Thread by @seanchaibeag

#LongCovid is weird, part 4,792:
Mom: My covid toes are flaring up again. Are your toenails coming off in sheets, too?
Me: Like mica? Yes, it's a bit gruesome tbh.
Mom: They were back to normal for a bit!
Me: Yup. And now they're not.

"Like mica" sounds funny, but it's really becoming a safety issue in my case because my sensation in my feet is compromised enough that I can snag a layer, not feel it, and, well... have a bloody mess on my hands. And in my sock, come to that.

And tonight's phantosmia is.... wet dog! I refuse to divulge how long I checked my sick, not-especially-mobile cat over to make sure it wasn't him before realizing no, not coming from him; that smell is wet *canine*. I haven't had a dog in 12 years.

The fun continues. Just dozed off for 20 minutes and woke up with a massive O2 dep headache and a sat of 87 *while wearing O2*, so this is an interesting puzzle to solve while hypoxic. (I'll be fine, it's coming up now, but god am I glad I have good practical pulmonology skillz.)

Who knew that being that geeky kid who begged every RT they saw to teach them all the maths and how to run all the equipment would pay off *many many* times over?

Well, I kinda did. Having lungs that don't like to lung was a motivating factor. Still, thanks, nerdy kid self!

I did not, however, anticipate turning into some sort of SuperCripPulmoGeek hybrid, as seemed to happen somewhere along the line. I'm sitting here thinking "87's not good, but there was that time when *three* of you were turning blue on the back deck and everybody lived, so..."

That's one of many stories that's too long for Twitter, but it starts "I was feeling sorry for myself at 2 am" and ends "and that's how we found out the MN cops were looking for us" and there's a picc line dressing change in a moving car and... as I said, too long for Twitter.

Anyway, I've navel-gazed my way back up to 96, so time to try that bed thing again.