OF ITCHING, ITCHING, ITCHING
If you read this journal at all you might think I'm of the sickly sort. Maybe you picture a pale, waif-like creature who can barely stand up to the wind let alone germs and viruses. Maybe you think I'm a hypochondriac. Well, I set out to solve all of that by going to the doctor and attempting to end this cycle of illness once and for all.
What I am, it appears to be, is allergic to Penicillin. Thursday, I started taking Amoxicillin as prescribed by the Old Fart. Friday, I was running a 100 degree temperature and looking flushed. Friday evening, I was turned into a crying, sniffling, river of mucous when T. set a bowl of chicken soup in front of me. This wasn't the reaction he was looking for but I felt so awful that any token of kindness sent me weeping. I also began to notice a rash. By Saturday morning, I had a rash covering most of my body and it was beginning to itch. Now, I definitely have a rash completely covering my body and it itches from head to toe. I'm now taking drugs that are supposed to knock out the Penicillin.
Tonight, I get to take a drug that is supposed to ease the itching. It's a drug that makes you sleepy so I have to wait at least till after dinner to take it.
I have never been allergic to anything in my life. Not bugs, not food, not medicine, nothing! I can't believe that I'm going through this. I suppose timing could only be worse if we were leaving today instead of next Sunday. I really hope this goes away with this medicine. If it doesn't soon I'm going to scratch all my skin off. And, if I get sick again right after this I'm just going to cry. I am so sick of being sick.
Getting ready to move really sucks. It's the worst part of moving, to be sure. I'm hoping it's not going to be too much of a problem. As long as none of the autos breaks down in route, I think we can handle it.
On Saturday, T. and I went through our closets and pulled out four garbage bags worth of clothes and took it to Goodwill. We also got rid of a lamp and typewriter that I'd been lugging around for years "to fix." The typewriter has definitely been a bit of an albatross. I got it when I went off to college; it's one of those new-fangled versions with spell-check and a delete key that removes letters for you. I only used it two or three times in three years and then one day I pulled it out and it didn't want to work. It either needs a new internal battery or to have its little chips worked over. Oh well. I don't have to worry about that anymore.
Today, I took back our defective microwave and brought home a new one. We'll probably end up leaving it in the box and then taking it back to the Sears up in Portland. Our new apartment comes with a microwave built in so we don't really need our own. However, they wouldn't give me store credit or a gift certificate for the full amount of the original without some sort of receipt. So, we'll lug up this microwave and deal with it there.
There's just so many damn details to attend to. Cut off the cable, water, power and phone. Get the oil changed in the car. Send a change of address card to the post office. Buy boxes. Stop the paper subscription. Ooooooooooh, the damn paper. That paper has been so much more trouble than its worth.
About six months ago, we decided to get the Sunday paper of the L.A. Times. Soon thereafter, the calls began. Their marketing department got ahold of us and wouldn't let go. Every week and sometimes several times a week we would get calls from the L.A. Times offering us a free-trial daily subscription. We took it once for a little while but after a few weeks told them to stop as weren't getting around to reading them and they were just cluttering up the apartment. We still got calls during this time and would sometimes have to inform the caller that we already had what they were offering.
The last straw came when an especially pushy marketer called up and told me (not asked or suggested but told me) that we would be receiving the daily Times for a weekly cost of X amount of dollars. I had to catch him before he hung up on me to sternly inform him no. I then called their customer service and told them that if we didn't stop getting calls we would halt our subscription altogether. I was told that they would remove our phone numbers from their records.
A blissful month went by with no phone calls and then it started up again. I called their customer service and explained that since I had requested not to receive any calls and since I was still receiving them that I wanted the entire subscription cancelled. She told us it was cancelled but two weeks later we found the Sunday papers on our step. And, today, I get a call.
Caller: I'm from the L.A. Times and it appears that you get the Sunday paper...
The poor lady gave me a number to call and was actually very sweet about it. I'll call them tomorrow and figure out just what is going on. A pox on the L.A. Times
My grandmother is very sick. She is in the hospital for some gall bladder issues but it's not that that makes her sick. She has chronic high blood pressure and the gall bladder has just made everything worse. I worry that my grandfather can't handle it. I also worry about what is going to happen to my mom's side of the family if she dies. When my grandfather on my dad's side died three years ago there was quite a bit of family strife over the settling of his estate. It was painful to watch. I don't want that to happen on my mom's side but I fear that the sisters aren't going to get along well around that.
My grandmother is a wonderful, wonderful lady. She's sweet and smart and loving and has supported my grandfather in all his endeavors. She's an old-school woman who grew up during tough times. She and my grandfather were grade-school sweethearts. Their love story is the sweetest one I've ever heard. They met in the forth grade and have been together ever since. I really look up to her and respect her and I really hope that I will be able to visit with her again.
Damn, does my skin itch. Anyone got any home remedies?
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