Blame it on Drugs

Well, I've possibly developed dyslexia, and since it just starting occuring since I've been in the slammer, I'm blaming it on the drugs. I know what I want to say, but I'm having trouble writing what I want to write. Reversed letters, missing letters, added letters that don't belong. Then there's the getting tripped up on homonyms (right for write--I just corrected that one a few sentences back). This may not matter to you, dear reader, but to me it's one more sign of my temporary decline. Spelling, grammar, usage, the bon mot--these all matter to me. I've given Marty permission to edit the Plog, though not its content.

At least I can ride a bike without falling off it. Yes, the exercise bike, the one that was delivered when I was being prepped for the rabbit drug last Friday. Well, this morning I was feeling about 85-90%, so I decided to pedal for 15 minutes at a relaxed rate. Near the end of my ride, I had a visitor, Lizanne from Costa Rica. She's in town settling her daughter at Tufts, which is somewhere around here. We had a lot of ground to cover because we haven't seen each other in 2 years. She brought me 4 bags of Costa Rican coffee, my preferred brand.

Speaking of coffee, the so-called "coffee compromise" isn't working AT ALL. Today my 7:30 hand-delivered cup didn't arrive until my breakfast did, just before 9:00. That's right, I had two cups of coffee on my tray. I WANT HOT COFFEE. I don't want two cups of warm coffee. So I told my nurse I want to see the Nutritionist who thinks a single-cup coffee maker, one that ONLY I TOUCH, puts me at more risk than brewing it in the public pot. I tried to be nice. I really did, but now the gloves are coming off. In defense of the nursing staff, 7:30 is probably one of the worst times to get a cup of coffee for a poor transplant patient, because it's shift change. Okay, I'll stop. At least if I go off on a rant, you'll know I'm doing okay.

The rest of the day was uneventful, and pretty quiet because of the holiday. No noisy gangs of roving doctors/interns/residents/physician assistants jockeying for position out at the nurses station. I'm sure the nurses enjoyed it, too. My blood counts are still passable (though dropping); some of my chemicals are out of whack (to be expected); no nausea today (although the little patch they put behind my ear migrated to the middle of my neck during my shower so I'm not sure if it's lost some of it's efficacy).

I had a nice visit with Harry W. and his wife this afternoon, and of course, Marty was here for several hours.

Tomorrow the silly wabbit weturns (calling Elmer Fudd!), so who knows what or if I'll write. Do bunnies write?