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Jan. 15th, 2007 10:40 amYes, I'm still here.
Still here, still pregnant, 77 days 'til my due date.
I've got pain in all sorts of new places, and my body is behaving in ways that are wholly unrecognizable to me.
We're starting to talk about making a list and packing my bag for the hospital. Anybody got a list they want to share?
Otherwise, I'm working hard at trying to get my remaining handful of neurons to cooperate long enough to finish writing a(nother) grant proposal, and a proposal for a new schizophrenia panel. Er, that's not a panel to test for disease risk, but a panel to test for drug response and likelihood of certain nasty side effects.
It's all fascinating stuff, but trying to wrestle my brain into gear is like herding cats. I absolutely must get these things done, and soon. Still, the brain meanders.
I recorded 24 last night - although I think I only recorded the first hour - only on the off-chance that it may entertain me some evening when the boy is away. The return of Rome was exciting, but the season opener was little more than the expected finishing up of scenes from last season. Too much exposition, too little forward motion. That's alright, I'm still a fan.
My sleep is filled with strange dreams with elaborate plotlines, but I remember only nonsense when I awake. I'm waking up a dozen times or more a night, as the simple act of rolling over causes pain. That, and trips to the bathroom make for a restless night and a groggy me all day long. The fatigue of course makes it even more difficult to herd my neurons into line.
And of course, I've just been told more about a couple of presentations I'll be making in February. It's time to pull all these disparate bits of information together into something coherent.
Come on, brain, work with me.
I love my job, really I do. I'm even having fun playing with the blood. What I want to do, though, is spend my days at home with my needles and yarn and fabric.
Still here, still pregnant, 77 days 'til my due date.
I've got pain in all sorts of new places, and my body is behaving in ways that are wholly unrecognizable to me.
We're starting to talk about making a list and packing my bag for the hospital. Anybody got a list they want to share?
Otherwise, I'm working hard at trying to get my remaining handful of neurons to cooperate long enough to finish writing a(nother) grant proposal, and a proposal for a new schizophrenia panel. Er, that's not a panel to test for disease risk, but a panel to test for drug response and likelihood of certain nasty side effects.
It's all fascinating stuff, but trying to wrestle my brain into gear is like herding cats. I absolutely must get these things done, and soon. Still, the brain meanders.
I recorded 24 last night - although I think I only recorded the first hour - only on the off-chance that it may entertain me some evening when the boy is away. The return of Rome was exciting, but the season opener was little more than the expected finishing up of scenes from last season. Too much exposition, too little forward motion. That's alright, I'm still a fan.
My sleep is filled with strange dreams with elaborate plotlines, but I remember only nonsense when I awake. I'm waking up a dozen times or more a night, as the simple act of rolling over causes pain. That, and trips to the bathroom make for a restless night and a groggy me all day long. The fatigue of course makes it even more difficult to herd my neurons into line.
And of course, I've just been told more about a couple of presentations I'll be making in February. It's time to pull all these disparate bits of information together into something coherent.
Come on, brain, work with me.
I love my job, really I do. I'm even having fun playing with the blood. What I want to do, though, is spend my days at home with my needles and yarn and fabric.
