the continued adventures of Me, MD

I'm tired. Aren't you tired? I'm so tired.

The doctors appear to be satisfied not to know what's wrong with me, now that we've gotten my fever under control, and I appear to have successfully begged off the hospital wholesale. Here's the thing about the hospital: It's not a place you go to feel better, it's a place you go to get better. And if I'm not going to get better -- which I guess is the consensus? -- I'd rather do it here in the Fort closet drinking my own Gatorade and playing Minesweeper without a tube in my arm, thank-you-very-much.

Visiting Pittsburgh-area hero Loring came by this morning and helped me on a mission to do some photocopying and post-office errands. For some reason I was obsessed with sending in this residency application on time. We all know I'm not going to get the residency and that even if I did, I might not even be able to go. But sending it felt good, like I was being responsible. And hanging out with Loring felt good. So I think it was worth it.

I can't eat anything. I mean I can't have solid food. Not for a while, anyway. I tried breaking the rules as usual -- just one little egg, surely, couldn't hurt! -- but was then quickly reminded why breaking the rules is not behavior befitting Me, MD, who is becoming my primary doctor. Here is another reminder of why we ought not to eat the things we ought not to eat. Word, Cookie, and I'm sure someday you'll learn about the subjunctive.