Yesterday I was worn out. This morning I woke up sick (sicker than I have been lately), and things have gotten worse as the day has progressed. (The day has progressed, I have regressed.) I’m assuming it’s a sinus infection. Unless it’s the flu again (that would seriously suck), it’s almost always a sinus infection, and–at least in my mind–I’ve been fighting a sinus infection for one week shy of five months now. Granted, it backs off now and then, but I haven’t felt like myself since the beginning of last October.

As the Post-It Note in the above photo communicates, I am over this.

This afternoon and again this evening I got out of the house to buy kimchi, since rubbing fermented cabbage juice on the inside of my nostrils is the only thing I’ve tried in the last five months that has seemed to make a remarkable and sometimes-quick difference. As I’ve mentioned before, it contains a specific strand of bacteria that is useful in fighting sinus infections, but the problem is that the bacteria doesn’t show up in every jar, or–if it does–can die off before the product itself reaches its expiration date. So it’s a crap shoot.

My search for kimchi this evening sent me, once again, to the Asian food market, which is basically like one big meat locker. I mean, it’s freezing. Even the check-out lady had a coat on tonight. Personally, I think they should turn the heater on, especially if they want people spend some time there. You know, get comfortable, look around. Of course, the heat would probably make the place smell terrible, since they have all that raw fish in there. But I digress. Tonight I noticed a new product on the shelves–next to the kimchi. It’s called sweet tamarind, and apparently it’s a fruit. I took a picture of it, since it looks like I feel.

Like poop.

Now this post is already longer than I intended. After going to the Asian food market, I stopped by to see my dad in the hospital. They are talking about doing his heart catheterization tomorrow. Dad said, “Marcus, you’ve got to take care of you. I’m here taking care of me, and you’ve got to take care of you. Go home. Get some rest.” So that’s what I’m about to do, get some rest. Mostly I’m trying to “hang in there.” Not that I have much choice in the matter, but I honestly don’t mind being sick now and then. But I’m tired of being generally sick then getting really sick every few weeks. (That’s my gripe, Lord. What’s yours?) In short, my emotional reserves are low. Still, I see the immunologist four weeks from tomorrow, and surely I can stick things out for another month. After all, I’ve come this far.