where am I

Mayo clinic- what even is this place?

I've been here myself twice, but always as a participant. Being a spectator is a completely different experience.

It's like this eclectic mix of doctor's office, science museum, coffee house, art gallery and that giant info station that timeshares use to sign you up for a "free" vacation.

There are glass sculptures, and historical exhibits and mosaics from ancient Sumeria. There's a Dairy Queen, an entire hall full of 19th century medical instruments a grand piano where insanely talented people just sit down to seranade all of us hopeless saps who happen to stumble downstairs looking for a restroom. 

Clearly there is no shortage of money here, which is likely why the clay tablets from 100 AD are just hanging on the wall where any yahoo can run their Oreo Blizzard spoon across it.

Though God forbid that Dr. Mayo's good gallbladder removin' spoon should be exposed to fluorescent lighting. They store that creepy $#!+ behind two layers of tempered glass - right next to the first operating table used  (complete with blood catching trough underneath it).

Frankly, I think this whole setup is devised just to make you appreciate whatever may happen to you at this place.  "Oh, you need a liver transplant? Well, just be grateful you're not the sonofabitch laying on this wooden pallet while we removed his left testicle and a Siamese twin with this rusty spoon."

Damn.

Anyway, I am here for two reasons and two reasons only:

Rico's health and this:

This coconut cream pie. 

It's awful.

Terrible.

But I can't help myself.

It's like eating a bottle of Hawaiian Tropic suntan oil (don't pretend you haven't thought about it).

We're here today for Rico's scope, a couple of organ biopsies and hopefully some answers come next week. 'Til then, we'll just keep holding on.