(This blog post brought to you courtesy of the guy cleaning our carpet; I can't do anything else 'til he's done.)
ME, looking at scale in doctor's office: Okay, that's just ridiculous.
NURSE: Good ridiculous, or bad ridiculous?
ME: I've been eating cake for stress management, and lost three pounds in the last two weeks.
NURSE: Huh. I'll have to try that.
Am home from what I thought was a followup with my neuro guy, the one who did the cortisone shot a week and a half ago? His idea of followup was more cortisone. Apparently there are three or four nerves exiting the spine, that control the hand. So he did the ones today, that he didn't do last week. We located the problem nerve, because when he got it, I felt it the whole way down my arm. I mentioned I could feel that, and he wrote it down in my medical records and told me to start with that one, if there's a next time for cortisone shots. I think in a week or two I'm gonna feel great, but at the moment, even the happy floaty drugs aren't fixing the fact that I've got the rest of the house to pack by tomorrow morning.
Drugged packing. This'll be interesting.