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Location: Home.
Listening: "Ironic" by Alanis Morissette.

So, about forty-eight hours after sending Jenn an email containing some suggestions for battling her sinus infection with as few commercial medications as possible (irony within irony--despite the decidedly illegal substances I've used in the past, I despise legal pharmaceuticals and really don't even take Advil unless compelled), I found myself at the doctor's office. He peered at the itchy place on my jaw that had become a hard, swollen knot complete with enlarged glands and became concerned. I was packed off with some speculation as to what it might be (we both feel that it's likely some form of staph infection from my recent cold--Jenn's recent bout with a suspiciously similar infection made me make the appointment), a prescription for strong antibiotics that I have to take four times daily, and a mandatory follow-up appointment on Monday. If things aren't improving Monday, they're going to run tests and go from there. He turned before leaving the room, smiled, and said "No matter what, we're going to find out what this is and get you well.". I normally have about as much fondness for doctors as I do for over-the-counter drugs, but this one is in his late sixties and there was something oddly comforting about this gesture.

So I'm taking another day off of work (I stayed home today, sleeping on the sofa and eating the yummy homemade chicken soup that Peter prepared at lunch) and letting myself rest over the weekend. A side effect of this conditon is that the nerves on the left side of my body are reacting violently, and I am in constant pain. Random sparks shoot up into my scalp and down my arms to my fingers and my left shoulder is perpetually aching. Due to this, the doctor suspected shingles, but because the spot is hard (which shingles are not) and very localized (again, which shingles are not), he doesn't feel that that theory is correct. He has decades of experience in his field, so I'm running with that. Besides, Peter suggested that the nodes in my neck are putting pressure on a nerve bundle in that area, and I feel that this is the case. I find myself once again somewhat pleasantly surprised at the amount of pain my body can manage. I first became aware of my apparently higher than average threshold when I spent six hours in the chair having my back tattooed and only flinched once (when the needle vibrated directly over one of my vertebrae). The artists actually were running a bet on when I'd "break", and I beat them all out, lasting until the fifth hour. I'm now sitting at the computer, with the equivalent of an earache, fireworks in my veins, and several pulled muscles in my shoulder and neck, and it's registering only as bothersome. This is actually why I shy away from painkillers. I learned during my forays into things that dull the natural receptors that pain is the body's red alert system, and, since I apparently don't feel it as keenly, I'm always concerned that I'll be lulled into overlooking something serious if I drug myself. Besides, immersion in a tub of water will cure any pain I do happen to feel--I learned this when I experienced a year of migraines in college. I still have no idea why.

So I'm now taking 500 mg of Keflex and 50 mg of zinc four times a day. I have a large bandage on the side of my face and have taken to wearing my hair pulled back, to avoid possible irritation. We had a wonderful steak dinner and watched Rush Hour 2, which Peter expressed disappointment in, but which I enjoyed. Tomorrow, Peter will continue to negotiate with his agent about further trips to Central America, and I will continue to let my body rest and repair itself. I'm trying not to smoke (smoking will play hell with your immune system), but it's difficult, as this causes me more than a little stress. Peter has been incredibly supportive throughout this, however, and it helps immensely. I learn to cherish my boy more every day. In return, I'm trying to be as supportive as possible about the opportunities opening up to him with these new assignments, despite my memories of that phone call from Nicaragua (although, again, I suprised myself in that, when they told me he was hurt, I took control of the situation and refused to send anything until I heard his voice and knew he was ok). The experience rattled me, but I weathered it, and, despite the input from Austin and others ("So, you're not going to let him go down there again, are you?"), I won't allow it to influence me too much. If he feels comfortable going, then he should, and I won't try to dissuade him from that. I have a responsibility to him to encourage him to make the most of his talents and possible chances for adventure, and I try not to compromise that. I might be concerned for his safety, but I won't allow that concern to overwhelm my judgement. Besides, I've told him that if anything does happen, I'm going to come down there and get him myself--and, after that call, I know that I'm fully ready and willing to do so if necessary. I just need to get my passport updated before he leaves again.

I'm tired, so off to bed. I leave you with the Absurd Modern Rock Quote of the Week (possibly a new journal feature) from System Of A Down:

Eating seeds is a pastime activity.

Sometimes, I fear for our culture.