Netfoot

One... Two... Three!

Well, after nearly a week waiting, we finally got test results today. Too high. So in accordance with Dr. Kristi's instructions, I stop all warfarin for three days then restart at ⅔ the previous dosage. We check again in 2 weeks and tweak as necessary. I'll keep you informed if anything interesting happens. Has an idea for a different lunch today. Minced beef & onion fried up with potatoes, carrots, cucumber, plantain and tomato sauce. Leave the lot stewing away until it's all good and then chow down. It was bad. The potatoes wouldn't cook. Everything else was pretty much mush by time the potatoes were starting to soften. And it didn't taste very good. (Although that fault might be in my mouth and not in the pan!) I had some for lunch and tried to have some more for dinner but I couldn't face it. But Mo loved it! And I'm glad because I didn't like the prospect of throwing it out. So he had some for lunch and some for dinner and with what I managed to get down, we finished it off. Today has been a dizzy day but nowhere near as bad as yesterday. And tomorrow is Friday, Dr. Jacinto's day to be at QEH but I have not heard anything from her or her staff so I won't be going. Cat Stevens sings Peace Train. When I was young this guy was very popular, and this track is from that era. I understand he had some sort of (re)defining moment and changed direction in his career/life. It would be selfish to wish he had continued on a path that suited me, so I will just enjoy the music from his earlier life and wish him well. Reading Count Zero by Bill Gibson. Went looking for Neuromancer, which was his breakout novel, but couldn't find it. If I said Gibson was the father of cyberpunk there would be plenty of people who disagreed, but I think if he was not it's sire, he undoubtedly had much to do with popularizing it. I've also got Burning Chrome and Mona Lisa Overdrive here, and I hope to find a few more to besides. It's another warm night and the fan is getting no support from the window. I will end my hot shower with cold water and hope that helps a bit. According to my phone it's 29°C (84°F) at a quarter to eleven at night! Think I will have to go out tomorrow, to pick up a few essentials. To be honest, I've been avoiding leaving home the last couple of days because of the dizzys. When people see you staggering around in public the usual presumption is that you're drunk. That actually happened a few weeks ago when I ran I to an old friend in the supermarket. Hadn't seen her in years and was so glad to be able to touch base again. But it was at the end of a very tiring day and I was not operating normally by then. She was so sure I was drunk she wouldn't talk to me. So I guess she still thinks I was drunk because I never had a chance to put her straight. While removing sweethearts from Mo's fur this evening, I discovered a little cut on his neck that was healing up. It always distresses me to find something like that which I was previously unaware of. How did it happen? Why wasn't I there to prevent it from happening? I feel like I'm guilty of neglecting him. Going to read for a while and then go for that shower. I'm hungry because my dinner was not nice so I only ate a little of it. Unfortunately I can't be bothered to try to find anything else to eat in the kitchen. There is bread, a few eggs, some cheese... I could make a couple sandwiches, but I just can't be bothered to get out of bed right now. Far less make the effort to fry eggs, slice cheese and all that. Or I could cook ramen again. But I was already nodding off in my chair at six this evening. I don't have any butter, mayo, PB&J or anything I could put on Eclipse biscuits. So, no late snacks tonight. Even if I did go and make myself something, it would probably taste like iron filings anyway....

I won't say they did wrong. I will say that the challenge designer did a poor job by not foreseeing a flaw in the challenge rules that allowed teams to take advantage. Didn't we have something similar a season or two ago? About counting coins? Or exchanging coin denominations?

Put it in a landfill, probably...

PT/INR results just in: PT (should be between 9.4 and 12.5): 39.1 INR (should be between 2.0 and 3.0): 3.53 So a change of dosage and another $45 test in two weeks time.

