OK, you know how I have a really really hard time sitting still quietly? Yeah, I pushed too much when I had that minor annoying inflammation in my paws. It was the edging on that afghan. It kept looking at me and saying "you are almost done with this you know." That and a bazillion hand done pintucks on a christening gown. There was this box of sewing I remembered that I had either already started or had ready to start sewing you see...
Anyway, I gave myself a roaring case of tendinitis in my hands. Saw the GP today and she was generally pleased. Admonished me to drink lots and lots of water because my normally too low sodium levels skyrocketed. I've been sweating quarts during the hot flashes. Then she wrote a prescription for ibuprofen because it works better on inflammation than aspirin, wrote me a 'script for aspirin because she didn't like that I had been quartering regular ones instead of buying the weeny ones. Hey, the weeny ones cost three times as much for less than a fifth the tablets that are almost 4/5s smaller. My pennsylvania-dutch ancestors would have risen from their graves en masse to come to my door and lecture me had I been buying those out of pocket. She threw in a 'script for iron because she likes that I have my own blood now and wants to keep that up.
So far as the tendinitis she looked fiercely at me and told me I am to rest the paws. How I am going to survive resting the paws I'm not sure. I am unmedicated and bi-polar 2. Doing is my coping mechanism. I cannot think of a single darned thing I do that does not use my hands. I expect I can work on the dance video I got. I've been doing it fairly steadily, so as long as I don't go bonkers and give myself tendinitis in my feet I should be OK. Maybe I can get DD2 to come up and teach me belly dancing. Though I have to go at dance slow and easy because of the adhesions (inside bits getting stuck together with scar tissue, pretty much inevitable after major surgery). owy. Maybe I can have another go at reading Paradise Lost, that and anything by Proust puts me to sleep rather quickly. I don't know why Paradise Lost does that, there really isn't any reason for it. I really want to read the whole thing though, so perhaps with lots of coffee and some chocolate penguins... As for Proust, well when an author spends 15 pages uneventfully getting out of bed the reader does tend to nod off. I've never managed to finish getting out of bed with him. So the omnibus just sits on the shelf looking like a weighty tome.
NightMist