It's been a month since I posted. Sorry 'bout that. We are in our "survey window" at work, which means we could have the state inspectors come at any time to sift through records and find fault with things they may have been perfectly fine with before, but certainly anything that is not caught up. And it seems I am constantly trying to catch up, keep up, or beat the next deadline. Two weeks in a row with only one night that I didn't work late, take work home, or both. At the end of that stretch I got a call from a neighbor: Would we have use for a home-cooked meal? I nearly cried. I was coming home at 8 in the evening and just about to try to pull together a meal. It was a Godsend in the truest sense of the word. That was last Thursday. Sunday I came down with a head cold. Really, it could have been a lot worse, but until today I felt like I had a fishbowl over my head that I was trying to think in and see through. I skipped the gym this morning and woke up the two hours later feeling a bit more human. 'Course now that I've made it to the end of the day, I'm once again too pooped to pop.
Mozart had his 3 yr doctors appointment today. 3ft tall. 33 pounds. There's gotta be luck in those numbers. Not for him in the visit though as he had to have a shot. Hepatitis as he's on a delayed schedule. He, for some reason, thought it was a flu shot and protested heartily, "NO! I don't need a flu shot, I'm not sick!" Then after the traumatic event, "I never gonna get another flu shot again." After explaining, once again, that it was not the flu shot, and he needs it so he can stay healthy, he says, "That 'titis shot hurts too much, that's why I don't need one. That lady (the nurse) hurt me, but not the doctor, he just have me a check-up."
Alright, I'm falling asleep typing. Past bedtime and heaven's knows I need the rest. 'Night all.
Oh, yeah, potty training is going alright ~ we are brave enough to go on little jaunts now without diaper bag and changes of clothes in tow. I just have to have the "magic toilet seat" at all times, so he has something that he feels safe to sit on. And really, whoever came up with automatic flushing toilets and other bathroom fixtures clearly never dealt with the after-effects of these horrifying devices with a small child. They are terrifying.
Showing posts with label Sick. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sick. Show all posts
A Bad Thing.
This past week has been consumed by the dreaded stomach bug. First Mozart, then TW. I have gratefully (am now I am furiously knocking on wood) managed to avoid it. There have been many comical moments during this time. Many not-so-comical moments. I will share some of the comical:
Mozart, through barely open, puffed up and watery eyes, in a tired and barely audible voice, "No, I good. I not sick anymore. Went to the doctor. All better now." And then he promptly fell asleep.
In the middle of the night, "Mama, I awake now. Let's go downstairs, have breakfast." Me, "No, sweetheart, it's still sleeping time." Mozart, "Ok, I just need some water. Can I have some water?" Me, "Yes, of course, where is your cup?" He pulls it out and shows it to me, and I say, "Go ahead. Have some." He looks surprised by the idea, and said, "Can I?" Me, "Yes, darling, go ahead." He drinks deeply and says, "Thanks. Now you can turn off the light."
Yesterday morning, while I was not sure I would get by without a run-in with said stomach bug, I sat, feeling rather green, and had a large bowl next to me. Mozart comes over, looks at me, looks at the bowl, picks it up and fake-pukes into the bowl. Charming. Very charming.
I will not share the not-so-comical moments of the last week. They are just too horrible.
Mozart, through barely open, puffed up and watery eyes, in a tired and barely audible voice, "No, I good. I not sick anymore. Went to the doctor. All better now." And then he promptly fell asleep.
In the middle of the night, "Mama, I awake now. Let's go downstairs, have breakfast." Me, "No, sweetheart, it's still sleeping time." Mozart, "Ok, I just need some water. Can I have some water?" Me, "Yes, of course, where is your cup?" He pulls it out and shows it to me, and I say, "Go ahead. Have some." He looks surprised by the idea, and said, "Can I?" Me, "Yes, darling, go ahead." He drinks deeply and says, "Thanks. Now you can turn off the light."
Yesterday morning, while I was not sure I would get by without a run-in with said stomach bug, I sat, feeling rather green, and had a large bowl next to me. Mozart comes over, looks at me, looks at the bowl, picks it up and fake-pukes into the bowl. Charming. Very charming.
I will not share the not-so-comical moments of the last week. They are just too horrible.
Dinosaur bites and other ailments.
The other day when I picked up Mozart, he pointed out an owie on his arm. It looked worrisome. I don't know that it would have looked worrisome had his little friend, Goose, not come down with a staff infection earlier in the week. But Mme. Child sent me a photo and the owie looked suspiciously similar - angry red with a whitehead in the middle. I called the after hours line for the doctor and described it. Got the advice to put antibiotic cream on it and to make an appointment the next day.
Meanwhile what Mozart had been describing as his "bug bite" got promoted to his "dinosaur bit".
I just love this kid. He hears that we seem to be more concerned about something than his usual owie - generally bug bites, and so obviously, what he has must be something much more serious!
But then, fast forward to going to seen doctor the next day. He was very impressed with his band-aid (Elmo characters) all morning long, but when the doctor asked him why he came in he says, with a very serious tone, "I just got this cough from Kiki's."
