I'm reporting from my comfy, huge-pillowed, beige and chocolate suede couch today. Too sick to go to work, this couch is my yacht that is sailing me to healthier waters. I want to be buried with this couch, though I understand that I would take up about three plots, or I might need a marble L-shaped tomb that would accompany the attached chaise.
My sinus infection has indeed turned into something nasty. Luckily, yesterday I found an allergy specialist who armed me with steroids and antibiotics. And who has office hours on Sunday. Dr. Drapkin has so far impressed me as a very soothing and sympathetic being - I just wanted to curl up on the examination table with an afghan and let him and his nurses take care of me all day. He looked inside my nose and said, "Ooh, boy, there's no room for air," to which I replied, "Snortthhhhhrumphgurgle-ughh."
Next week we do a skin test to see what allergens offend me, and then hopefully we're on the way to allergy shots.
Everybody was way too nice to me this weekend. Dr. Drapkin was nice to me. My boss at work was nice to me and let me go home. My boyfriend, unfailingly, always gentle and wonderful to me. My beautiful friend Emjoy made me tea and mac 'n cheese. Emjoy understands me, as does her dog, who spooned with me just when I needed it. HBO is being nice to me by airing "Elizabeth" so that I can watch Cate Blanchette while I spew nastiness into uncountable tissues. And I think soon, Advil will be very, very nice to me, especially if I take three.
Later today I am going to see my acupuncturist, my healer, and I think she will be nice to me too.
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