"There is no Air Conditioning in the race car!" No shit, Sherlock! No Cup Holders either! "He is well rounded!" Yah, it's a Bubble Suit! I didn't like the race rules that allowed a team to monopolize the beef answer stations. You should have to vacate the station if you get it wrong, because otherwise you could just keep guessing and guessing until eventually you fluke a correct answer, while simply denying all other teams a chance. Laying out the tiles for the race circuit: How can so many teams think that the circuit was made up of roads that didn't connect together?!?? I think I could have got that challenge correct without ever seeing the circuit in the first place, because the tiles would probably only fit together one way! (Yes, I recognize they only had three minutes, but that doesn't explain why they were wasting time trying layouts that did not have a contiguous track circuit.) Who do I want to go home more? The "Boyfriends" or "Mother & Son" I wonder? Hard choice. I mean, I don't want to watch Danny kill his mother so he can grin on TV some more, but then Ricky & Cesar are just BAF. (Boring As Fuk.) Honestly, I love this show, but despite the fabulous settings and good challenges, this season is degenerating into one of the least entertaining in the history of the race.

Pointing out the obvious (and telling everyone to do what they should already know to do) is the sole purpose of Jubal on this show. The show-runners should fire him and use the money to hire more agents who have a purpose that extends beyond shouting "All right people! Let's get up on his GPS/ Social Media/ LoJack... Oh, you did it already? Well, why does the show need me, if you can do your job without being told?" And we wear slick, all-black outfits wherever we go, emblazoned with the FBI logo in 1,200 point script! Just so as not to draw attention to ourselves! Four highly trained FBI agents fire 194 rounds each (with Ben Cartwright's pistol because I didn't see much in the way of reloading) and all they hit was a couple donuts. I think they need more range-time.

Nearly fell twice between bed and shower! Why so unsteady today? It isn't always this bad...

Sometimes, when I stand up suddenly, I feel like I'm about to fall down. Sometimes, I get an urgent, immediate need to pee. It's particularly unpleasant to get both at once. You can't rush to the bathroom because you can't walk without falling down. Today was particularly fally-downy. And crampy. My hands have been giving me hell all day long. Just watched a movie called Green Book, starring Mahershala Ali and Viggo Mortensen. I'd seen it before but it is a movie well worth a rewatch. It's about a journey made through the Jim Crow south in the early sixties by musician "Dr. Shirley" (Ali) and chauffeur & bodyguard "Tony Lip" (Mortensen). And about their growing appreciation for each other. While not without flaws, if you have not seen this, I recommend it. Mo has been in and out all evening, transferring sweethearts from the yard to the house as fast as he can. When we were on Patrol, he would stick his head under a bush, his tail would wag vigorously, and when his head came back out again a minute later, it would be green. Normally, I'd brew up a cup of tea and let it draw while we were on Garden Patrol but coffee doesn't have to draw in the same sense as tea. So all I had to do was put the kettle to boil and pour the hot water when we returned. I do like coffee as well as tea. Sometimes I feel for one, sometimes the other. The jar of coffee I was gifted today says it makes 50 cups at one spoonful per cup. Those are 6 oz. cups and my mug is 16 oz. Even using way less than 2⅔ teaspoons of coffee (it doesn't have to taste like I bought it from an ironmonger in the Dayton airport, now does it?) the price per mug is about five times higher than tea. I finished my book last night by simply refusing to stop reading until I reached the end. I have no idea when I finally shut the light off. I must now decide what my next book will be. I'll do that when I get up to shower and lock up. Heroin by Billy Idol. Some have a low opinion of Idol but I've always found him entertaining. I don't celebrate "heroin chic" but he is hardly the first to engage. Johnny Cash, Eric Clapton... The list is endless. Not fallen in the kitchen yet, but had a couple fun moments skating around in there. But I think if I can avoid a fall first thing in the morning (when I'm not thinking about it) I may get away with it. Mo was here a moment ago but has departed. Last night he alternated between the tiles in the passage and curled up between my shoulder blades, moving back and forth several times. He can get in and out of this bed without my knowing (Ninja dog) but when he does his side-fall maneuver against your back it is hard not to notice. And of course, if I wake and his warm fuzz is absent from my back that is also fairly obvious. It's 11:30-ish so I am going to have my shower (after selecting a book) and then lock up. I'm thirsty, but I don't know if I should get a glass of water (or milk, even) or not. The night is on the warm side. There is virtually no breeze in the window to help out the old box-fan. May cook a simple soup tomorrow. Veggies with I dunno what meat. May also run out to get one or two vital supplies but that will depend upon the state of the bank balance (perilous, as usual) and the state of my balance (varies, day to day). Shower!

