A Farewell to Clindamycin
I'll be done with my damn' antibiotics today, calloo, callay! Just as well, since I've been fumbling my dosage schedule the last couple of days. I can only hope that my elder years do not hold quite so intensive a dosage regimen, since I am clearly not constituted to remember to bring the damn' drugs along all day. If at some point I permanently pick up a four-times-daily drug, I see a self-timed, alarm-enabled, fur-lined pill cozy in my future. I hope they come in colors other than baby blue, baby pink, and beige. The Boomers are way overdue in generating a trend for attractive, hip, brightly colored pharmaceutical caddies. Or maybe I just haven't looked recently. After all, Sue had one heck of an attractive psychedelic-swirl anodized walking cane when we saw her at Orycon.
Still, for now we must make sure all my flora are good and dead, lest drug-resistant killer zombie bacillae arise. So I forge ahead, popping blue pills and thinking of Myst Classic as I do it. "Blue pills! Give me the blue pills!" (Yeah. Yeah. Pills. Pages. Whatever. It's all blue.)
It sure will be nice to have that constant bitter tang out of my mouth some day. And my ears are very close to clear, so that's all right, then.
Still, for now we must make sure all my flora are good and dead, lest drug-resistant killer zombie bacillae arise. So I forge ahead, popping blue pills and thinking of Myst Classic as I do it. "Blue pills! Give me the blue pills!" (Yeah. Yeah. Pills. Pages. Whatever. It's all blue.)
It sure will be nice to have that constant bitter tang out of my mouth some day. And my ears are very close to clear, so that's all right, then.