I whisper your name (ayradyss) wrote,
I whisper your name

  • Mood:

Head cold.

I regress when I am sick. Angel says it's cute, in that sulky three-year-old sort of way. What it really is, O Best Beloved, is irritating. I am overusing oxymetazoline nasal spray because I simply must breathe at night, I cannot stand to breathe through my open mouth. And instead I am breathing air that is poorly humidified because all the little capillaries that normally moisten and warm the air going through my nose (Moisten and Warm! Sounds like some sort of slogan) are cowering in chemically-induced terror.
They will rebel, and I will be stuffy-nosed and miserable, and I will eventually have to just deal with it, but for now I have called in sick on Monday and today the doctors were not in the office in the morning and Friday afternoon I am going to Florida for a conference, and I cannot afford this kind of congestion. Treating symptoms.

Treating symptoms.

Tomorrow evening I present fifteen minutes on Nicaragua for the church I grew up in. Friday evening is the deadline for my newspaper article. Friday-Saturday-Sunday I will be in Florida, in stupid meetings. But I am taking my Angel, so he can get some sunshine.

Today: Seventeen, pregnant. Elective C-section because she is hysterical at the idea of vaginal exams at all, let alone cervical checks. I suppose that's the way it goes.
A woman on Lexapro. "Not working." How long have you been taking it? A week. Give it time. Suicidal or homicidal? No and no.
Polycystic ovaries. She's lost almost 40 pounds, worthy of congratulations. How is she doing? All right. Not so great, but she's trying to cover it. Dr. C gives her a half-smile. "The weight is good. Very good. Let's keep going with what we're doing now, avoid surgery." Suddenly better.
Baby checks and tummy checks.
The woman we saw here in surgery, the one with twins and the ovarian mass, was here for a follow-up check. No hot flashes, no symptoms of menopause. It was enough. Her twins, incidentally, are so very cute.

Overall, not a bad day. Tomorrow is 8 AM surgery, again with Dr. C. Not so bad.

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