Sunday, December 7, 2008
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Lame blogger
My December resolution is that I'm going to get better at this. Likely that will mean telling my boyfriend please ask me every day if I blogged, and hope that I don't just whine at him to leave me alone. November was a big month, though. Our new president!!!! That is the big news and I don't know what I can say that hasn't been said. I am tentatively hopeful.
My son turned 18! I'm the parent of an adult. It snuck up on me.
I am now officially poor enough to have medical care, so I've been rushing around testing cholesterol and getting mammograms. Yesterday a doctor shot my hips up with cortisone or some such steroid. He promised me pain relief in 2 hours. I can barely walk. But, it appears there is a thing that happens to some people, it's called a cortisone flare. Apparently the cortisone crystalizes in your muscles or something and for 24 to 48 hours you are in WORSE pain than before you were treated for pain. Great. The solution is rest--so I am going to take my laptop to bed in between driving teenagers to and fro--and icepacks, to which I say, no damn way. I already where a hat, scarf, and sweater in the house. So I won't be taking off my pants and slapping a bag of frozen peas on my hips.
Soon: news about a grant. Don't want to put it up until I get the paper with the rules for publicity.
My son turned 18! I'm the parent of an adult. It snuck up on me.
I am now officially poor enough to have medical care, so I've been rushing around testing cholesterol and getting mammograms. Yesterday a doctor shot my hips up with cortisone or some such steroid. He promised me pain relief in 2 hours. I can barely walk. But, it appears there is a thing that happens to some people, it's called a cortisone flare. Apparently the cortisone crystalizes in your muscles or something and for 24 to 48 hours you are in WORSE pain than before you were treated for pain. Great. The solution is rest--so I am going to take my laptop to bed in between driving teenagers to and fro--and icepacks, to which I say, no damn way. I already where a hat, scarf, and sweater in the house. So I won't be taking off my pants and slapping a bag of frozen peas on my hips.
Soon: news about a grant. Don't want to put it up until I get the paper with the rules for publicity.
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