Two hours and a couple of pricked fingers later.... (yes, there's blood involved)

First, a piece of general health news: I'm off at Ipsos until January 24th while they try to lock down my anti-depressant load. *grimace* This is both frustrating and embarassing. My pysch doc has promised he'll try to pull some strings and slot me back into a repeat of the Dialectical Behavioral Theraphy (DBT) course I took a few years back which had such excellent results. Apparently some people need to repeat the course several times. This manages to make me feel a bit less like a failure.

( Yesterday's diabetes headlines )

Then, last night -- By My Uterus Betrayed! Part... oh, man, I've lost count. The wretched thing went on a merry projectile bleeding spree last night, then bled straight through one pad and all over the mattress. I awoke smeared in my own blood. NRG! (On the other hand, George at least was philosophical about it, unlike the husband of a friend of mine who still hasn't gotten used to the fact that women have their monthly courses and the spilling of blood is involved. What did Mister Garrison say on South Park? "Never trust anything that bleeds for five days and doesn't die...")