I ran out of oregano oil – and it was atrocious timing.
Or maybe not.
Work today started out hopeful. Whilst I was still a bit congested, overall I felt fairly good. By 10:30-ish this morning that had deteriorated to “unable to complete a single sentence without hacking up several cubic centimeters of lung.” I finally had to concede, pack it in and come home from work. I will be written up for it, given final notice in fact, but there comes a point where the body just says, “yeah, about that work thing… um, not happening.”
Thank God I left when I did. Within a short time of arriving home I got body-slammed by this stuff, painfully so. Instead of only being congested, I had the lovely joy of numerous gastrointestinal accompaniments, any one of which would’ve pretty much made a drive home difficult, if not impossible.
I already told G I’m not going in to work tomorrow, not when one moment I’m suffocating and the next shivering. Breathing has been sort of resolved, at least temporarily, thanks to some meds I probably should’ve skipped. The stomach is settled down for the moment, more or less, but I DEFINITELY can’t afford to haul my butt back to work and have leave again. At that point I would be walked out, period. The rules are pretty specific; if I have to be out, better to stay out until I get the doctor’s okay to go back to work. That way it’s considered just one absence.
So I may be phoning up my doc again tomorrow to see if I have to come in for him to write me an excuse for work. I was already dealing with the early edge of this crap on Thursday. Now it’s full-blown and it’s obnoxious as hell.
It’s been a television and book marathon for the long weekend, since I really wasn’t up to doing much beyond that. I watched all the Ghost Hunters I’d recorded, plus half a dozen other comparable fun shows. (Destination Truth is creepier. Can’t decide yet if that’s a good or a bad thing.) Actually broke down and rented a couple of movies, something I rarely do. I have now seen The Time Traveler’s Wife (five hanky movie but intriguingly written.) And I have seen 2012, which was fun if over the top.
Yes, I know it’s a serious subject, but c’mon. You can NOT take that film seriously.
Still haven’t seen Avatar, though that’s on the list to watch soon.
The book range has been reeeeallly eclectic. Diary of a Psychic; book on quakes; Suzy Orman book on money; and a fourth one I don’t know how to classify. Not a romance, not a political potboiler, not really a mystery. Of the four, the only one I finished was Diary of a Psychic. I couldn’t really connect with any of them, which is unusual for me. Normally I devour books beginning to end. I’d blame it on the meds but frankly I think that would be profoundly unfair to the meds. Suzy Orman I’ll go back and read, though some of her stuff is a bit twee in my opinion. The others, not so sure. The psychic one was kind of “meh,” too. I’d read a similar story that I thought was better written, called “Small Medium At Large.”
That doesn’t in any way disparage the writer at what she does as a psychic; it merely says I thought her book wasn’t all that and a bag of chips.
Well, maybe Fritos. It did have its moments. But definitely not Bugles or crunchy Cheetos.
I had accidentally recorded a couple of infomercials, without realizing that PBS is prey to that notably craptacular form of demi-entertainment. I’d pulled up the grants guy – Lesko whosits – who was, at the age of “Barney Fife channels Mr. T on Meth,” bouncing off the walls in his question-mark suits.
Dude, only Doctor Who is allowed to wear question marks on his clothes. Don’t you know that?
The second one, the one that had me tracking him down online, was this nutjob named Kevin Trudeau, whose books all reference “The [whatever] They Don’t Want You To Know.” He apparently has a whole series of variations on that title. I read the feedback on Amazon. The kinder ones said something along the lines of, “Save the money on this for toilet paper – because if you buy this you’ll need it for what it contains.”
The one semi-helpful comment referenced a different name. When it came to this guy’s take on weight loss it said he pretty much just ripped off a Dr. Simeon. I found Dr. Simeon, who’s a proponent of dealing with obesity by putting his patients on a 500 calorie a day regimen and sticking forty needles into their bodies. I might deal with accupuncture but forty injections of God knows what, combined with a 500 calorie-per-day diet? I’m not buying that over the Internet, buddy.
So I discovered that there’s a branch of his clinic here in Arizona, practically next door. Those injections are managed by a qualified professional… chiropractor.
You have to read this guy’s program to believe it:
Yeah… I think that sounds a weeee bit too Hitler and Third Reich for me. We’re talking Concentration Camp portions and medical experiments time.
I apologize if he’s Jewish, but for goodness sake. Even as a chiropractor you should in theory have the smarts to get that FIVE HUNDRED CALORIES PER DAY is not a viable option. Can people do it? Of course. People successfully fast for long periods of time. But come on. For a long term diet, ain’t gonna happen.
He also recommends going pre-diet with a gorge. He actually requires it, says the diet doesn’t work right without it.
Yeeeaaahhhh. Not for me, buddy.
I am now officially nodding off at the keyboard, going to go crawl into bed and sleep for an eternity or two before tackling anything else.