My foot went from "no pain" to "most pain since burst appendix," and I'm glad I took an oxycodone prescription. I'm not glad for having to take it, but it's a low dose extended release with naloxone core that gives me next to nothing to associate with pleasure. We'll see in three weeks. Until then, it's drifting between islands of lucidity. The analogy also works on the persistent sea-sickness level. One of the Ukrainian 'cousins' I got back with the first wave came to help me, and she ended up staying at first, but now comes by every few days. It's honestly unnecessary, but it's what I'd do in her place anyway. I appreciate having someone to talk to, though. I got a call about what I understood as possibly of changing that initial kinda-postdoc contract mentioned some weeks ago into assistant professorship. Though, really, I don't get or care for admin drivel even when sober, and now it's kind of a challenge to follow interesting shit.
No need to apologize, definitely not with what's going on in your life. No, I'm not in the hospital; it's just broken metatarsals, not foot reconstruction. Doc at orthopaedics told me it can get painful (gave detained reasons that I for the love of god can't recall), though I didn't expect it to get this bad, so suddenly.