I may not get up and go to the 8K run tomorrow. I should - I most definitely should - but I'm so tired, I just want sleep. And getting to bib pickup by 8 means leaving the house at 7, which means getting up about 5.
Why two hours, when a shower is not in the plans? Is it because of therapy? Well, yes, I'll do my breathing treatments before I go, but in the past I've skipped that 'til after the run. So what's the deal then?
Because I have IV antibiotics to do. Yeah, that's right. I'm back on IVs again after merely two months. Having had the flu really did a number on me, I guess. The orals weren't cutting it. I saw the doc on Thursday for an unrelated reason, but we did PFTs and they were worse than last time. So she ordered up IVs. I was hoping to avoid the multiple sticks to get a line going, but there were no appointments for a PICC nurse available until Monday morning, so here comes Gemini, the Coram nurse to do a mid-line insertion. Bless her heart, she really tried and is very good at what she does, but both veins she tried were blocked by scarring and she couldn't get the line going. So I'm sitting here with another goddamn peripheral in my arm. And I'm going to have to get stuck again on Monday so they can place a PICC anyway!
The IV meds are, fortunately, the portable type - and that's going to help during these next two weeks, as I'm fairly busy. But right now, I'm hooked up to a liter of saline. Yeah, SALINE. And tethered to an IV pole, of course.
My blood work keeps coming back with unhappy results. Doc thinks the numbers might be skewed from my infection and recent dosage of Prednisone, but the fact is, two bloodworks in a row have come back with a blood glucose of over 300. Yeah...you're supposing right. Might be diabetes. Might be temporary. Might be permanent. Who knows? We'll do more formal testing after a couple weeks of IVs, when the infection is not such a major factor. In the meantime, I should probably go to that run tomorrow, so that I can drop by my pharmacy after and pick up the pills doc has prescribed for controlling blood sugar for now.
This is killing me. It's just fucking killing me. I feel like I'm on a carnival ride and about to puke and all I can do is ride it out, because I have no control over the situtation.
If it does turn out I have diabetes, it will be the very best reason to up my running to six days a week. My great-uncle dealt with this his whole life; surely I can, too. If I have to.
Oh, OH! And to make matters WORSE, the subway was sheer hell today. I'm waiting for the train and as it's pulling up, some uppity chick pushes in front of me to get to the door first. Hey, brat! We're all going the same place; you don't have to be rude! I didn't say that, of course. THEN, next stop, even though this car is full and bulging at the seams, an ENTIRE Chinese (maybe Korean) family pushes their way onto the car, unfolded stroller and all. Then the parents don't bother trying to control the kids, who are jumping and crawling everywhere, stomping on my feet, etc. The baby is trying to climb out of the stroller, and instead of exerting a little discipline over the crew, the parents just stare off into space. THEN, the have the great idea of holding the baby. You'd think this would mean momma would fold the stroller up and create some room, but no, she starts piling the kids jackets into the stroller. THEN, as the doors open at Atlantic/Pacific, the baby GETS ITS HAND CAUGHT BETWEEN THE DOOR AND THE SIDE OF THE CAR where the door disappears. His little hand is being crushed and the parents don't even know what to do. The guy standing outside the car and trying to get on doesn't know what to do. nobody thinks to shout to the conductor that there's a baby's hand caught in the door and to CLOSE THE DOORS (to free his hand). They finally get the baby's hand free and he's wailing his head off, but apprently nothing's broken because two minutes later, he's got his hand on the door again. I know babies aren't terribly bright, but this one just doesn't LEARN. Neither do the parents, apparently. So he narrowly misses getting his hand caught AGAIN as we get to 36th street, where I'm getting off. But can I get off? NO! The asian family just stands there blocking the door, not even making an ATTEMPT at moving aside and a dozen of us are trying to exit the car. There's enough room on one side to squeek by and as people head for it, some old broad outside the car barges her way in. Way to go lady! Way to think about, oh, LETTING PEOPLE OFF FIRST, you selfish bag! As I finally struggled out of the car, I told her that. Didn't bother sticking around for a reply.
*snap* Nearly forgot: I'm supposed to be on 3 antibiotics, but the Vancomycin caused a reaction. I've had a reaction to it before, but it was just mild itching in the mouth and on my skin. This time, though, my mouth was burning, parts of my throat were starting to swell, and my lungs also had a reaction which made it terribly uncomfortable to breathe. I immediately took two Benadryl and discontinued the Vanco. We will try to restart it Monday when I get my PICC. I'll take Benadryl a half hour before the PICC insertion and we'll run the Vanco while at the clinic.
Today has not been the best of days. I would really like a do-over.
