ProfessorTomoe

Well, since it's not a wine, I don't think that'll be a problem.

Oh, FYI: I tried to take a load off of Mrs. Prof's transportation duties today. Keep in mind that I have a Nokia Lumia 1020 Windows 8.1 phone. I got on the Windows Store and looked for Uber. Found it. Problem: you've got to have Windows 10 for it to work. Strike one. Next try: look for Lyft in the Windows Store. Not even there. Strike two. Reminded Mrs. Prof that, if I get an Android phone for Uber or Lyft, I'm only going to need it for a relatively short period of time that may not justify the large purchase price. Strike three. I think she's stuck driving me around for now, sad to say. (Man, we really need the emojis back.)

The hamburger was excellent, although a bit large. I could only eat half of it. I just finished eating half of the remaining half. The last quarter will be demolished in the morning, probably. BTW, I have never had a hamburger with a fried egg on it before. I pictured an egg fried over medium at most, with yolk dripping when I took a bite. Not so. The egg was fried over hard, yet not rubbery. A tasty burger, especially when paired with the peppery bacon that came with it. The place we went is called Heff's Burgers. We visited the Garland store. They're mainly in Texas, with one location in Lawton, Oklahoma. If anyone reading this goes anywhere nearby, I recommend the Heff's Eggcellent burger. Good for what ails ya. I thank you for the kind words. Much obliged. BTW, Mrs. Prof has just removed my compression sock for the night, to be replaced tomorrow morning as part of a daily/nightly ritual. Now my foot and leg really feel weird. I hope she remembers how to put it back on tomorrow morning.

6:29 p.m. CDT 20170616. Oh, dear God, at the rollercoaster day I've had. Twelve hours after the hidden contents above, I'm still surviving. Somehow. Things started going downhill when I was getting ready to go to the podiatrist. I went on a downward slope and just barely made it out of the shower, where we noticed that my edema has come back. Wonderful. Mrs. Prof got me to the office, where I almost passed out in the waiting room. I did get my act together and make it into the exam room. Things got a little better by the time the doctor came in. First thing the podiatrist noticed was that my broken toe was infected again. He shocked the hell out of me by pulling out one of the K-wires that was protruding from my bone through my skin. I thought it would hurt like hell when he did that, but I was just as shocked when I didn't feel a thing! Same thing for the other K-wire. I now have no more wires in my toe, mainly because he thought that they were responsible for the infection. He wrote me a 14-day prescription for Augmentin—that'll take care of the damned constipation, but in an overreacting way. Sheesh. While we were there, I asked him to look at my edema. He could push his finger into my ankle and leave a dent. Said I have mild venous stasis, which may also have been causing the unexplained bruising on my shin. He wrote up another prescription for a compression stocking, which I'm wearing now. Feels weird as hell. I'll have to wear it for at least two weeks, which is when my next appointment is scheduled (and when my X-ray has been pushed back to). I'll be showing this to my PCP on Monday, when I go in to talk to him about the alternate pain management referral. Other ping-ponging through the eastern suburbs of the Metroplex included: A trip to the imaging center that did my back MRI for another copy of the CD for the next pain management doctor. A trip to a medical supply company for the compression stockings. A trip to get a hamburger with a fried egg on it (nom). A trip to drop off my antibiotic prescription at the pharmacy before going home. Thankfully, I have some leftover Augmentin from the last prescription (don't ask), because Mrs. Prof has planted herself and is not driving anywhere else tonight. I'm on a brief upward slope, so I'm doing some documenting while I've got the energy in me.

/me, haul out the list. I think someone wants to be included. I'm getting there with every hydrocodone that I take. Oh, I am so tempted to go after this, but tOH would pound me into the beach. tOH! Please, let me say something here! Please?

Hell, I was old when you subtract twenty years from my current age. Physically, at least.

6:29 a.m. CDT 20170616. There are many levels of pain involved with my maladies. One that does not get nearly enough coverage is Opioid Induced Constipation, just like the recent commercial finally mentions. It is all too real. I had to resort to a stool softener to get anything to come out. Moral of the story: don't neglect your own pipes. They will backfire on you.

I will be searching for the optimum antimalware and antiviral software for it. If G. DATA makes something, I'll probably go with it. I like its abilities on my laptop.

What happens if you shrink a 2-liter bottle of Shrink Soda down to a 20 oz. size and then get Amanda to drink it?

I don't see a reset. I just see a lie being corrected by a mother to her son. She's got her own harsh lesson to learn. And yes, Sarah—Use Hug!

You never know what the cats are brewing outside. Old Tabby 12 Years Old Cask Strength might be interesting.

My son had the same reaction when he hit 30. He considers himself old. Ha! He's funny. Let's see what he's like after he hits the big 5–0.

I've got the folding-flat-type walker. With a cup holder add-on. Out of curiosity, I got on Lyft's site and checked their policies. They had none about walkers, but they did about wheelchairs. Basically, it read, "Do what you can to accommodate lightweight, foldable wheelchairs or be prepared to explain yourself." I think a walker would be easier to accommodate than a wheelchair, because I could put it in the back seat with me. Lyft's online estimate for a ride to my primary care doctor (tip not included) would be anywhere from $16–$24, not counting any prime time charges. (You'll notice I'm not quoting Uber here. I don't care for what's been reported as their corporate culture, so I'm leaving them for last.) Anyway, it's all still moot unless I can get an Android phone. Mrs. Prof did turn off her phone mic during the Blue Cross conference call and say, "We can get you an Android phone." I don't know if she was talking current generation or not, but I sure hope so. It might be nice to have a reason to take my phone with me when I leave the house. I'm not holding my breath, though.