More?

Back again?

Hey, Baby!

Both hands have been knotted with cramp since I woke up this morning. Can't pick up a spoon without difficulty. Can't fry some pork scraps. Can't use keyboard or mouse without difficulty. It's approaching 10 hours now. It doesn't hurt particularly. A little uncomfortable. A dull ache. But it makes life difficult. I can barely hold this phone. I don't know why there is no solution for this. I'm pretty sure it is nothing to do with electrolytes or anything like that. I've tried salt, mustard... None of that stuff works. Kind of silly to think that something like this could be cured instantly by a spoonful of brown sugar or a slice of lime. But I guess if you are desperate enough to put a stop to it you will try any crap anyone suggests.

Prediction: within the next 48 hours I will be reporting on how I fell down in the kitchen. I was cooking Mo some pork scraps for his lunch (I had linguine) and somehow, the pan of sizzling scraps and hot oil ended up uʍop ǝpısdn on the floor. So with the floor swimming in hot oil I fled and returned 10 minutes later to recover the pork and clean up the ocean of oil. But you know, the floor is as slippery as an ice rink now, and in I'm often pretty unsteady on my feet. Not to mention I keep wandering in there, not remembering that the floor is slippery! So I have a sneaking suspicion I will flat on my face in there pretty soon. Just hope I'm not carrying a hot beverage at the time! Speaking of hot beverages, I think I will go and get myself a mug of coffee. Yes, coffee!

Why do I continue to watch this crap?!??

Another long post eaten. Here is a strange photo of Mo. I'm not retyping one more word.

It's a true pain. Look at this photo. On the bottom you can see my warfarin. I take 7½mg daily. (That may change if the lab ever sends us the results of the latest PT/INR, but probably not.) To make up 7½mg I must take 1½ tablets, which means I have to break some tablets in half. When I get around to it, I might break a dozen tablets or more at a time. In the bottle, you will see a tiny, rolled up zip-loc bag with half-tablets in it. The other, empty bottle, is what the warfarin actually comes in. The adhesive on the label is aggressive and is not easy to transfer from one bottle to the next. So for convenience, I have to transfer newly acquired warfarin from the smaller bottle to the larger. But now, when I go to get a refill, I have to find the original bottle and transfer the tablets back again and take the original bottle with me back to the polyclinic. Also, sometimes meds accumulate. The doctor says "Reduce from 2 a day to 1 a day for two weeks!" (For example.) So at the end of the month I have 14 pills left over. I am not supposed to get more yet, because I have not run out. But I will run out in two weeks, and if I don't get the new pills today, I will have to make another trip back to the polyclinic in a fortnight. And it's all swings & roundabouts because I might have to bump the dosage up for two weeks at some later stage so it all works out. But now, I can't take that bottle back with 2+ weeks of meds in it, so I will have to temporarily store the excess at home somewhere, when I take the bottle with only 3 pills left, to the polyclinic to get a refill. I don't know what these pill bottles cost to buy. But given the many thousands that must get used daily in even a small country like this, I imagine the price per unit must be pretty low. And pills can be (and are) dispensed in zip-loc bags of different sizes and even small manilla envelopes. So things must be dire, budget wise, at the Min. of Health if they need to go to these lengths to save a few bucks. But then, it's been over a year since they could afford to buy biopsy needles, so... So the Right Honourable Minister should stop stealing money from the budget!

