Update

Usually, I hate January. I live in the northern hemisphere, it's cold and dark (yes, even in sunny California). Plus my mother died in January (yes, that was more than 20 years ago. Look, I've loosened up about Mother's Day, but January I'm never going to forgive. It doesn't care.) This year, January seems to be spilling over into February.

The good news; hey, that bronchitis? Something about that sucker is bacterial. Totally improbably, after 2.5 weeks of coughing paroxysms, and ANOTHER 4 lost days, the doctor said, well, it's probably just a second virus, but at this point, we might as well try an antibiotic. 7 hours into the zithromax, I was about 50% better. (Also, Tessalon Perles aka benzonatate? Cough suppressant that works! Woohoo! But albuterol, I still love you, if not GlaxoSmithKline.)

Unfortunately, 9 hours into the zithromax, just after Opal and I both fell asleep, the phone rang, and then I spent 5 or so hours in the emergency room with my father, who is still in the hospital although getting better. "You're looking perkier," I said "that's one of the things they said they needed to send you home." "Really?" said Ned, "The hospitalist said he needed to be perkier?" "Well, she put it in medical terminology. I mean, she said it was important for the anemia to be less symptomatic, but really, that's just how you say 'He's awful peaky still'" Ned mused about peaks vs. perks, which caused me to mutter about the Pekes vs. the Poms and T. S. Eliot. One gets punchy.