My boy composed a song (coconut-tree.mp3) that I had to record so I played the guitar for him while he sang the tune: it’s called Coconut Tree. Also, he wrote (or drew) a nice story about his visit to the radiologist for a CAT scan: I’ll let him tell it (with my notes in italics).

This page is the cover for telling you what the story is: Dr.’s Office by Sy. (As of late, my boy’s been getting into making mini-books with stories be it pictures or words. This is his title page, expertly designed and left to focus on the type treatment.)

Nothing is happening here; this is just a picture of the doctor’s office. (The new hospital facilities is only in it’s medical care center phase because the locals are ridiculously fighting that the place gets upgraded to a hospital: even though it has better equipment than the hospital. The one fighting the thing is an activist who moved to the area.)

That’s the doctors that helped me with the CAT-Scan X-Ray. They helped me very good. (My boy seems to always remember when doctors are young women. Especially if they smile at him.)

It’s daddy with a special vest on. (He was nervous about getting the CT-Scan even though it was an open unit–understandably so. Last time he got an x-ray it was the gun pointing at his shoulder but this whole laying down thing was upsetting so I stood there with that lead vest and explained how the machine worked to demystify it.)

This is a picture of the X-Ray Machine. (His drawing reminds me of a StarGate with Chevron 7 encoded and the 8th Chevron actually loading! I’m a geek.)

That’s me going inside the X-Ray. The black or brown thing is the thing with the camera that was upon me. The red is the bright light that I had to close my eye for and the yellow lights were the lights that were okay to look at. (He really got nervous when the machine started to move, raising him up and pulling him in; but I made sure to explain the process as much as possible.)

That’s me closing my eye with the bright light because the doctors told me to do it. (It’s interesting that when he draws closed eyes, he always fills them with darkness because–after all–that’s what he sees; yet he knows how closed eyes looks like. It always strikes me as fascinating, though.)

That’s me coming out and I’m smiling. The End-Sy. (The total time of the procedure was three, apparently eternal, minutes. Note the beaming smile. I don’t know how much they’ll find on a three minute CT Scan but God willing the migraines he’s been having are just that; but we have to rule The Worst out. )