Another day, another antibiotic

After the outrageously bad day I had yesterday, I’m happy to report that things are better. Way better. I didn’t suffer from alcohol poisoning, nor did I eat my weight in ice cream, and I didn’t impair anyone’s hearing or make any ears bleed with cuss-word-filled rants, so we’re doing well on the moderation front.

All I needed was a tall flute of my favorite elixir, Piper Sonoma, and the presence of good friends. Once again, Jill & Keith provided both, and the time spent inhaling the heady fragrance of their about-to-explode-in-blooms satsuma tree was wonderfully restorative. 

Each one of these highly fragrant flowers will become an orange, and Keith may well have to stand under that tree full-time to support the weight of all that fruit. I fully expect to see you on my doorstep with bags full of fruit, mister. I’ll eat ’em raw, juice ’em, and mix ’em with any manner of alcohol. Last year I didn’t get to witness the tree in its pre-fruit state, and now that I have, I plan to make this an annual event.

It’s springtime in Houston, which means horrific allergies from the myriad things blooming, but that’s one thing (maybe the only thing) I haven’t suffered from of late, so I can enjoy the flora & fauna without the sneezing & coughing. Perfect. As I speak (or type), I’m peering out my front window to the lake across the street where Payton spied an alligator this morning, noticing the wildflowers in bloom along the bank and the hyacinths blooming in the neighbor’s yard. I love them both. Wildflowers because they just exist (thanks, Lady Bird Johnson), and hyacinths because they bring the smell of spring into sharp focus.

All the local Bradford pear trees are blooming, and they are as showy and beautiful as always. When they’re not showing off their blooms, they stay full and green year-round, and those leaves even turn colors in the fall, which we don’t see much of in the land of eternal summer.

Not that I’m complaining. It’s currently 77 degrees, sunny, with puffy clouds in the sky. The usual hint of humidity lingers in the air, but it is Houston, after all.

My tulip tree has flung itself into bloom in the backyard, which is always a lovely site. It’s not nearly as showy as the Bradford pears, but more colorful and exotic, for sure. Love the deep pink and the huge petals of each flower. Considering how precious little attention anything in my yard has gotten from me, it’s a wonder there’s any color at all, but thanks to the gardening fairy, otherwise known as Ed, there is, and I’m enormously grateful, especially during my house arrest. And no, I’m not saying that Ed is a fairy. Just that he shows up and takes care of my plants when I can’t. That’s how rumors get started, and that’s just not nice.

I’m getting acquainted with Cubicin, my new antibiotic. It replaced the old standby, vancomycin, yesterday when I had an unexpected reaction to the IV vanco. So far Cubicin has done an admirable job of trying to assert its dominance over my weary body, but I’m reserving judgement on how successful it will be in that pursuit. For now, it’s bobbing and weaving with the most elemental of antibiotic side-effects, which is frequent trips to the bathroom. Big whoop. At the risk of poking the caged cat, I wonder if that’s all it’s got. I certainly hope so. What I really don’t need is a return to the inception of all this antibiotic therapy this summer, when the drugs waged a holy war on my gut and gained quite a stronghold. Siggi’s yogurt at $2.50 a cup was my best weapon; yes, I know that Dannon and Yoplait are a fraction of the price, but they are neither Islandic nor delicious enough to elicit haikus from satisfied customers like this:

Tangy sweet mouthful
Clean as snow and good and whole
Pudding of my heart.

so yes I will spend crazy money on Siggi’s again if I have to. Take that, Cubicin. 

I bet no one has ever written a haiku about Cubicin. It’s such a strange drug name that even though I’ve typed it here and via text at least 100 times in the last 12 hours, I still can’t wrap my head around it and have to double-check it again and again. Who names these drugs anyway?

Sounds like a future blog topic waiting to happen, right?

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9 Comments on “Another day, another antibiotic”

  1. Kayte says:

    Glad to hear that you, too, are having a flowery day.

    Cubicin, the Picassonator.

  2. […] Another day, another antibiotic | The Pink Underbelly […]

  3. Eddie says:

    Happy to hear your feeling better, physically and emotionally. Spring booms do help, at the risk of sounding like a fairy! I too wonder who names medications. My current favorite is an acid reflux med called aciphex. It’s pronounced ass-effects and I always wonder how not one person questioned a name that sounds like an unpleasant side-effect. Keep the blog coming you’re a voice that should be heard, even if it does induce bleeding from the ears.

  4. Jody Hicks says:

    Loved your photos – it’s amazing how flowers can lift your spirits despite your circumstances. Our Bradford pears are at the peak right now; several of the streets in our neighborhood are lined with them, and they are breathtaking. But early this morning on the way to church they were particularly lovely with a dusting of snow all around them!!! (And to think that only five days ago I was in the garden pulling weeds, and getting hot!)

  5. Trevor Hicks says:

    I’m at the airport lounge and a lady just sat next to me with an “Aciphex” bag. I tired to make it look like I was laughing at something on my phone.

  6. […] And because I’m a DOCTOR, I must prescribe PILLS! […]

  7. […] And of course, I had to take antibiotics. […]


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