fr_defenestrato: (LOLCTHULHU)
Not all my woes are Metro-inspired, mind you. This morning, for example, I was suffering what I expect was the alimentary response to my dunderheaded attempt, on awakening in the wee small hours of this morning, to slake my last-night's-beer-driven thirst with more or less a quart of 1 percent organic cow's milk. Now I'm not lactose-intolerant—I'm actually lactose-addicted—but given the shindig last night for [ profile] jaegerbeast and several further Coronas at Liv bar (where writhed several beautiful and mostly naked young black men); given these circumstances, pouring a quart of milk into my empty stomach this morning probably wasn't the best idea.

The G/I distress didn't start in earnest until I was already in the Metro station, and rather than head home I thought I'd just tough it out. I sat on two warm, stuffy Metro trains with increasingly urgent intestinal cramps that said "Find me a toilet NOW, you stupid milk-guzzling dunderhead." Serious pain and serious effort to keep my sphincter clenched tightly; the kind of discomfort that has me running emergency scenarios through my head: asking the station manager to PLEASE let me use the employee rest room; getting off at the next stop where I knew retail space like Starbucks or similar was nearby; finding the nearest vegetative cover from the Metro station and just letting loose...

Worst of all, I knew the Fairfax Connector bus was going to be overheated. And it was. Dude had the heat cranking and it must have been 30 degrees(1) in there. Finally, as the 427 bus pulled from the West Falls Church bus bay onto 267, I saw to my utter horror that traffic was pretty much at a standstill, thanks to a big truck-borne LED arrow sign that read, "We really couldn't give a flying fuck if you shit your pants, Gourd, now is when it's most convenient for us to close the Dulles toll road down to one lane, so fuck you."

It must be noted that in 7 years of commuting to Tysons and Reston on buses down Rte. 267, I have never seen it closed down to one lane before. Never ever. Not once.

Anyway, the bus finally made it to West Park Transit station, whence I walked my 6-minute walk to my office, only today 7 minutes with smaller steps and lots of sweating and grimacing going on; opened my office door, put my stuff down, took my coat off, and turned around to see my colleague Yo-Yo Pa(2) walking past my door to the bathroom right next to my office.

(1) Celsius.
(2) Not his real name, but a real Splatcom employee.
fr_defenestrato: (nebuchadnezzar)
Back to headache, as of this morning. Stabs and jabs headache. Fuck my fucking head. I am so sick and tired of constant headache for months on end. It goes away for a day or two or even a week, but since last winter, circa January, my head has been throbbing more often than not. I think I'd rather be addicted to painkillers at this point.

Whatever. My doc owes me a call re liver function and HBV viral load results; when he calls I'm going to request a referral to a neurologist to talk about both headache and sleep apnea. Say all you want about the staggering complexity and beauty of genetics' tiny machinery, I frankly think it wants some serious work. Far, far too much stuff fucks up on a regular basis. And this bit about taking millions of years to fix any one problem, by killing off all them that have it? What bullshit. Back to the drawing board.
fr_defenestrato: (Knight's Tour)
had a scary night last night. some time in the last hours of thursday i started noticing a pain in my back, left side only, lower-middle-back, just under my ribcage. grumble, grumble )
fr_defenestrato: (Default)
... have been exaggerated at least a little tiny bit. As I told [ profile] maestro_live earlier today, there must be some kinda law of conservation of SUCK, because I actually had a number of splendid things happen to me today. Ok, sure, I did hobble between 2 and 3 miles around the city putting pressure only on the ball of my right foot, which (a) made a particular set of calf and foot muscles very unhappy and shaky and (b) ended up causing some pretty nasty twinges in my metatarsals. But. But! I went first to the Verizon service store on K Street to get my phone fixed, and... and... wait for it... I GOT MY PHONE FIXED. Well, to be accurate I got a brand new phone of the same model, paid nothing thanks to the insurance on the account (again, thanks, maestro), was given no hassle whatsoever by any Verizon employee, and was in and out of the store in less than 10 minutes. Frankly, I'm still wavering on calling the Vatican to alert the pontifical posse to a miracle way more astoundishing than some damn Virgin Mary in a grilled cheese sandwich. (I saw that sandwich and it was a sucky likeness. Looked like the Virgin Murray.)

Ok so then I hobble to the doctor's office and somehow my lame-ass doc of the past decade does NOT see me; a new doc does. Rosetti or Roselli or something. Isabella Rossellini, that was it. Ok, not. Dude looks 30ish, is reasonably adorable, and didn't do anything in our 7-minute exam and interview to lead me to believe he's a terrible physician like my previous (can I say previous? I believe I JUST DID, moohahaha!) doc was. He inspected my heel and pronounced it healthy (if damaged): no swelling, redness, or heat: ergo, no infection. The dark discoloration and pain are because I tore and bruised some muscle. Which sucks, but not as much as my nightmare scenario of the doc having to lance the whole thing open to clean it, or sending me to a hospital for same. A couple more days' pain, he says, and I should be fine. The nurse gave me a tetanus shot and a Snoopy Band-Aid and I was on my way.

Oh, but before the exam is over I tell the doc that Dr. Pachycephalosaurus had given me three different ED drug samples on my last visit and I ask for a script. He calls in a script for Viagra. And the last amazing, wonderful thing that happened today (NOTE: the day's not over) was finding out that my health insurance actually covers Viagra. It's a high co-pay, to be sure, but I'm only paying about half the total.

Damn. All this good stuff makes me almost not a grumpy asshole.
Addendum: John Rosselli is a Certified Family Nurse Practitioner, not a doc proper.
fr_defenestrato: (Default)
This weekend in brief but not in briefs:

Bailed on a previously agreed-to Baltimore excursion Friday night Read more... ) then headed out with maestro and Fabian to the Green Lantern for underwear night Read more... ) I stepped down heavily onto the concrete—and onto a 200-year-old rusty nail that seems to have been sticking straight upRead more... ) Tetanus is fatal in 11 percent of all casesRead more... )
fr_defenestrato: (Default)
Zinc, C, and echinacea notwithstanding
By Friday I was boiled dogshit—throat
On fire, my head a yard thick and expanding,
My energy inchoate and remote.
I called in sick; then, much to my chagrin,
Watched as the skies spewed forth a world of ice
The likes of which would certainly have been
An adequate "I'm staying home" device.
Instead I have a sick day to amend
By working late this week. Of all the gall!
At least the cold seems mostly at an end—
Maybe the zinc was useful after all—
Only a deep, sporadic cough remains,
The yield of which is either snot or brains.


fr_defenestrato: (Default)

February 2015

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