ProfessorTomoe

9:43 p.m. CDT 20170629. Zofran emergency. While taking my nightly pills, no less. Here's the sequence of events: Finish dinner. Swish & spit with "magic mouthwash." Let things settle. Drink some Crystal Light lemon tea while scratching Mrs. Prof's back. (Semi-nightly ritual, the scratching, not the tea—that's nightly.) Move back to my side of the sofa and start taking my shoebox full of pills (I'm going to post that poem, BTW). Start feeling overfull toward the end of pill taking. Take the last pills. Feel like barfing—reach for the Zofran and start praying. Crisis averted. I think I developed a gas bubble in my relatively small (from the gastric bypass) stomach, but when something's gotta come out, anything on top of it's gotta come out first. The Zofran kept that from happening. I have no idea if the "magic mouthwash" influenced this in any way. It would be rather dumb if it did, IMHO, especially since it's got the equivalent of Benadryl in it. Besides, I've still got gas. It's still coming out (the top end, thankyouverymuch), but without the emergency that I had earlier.

5:13 p.m. CDT 20170629. Microsoft has already offered to start installing the Creators Update on my music system. It wasted no time in getting to it. I put it on snooze–not enough energy to deal with all of the updates and the purchase of a major music software upgrade (the goal of all of this panic in the first place). I'm downloading the upgrade on the music machine as I type this on the laptop. I got in touch with my ENT doctor's nurse about the prednisolone issue. She checked with him, and he mirrored the above remarks: unless it's something that I swallow (it isn't), I should be fine. Just watch out for odd side effects. I think I've run through most of my available energy after dealing with all of the upgrades. A bit of food is called for, since I'm not 100% done with the music software upgrade yet. Gotta keep some of my wits about me. Wish me luck for tomorrow, please, BTW. It's podiatrist appointment and X-ray day. I want the broken sesamoid bone to be in good enough shape for me to be able to walk without the moon boot. I'm tired of this damned thing. (At least I'm only wearing one, and not two like I was when I broke both my ankles back in 2009).

It's a prescription mouthwash from my ENT doctor. That's how, basically. None noted yet. Just some odd warmth for a short period after use.

12:55 p.m. CDT 20170629. Microsoft is having its way with my music computer. Yes, I managed to find some strength after a post-coffee nap which has allowed me to begin the long process of performing six months of updates to my music system. All of this is geared toward purchasing an upgrade of one vital piece of software to its latest version, but I've got to get by G.DATA, Malwarebytes, NVIDIA's drivers, a couple of Stardock utilities, several audio plug-in packages, my audio composition software, and of course Microsoft's horrendous upgrades. I just hope that it doesn't decide to throw the Creators Update at me in the middle of all of this. I found out what is in the "magic mouthwash" Mrs. Prof picked up from the compounding pharmacy, and I'm a tad bit concerned about one of the ingredients. It contains: Banophen (a.k.a. Benadryl) Prednisolone (a steroid) Nystatin (an antifungal) Minocycline HCl (a Tetracycline derivative) Salt What worries me is the Prednisolone. I've had bad reactions to oral steroids before, to the point of having atrial fibrillations. However, I can handle injected steroids, and I'm not ingesting this stuff—only swishing and swallowing. Does that put me at the same risk as oral steroids, or does that make it as safe as injected steroids? I'm not sure which way to go here.

Well, I may have said that already anyway. I had some of your Parmesan sausage for breakfast, this time on Club crackers (nom), and chased it with my morning pills and a cup of coffee with two SToK depth charges. All of this got followed by a dose of ibuprofen to stave off a developing headache. Once the headache clears, I'll reassess the situation.

4:55 a.m. CDT 20170629. Here I am, awake before 5am again. It's been a painful sleep, mainly for my back. It didn't want to get into a comfortable position. Pain medicine has been taken. We'll see about how it responds to that, yes we will. Mrs. Prof finally brought home the "magic mouthwash" last night, and I'll be damned if I can tell what's in it. It tastes like a medicine-y melted orange creamcicle, but not like anything you'd want to swallow. It gives me a strange warm sensation after using it. I'd wonder if it was related to my painful sleep if I knew what was in it. I think I'll be calling the ENT doctor to find out later today, since I've got to use the stuff after every meal and at bedtime and I can't have it interfering with any of my other medications. God, I hope I get some energy and stamina today. I've got to finish certain tasks on my music computer by tomorrow, and I can't do that if I'm zonked out on medicines like I was all day yesterday. I know that coffee (cofveve? Lord, I don't need a cofveve day) alone won't do it for me. Mrs. Prof bought groceries as well as the "magic mouthwash" last night, although she threw in a wild card by going to a different store than what I'd written the grocery list for (where, of course, they have different stuff). I'll try to make prudent use of what she bought to help me get through the day. I just don't know when the day should start—should I go back to bed, or just say [redacted] it and get moving?

No, no, I mean the musical element called the "Amen break" ... Further info: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amen_break

Much use was made of the "Amen break" in this song.

This is an instance where Tedd's ability to disenchant himself might come in handy ... if he wants it to ...

6:23 p.m. CDT 20170628. Low energy day. Spent much of it dragged down by the constant fight against what my hydrocodone does to my guts. Some progress there, but I won't dare go into detail on it. Spent most of the day knocked out. When I haven't been out, I've been on the laptop. Haven't trusted myself to be anywhere near my music computer—it needs more brainpower and concentration than I have right now. Most of the distraction has been due to pain coming from the sesamoid bone that broke in my left foot. I have no idea what kind of shape it's in, and I won't until my podiatrist appointment on Friday, where X-rays will supposedly be taken. I may be stuck in the moon boot longer than I'd hoped if it hasn't healed or at least made some sort of progress toward healing. I called my PCP and let him know about my hydrocodone count, as instructed. After today, I've got 12 days of pills left. This is vital because I still haven't heard from the new pain management doctor's office, and my back pain isn't getting any better. Mrs. Prof has until 7:00 p.m. CDT to pick up my ENT doctor's "magic mouthwash" from the compounding pharmacy, since that's when they close. Speaking of the ENT, I haven't heard back from him about the GERD test. I seem to be on hold with a lot of doctors nowadays. Story of my life.

