Diverticulitis and why I am not a hypochondriac.

The other day I am talking to my neighbor as she is hanging out her clothes and I am picking some of our tomatoes because we do not have a privacy fence.  I really like those.  So she is telling me that blah blah blah they like Roma tomatoes because the seeds are probably not good for her and Gary, her husband, can't have them.

So, of course, despite allll the interesting things I have going on, I tell my husband this story with the addition of my conclusion- that Gary must have Diverticulitis.  My loving man say, oh yeah, probably.   I say, do you even know what diverticulitius is?  I'm not sure, actually.  What the hell is it?  He says, I have not idea.  I've only heard of it when you came home and told me you had it.  

I had it?  Oh.

Well, still, that doesn't answer what it is.  But it does beg a lot of other questions.  And, the observation that I must have been seriously ill to diagnose my self with a disease that I don't know what is or remember now having.

I am pretty sure, (which is not very at all) that I was diverticulited (that's medical language, I am sure) when I ate popcorn everyday for two months.

The good news is I am healed.

Also, we have had a nice, but late tomato crop.  Albeit seedy.

Carry on good soldiers.
Peace and love to you.
Non-diverticulitusited Candace

In the beginning....