Okay,
Day 13 of my treatment course… and it’s driving me insane! Something about the medications I’m taking that’s making me extremely ill to the point where I’ve called in sick for 2 nursing shifts now, because the prospect of being perpetually nauseous for a 12 hour shift is daunting.
That and most people I know don’t want a nurse whose mental capabilities are turned to equal that of a turnip because the only way she could function is to medicate herself.
It’s almost like when I was coming back from my car accident, when I was on more narcotics than most of my patients just so I could physically function at work.
In any case, here’s another day of me working from home instead, and writing up another storm to all of YOU, my lovely pretend-people.
You love me, right???
Anyway, so today J had to wake up early (445 am early, to be exact) to get his day started. I, unfortunately, did not sleep so well and was actually up a good half hour before that, just willing myself to sleep.
We all know how well THAT works…
By the time 6am rolls around for my wakeup call, I’d already been up for an hour and a half. And I got about as far as having one leg into my pants when the nausea kicked in. Suffice to say, I called in sick.
The prospect of being vertical for 12 hours while listening to people while pretending to care without throwing up in their face is a little too much for my CPU abilities. I took some antibiotics (damned penicillins!) a gravol to help with the sickness, and soon after fell into a state of unconsciousness.
Woke up at 10am with a jolt because….. Ta dada DAAA! In my all-encompassing idiocy this morning, I forgot I’d parked my car on the road in front of J’s house….where you’re not allowed to park past 7 am.
Wonderful. So this morning’s saving grace / silver lining out of all this was a nice, long, lovely, chilly walk across the Granville Street Bridge to claim my impounded car.
It’s all relative though. I’m still riding my high from the Foo Fighters concert last night that Jamie took me to for my Christmas present. 12 years and 5 albums later, I still love to rock to this band.
They’re not instrumentally proficient as Tool, nor as popular as Rage Against the Machine. They don’t try to make a lot of big social statements (not yet, anyway) like U2. But you know what? They make me feel good.
It’s that honest, friendly happy feeling that David Grohl exudes that makes you love him. As a person, and a musician.
The concert last night had everything: rock, old stuff, blues-ey tunes, metal, acoustic, and a 2nd stage set in the middle of the arena so that those in the “cheap” seats could experience the band as well…
It’s that 2nd stage set that they played that made it all the better: playing their acoustic music on that stage made me feel like it was a live and intimate concert, despite the 15,000 odd or so people who were sharing them with me.
The Fighters can keep fighting, I’ll gladly wave the glow from my cell phone with the audience.
When it’s not being obscured by clouds of Otto’s Jacket….