Off to Edgar Cochrane polyclinic with Mo in the navigator's seat and his non-spill bowl full. Got my meds fairly quickly, including Spirolon, which they have not had since January. This means I can avoid a trip to Winston Scott polyclinic, a real dump. I asked about getting a periodic PT/INR. I would have to ask for a doctor to be assigned to the case. They would then sign an order for a blood draw. An appointment would be made. So, not on one of the days I'm already there. No, on a day which is completely inconvenient. Onward! QEH! I went through Security, who handed me a ticket. #41. I walked into the pharmacy. "Now serving #42..." I made a fuss. They filled my prescription but told me I should bring back the pill bottles, zip-loc bags, the cardboard boxes they gave me because they have to reuse them! And back home. Mo got chow. In the wake of yesterday's comments, I cooked two packets of ramen. And sliced some cucumber and cooked the world's smallest pork chop and sliced that paper thin. It wasn't a bad meal. I actually feel full and the taste was OK. I will follow through with a mug of tea in a little while. Ramen on its own may not be a fantastic meal, but put together with a few other bits and pieces it can make a semi-decent meal. Dr. Kristi says no results from the test yet. Heidi says they have lost the sample (because she always knows what went wrong). Nothing from Dr. Jacinto about a new appointment. Her next clinic is in 3 days time. I just renewed meds based on her last assessment, which might be obsolete in a couple days, if she decides to see me on Friday. Will now go and spend some time cuddling with Mo-baby....

Mornin', Mo!

Mo has a particular way of asking for the door to be opened in the morning. I usually ignore him if it's much before dawn, but his procedure is like this: He stands next to me in the bed and barks loudly in my ear. If I don't respond, he continues barking, while pawing at me with one paw or the other. If I decide not to open, I swipe ineffectually at him with a pillow. He will then go away and try again in another 10-15 minutes. Should I decide it's OK to open up, I will swing my legs out and put my feet on the floor in preparation for standing up. Transitioning from lying down to standing up can be fraught with dizziness, etc, as I've mentioned (endlessly) before. So I like to sit on the edge of the bed for a while before trying to stand. But having got me to the point where I'm sitting, Mo does not like to wait! He immediately begins his "Wakeup Dance." Which is highly annoying and actually painful. First, the barking goes to 110% in pace as well as volume. Second, he had this maneuver which, honestly, I don't know how he does it. He's standing on the bed. I'm sitting on the edge so he is essentially behind me. He springs vertically up, so all four feet are off the mattress. At the same time, he spins 360° like a top before landing on the bed again. But only for the instant it takes him to launch himself up and around again in another spin. It's quite a performance and I wish I could film it. But don't forget it's probably pre-dawn and the lights are off, I was asleep only a few seconds ago, I'm trying not to faint and, well, I'm not dressed for appearance on camera. It's unusual but what is annoying about it? Well, every time he jumps and spins, he slashes across my back with his front claws. My back, covered with 100% grafted skin, guaranteed to be more delicate and subject to injury than normal skin. So when it's time to get up, I have to try to push him out of the bed, to save myself from his claws. He sees this as a game or a challenge, or what ever - I don't really know, but try as I might to stop him scratching me to hell, he insists. If I push him out of bed he immediately jumps back in. And eventually, I have to put my feet out, thereby turning my back to him. And all the while, loud, hysterical barking. This morning he was extra hyper and it was like trying to get out of a bed occupied by a runaway chainsaw. Brain Stew by Green Day. The fire that resulted in the aforementioned skin grafts also turned my record collection into a puddle of black vinyl on the floor. It was a long time before I was in a position to even think about it but eventually I realized the time had come to rebuild the collection - only, on CD. Since album on CD could cost as much as $120 locally (Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness by Smashing Pumpkins), I ordered from the USA and bargain hunted like crazy. But my first order of 8 Albums contained this one (Insomniac). I was ordering as many as 12 albums at a time (64 in one memorable week) and bargain pricing was one of the primary selection criteria. But still, one of the first CDs I ever bought. Mo is a trencherman. He loves his grub. So I fried up between 1 and 1½ lbs. of meat from the "Dog Scraps" bag in the freezer, for his lunch. He wouldn't eat it. Next I tried chow. He wouldn't eat it. Then some corned beef stew with beans & tomato. He wouldn't eat it. So I stopped trying. An hour later I tempted him with a piece of cheese. He wouldn't eat it. As dinner time rolled around, I realized I had had no dinner last night and only dry Eclipse biscuits for lunch. But Mo first. I went into the kitchen and took the fried meat out of the fridge. Putting the pieces into a pan with water, a little salt, and a sprinkle of garlic, I let it simmer slowly until the water reduced to a thin gravy. Then I went to get his bowl. That's when I realized that in the mean time he had finished the chow he'd rejected for lunch. I gave him the pork. He ate that too. Then it was time for my dinner. And as I ate my ramen, The Hot Breath was on my hip. Sorry, Mo. None for you! Whenever I go to cook ramen for my meal, I always tell myself I should cook two packets. But I never do. When ever I eat my ramen meal, I always tell myself I should have cooked two packets, and that I will do that next time. But I never do. It always seems like two is gluttony. But one is never enough. Now, on YT you can find infinite numbers of videos on how to eat ramen, with pork or eggs or asparagus or broccoli or all of the above. And yes, if you did that, one packets of ramen would be sufficient. But if I had those ingredients and the inclination to spend the time in the kitchen, I probably wouldn't be eating ramen anyway! Uh-oh! Just remembered I have to prepare laundry to go out before bed. No word from Dr. Kristi on the PT/INR results but I'm hoping for something tomorrow. (Results usually come back the next working day but the lab is sometimes slow. The test on the urine took 3 working days.) And then I have to go to the pharmacy and I will get the laundry out at the same time. So I have to get the laundry ready to go without delay. Better now than to be scrambling in the morning. Then a shower, lock up and lights. Mo's ridge. All "Surfer-blonde".

