I fought the blah and the blah won.

I spent the entire day in bed.

Which is not as fun as it sounds, because not only was I alone, I was getting up every half-hour to evacuate one or another storage unit that the human body has. In abundance.

Yeah, I called in sick. They can take it out of my hide later; the way I see it, if I'd had to sit for thirteen hours with limited chances to hit the bathroom, not only would I have come up with a bladder infection for reals, but anybody nearby would've been very unhappy with me. Because that tummy bug? The one that all the interns are getting? I got.

You would THINK (she says, grouchily, looking back at all the people who told her that "nurses never get sick after the first year") that working on a high-acuity med-surg unit with a fucking PRESSURE ROOM and dealing with people who have VISA and VRSA and all those great diseases that are known only by their initials would've PROTECTED ME from some bullshit stomach virus that somebody's kid brought home from school. I *mean*. But no, no; if it's possible to catch it, whatever "it" is, I'll catch it.

I'm half-convinced that the horrible cough/insanely high fever/body aches I had last Spring was H1N1, and devoutly, wholly hoping that it was. Because damn I do not want to do that again.

So, yeah. The entire day in bed, wishing for a dipstick (quit snickering)(you know who you are) to tell me whether or not I was really sickening for cystitis and wondering if Heinlein and Ben & Jerry's have curative powers.* Apparently, they did; I feel better now than I've felt in a week. The Rat Wrangler came by to offer a hug and moral support; thanks to all of you who offered the same. The hug was delivered in person.

Oh, and Molly? I've read differing opinions about cranberry juice and extract, and have come up with only two solid things: first, that you should not take cranberries of any sort with Bactrim, as the cranberry binds to the Bactrim somehow and renders it less effective. Second, that cranberry extract can *prevent* UTIs, but only prevent--once you've got honest-to-Frog symptoms, it won't cure you. (Don't ask where I got that first bit of information; it probably came from Ken the Pharmacist at some point over a bottle of tequila. Speaking of Ken the Pharmacist, he said something weird the other day: "Of course I knew you were transferring to the CCU! You have a whole blog dedicated to the subject!" Which made me look at him narrowly, but if anybody can keep my secrets, Ken can. I still don't know how he found it, though.)

Anyway, yeah. Cranberry capsules, water, and EKGs and Friday**. That was my day. I feel like I have a better handle on EKGs than I ever realized before; I can recognize all of the lethal rhythms and know mostly how to treat them, and I can recognize a number of the nonlethal ones as well. The rhythms that still give me trouble are the blocks. Those will get woodshedded into my brain in the morning.

Meanwhile, Max is outside going ba-roo ba-roo, incredibly happy because it's not only raining, it's appropriately chilly, so he can act like the big furry Northern, kilt-wearing Protecto-Pooch that he is. It's going to be raining again tomorrow, so I'll be up early for bacon and waffles and a big cup of coffee and some....sigh....cranberry capsules.

Thanks for all the well-wishes and encouragement. My mood is much better now that I'm successfully, rather than half-assedly, fighting off this bug.

*So I guess, in retrospect, that I spent the day in bed with three men. Hi, Mom!

**Don't hate me. I tried Before The Golden Age and Ender's Game, and they were both too dense. So was Eating Right In The Renaissance (all of his footnotes are in Latin and Old French) and We Band Of Angels.