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Tales from the Steppes


2005-03-03

9:55 p.m.
This indecision's bugging me, If you don't want me, set me free

I have two dwarves sitting on my head. One has a hammer and uses it to pound on my forehead. The other has a pair of knitting needles that it keeps jamming into my ears. And today, I am doing something about them.

The problem started almost 4 weeks ago, with a trip to Ohio for a rogaine. A rogaine is a timed race of sorts. Similar to orienteering but without routes. Basically, we were given 6 hours to find and punch our card at as many targets as we could. You have a topo map and a compass and that is basically it. The region of Ohio we were in was called the Hocking Hills and yes, it was hilly. With snow on the ground that turned to mush and mud as the day went on. It was a lot of fun and I hope to do many of these in the future. Maybe not in the snow though. Or with trekking poles to help stabilize the knee.

It was our first event of this sort and we had only been orienteering once. Between my partner being sick and my having no time to train, we were in great shape. Between the car ride up and back and the race, we spent a lot of time together. Breathing the same air. The next day, my partner was at the doctor's office, with bronchitis and agravated asthma. A few days later, I started feeling crappy and then the same thing for me.

Unfortunately, the first round of antibiotics did not do it for either of us. I should have known better, as I have had this before. But it was a new doctor and I really don't like taking medicine. The chest thing mostly cleared up and I was left with the dwarves on my head. At first I thought it was stress and just ate a bunch of ibuprofen. I even went and got a massage from my friend Steve, who is a professional and has amazing hands. (I highly, highly recommend him. Get the hot rocks; you feel your tension absolutely melting away.) For about ten minutes, I had myself convinced that my headache was better. No such luck.

So I waited. And got very little written. Oh, I put my time in and stared at my computer screen but have produced much less than normal. My partner is much smarter than I - when he feels badly, he goes to the doctor. Me, I try to call it light and keep moving. Not very bright. I waited until I had to take codeine to go to sleep. Which is also not very bright - I am mildly allergic to codeine so I itch. So now I am trying to dispell the dwarves with another round of antibiotics, this one guaranteed to kill all of my intestinal flora and possibly cause "vision disturbances." As well as oral and nasal steroids.

There is a point to my mentioning all of this. And it is not merely to whine. I cannot actually whine about my health - this was the first trip to the doctor for any kind of illness in 5 years. Broken bones don't count and neither does being pregnant. I am both absurdly lucky and healthy. No, my point is that when I am on steroids I can be the bitch from hell. They truly affect my mental well-being in a not so nice way. Things that might normally mildly irritate me now cause me to lose my temper and say things that I generally don't. Think I am normally a tad bit tart or acerbic? Absolutely nothing compared to me on steroids. Which is why I waited until it got this bad, vainly hoping that if I clicked my heels three times it might all go away, before I went back to the doctors.

I told the SU about it when he got home today. The look on his face said it all. Later, I heard him telling the elder mongols about how their mother might be a bit "grumpy" for the next week, so they should try to be quiet. This is akin to asking them not to breathe.

Maybe I can dig a hole and bury my head in it for the next week. Not likely. Instead I will maintain my usual schedule of work and school, with a generous sprinkling of car appointments and dental work. And hope that I am able to navigate through all of this without saying anything unforgivable to either a thesis advisor or a county council member.

I wonder if this is what it is like to be seriously unhinged. I can hear myself being irrational but am powerless to stop it. And I hate hate hate being irrational. Right up there with being incompetant. It is one thing to be emotional - I do actually have them. Contrary to what Francesca has always said, I do not have ice water in my veins. It is another thing entirely to be ruled solely by them, with no reining in from the brain.

But perhaps this time it will be different. Maybe they will not have that affect on me again. And then monkeys will come flying out of my butt and we will all have a party. Whee! Of course, the fact that I have been given the maximum daily dosage lessens the possibility of this, so don't be checking your mailbox for an invitation.

I am actually going to try and document some of this insanity. We will see if I am successful. But if you happen to see me and I look pissed off, this is why. And I will be puffy as well, since that is the other major side affect. Probably worse than last year's infected tooth extravaganza. And no, I have not taken the first dose yet. I have to wait until morning, as they make me all twitchy as well.

On a completely separate note, I did not go to class today but merely emailed in, describing my ammended research proposal at some length. I just got a one sentance reply from my first asking "Are you happy with proposal?" Doh! Since when have we been talking about my "happiness?" Last I checked, my happiness did not count for jackshit in this process. How about some professional comments on the validity of the research and soundness of my methods? Just think, if I was on drugs already, I would be saying this to his face. Perhaps loudly. And maybe I might be giving my thoughts on topics, like why he could not have found out about this whole IRB thing a long time ago, that I had not been asked to opine on. This could be interesting.

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