Nights in Nystatin

Couldn’t resist posting this again. My closing status on Facebook last night:

Foot’s in Nystatin
Never reaching the end;
There’s a fungus amongus
Getting better, my friend...
(with profound apologies to the Moody Blues)

Some great comments from the peanut gallery on that one!

Yesterday was one of those days when, if people asked how I was, I replied “vertical”. I am quite capable of choking on a spit bubble, and yesterday on the bus I swallowed wrong and spent the rest of the ride trying not to cough, choke, etc. I made it to the restroom in my office building with seconds to spare. Where I sat and coughed and peed for the next ten minutes; grateful, so grateful, that I didn’t have to get on another bus and go back to the station and come home and change my clothes and try again.

I don’t know: do men have stress incontinence when they cough or sneeze? Or is it a frustration only known to the fair sex? I get more than a little frustrated on those days when my Native American name could be Princess-Cough-and-Pee. It was verging on funny when I described my morning to several middle-aged female friends at church last night, more so now that I am sitting here still safely dry and happy, but when I am in the throes of a spate of coughing, and I don’t know if I will cough up a lung or three toes with the next spasm, my sense of humor is almost the first thing to go. Pun intended.

We made one Moby-Dick-sized whale of a lot of progress on the visiting teaching last night.

And I am nearly done with sock #2, something like 15 rounds to go, maybe less. I probably should figure out what I want to do next. And make sure that I grab what I need to get started on it.

In the Glass Is More Than Half Full Department, my renewed subscription to the Ensign, which I thought I had set up to come to the duplex [because I now live someplace where the chance of my mail getting stolen is minuscule] was waiting in my mailbox at work on Monday, and I have been devouring it at lunch all week.

And I am on my third round of Nystatin for my poor sad foot, which is looking promising. I will spare you the visual, but every day I see more pink, healthy skin and less yuck. I have been anointing it with Nystatin three times a day, for four weeks now, and I have only missed a few doses. Amazing what happens when you follow directions...

I am driving in today, so that I can head straight for the temple after work tonight. The meetinghouse which is hosting the singles’ conference this weekend is just off a toll road, and I remembered to check my TollTag balance when I woke up this morning, so as not to have any budget-wrecking surprises. I have automatic renewal, and when my balance dips below $10.00, my debit card gets hit for another $40.00. Ordinarily not a problem, but *not* budgeted for between now and next Friday. Thankfully, not an issue. Whew!

I am also taking a can of clam chowder to heat up when I log off tonight. That way I don’t have to stop and get dinner on the way to the temple. I have not grabbed so much as a french fry in the car this week. I made an egg casserole for breakfast on Monday or Tuesday (which effectively used up the last of that indifferent cheese sauce which had been lurking in my fridge) and have been reheating leftovers since then. Just finished a small bowlful, washed down with juice, and am in the mood for an equally small bowl of cream of wheat. I had a quick can of tuna about 4:15 yesterday and was good to go until after presidency meeting last night, when I came home and had a bowl of spoon size shredded wheat with a generic grape-nuts garnish and a generous sprinkling of frozen blueberries. Dinner and dessert all in one, and I’m sure my arteries were yodeling thank you, thank you!

I think it’s going to be an amazing day. I am almost ready to take it on...