November 26, 2002


Above, more pictures of my library. My shelter. I've gotten some new chairs for itóMeda chairs (much handsomer than Aerons). It's enamored me so much the other rooms in the house are neglected.

Sick today. I suspect that Small-Head Dave shed some malignant little viruses when he invited himself over for the Sopranos last week, and they've had a nice few days to incubate, deposit themselves in my tonsils and precipitated a prostaglandin storm. Bastard. Constitutionally, I deal with illness rather poorly. I think my system overreacts to infections and sets off a torrent of cytokines and prostaglandins that render me a creaky, achy, sweaty wreck of a person.

Today I've taken 650 mg Aspirin, 600 mg Celebrex, and 400 mg Ibuprofen. Who wants to bet that I've burned a hole in my stomach? There probably isn't a single functional cyclooxygenase molecule in my body. And I still feel flu-y.

Surg Path is boring the crap out of me. I really like pathologists, but could never be one.

Posted by erich at November 26, 2002 10:53 PM
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