he was able to grab the stent and pull it out, water and urine and all.  Guess I was so tense even my bladder would not cooperate.  Afterwards, I was sitting in a puddle of water and urine and the tech hands me a stack of 4×4 gauze to lean up with….really?  How about a towel?  Like some gauze was gonna even begin to be able to cleanup this Fat Girl’s flass.  But I was ever so grateful to have that stent out of my Urethra Franklin.  And so ends my kidney boulder saga.  One I hope never to repeat.

Today I also got some fun news from Boss Bean over at inknbeans.com  The cover for book number 2 is here!  So here you go fans:


Skittles for everyone!

How cool is that?  I am so excited.  Fat Girl Happy Dance of Joy commencing in 3…2…1  Oh and also do not forget I am doing a fan appreciation signed book giveaway on my Facebook page.  Here is the link as well:  http://tinyurl.com/lvsmjva  Get in on the fun and a chance to win!!

Oh yeah.  I didn’t die today.  I did try out my Jedi mind powers without much success but I didn’t die.  I am Fat Girl who is quite done with things being put up in my Urethra Franklin and a cover for book 2 Running.  The experiment continues….

A Birthing Tale….Part 1

Where has The Fat Girl been you are wondering?  Holy canoli Batman…what a crazy month.  It started out all nice and sweet, just hanging with the BFF for her birthday (more about that another time) and finishing up writing the manuscript for Book #2 so I could meet my deadline with my publisher, when it took a horrible turn for the bad and just got worse.  Now, let’s just say I do not do anything small.  At all.  A Fat Girl lives her life large and in charge.  So when I started having horrid back pain right after BFF’s birthday-palooza that I could not handle, I knew something was desperately wrong.

Let’s be perfectly clear.  I have a VERY high threshold for pain.  I mean I did walk around on a torn meniscus for 6 months before I could not handle it anymore and had surgery.  I had been having back pain off and on since December but since I had sciatica, I just did what I normally did when it flared with stretching, massage and motrin.  This back pain was different and an entirely different monster in itself.  It started suddenly and nothing I did would relieve it.  I tried motrin, heat, stretches, ice…you name it I tried it.  When BFF came by later in the day, she immediately said she noticed a difference in me.  I could not sit still…not even on the all and powerful couch.  When I did, I was alternating between rocking back and forth and wiggling my feet.  I mostly paced around my living room asking BFF what I should do.  I told her I thought I was trying to pass a kidney stone, since obviously I had Googled AND looked up all my symptoms on Wikipedia so THAT must be it.  Either that or I was birthing a baby, which might have been an Easter miracle considering I have no baby box any more.  Birthing pains are what passing a kidney stone has been compared to by many people and BFF says I would have made a great woman in labor.  I literally would stop what I was doing and say to her “Hang on…there it is again.”  A few deep breaths later and a scrunch of my face and my conversation with her would continue.  Being the great patient that I am, I wouldn’t let her take me to the ED.  Instead, I gratefully took the pain pills she found for me that were left over from my surgery in Sept (yes…I am aware of how bad of a patient nurses are) and promptly fell asleep.

The next day, I went to see my doc.  She thought I was also trying to birth a kidney stone and ordered me to get a CT that had actually been ordered back in December when I had back pain.  I just didn’t think I needed it then because of course I had already diagnosed myself with the help of my friends Google and Wikipedia with sciatica.  (I also received a lecture from her about how horrible nurses are as patients) She then gave me the most painful shot of my life of antibiotics into my flass in case it was a kidney infection.  Seriously…that hurt worse than the back pain.  I also now feel so terrible for all the kiddos I have ever given that shot to in the hospital.  It felt like peanut butter on fire going into my flass.  Horrid I tell you.  A couple of days later, CT completed with labs drawn, back pain still in progress off and on and I called to get my results.  The NP then surprisingly says to me that all my results are VERY concerning and she was calling the Pee-Pee Doctor on call to see what needed to be done as I had a VERY large kidney stone.  Huh.  There I was, minding my own business, sitting on my couch in my jammies eating Skittles when she called me back and gave me my hospital room number to check into.  Huh…what? I am pretty sure I choked on a Skittle when she told me that the stone was so large that I needed to have surgery in the morning.  I even tried to reason with her that I could just show up in the morning when she told me I was a very sick Fat Girl and needed to report to the hospital pronto.  Say what?  I don’t feel sick.  I just have back spasms every now and then. I hadn’t even really taken anything except for Motrin in days.  I was so floored that I could not even think of what to do or say except to immediately call BFF who hightailed it over to my house to take me and hear what the Pee-Pee Doctor had to say.

Pee-Pee Doctor came by once I was checked into the hospital (nothing like being a patient in your own facility and having to call in sick from your patient room) to tell me that I indeed was trying to birth a kidney stone but that it was stuck and I would NEVER pass it on my own.  Why?  Because it was 6mm x 2cm big and normally your ureter is 3-4 mm in diameter.  Holy blocked Urethra Franklin Batman!  That’s no stone….that’s a boulder!  He told me it was so stuck that I had urine backed up into my kidney and was indeed a very sick Fat Girl.  He was even nice enough to draw me a picture on the sheet on my bed.  I really wanted to steal that sheet and keep it as a souvenir but they took it from me.

