Since I just cannot stop puking my doctor prescribed another damn medication. Which my insurance refuses to cover. And it is 1300 hundred dollars.
So I guess I will keep vomiting.
One thing cheered me up. Uncle Chris spent most of last month in Chicago and bought out the Wrigleyville store for me. He sent some awesome t-shirts for me, a pink hat (which was a lovely and thoughtful idea even if I RAIL against the pink sporting goods industrial complex), and a onsie for what he termed the player to be named later.
He doesn't like people to know he is a nice guy but he is awesome.
I offered to lie to whatever hootch he is trying to bend over a bar this week but he said no need.
I am confused by this display of morals.