My liver has decided to go and fake its own painful death, and I've lost 17 pounds ([sarc]Oh, how I long for a prom[/sarc]) and these things and other symptoms have prompted my mother to, with the help of doctors and new-age practitioners and herbal healing books, develop a new 34-step daily plan to oppose health suckitude. I've got a checklist and everything. Lots of new-age supplements with weird names (spiru-tein and astragalus are my favourites as far as names go), and, taking a page from
meg_tdj's book, alarms to wake me up to eat more than once a day.Also, still dumb as toast. Still unable to follow plots of things I haven't seen before, so I haven't even watched the two-weeks-ago Enterprise and Stargate that
keenween taped for me. Got lost in my own hometown last week, and so have put a moratorium on driving until I am convinced I won't end up in Maine. Oh! But I *knitted* a few rows today, which was sort of exciting, because that had felt waaaay beyond me up till now (and it *tired me out,* dammit. My lameness knows no bounds). So woo! Score one for the brain cells! I really hope this stupidity doesn't last. It's making me value my late lamented intelligence *a lot.*But I'm having a good a time as one could expect to have. I don't have the energy for real social interaction (emails and livejournals and sending snailmail cards are about my speed, when I have a speed at all which isn't every day, because I can nap between paragraphs if necessary), so I'm grateful for the internet to keep me from feeling *really* isolated and lonely. Time passes very quickly when you're asleep, I've noticed, and I am shocked and horrified to learn that it is March. My mother is an entertaining nurse. I miss Providence, and independence, and my brain and my friends and my fraternity and my *life* a lot, though. If any of you forget me, I will be seriously irked. You have been warned. I HATE that I'm missing so much and that we're inducting a pledge class I haven't even met... but it's good that I'm not there, because I really do feel awful and I really couldn't cook for myself right now and if I tried to go play at these events and be coherent it would probably do sucky things to my recovery time, and I wouldn't be that much fun anyway.
To sum up: I'm still sick, and don't know when I'll be back in Providence, and if you're reading this I probably miss you a whole lot.
-- Little Red, who thinks she may actually have gotten high on wheatgrass this afternoon.
