Giving it more talk, that is. Although right now, I would give the whole damn finger away to someone who really needed a right index finger just to get rid of the damned pain.

People get by with only nine, right? I could even replace it with cool cybernetic finger with built in attachments, like Inspector Gadget.

Go Go Gadget Laser Pointer! Now I am Lord of the Cats!

As expected, my doctor, Dr. Kelvin Chao, has put me on a rigorous course of antibiotics. In this case, it’s some stuff called Keflex on the street, but when it’s home its mother calls it Cefalexin. Nothing particularly weird or scary in its Wiki entry. Of course it might cause a bunch of digestive issues. It is probably going to kill the fuck out of intestinal flora. But I do not give the tiniest of shits. As long as it gets rid of this infection, it could give me radioactive mutant snot for all I care right now.

Basically, right now, I would like to give my finger the finger.

The Wiki entry for Keflex does explain a certain mystery that has been kicking around way back in the back stacks of the old noggin for quite a while, though. For decades now, on those rare occasions when I needed an antibiotic in order to get over something, I would notice a certain distinctive sickly sweet odour emanating from the pills. I would describe the smell as “over ripe corn”. But the pills all had different names. So I figured I must be imagining it, or I was just smelling the binding agent.

(Fun fact, kiddies. The vast majority of the mass of the pills we take is a binding and bulking agent, usually some form of modified starch. By weight and be volume, the actual medicine is a tiny percentage. The binding and bulking agent is necessary both to make the pill large enough to handle and swallow, and to make it digest slowly enough for your body to absorb the medicine properly. )

But now that I have read the Wiki entry for Cefalexin and learned that it is marketed under a whole slew of names, suddenly the pieces click together and the puzzle is revealed. I was probably taking Cefalexin every single time, just under different names! No wonder they all smell like that.

The doctor also gave me the usual requisition sheet filled with the usual blood and urine tests. But even though I had fasted specifically in preparation for the inevitable testing (one of the blood tests requires a ten hour fast), after the therapist then my GP, I just did not feel up to getting a poke in the arm and peeing in a cup.

In fact, in general, I have been very bad when it comes to actually going and doing the medical testing I am assigned. That is why I had the idea of doing it right after it was given to me, so that I could not forget and/or fall into a gumption trap where getting it done will require asking Joe to drive me, and I am too timid to ask, and blah.

In fact, if the medical testing was like educational testing, I would be flunking out from lack of doing homework and extremely poor attendance.

Funny, I usually test so well.

My solution is to tag doing the testing onto the end of next week’s therapy session on the 3rd. We will just go from therapy to lab, and get’r done. Means fasting again, but what the hell.

I have been doing pretty good on the old getting things done thing lately. Yesterday, I did my taxes online (pretty easy when you are dirt poor, and damn do I need that refund cheque), ordered a new CareCard (ID for the health care ’round this neck of the woods), and learned that my prospects for getting a new BCID (local government photo ID, kind of like a driver’s license that only works as ID, not as actual permission to drive) were not as bad as I thought.

Turns out, it is only $15 to get a replacement, and I might not even have to pay that if I can prove that I am on government assistance. I was thinking I would have to pay the whole $45 I paid the first time all over again, and that would be rough to come up with in my current financial situation.

So that will be a trip to the local ICBC branch in the future. It will be nice to have proper ID again, so I can prove I exist.

Next up, making an appointment with my social worker so I can look into going from the halfassed disability I am on now (PPMB, or Personals with Persistent Multiple Barriers… basically welfare plus a few bux) to full disability, which would mean more money per month plus access to a ton of programs that are for the disabled only.

Plus, to be honest, it would help me psychologically, because it will help me to banish the feeling that I am “supposed” to have gotten better by now and it is all my fault that I am still sick because I am so lame and pathetic and etc etc etc.

Instead, I will feel like society has said “Relax. You have serious problems. We know you will not get better any time soon. You have our permission to be sick and nonfunctional, and you will now be graded by society on the disabled person’s curve. ”

That could go a long way to shoring up my self esteem, and ironically, probably help a lot with my recovery as well.

Plus, I am almost positive there are programs to send disabled people to college, so it might just be the key to me getting to the academic environment where I can shine and grow and such as well.

Sadly, it is too late in the day to do it now. But soon.

Well, that is all for today, See you tomorrow, you wonderful people!