He was outside. He barked twice under the bedroom window and I let him in. He ran to the window to look out. And knocked the Bluetooth speakers off the table onto the floor.....

This bag contains a roll of toilet paper. It usually also contains a pill bottle with Nexium, Gravol, Immodeum and Panadol tablets or capsules. It usually lives in my van but I removed it recently. And it was in the house waiting to be returned to the van. This evening, as I set off on Garden Patrol, I noticed that Mo was a little hesitant. Then I noticed the bag lying on the driveway. It was open. The roll of TP was still inside, but the pill bottle was broken and shards of it were scattered all over the driveway, along with all the meds. The Nexium is over $4 per capsule. Panadol is cheap, Gravol and Immodeum aren't. But the worst thing is that I have no idea what his chances would have been, had he eaten the meds. 4,000mg of Panadol probably wouldn't have done him much good. It's unlikely that several doses of each of the other stuff would have helped. So I took the drawstring of the bag in hand and I walloped Mo with the roll of TP as hard as I could. He ran off into the house. I retrieved the meds. Thankfully, everything was still sealed in its bubble-packs, so at least I didn't have to wait to see if he had poisoned himself. I went back in the house. Mo was standing in the passage. So I walloped him four more times with the TP. Then I left him standing there and went and watched a movie. I have no idea where he went or what he did with himself after that, because I have not seen him since. When the movie was over I took a shower, locked up the house and retired to bed. I don't know if he is inside the house, in his Fortress or hiding elsewhere. I don't know if he is outside. I don't care. If I wake up in the night and find him snuggling up against my feet that's fine. If I open the house in the morning and he comes in from outside, that's fine. If he hides in the garage or yard for the next week, that's fine. He will get food and water at his usual feeding station. If he wants a cuddle or a tummy rub I'm happy to give them him one. It's all to him.

