stream of bloggishness

AM, PM, big difference, why. Why does PM get to screw up AM. Pills in the morning, pills in the evening, pills when the sun is gone. Maybe oh, a dozen today? Plus god knows what thru the damndamndamndamndamndamndamndamn IV lines. Tonight mild hope of new headache drug, thwarted by simultaneous explosive puke and diarrhea. Almost had it fixd by combo of surgical mask and humid air duct, but not enough. Air here is stunningly dry. Breath through your mouth for a moment and you need a drink.

However, thanks to chemo taste buds, all sweetened stuff tasts like excessively sweet paste. Water bears resemblance to strichnine. How is it that they can use dryer lint to make Italian Ice? Food has no appeal at this point. If I even look at the menu I feel ill -- and it's not that bad a menu.

Coughed now as water made me choke, which pounded my nearly-continous headache untreatable by any means known to medicine. Headache, of course made me briefly nauseous.

DIdnt hold a candle to the preceding event of retching out meds. Told the staff I want no more pills tonight.

Then IV pump began its escalation pattern of complaint: beep beep BEEP FUCKING BEEP DO YOU HEAR ME! After 3 iterations staff decided to disconnect me. O Frabjous night, you fucking bite!

Have adjusted HVAC for the quadrillionth time. Apparently it achieves proper temperature at the high end by blowing cold air (on the patient) until the trip point is randomly reached. It then follows some sort of hysteresis curve following the law of Mandelbrot. There is no OFF on the fiendish thing. And the space between these two characters:>< translates into the difference between ol-man-winter and summer in calcutta.

fuck it all, think I might go puke again. Just to save time later. And it would be a valuable way to lose water weight. I am now carrying 2.5 GALLONS of water weight. My fingers are pudgu and stiff, my legs and feet likewise, and my genitals do not warrant description. So, yes, one recurring theme is LASIX which results in frequent appalling visits to genitals. So, ready to puke yet? Join me. We'll make it a traditional Roman event in the Olympics.