I don't know how to compare. Some of the stuff I went through with my gall bladder and liver had me biting on a seat belt strap on the way to the hospital to keep from yelling out. Similar for the back pain on the Day of the Nightmare Lumbar Caudal Injection, although I only had a bedsheet to bite on. With that one, neither 2x fentanyl before nor 2x dilaudid after did anything to alleviate my pain. I wouldn't know where to place these on your scale, since the kinds of trauma are completely different.

You rotate your owl. I'll pump up the volume while you do.

Ah, if it's a case of ownership, that falls to me. I have to elevate both my feet at night—my left one because of my (formerly, still healing) broken toe, and my right one because of the edema/venous stasis. Kitty only gets the pillow if I'm not using it, and I was about to use it again. He got moved off.

I can see this, but it doesn't help my anxiety level over the whole situation(s). Makes me worry that Blue Cross might come back and say, "We're not going to pay for your medical expenses." I can't handle even the thought of that right now, regardless of my anti-anxiety meds. I really am on edge here, and Mrs. Prof is doing whatever she can to help keep me from tipping one way or the other.

Or one step closer to him grabbing the gauntlet, Pandora getting in the way, and her accidentally getting zapped? It has been said that an immortal would not fare well in a fight on the Earth plane against a strong enough magic user. Would The Dan do this to his readers?

Check panels five and six of this installment. With today's revelation, Tedd now has the knowledge that he'll be able to regain the functionality of the tech and whatever other magic things he cares about which he might lose, should magic change. It just hasn't sunk in yet. He needs to calm down first.

Parmesan-ringed sausage, kindly provided by @The Old Hack, wrapped in a flour tortilla. (We're out of anything else to put it on. It's a parmesan salami burrito now. )

Cat "herding" behavior. No, not herding cats, but the way a cat will try and herd its humans. I'm at times tempted to rename my own cat from Baker to Roadblock, given the amount of time he spends just getting in my way and refusing to move. Not even a poke from my cane will budge him. His motives are never clear: sometimes he wants treats, sometimes he wants play, sometimes he just wants to impede my progress for no discernible reason. Tonight his goal was to get me sitting up on the sofa at 3:30 a.m. (just before my 4am hydrocodone dose) so he could jump up and go to sleep on the warm spot where the pillow for my feet had been. I'll never fully understand cats, especially this one. In addition to "herding," he is also the arbiter of our kitchen counter. He decides what is supposed to go on the counter. If it doesn't meet his standards, it gets knocked off. Case in point: Mrs. Prof and I were sitting in the living room when we heard this metallic BANG BOOM CLANG from the kitchen, like sheet pans being knocked over. We both looked, but couldn't find any large metallic objects on the floor. As it turns out, we were looking in the wrong place. Mrs. Prof had left a relatively heavy can opener on the counter earlier in the day and forgot about it. Baker had decided it didn't belong there. SWIPE! He'd knocked it off of the counter and onto our pressed steel trash can. Of course we couldn't find anything—neither of us had bothered to look on the floor between the counter and the trash can.

Amazing how something that small can cause so much pain, eh? The "grit" from my pigment stones that got out of my gall (not French) bladder and went up into my liver back in 1998 put me back in the hospital a week after having the gall bladder itself removed. The stuff was no bigger than sand, but it hurt like the world was going to end. I know what a 10 feels like on the 1–10 scale from several different parts of my body.

Overreaction, you might say.

10:44 p.m. CDT 20170627. Had to deal with some medical bureaucracy after working hours today. I'd put in a call to my primary care doctor to find out about the referral to the new pain management doctor, at Mrs. Prof's request. His nurse called back with details: said additional details had been requested by the new doctor, which had just been faxed on Monday. In short, I should hear from the new pain management specialist within the next few days. More annoying, I got a call from a medical verification company hooked up with Blue Cross called "Equian Integrated Payment Integrity Solutions" tonight. Of course, they didn't show a good caller ID, so I didn't answer the call. It took me three tries going through the voice mail message before I could get down their phone number and case number. You see, they'd sent a letter last week because I'd had a back procedure (the lumbar injection), and they wanted to know if it was anyone's fault that they could sue, basically. Cold blooded bastards. I answered the letter online and gave them the bad news that it was just a spontaneous illness. Well, tonight they wanted to know about procedures around that same date. Those were for my toe, when I fell. I could hear the agent licking her lips when I used the word "fall" in my description. Sorry, lady—this was in my own house, and it was treatment for something that was my own damned fault. So was the operation later in the week after my back procedure. She thanked me and said that was all they needed to know. Rat bastards. Let me suffer in peace, please.

Say good night, Gracie.

You will have to wait until National Gaul Bladder day. But ... but ... I don't have one. They had to remove it in 1998 due to pigment stones, although some of the fragments went back up into my liver and had to be flushed out. My liver never forgave me, because it kept slamming my bile duct shut. Doctors had to put in a stent for a few weeks to keep it open. I guess my liver was like Henry V, since it loved my Gaul Bladder "so well that I will not part with a village of it," or in this case a sphincter of it.

Wasn't it on the right yesterday? Or do you have two now (oww oww oww)?