Expensive Diagnosis.

I recently had a high-resolution MRI done on my head. After a lifetime of taking what we used to call "dingers" where I'd see tweety birds and then get back up and play some more, I figured the current and more ominous designation of "traumatic brain injury" necessitated me seeing if I had done any serious damage.
  
I'd had one done after my car accident, but I guess the technology is much better these days, and I had cracked my helmet pretty good when I went down in the fall. I'd rather know what I was dealing with before I followed the proud NFL tradition of killing my girlfriend and our unborn child because of accumulated head trauma. If I were a betting man, I'd wager my wife would be really pissed at me, so it's best to head this one off at the pass.
 
I got my results back yesterday. I know it will surprise nobody when I say that they found nothing but a lifetime's accumulation of bile, bitterness, and regret. No visible damage, though. I guess my crustiness protected me.
 
So, a had an extremely expensive diagnostic test done that failed to indicate what it was ordered for. Now I can't fall back on head trauma as an excuse for being an asshole. It's all me. At least I have an accurate baseline for the future.
 
Even though it failed to detect any tweety bird nests, it did discover I had fluid built up deep in my sinuses, which indicates a sinus infection. The doctor said that sort of infection is very hard to detect any other way, so she prescribed me some antibiotics.
 
That would explain why I still feel like crap after the rest of the household has recovered from the flu. Who knows how long that sucker has been festering back there.
 
So, my rebuilding may take a little longer than planned. Not a big deal, as race season is still far off in the distance and I have no goals in mind for this year. Maybe I'll just ride my bike a bunch and try to have fun.
 
I think I might be able to meet that low bar for success.