Pic of my Urethra Franklin with my kidney boulder that the Pee-Pee Doctor drew me. Although…it does sort of look like a pee-pee

Pee-Pee Doctor even explained the whole surgery to me and how they would put a laser up my Urethra Franklin and break up the boulder.  I felt like I was going to be in an episode of the Star Wars movie saga.  Like he was gonna take a LightSaber up in there, special effects and all, and destroy the Death Star that was in my Urethra Franklin.  I swear if I had heard the pew-pew of tiny lasers in the operating room I would have started laughing.  Then he told me he was going to put a tube in there to let it heal that would stay in for a bit after surgery.  That is a whole different experience that I shall get into in part two.  So, the next day, starving since nothing to eat since midnight and my surgery was in the afternoon, off I went to give birth to my kidney boulder, who I have now named Luke in honor of the Star Wars episode my surgery was certain to be. There might have been some pew-pew sound effects but I had happy drugs and didn’t care.  So there I shall leave it for now….I birthed a boulder and that is why you have not heard from me.

In celebration of me still getting my manuscript to my editor in time, in spite the birth of Luke the kidney boulder, I am doing a signed book giveaway on my Facebook page!  Go on over and enter…so many ways to win!  You can access my Facebook page right on the side over there….and then go to the Giveaway tab to find it!!  Simple and easy!

Oh yeah.  I didn’t die today.  I instead decided to star in my own episode of Star Wars but I didn’t die.  I am Fat Girl who gave birth to Luke the kidney boulder Running.  The experiment continues…..

Super Stann Kicks Cancer’s Ass!

Super Stann’s story continues….she showed up three weeks ago prepared to kick some cancer butt and boy did she ever.  Pink cape on and Uterus of Justice in hand, she kicked cancer’s ass!  It has been a long three weeks since I went in for my hysterectomy, but I have this to report:  I AM CANCER FREE!!  Yup.  You heard me scream that loudly!  The cancer was completely contained to the lining of my uterus and did not extend into my muscles, tubes, ovaries or anywhere else so I am in the clear!  I about hugged my surgeon when she reported it to me and BFF and tears were shed over it.  Thanks to all who gave me positive thoughts, prayers, good ju-ju, wishes and hopes.  I am blessed to have some wonderous family, friends and readers.  So let me fill you in on my journey the last three weeks.

The morning of surgery, BFF took me in and graciously put up with my nervous babbling and a couple of tears as we waited for anesthesia and my surgeon to finish up a c-section.  One good thing about having surgery in the facility where you work…I actually had nurses fighting to be in the OR with me and take care of me.  My surgeon was even instructed by the labor nurses to take good care of me and get it all out with surgery.  I don’t remember a whole lot of what happened after I was given the lovely versed cocktail, except for my surgeon laughingly telling me that I had already shave prepped for her…of course I did.  I couldn’t go into surgery with howler monkeys swinging around down there in my jungle of girly parts.  I wanted her to see what she was doing!  After surgery, I was wheeled up to BFF’s floor and doted on by some wonderful nurses and techs up there.  They even decorated my room.  Here is what was awaiting me in my drug induced haze:

Seriously I love my friends…without their sense of humor and love I could not have done this.  Some of the messages on this bear are not the most appropriate and I wouldn’t have it any other way!
Notice the “no uterus” medical picture…I think Hallmark could use this as a greeting card

The first day in the hospital was not a fun one for me…let’s just say my worst fear as a nurse and my friend K’s as well, who took care if me, is vomit.  I made all those fears come true for her and me.  I have a wonderful BFF and some wonderful friends who took care of me  while I barfed my guts out while sobbing for HOURS.  I felt like kaka to say the least.  And barfing after abdominal surgery is NOT a fun experience.  I publicly apologize to poor K for making her worst fears come true.  It was truly not on my agenda for the day.  Poor BFF had worked the night before my surgery and still took care of me.  The next couple of days is filled with drug induced memories of people visiting me, the nurses discussing my urine output, feeling like a giant pile of elephant poop and just wanting to get home.  In fact the first week, I pretty much felt like a herd of wildebeests had trampled me in the abdomen and left me in the middle of the Serengeti to die.  I do not recommend abdominal surgery if you can avoid it.  Walking even to the corner of my street felt like freaking marathon.  I have spent a lot of time the last few weeks watching Who’s Your Daddy on Maury, weird movies on Netflix and surfing the internet for the best midget porn sites.  A girl has got to have some entertainment.  Guess I should clear my internet browser before letting someone borrow my laptop…

Here is one thing you would realize pretty quickly after having abdominal surgery:  what you ACTUALLY use those muscles for in your everyday life.  Getting in and out of bed, up and down off the couch, sneezing, coughing and the biggest one of them all…POOPING.  For goodness sake, I never knew how bowel obsessed I was until I couldn’t poop from all the pain killers and my muscles not cooperating.  I was miserable until I had my first poop and let me tell you I wanted to jump up and down but refrained because that also hurt.  Colace has become my friend ever since the hospital.  Seriously, you do not want to spend hours sitting on the toilet wishing to whatever God you pray to that you could poop.  When you can’t poop and need to, you actually contemplate how in the world you are gonna accomplish this feat.  It can consume you.  I am not kidding.  I was miserable.  Three weeks out, pooping is still a challenge to use those muscles but much easier I must report….was that TMI?  Oh well…I am a nurse after all.  And apparently, bowel obsessed.

I must thank my alter ego, Super Stann for kicking cancer’s ass…I never doubted I could do it, but there were a few tears shed with my BFF over the “what if”.  I must publicly thank all the nurses, techs, friends who lovingly brought me food and company, my BFF, Bubby and Pocket GF and my Momma for everything you all have done for me while I recover.  Words cannot express my gratitude…so I will let Natalie Merchant do it for me:

Oh yeah…I didn’t die today.  I felt like I might right after surgery but I didn’t die.  I am CANCER FREE Fat Girl who needs to go poop Running.  The experiment continues…