Yesterday was basically wasted due to an incident in the morning. I planned to go to the bank to close the account I had abandoned by leaving only 13 cents in it. This post would have been titled The bank wins had it not been for the incident. It turns out that the bank had a policy of charging me fees for a sub-minimum balance. I suppose I could have researched it and fought, or blown it off, but I decided to just cave, and exact my revenge by warning all friends away from this bank. So I paid the late fees of almost $35 and closed the account.
But before doing this I took my large probiotic pill and mineral oil, and the small minocycline pill. I was pleased that the probiotic pill went down, which meant I didn't have to tuck it into my cheek and patiently wait for it to dissolve. So I took the minocycline with some water and that went down as well, though I contained a cough or sneeze at the exact instant I swallowed it. That felt unpleasant and I proceeded to the bank. That must have been about 9:30 AM.
After getting out of the car, I had to spit copiously, several times. My throat was hurting, up by the palate, where the Eustachian tubes are. I worried that I might be getting a cold or flu.
In the bank I felt worse. My eyes were running and my head hurt, I perspired. I managed to sit and talk with the lady, who said I'll get a letter in the mail soon to confirm that the account is closed.
I felt like a zombie getting back into the car. I soaked several facial tissues. I wondered whether to drive home, or to the doctor's office. Once home, the nose, mouth and eyes were gushing.
I developed the theory that the suppressed cough had broken the pill's dissolvable casing and shoved it into my sinuses. That stuff is like a clear plastic before it melts. There were streaks of blood on some of the tissues I wiped my nose with, but not enough blood, I thought, to support my laceration theory.
My throat hurt a lot and I was still gushing and hacking and moaning. My breathing was all by mouth and not always unobstructed. I worried that at some point I might stop breathing, so I called my loyal wife. "I need you," I croaked. She abandoned her scheduled activity and came home.
I wrote her a note to explain my situation. I used a whole box of tissues and filled a large wastebasket with tissues, snot and spit while she watched.
At about 10:50 she made a 12:30 appointment for me, but by about 11:30 things had gotten a lot better and I was no longer gushing, coughing, or moaning. I sat up, and read blogs.
By 12:30 I was able to talk to the nurse, though my sweet wife did me the favor of telling most of the story.
I spent the rest of the day drinking Ensure, and eating chicken soup, and trying to get my energy back.
During all of this, the air in our house was split by the banging of pneumatic and conventional hammers operated by the guys completing the seismic work under the house.
What a wasted day. But I did close the bank account. And my cuddly wife also made an appointment for me to see the paleodentist who will build the palatal lift. No, there is no such thing as a paleodentist but that's what I call him instead of an prostheodentist.
Left grip is 20 pounds (17, 18, 20), right grip is 65 pounds (65, 61, 59).