Fortress of Solitude & Dust Bunnies. Mo doesn't like any interference in his domestic affaires. Unfortunately, I think a book fell down between the bed and the wall so the bed has to move. And if I go under there, I'm sweeping out any "treasure" that I find. I'm sure he will get over it. He can generate new dust bunnies and accumulate new treasure in no time!

Very interesting. Crazy, but interesting non the less. You got to ask yourself who makes these rules up and why do we let them tell us what to do?

Went out on Garden Patrol. Right by the gate I picked up the old tee-shirt (wet, because it's been raining all day) and walloped Mo around the snout with it. He was so surprised that any real punishment was forthcoming that I was able to complete the Patrol and was on my way back inside before he moved. He had rice and tuna for dinner and I had the rest of the rice and the curry gravy. It didn't taste very good. Sometimes everything tastes metallic. Water, food - even my own spit! Today was one of those days. The Best by Tina Turner. Why am I listening to this? I don't really like Tina Turner. Never have. But I suppose this is one of hers that I can listen to without frowning and pressing [SKIP]. Returning to the house with a wet tee-shirt, I hung it up to dry. When I try to do anything above my head I can expect problems. Sometimes just looking up produces bad results. Anyway, I had to grab the nearby door frame and hang on for dear life. Eventually the tunnel vision faded. Fortunately, no confusion this time. Tunnel vision (as I understand it) is when your visual field shrinks to a small circle in the center of your regular visual field, and everything outside of that goes black. So it's like you're looking through a tunnel or a tube. But that isn't exactly what happens to me. It's similar but instead of that small, circular visual field surrounded by black, mine is surrounded by grey and blurry. I can see things in my peripheral vision but that part of my vision is blurry and has lost colour. Mo has taken up position behind me, wriggling and growling. I have to keep reaching behind me so I can rub his tummy. I told him "No butt-kicking, please!" But he immediately gave a yowl and kicked me in the butt with both back legs at once. Now, he has departed. If he would just wait until I started reading, he could come and curl up by me and get tummy rubs interrupted only by periodic need to turn pages! I've had a mild tummy ache all day. It's what I call my "Left side Appendix". Just where you'd expect an appendix pain to be.... except on the wrong side. I used to think it was the kidney giving a twinge but Dr. Kristi told me that any pains from the kidney are more likely to manifest in my back. Watched some episodes of Shōgun today. Surprised how much of the dialogue is subtitled Japanese. I have been led to believe that most people don't like to watch shows with lots of subtitles. But the makers of this show don't seem to care. Also been looking for other, new programming I might enjoy. Frankly, most recent cinematic efforts are such crapola, I may watch the pilot for a TV show and 10-15 minutes in I'm purging the entire season off my system. Same for many movies - I frequently don't get to the opening credits. Speaking of which, isn't it strange how cinematic credits have changed over the years? Old B&W movies rolled all the credits at the beginning before the opening scene of the show. At the conclusion you got a "The End" or "Fin" and you were done. Nowadays you can reach 10-12 minutes into the movie (or TV episode) before a single line of credits rolls. And the final credits can run for 15 minutes, with great care being taken to ensure that the guy who wiped down the lunch counter in the Albanian set is not excluded! Last night I was woken by a heavy fall of rain, right on my face in bed. Mo was carefully standing on the opposite corner of the mattress to avoid getting even slightly sprinkled. I dunno why - if the door had been open, he would have been outside in it, getting as soaked and mud-covered as possible before coming inside again to jump on me and roll around. Sometimes Mo is as inscrutable as a statue of Budda. I think I've spoiled him. Too much affection and not enough floggings. Reminds me of a fisherman I knew when I was a nipper. He said "I beat her every Friday! Whether she deserves it or not!" Only, he was talking about his wife. Who, I think, if anybody was going to be doing any beating, I put my money on her and that rolling pin! Crap! I forgot to lay out meds for the next few days. Will go do that now and drink a mug of tea while I'm at it. Then the door gets closed and the book gets opened.