Sounds like a medieval law firm. I have been reading perhaps a little too much Sharon Kay Penman. I have also been anointing my foot with Nystatin since what, late January? with varying degrees of success. Yesterday my wonderful doctor looked at my poor foot and announced that we were calling in the big guns, and I should be done with this, this time next week.
Diflucan is a pale pink curvaceous quadrilateral of doom. It tastes awful, roughly in the same league as a penicillin tablet, and I’m hoping that the fungus will find it equally distasteful and emulate Elvis by leaving the building.
Very little knitting got done yesterday, most of it in the waiting room and examining room at my doctor’s office. I came home by way of the pharmacy, picking up my medieval gentlemen, then drank about a pint of water and went right to bed.
And woke up six hours later, so I must have needed the sleep.
I had hoped to be able to surprise my doctor with a ten-pound weight loss when I go for my well-woman in July. Since I am not dieting, simply exercising gently six days a week and incorporating more fruits and veggies into my diet, any weight I lose will come off as gradually and imperceptibly as it went on. I was the one who was surprised: seven pounds since I had that weird arm twinge in January.
She was elated to hear that I have kept my promise to myself that I would join the health club as soon as funds permitted. And she agrees that time in the pool will be very good for my cranky foot, but says that soccer slides will be sufficient to protect the swimming public between pool and shower. So, more shopping for Ms. Ravelled this weekend.
I know: heartbreaking! And it looks as if I am becoming NikeGirl in my dotage. Men’s Nike Benassi Swoosh Soccer Slides = $14.99; Women’s Adidas Trovao Soccer Slides = $24.99. That $10.00 difference is almost half a skein of hand-painted sock yarn, people! Or three Cabana Bowls!
So now it’s 1:00am, and I’ve been up for three hours, and I’m vaguely hungry (not having eaten for twelve hours), and in three hours the alarm will go off so I can get up and go to the gym. Cinnamon toast washed down with milk, it is!
Middle age? not for sissies.
- Five years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!