On relativity

Funny--nothing inspires an urge to write as much as not having a computer at hand, and nothing inspires procrastination and paperpushing deskwork as much as a blank screen staring out from the computer.

So the update. Back to the hospital and all.
They're getting a great sense of what all it's not.
"It's good that the [parasitic] tests came up negative, but is very easy to get false negatives. And since all the other tests came up negative, too, I want to keep you on the parasite medication because sometimes giardia is hard to kill. It's good that some of the symptoms have been going away, and you have made some physical progress, but I was hoping you'd get further."

My weight was up to 42 with a BP of 92/48 and the edemas have subsided--It's a mixed blessing because now instead of devoting every scrap I can muster to staying upright and appearing fully functional, there's the occasional chance to realize and explore how bad my body feels. When there's enough other distraction, it's easy to overlook the way it hurts when your knees pinch and knock against each other all night, or how knobby the coccyx gets if you don't roll over frequently enough, or to feel how sore and tired the muscles get by the end of the day.
Ibuprofen or something comparable is tempting, but at the same time the ache of muscles exerted beyond their comfortably relaxed state isn't necessarily a bad feeling--it doesn't sap energy or kill interest/enthusiasm like the soggy blanket of aching fever and chills with nausea and joint inflammation and an additional bit of voracious nastiness in the leg. It's just embarrassing how little it takes to get the post-workout feeling.
And in bad moments it's also disheartening to catch the new habits or failure of the old--putting a soda bottle between the legs and having it fall straight through, cinching the tie to neckline and realizing I just crinkled and scrunched my collar, walking up in a beeline to the toilet without becoming aware of needing it, having the gift of an afternoon hour when I don't need to be flat on my back with my legs in the air to help them drain, cranking the watch down another notch. I keep tripping over my shoes because I'm used to the feeling of my feet being clutched by leather stretched to ripping, not cavernous space.
But how fantastic to have muscle and joint aches and pains, especially with enough energy to recognize and pay attention to them! Ankles! Real ankles over working feet! Cool!
Damn my legs hurt--wow! It's not the sickly ache of infection or acute and piercing scream of inflammation! Just imagine how great it would be if there was enough oomph left over to bulk up the legs as they squat over the pit, let alone getting rid of the need to do so in the first place! (In my head, I'm hearing Satchmo singing with cartoon birdies twittering around amid Kinkade-style God light.)

So she doubled the parasitic treatment. "If you were Thai, I would have given you something to stop the diarrhea, but I wanted to make sure it wasn't parasitic first. And I will book you for an endoscopy and colonoscopy in a couple of weeks. If it goes away, call me and we can change the appointment. Otherwise, you need to come in for more testing."

So that's where it stands. "Better" and "good" are entirely relative, but for the first time in a very, very long time, they're appropriate.
Which is a damn good thing because I don't have any more holes in my watchband.