Picc-B-Gone!

I'm on a high now for numerous reasons. First, the ondansetron high continues. Sometimes I almost worry about going manic, so if you see me buying 50 baguettes like the Tom Wilkinson character in "Michael Clayton", please point out that not even Finley could eat fifty of them. Plus it's another incredibly beautiful day. And my student is going to the University of Copenhagen, on a fabulous three-year postdoc. Denmark has a strong topology tradition and it really is a great opportunity. I really haven't had many successful Ph.D. students, not at this level, so it's a huge boost for me. I have a ton of fun stuff going on this weekend, starting with the last two episodes of West Wing tonight (kinda bittersweet really), Cirque du Soleil tomorrow, and of course a little football game on Sunday. And on Monday, my first Italian lesson since December!

But, getting back to the actual purpose of this blog, the breaking news is that I am now Picc-less! At today's appointment at the urology clinic, Jina, Teri the Picc nurse and Susan all looked at my arm and responded with a facial expression equivalent to "Yuck!". I seem to have either cellulitis, contact dermatitis, or both, and although there is some risk as I said earlier with doing the last two infusions by ordinary intravenous, the risk of my current infection becoming systemic is greater and all agreed we should take it out. They got no argument from me, I can assure you. It's an incredible relief to be rid of the damn thing. Now I have to take antibiotics but they think it should improve within 24-36 hours. I can even take a shower without the dumb plastic sleeve, woo hoo!  The only freaky thing is that despite my supposed allergy to penicillin, they're prescribing some second generation penicillin derivative which they don't think I will react to, but "if you have trouble breathing go to the ER". Oh, great. But certainly not during the superbowl!

By the way, no one has answered my trivia question so I will: "Weasels ripped my flesh" was a c. 1970 album of Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention. The album cover showed a man shaving with an electric razor whose head was the head of a weasel that was ripping big chunks of flesh out of his cheek. Only Zappa could come up with that.

Also for those who have been reading it, the third and critical installment of "What's behind the sky" should appear within the next few days, so watch this space!