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Glargh. I have the plague. Well, not the literal plague, but surely close enough to it. Generally, colds start in my nose, and make me feel like an absolute mess for a few days, and then move down to my chest. This one started in my throat, spread to my chest, and I can barely talk for the pain. Coughing hurts, breathing hurts, swallowing hurts. So, evidently, this is going to be one of those days.
I just got to January 14th in my Google Reader feeds, and they finally decided to amputate Zsa Zsa Gabor's right leg. That's a very sad thing, but I'm glad they finally came to some sort of agreement about it, as I was quite tired of the "Zsa Zsa Gabor's Leg May Need Amputation," "Doctors Hem and Haw Over Gabor's Leg," and "The Leg: To Amputate or Not To Amputate?"
Ruy is also sick with the plague, and I'm pretty sure we have mostly decided that it's Robin Dunne's fault. Or, if Robin gets the plague, we gave it to him. Either way, I feel like I just got involved in his health. Random.
I'm pretty sure I'm not allowed to just keel over and nap, but damn, I would certainly like to.
He's got a demon in a box that paints pictures. In other words, I am absolutely listening to part 2 of 10 of The Colour of Magic by Terry Pratchett for nigh on the fifteenth time. I think I miss a part every time I listen to it. I don't know how that's possible. I don't think I'll ever finish this book.
Still haven't taken that nap. Would desperately like to take that nap. Ow, broken stomach and throat and chest. Definitely broken. Also, I'm losing my voice, one bit at a time. Unpleasant.
The good news is that I finally made it past Part 2. For good this time, I think. Yay! The thing about the Discworld books, other than the fact that I type Discoworld *every* *single* *time* I go to type it out, is that you can never listen to (or read) the same part too many times. You always pick up something new on the second, third, or ninth read-through. I think that's the most marvellous thing you can have with a book. I think it's the same with Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, as well. I've read The Hobbit at different ages, and every time, I catch something new. I love you, books.
I had dinner, though that was kind of the only meal I had today other than coffee. I just wasn't terribly hungry, and I ended up throwing up dinner anyway. Not because it bugged my stomach so much, but because there's something about a buildup of mucous in your throat that makes everything really, really unappealing. So, I guess what I'm saying is that mostly I threw up because I was sick, not because I was having issues with the gastroparesis. And now I don't want to think about cooked carrots ever again. Which is a shame.
Ruy finally made it home from work (early, all things considering), and it's nice to have him here. I kind of hate being all alone when I'm sick. I'm not entirely alone, obviously, because Mariana is here, but I doubt she wants to here me whine about how I'm losing my voice. By the way, if I haven't mentioned it yet, I'm losing my voice. It keeps fading in and out, and it's worse when my throat is particularly sore (say, after a bout of coughing, or just after I wake up). I don't think I fancy getting laryngitis right before I leave for Europe, because I doubt they'd go any easier on me going through security and customs, and I'm already pretty terrified of the whole process.
Also, as per usual, with every plane trip I've taken in the last 7 years (so, what I define as "recent," as opposed to when I was 7, and took my first and last planes for 13 years), my ears are getting ready to be a pain in the ass while flying. I don't look forward to taking off or landing, because I will likely be sobbing in pain, next to people I don't know, trying to look like an adult. Ah, fuck it, maybe I'll get some sympathy.
I'm nervous about flying, but more nervous about dealing with security and customs, as I'm likely still radioactive, and they're going to hassle me. I have the note from the hospital, but I'm sure this won't stop them from being utter douchenozzles about it. Someone remind me to take an Ativan before going through. I can totally maybe do this.
Word Count: 793
Word Count to Date: 29662
I just got to January 14th in my Google Reader feeds, and they finally decided to amputate Zsa Zsa Gabor's right leg. That's a very sad thing, but I'm glad they finally came to some sort of agreement about it, as I was quite tired of the "Zsa Zsa Gabor's Leg May Need Amputation," "Doctors Hem and Haw Over Gabor's Leg," and "The Leg: To Amputate or Not To Amputate?"
Ruy is also sick with the plague, and I'm pretty sure we have mostly decided that it's Robin Dunne's fault. Or, if Robin gets the plague, we gave it to him. Either way, I feel like I just got involved in his health. Random.
I'm pretty sure I'm not allowed to just keel over and nap, but damn, I would certainly like to.
He's got a demon in a box that paints pictures. In other words, I am absolutely listening to part 2 of 10 of The Colour of Magic by Terry Pratchett for nigh on the fifteenth time. I think I miss a part every time I listen to it. I don't know how that's possible. I don't think I'll ever finish this book.
Still haven't taken that nap. Would desperately like to take that nap. Ow, broken stomach and throat and chest. Definitely broken. Also, I'm losing my voice, one bit at a time. Unpleasant.
The good news is that I finally made it past Part 2. For good this time, I think. Yay! The thing about the Discworld books, other than the fact that I type Discoworld *every* *single* *time* I go to type it out, is that you can never listen to (or read) the same part too many times. You always pick up something new on the second, third, or ninth read-through. I think that's the most marvellous thing you can have with a book. I think it's the same with Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, as well. I've read The Hobbit at different ages, and every time, I catch something new. I love you, books.
I had dinner, though that was kind of the only meal I had today other than coffee. I just wasn't terribly hungry, and I ended up throwing up dinner anyway. Not because it bugged my stomach so much, but because there's something about a buildup of mucous in your throat that makes everything really, really unappealing. So, I guess what I'm saying is that mostly I threw up because I was sick, not because I was having issues with the gastroparesis. And now I don't want to think about cooked carrots ever again. Which is a shame.
Ruy finally made it home from work (early, all things considering), and it's nice to have him here. I kind of hate being all alone when I'm sick. I'm not entirely alone, obviously, because Mariana is here, but I doubt she wants to here me whine about how I'm losing my voice. By the way, if I haven't mentioned it yet, I'm losing my voice. It keeps fading in and out, and it's worse when my throat is particularly sore (say, after a bout of coughing, or just after I wake up). I don't think I fancy getting laryngitis right before I leave for Europe, because I doubt they'd go any easier on me going through security and customs, and I'm already pretty terrified of the whole process.
Also, as per usual, with every plane trip I've taken in the last 7 years (so, what I define as "recent," as opposed to when I was 7, and took my first and last planes for 13 years), my ears are getting ready to be a pain in the ass while flying. I don't look forward to taking off or landing, because I will likely be sobbing in pain, next to people I don't know, trying to look like an adult. Ah, fuck it, maybe I'll get some sympathy.
I'm nervous about flying, but more nervous about dealing with security and customs, as I'm likely still radioactive, and they're going to hassle me. I have the note from the hospital, but I'm sure this won't stop them from being utter douchenozzles about it. Someone remind me to take an Ativan before going through. I can totally maybe do this.
Word Count: 793
Word Count to Date: 29662
