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I know that you can see that I'm a robot, too
Synopsis of today: having managed to get dressed and contemplate running errands, I flopped onto the couch and my niece climbed onto my back and rubbed her cheek in my hair and I said something like "Good little kitten," and when I woke up it was three hours later. I seem to be experiencing less brain fog than after the first shot, but much more exhaustion, achiness, and some wonkiness of blood pressure, e.g. I have been greying out while sitting down, which is completely unreasonable. Fortunately, my niece just seems happy to have me around, even in a state of semiconscious fever. She has taken to referring to herself in third person as "the cat" and appears prepared to communicate with me entirely in meows, purrs, and chirrups for the foreseeable future, except when she is ventriloquizing the very friendly and aerobatics-orented dragon she has named Aggro.
I feel bad about accidentally lying to the tech who gave me yesterday's shot. When he asked which arm I preferred, I told him it didn't make a difference; he was seated on my left side at the time and my left arm has been dedicatedly trying to fall off ever since; but he asked if I was ambidextrous and I answered in the negative, explaining that I could do just about everything with my left hand except write. This turns out not to be true. I can write with my left hand; I have tested it on both whiteboard and paper. It's just very sloppy and has a tendency to try to turn into mirror-writing. Then again, it was not easy for me to learn to write by hand as a child even right-handed; I was ten-fingered typing by age eight because it was so much easier and less physically painful. Taking notes and exams all through college and grad school consistently made my hand cramp. I have never composed seriously in longhand except for poems when I was stuck somewhere without my computer. I am right-eye dominant—determined when I started archery—but I feel I should cultivate this newfound ability, even though it will annoy me to do it badly. I imagine it will hurt less once the vaccine site in my shoulder stops radiating such a high level of profanity.
Last week was so high-stress that I don't even think I mentioned that I have been diagnosed with atypical pneumonia and referred to a pulmonologist. (The cats, however, are eating and Hestia is no longer hissing and swatting at her brother; I have photographic evidence of them sharing a heating grate.) On the sliding scale of things returning to normal, I would prefer not to need to return to seeing quite so many doctors on such a frequent basis.
I feel bad about accidentally lying to the tech who gave me yesterday's shot. When he asked which arm I preferred, I told him it didn't make a difference; he was seated on my left side at the time and my left arm has been dedicatedly trying to fall off ever since; but he asked if I was ambidextrous and I answered in the negative, explaining that I could do just about everything with my left hand except write. This turns out not to be true. I can write with my left hand; I have tested it on both whiteboard and paper. It's just very sloppy and has a tendency to try to turn into mirror-writing. Then again, it was not easy for me to learn to write by hand as a child even right-handed; I was ten-fingered typing by age eight because it was so much easier and less physically painful. Taking notes and exams all through college and grad school consistently made my hand cramp. I have never composed seriously in longhand except for poems when I was stuck somewhere without my computer. I am right-eye dominant—determined when I started archery—but I feel I should cultivate this newfound ability, even though it will annoy me to do it badly. I imagine it will hurt less once the vaccine site in my shoulder stops radiating such a high level of profanity.
Last week was so high-stress that I don't even think I mentioned that I have been diagnosed with atypical pneumonia and referred to a pulmonologist. (The cats, however, are eating and Hestia is no longer hissing and swatting at her brother; I have photographic evidence of them sharing a heating grate.) On the sliding scale of things returning to normal, I would prefer not to need to return to seeing quite so many doctors on such a frequent basis.
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Chag sameach, and I hope you feel all-around better very soon.
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All of your cats are adorable.
Nine
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I hope things get much better for you as soon as possible.
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Your niece is adorable.
I'm so glad the cats are eating and that Hestia recognizes her brother again. We took our own little black cats to be neutered about six months apart. When Ninja came home smelling of the vet, Nuit turned into a teakettle whenever he approached her, until he had washed the smell off. When Nu came home smelling wrong, Ninja pinned her down and washed her himself until she smelled right again.
P.
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Just making it to the couch may count as over-achievement given the combined effects.
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