Salamander
Fire Walking

We did get yet more snow last night, but it only amounted to about two very fluffy inches. It was still a pain to have to clean off my car this morning though. My feet are so swollen that my boots no longer fit, and I have to brave the elements in the only footwear still available to me, my trusty old navy and brown docksiders. I got to work with very cold, wet feet, even though I'd turned the heater in my car to full blast on my legs for the drive in. It would appear the February just couldn't bring itself to leave without hurling this final insult at us.

Tomorrow I have my next appointment at the hairdresser's. I told her when I went to get my hair colored that I had to make the next appointment while I was still there to keep me honest. I know me, and since I hate going to the salon I'd have just put it off if a new appointment weren't committed to. I'm hoping she can show me how to "poof" my hair at the top to make it look fuller. She did it the last time, and made it look so easy. Flick, flick, flick with a comb, then toss, toss, toss with her fingers and I looked a million times better. I went home and flick, flick flicked, toss, toss, tossed, and ended up looking like a Don King clone. The Socialist has brought up several time how much he liked my hair when I first came home from the last salon appointment, and asked "why didn't I continue to wear it that way?". I've already admitted to him that I'm a do-a-doo-failure, but maybe my hairdresser can work another miracle and teach this old dog new tricks.

Had a nice little chat with the Bossman after lunch today. He wanted to know how I was feeling, and laughed when I paraphrased a quote from Tolkien that I felt like too little butter spread over too much toast. I told my boss I felt badly because I knew I wasn't pulling my weight at the moment. He said not to worry about that. Nobody was expecting any more of me and he was pleased that I was still managing to do as much as I am. He mentioned in passing that my name came up at a recent meeting of department heads he'd attended. Another department head had commented how amazed he was that I was still continuing to come into work considering how much strength I've lost, and the rest of the people at the meeting all agreed that I was a "real trooper". I had to laugh at that, and explained to him that they had to realize that I really didn't have any alternatives. If I didn't come into work, I'd just be hanging around the house moping and thinking too much all day. Work is therapeutic at the moment, even if it does get aggravating at times. It's nice to know that my efforts to stay at my desk haven't gone unnoticed though.

Still no word from Dr. Liver concerning the weird MELD score. I will definitely see him Monday when I go for my next paracentesis, and I'll ask him about it then. I also want some more definitive help with figuring out what I should be eating. Reading stuff on the web has gotten me totally confused. Some doctors recommend high protein diets, others low protein. I've seen several mentions doctors restricting liquid intakes on patients with ascites like I have; is this something I should be doing? With any luck, I'll come away from Monday with some answers, and a chance to set myself a new plan of action.

Reading recommendations for people who are awaiting transplant, I came across one that said to make sure you had a bag prepacked with the things you'd need in the hospital. That sounded like good sense at first, until I started to actually try to make a list of things I'd need to pack. What exactly does someone need in the hospital? The provide gowns, robes and slippers, and based on my previous hospital experience, really don't want you to use your own. They supply toothbrushes and toothpaste. I guess maybe I'll want to pack a couple of books and a comb. That hardly seems to me to be worthy of prepacking a bag for though.