Does anyone know what the policies are of Uber and Lyft concerning people who are disabled? If they drove up and saw me with a walker, would they drive off and say, "No thanks"?

Damn it! She took videos again last night. She hasn't erased them, but she hasn't uploaded them to YouTube (or created a channel yet—I don't even know if she knows how). She just stepped outside. This time she says she's got it set on still shots.

The list is sorely lacking at this time. Now is our chance to make sure that worthy webcomics—like EGS—get included.

3:37 p.m. CDT 20170615. Frustration continues, albeit in different forms. Mrs. Prof and I spent at least an hour on the phone with a Blue Cross Case Management specialist. Most of that time was taken up by me giving her my medical history. We explained what we've gone through with STT and UT Southwestern. I explained that I don't want to stay on hydrocodone—I just want to be fixed. She didn't have much in the way of suggestions. However, she approved of another plan—going to see a pain specialist that treated the husband of one of Mrs. Prof's friends. So, I'm going back to my PCP on Monday to get a referral to him (could be problematic, since he's out of their network (but in Blue Cross's network)). In the meanwhile, there have been some weird things going on with UT Southwestern. I called them after the Case Management call to let them know that I would be going to my PCP before making any decision about the "pain rehabilitation" program. They put a note on my record and said thanks. Less than an hour later, I got a call back from UT Southwestern. They said their neurosurgeon finally got a copy of my MRI from the imaging place, and that he wanted me to go and see the Pain Clinic doctor that I'd already seen on Tuesday! I asked why, but they wouldn't tell me what the new reason was. I gave them the same answer—I told them I wanted to see my PCP first. Again, they put a note on my record and said thanks. WTF is going on with UT Southwestern? Put simply, I doubt I'm ever going back there. It's too screwed up. Anyway, I'm joining the toe parade tomorrow with another podiatrist appointment. After I'm done with him, I'm going to the imaging place to get another copy of the MRI to take to the third pain specialist. I'm hoping with all my might that he has his head on straight and can fix my back problems.

So many toes ...

You have gone far above and beyond what I would ask of anyone, much less a good, close friend (if I may call you that publicly). I need nothing more than sanity, which at last check I don't think Amazon carries. I thank you for what you have given, and for whatever support you may deem necessary to offer in the future. They missed a perfect chance for massive product placement by not going with the SUV name, you know.

I think the trail camera is outside tonight. Mrs. Prof left the outside light on. I've turned it off so that it won't interfere with the infrared camera. Let's see what happens.

Do you absorba the Greek yogurt?

9:26 p.m. CDT 20170614. Back to a more conventional update style. Hopefully that'll help my emotions rebound, because I've been low all day. The physical sine waves are back, with y centered way less than 0 and topping out at a very small positive value. My math sucks, because I used to remember how to compute sine waves. Now I can barely remember the names of things I held in my hand moments earlier. Anyway, my health has been on a big farking swing today. Take a hydrocodone, let it kick in and knock me out for an hour or two, wake up and waste time on the web, have my head start pounding, followed by my toe and my back, wait in pain until the next dose time, lather, rinse, repeat. Sort of like I'm doing right now. I can't wait for 10pm to hit. My toe and my back are killing me. Throw in a heavy dose of constipation from the medicine and you've got a real hoedown party. No medical calls, incoming or outgoing today, thank goodness. However, Mrs. Prof has been feeling out of sorts, so there's been the standard fight for the remote control. Note: I can NOT stand ANY of the Law and Order series, ESPECIALLY the SVU series. Mrs. Prof knows this. She knows it extremely well, to the point of being able to recite it in her sleep. So, what does she insist on watching when she's home like this? You get no prize for guessing correctly. Do I remind her of this fact? Does she take extreme umbrage? Again, no prizes. Doesn't help with the emotional side of things. She does help when it comes to the things that would take me a long time to do or that would be impossible. Things ranging from bringing me tea—especially when I need to carry something with it, since I've only got one free hand (the other's using a cane for walking)—to helping me wrap my bandaged foot for taking a shower and then helping me get dressed afterward. And, of course, I can't forget the fact that she has to drive me everywhere. I'm grateful, even when she vents at me. Next appointment is Friday afternoon with the podiatrist. He'll most likely give me another re-wrap, and he said he's going to X-ray my foot. I'm going to broach the subject of him helping me with my Frankentoenails (see The Forbidden Foot Pictures, not linked here for a damned good reason). Afterward, we're going to pay a visit to the imaging place that did my MRI and get a copy to send to the neurosurgeon at UT Southwestern. Maybe there's some hope left there yet, but I'm not going to hold my breath.

No, no, no, not that kind of Deadpool spell. I'm talking about the other aspects of Deadpool as highlighted in the movie, like the "butterface," the "127 Hours (spoiler)," that kind of thing.

There's naught wrong with being on The List. Own it! Be proud of it!

I should wrap this up by saying that Mrs. Prof did *not* just snack. She dug in heartily.