When the going gets tough …

… the tough pay bills, clean kitchen to aseptic operating room standards, purge the refrigerator, file, and wait on-hold with the hospital for 75 minutes. I’d say that was about my life in a nutshell today. Emphasis on the word “nut”. And no, I finally gave up and never did end up talking to anyone at the hospital about the upcoming transplant orientation day. I’ll try again Monday.

As poorly as my stomach felt yesterday, it felt wonderful today. I managed to eat three meals (OK, maybe not well balanced meals, but meals none-the-less) without any feelings of nausea. I even got a decent amount of sleep last night, although the traditional 2:00 a.m. wake-up bout with insomnia made its appearance.

I’m still depressed, but I’ve found before that ignoring it is usually the best recourse. Keep myself occupied and busy – that’s the ticket. And if that fails, I’ll go out and find something to kill.

I expected the Socialist home at about three o’clock today – an hour after the last class he teaches ended. Come 5:00, and I was starting to worry. He finally called about 6:30. He decided to drive to a music store he recently discovered, and ended up spending well over an hour there. He came home with six CD’s. When he got home, he started to complain about his poor long lost car again. When he saw I wasn’t really paying attention, he noted that I really didn’t care, did I? Since I’m still feeling depressed (which has a tendency to make me a bit perverse) I told him, I really didn’t care any more. He decided to make a joke of it, fortunately. But he didn’t bring it up again for the rest of the evening.

An interesting, if somewhat weird aside. Several months ago I started craving ice cubes. It’s become an obsession that probably qualifies as an addiction. Junkies need their fix, smokers need their coffin nails, and I need my ice cubes. I’m driven to the refrigerator four or five times a day now because of this. I mentioned it to my doctor, who merely observed that the phenomenon was known as “pica” and was not unusual for someone who was ill.

That was enough to reassure me for a bit, but now I’m beginning to worry again. The drive for ice cubes is still there, strong as ever. But now a new addiction has started. I have no idea what to make of it, but if anything it’s stronger than the drive for ice cubes. Red wine vinegar. Yup, you heard me right. Red wine vinegar. I’ve been finding any excuse to have it. Salads, dipping carrot sticks, making salt-free salsa with it, dipping salt-free crackers in it for God’s sake. This is not normal. I know it is not normal. Yet I am powerless to stop myself. So far I’ve resisted actually drinking the stuff straight, but it worries me that I’ve even considered it.

Although, with ice cubes, it might not be too bad.

I supposed I really need to mention this to my doctor again when next we meet. In animals this often means that something essential is missing from the diet. If that’s the case with me, we ought to try and track it down.