[sundial_life] All's I Can Say Is, Thank God For Health Insurance

My, but it's been an eventful weekend, friends and people. Had everything in it for a great weekend away: sights not usually seen, new faces, different places, different cuizine. Everything in it but actual fun.

The last major thing that happened before this was the loss of our Original One Gray Cat (see last posting). The Wife[tm] and myself went home, had our private times, got a bit drunk. She slammed down 5 shots of Vanilla rum (Rum[R], the drink ya drink when ya wanna hurl). And I had a couple - enough to feel little pain but not enough to produce a bad aftermorning.

The Wife[tm] paid her respects at the porcelain cliche, and I saw her to bed.

We slept well.

On Thursday I woke up with the worst shivers I'd had in a good long while. This I get off of two-and-a-half shots or rum...taken slowly? No. Not right. Advice nurse came of the opinion that I was suffering from a "virus that was going around", and sounded like something others were reporting.

But it was obvious that this was a day-breaker. Into bed with me. Shivering and actually too tired to go to sleep. That became too weak to sit up and take fluids. Then the telltale pains in the leg started.

There is a nasty infection out there whose ravages are reserved, apparently, for a select group, and apparently I'm one of them. Cellulitis. Look it up for the details. Suffice to say that it turns my leg (sometimes one, sometimes both) bright red, bloated, and exquisitely painful. This takes usually a week, min, to get back up on the feet, and 1-2 months for all signs of the infection to wane with constant treatment.

I never asked, but I'm betting that, if left unchecked, it'll probably kill you. I don't have the nerve to look that one up.

Fast forward now: Thursday afternoon, call in sick to work, go to Kaiser Sunnyside E/R, get Vicodin and Keflex (am reactive to Augumentin, damitall), go home to take it easy. Friday afternoon, back, given more look over, white cell count very high of course. They nearly let us get away. My lack of fluids intake over the past two days is such that it looks like my ever loving kidneys are trying to fail.

I am admitted to the hospital for what becomes a three day stay.

During this three day stay, our old, beatup Subaru is...broken into.

The thieves take the stereo. And also my backpack. Which has nothing in it except the homework for my Life Drawing class for the entire term so far, and the syllabus containing contact information for the instructor. It's taken me so long to get through to PCC Art Department (not thier fault, don't think that) that the instructor has yet to get through to me. Art tools lost (replaceable, but crap). Dairy with leather pullover cover missing. I was almost up to entry #900.

Most thieves look real quick and see if there's anything in there they can sell, and if it's all just personal stuff, toss it in the nearest dumpster. This is never the kind of thief we get (over the past 13 years our wagon's been busted into twice. Both times I've never seen my personal items again. What do they do with them?).

I'm also gonna miss that Flash drive. SanDisk Cruzer 256Mb. From The Wife[tm] for last anniversary. Hope they have fun with...well, whatever.

In a move of prescience, The Wife[tm] remembered to retrieve the Palm M130 and the Stephen King novel (library) that I'm reading. Left the rest down there deeming it too heavy. It probably was. She's been kicking herself on that one.

The car was in a well-lit area of the hospital less than twenty steps from the E/R door and within sight of the security office. But then, it was a curious weekend out at KSMC, as news-watchers will know; not long after our incident, some knife weilding dumbass gets a purse from a woman being wheeled out of the E/R toward the parking garage. This guy they got. The woman in the chair got his license plate as he drove off. It was found parked in front of his house on SE Linwood Avenue later that night. Imbicile

I'll backfill this later on. Suffice it to say that right now, I am home, getting antibiotic fired into me via a little tiny tube, and if there's anything that make you think some cliched' joke like "borg implant", it's a "P.I.C.C." line.

I'm getting over it. I may even be able to get back on board and catch up on school matters. Though that Life Drawing class is going to be a bit of a toughie.