This is a longish post mostly about (my) health, which I concede is a fairly boring topic. There is, however, something of Actual Interest starting about half-way down. Your search-phrase is Speaking of wicked.
So, just about caught up with housekeeping, bill-paying, and laundry. The cats are being a little clingy still, despite having had Mary’s undivided attention. Next time we go on tour, I guess we’ll just have to bring them along.
Or not.
Frequent auditors of this blog will recall that, right before we went on tour, I had a visit with the vampires. The panel of tests came back with good results, except that pituitary function was up, which was considered a sign that it was pushing the thyroid to work harder, which meant that (maybe) the dosage of my meds needed to be increased. The bitter irony here being that, though I had been pulling the falling-asleep-between-sentences thing throughout the writing of Alliance of Equals, I didn’t even mention it during the annual examination immediately prior to the blood test, because it seemed pointless. Not that my doctor doesn’t listen to me, but she listens to the test results harder, and we’ve been down that road too many times.
Happily, this time the test results took up the slack.
Long story short, we’re three weeks into the slightly higher dose of meds, with a book tour taking up a week of that (maybe not the best timing, there), and I’m noticing a definite decrease in the fall-asleep-snap-awake thing (which is actually A Rather Unpleasant Sensation, not to mention the hash it makes of productivity, and the potential for producing Real Mayhem, should I fall asleep while driving), so, hoping the six-week blood test will be such that I’m allowed to keep the higher dosage.
But! This little skit demonstrates a flaw in my otherwise perfectly agreeable personality (ahem), which I’m going to have to address.
I’m going to go out on a limb, here, and make the crazy assumption that health professionals are going to be playing a larger role in my life as I meander down my timeline. Health professionals being human, they come with their own set of assumptions and experiences, particularly with regard to grey-haired women. That’s fine, but here’s the thing. I get bored. Particularly, I get bored when I have stated a fact regarding my health which the tests then fail to support — or don’t support definitively. After the third time, I figure there’s no point to repeating myself, and I stop, even if I feel that there’s still a problem.
Clearly, I’m going to have to Get Tough about repeating myself and pushing for solutions.
I’m also going to have to get back with doing yoga, which got kicked off-track after PhilCon, and, with one thing and another, never got back into the schedule.
Boy, that’s a lot of virtue in my future. I’ll have to adopt a wicked new hobby somewhere along the way, so as not to become unbalanced.
Speaking of wicked — While we were on-tour, we received a head’s up from Bookseller Kate Reynolds that A Night in the Lonesome October (written by Roger Zelazny; illustrated by Gahan Wilson) has been reprinted in trade paper by the Chicago Review Press, in their Rediscovered Classics line (which seems to also include Mary Stewart’s Entire Ouvre; as well as Gwen Bistrow, Anya Seton, Rosemary Sutcliff, and, like, a dozen other authors/books I read in my now far-distant youth. BN will give you a list of the titles in the Rediscovered Classics line; Amazon is not so courteous).
For those who may be new reading here, A Night in the Lonesome October is. . .it’s an advent calendar for Halloween. Each of the chapters is dated, starting on September 30, and it is meant to be read one chapter a night, through Halloween. Steve and I read it to each other every year, and our copy is starting to show the results of our dedication, so we’re happy to be able to purchase a back-up copy.
And that? Is all I’ve got.
No, wait; it’s not.
I also have a picture of Trooper:
Today’s blog title brought to you by Kid Creole and the Coconuts, “Endicott.” Here’s your link.
