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Tuesday, Remember what I was saying yesterday about decent medical coverage in Sweden? Ignore it. Lyndon was still feeling tired and miserable this morning, so I took a few hours off and headed over to the doctor's office with him. Which turned out to be completely pointless -- apparently the doctor took a cursory look at him, said it looked like a viral infection of some sort, and gave him a scrip for penicillin with instructions to get it filled if he still felt bad tomorrow. My reaction was -- "Wha?" I mean, I'm not quite sure if the doc was busy thinking about his vacation and blanked on this or what, but you don't give penicillin for a viral infection. Antibiotics are for bacterial infections, and it's this sort of stupid kneejerk prescription that just helps breed antibiotic-resistant strains of bacteria. Argh. In any case, I took Lyn home and put him back to bed so he could try sleeping whatever it is off. It seemed to work -- he woke up this evening feeling much perkier. Now if we can just manage to keep skeeters away from him. . . 
OBWriting -- 12,000 words on the shared universe piece, now, "Daughters of Men" continues apace, and I've got a germ of an idea floating around and whapping me lightly. Gonna have to sketch this thing out in words, see what I get. . . |
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