Hell hath no fury. After sleep-driving across one end of the lower mainland to the other, then down the Saanich Peninsula on four different highways's shoulders and across multiple lanes at speeds in excess of 120kms-per-hour, I am lucky to be alive and so are many other people, birds, cats and dogs.
The virus I had was so powerful (read previous post), I slept 23 hours straight, got up, had a slice of bread and a glass of OJ and went back to sleep. Got up and down for two more days, mostly down. Ate a full meal four days later.
Seven days later I am 80% back to what I know as normal.
BUT. Meanwhile this was going on, I had a sebaceous gland infection, which it turns out had a rare virus. I am on antibiotics.
So I hobbled into the medical clinic to announce that I was bitten by a rabid spider. The Dr. who ended up seeing me said, "no, that is an infection, perhaps from an ingrown hair." She subsequently sliced it open, stabbed it with with a needle, stuffed a drain in it and said, "return tomorrow for more of the same."
I did.
She shortened the drain-wick, fiddled around some more getting puss out and announced, "come back tomorrow and the next day."
Done and done.
It is clean, clear and I am nearly done that evil bottle of antibiotics (that which prevents me from imbibing in said fine stouts and lagers).
Now I am ready to resume where I left off and spin, run-in-the-basement and do my physio for my surgically-enhanced heel.
The other day I got an email from the surgeon: We are on schedule for surgery number two. Work okayed it, let's go.
Once I have this surgery, I believe my outlook will change, as I will be on the other side of this episode.
I spat hell out.
Check out Dylan Wykes being a man of Action.
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