A fungus among us.

Went to see my Doc today - local primary care doc. Good guy, actually went to grade through high school with him. Anyway, I was there to let him see my rash, which has gotten really nasty, burning, and itchy. I told him what was up, what my Transplant docs said, and he took a look and thinks it's fungal. Explains why steroids aren't working, and makes sense since I am not on any anti-fungal meds right now (see entry where I complain about Diflucan and my insurance covering 7 days only). I also regained use of my smeller today (after many many moons) and I noticed a cigarette odor that permeates the interior of my car, as well as a lot of other odors.

When I came home, my mother was there helping Steph out with the twins. She was also cooking something, which I thought smelled atrociously bad, Turns out that a mix of my smeller working and a fungal rash under my arms equals something not so good for my olfactus. Damn I stink.

Still having trouble getting my Prograf and Acyclovir. This time, however, it is my doc's office dragging the feet, leaving me without the meds they say I can't not have. Leads me to trust docs even less.

The boys have been cranky today. One cranky baby is one thing, but in stereo is a completely frustrating exercise in. . . well, dammit, I just don't know but it is frustrating. Just go to sleep. SLEEP!

I have an interview, excuse me, a PHONE interview for a job in PA, about an hour commute, but I'd be making some decent money, especially considering my current wage (disability plus whatever little bits and pieces I can scrape together with design - it doesn't pay the mortgage, that's for sure). He called today while I was tending to a crybaby, so I asked if I could call him back in 15. Instead, he offered to call back at 4. He never did. I'm sure he got busy. I'm kind of excited, though, my third interview in over one hundred applications. They didn't balk at my salary req's.

La-dee-da. I have some work to do, but I can't do it in fifteen minute spurts, it just doesn't work that way, and considering the boys today, fifteen minutes of time would be generous. Right now we are restraining ourselves, letting them cry for fifteen minutes before going in to see what's up. We've forgotten the way. I think I'll record some of this later and post it on a playlist for you all. So we're watching a Tivo'd Supernatural and waiting. . .

Michael J. Fauver has a large schlong. Seriously. It causes him to pee through his diaper at least once a day. The diapers are small because he was a preemie, but the problem is that his penis is too large and doesn't quite fit right in the diaper. A predicament now, but I'm sure he'll think a Godsend late in life.

Wait. . . I think it stopped.

Damn, no such luck.

I can't really concentrate on Supernatural with all this noise. Ha! I win, Steph went in first!

Damn, she's calling me. There are no winners with twins.