Really? I mean, I did notice that he had been a little congested, but from the moment he said "dinosaur bite" all he talked about was going to the doctor to have it checked!
So I pointed out the owie, which did look better by then, and the doctor said that maybe it was and maybe it wasn't staff, but it was too early to tell. In the end, Mozart stayed home from Kiki's, the owie resolved itself with the OTC antibiotic cream and no script needed, and true to his prediction Mozart developed a little cough that turned into a bit of a bigger cough over the weekend.
He seems to be feeling better. I now seem to have acquired his little cough. So with that, I will turn in early and try mightily to kick this little cough to the curb.
Meanwhile what Mozart had been describing as his "bug bite" got promoted to his "dinosaur bit".
I just love this kid. He hears that we seem to be more concerned about something than his usual owie - generally bug bites, and so obviously, what he has must be something much more serious!
But then, fast forward to going to seen doctor the next day. He was very impressed with his band-aid (Elmo characters) all morning long, but when the doctor asked him why he came in he says, with a very serious tone, "I just got this cough from Kiki's."
Really? I mean, I did notice that he had been a little congested, but from the moment he said "dinosaur bite" all he talked about was going to the doctor to have it checked!
So I pointed out the owie, which did look better by then, and the doctor said that maybe it was and maybe it wasn't staff, but it was too early to tell. In the end, Mozart stayed home from Kiki's, the owie resolved itself with the OTC antibiotic cream and no script needed, and true to his prediction Mozart developed a little cough that turned into a bit of a bigger cough over the weekend.
He seems to be feeling better. I now seem to have acquired his little cough. So with that, I will turn in early and try mightily to kick this little cough to the curb.
I haven't slept well since I tumbled down the stairs. The back pain is mostly gone during the day, but has woken me up multiple times every night. It has traveled. While the chiropractor diagnosed a sprained lower back, the pain seems to have traveled upwards and settled, sharply, between my shoulder blades. Perhaps it's the lack of sleep, or maybe I was harboring it all along, but I now have an incredible cold. Once again, I am stuffy-faced, drippy-nosed, and fully wiped out.
And then the Wife woke up with the stomach bug or flu or something.
Mozart is still going full force. He chatters nonstop. It is tiring, but completely endearing.
We've got two days to gather our health together before Prancer and Goose come over for Round Two of Mozart's birthday. May the stars be with us.
And then the Wife woke up with the stomach bug or flu or something.
Mozart is still going full force. He chatters nonstop. It is tiring, but completely endearing.
We've got two days to gather our health together before Prancer and Goose come over for Round Two of Mozart's birthday. May the stars be with us.
Germs.
I was a little concerned that Mozart's impression of a Clingon over the weekend meant he was getting sick. He continues to be well. I, however, have a head-cold to beat the band. Sneezy. Stuffy. Drippy. Mess. I thought about calling in today, but managed to get myself up and at 'em.
During a meeting one of my coworkers, who is scheduled to leave for a cruise in a week, and who was sitting two down from me, was making a great show of protecting herself from my germs. Everyone was chiding her somewhat for it, and then, without my permission, my pen flew from my (germ-laden) hand and directly in front of her. I'm not sure I can describe the room at that point. She and the women between us reared back to avoid it as I screamed, "Don't touch it!" And apologizing profusely, went to gather it up. Said coworker had no problem not touching it. In fact after rearing back she leapt out of her chair to get disinfecting materials.
I did not mean to do that. I promise and swear and cross my heart and everything. I will never, ever live it down if she so much as sneezes on her cruise.
During a meeting one of my coworkers, who is scheduled to leave for a cruise in a week, and who was sitting two down from me, was making a great show of protecting herself from my germs. Everyone was chiding her somewhat for it, and then, without my permission, my pen flew from my (germ-laden) hand and directly in front of her. I'm not sure I can describe the room at that point. She and the women between us reared back to avoid it as I screamed, "Don't touch it!" And apologizing profusely, went to gather it up. Said coworker had no problem not touching it. In fact after rearing back she leapt out of her chair to get disinfecting materials.
I did not mean to do that. I promise and swear and cross my heart and everything. I will never, ever live it down if she so much as sneezes on her cruise.
Most grateful...
...to Cake Master for her delivery of a space heater and a wonderful care package!! I was certainly not looking for handouts (sympathy and outrage, sure...) in that last post about our financial/heating woes , but that was the most thoughtful gesture! Thank-you!!
And boy are we using the whole mess of kindness today!! Mozart was sent home from daycare today with a fever, so I left work in a rush and scooped him up to come home to - wait for it - 45 degrees again. *sigh*
But, the heat is on again and while the rest of the house is still very cold, the living room, where we are watching a riveting video of Thomas the Tank Engine, is bearable. And by the time the Wife gets home, dinner is ready, and I head back to work to wrap things up before a big meeting tomorrow, we'll be at our balmy 57 once again...
And boy are we using the whole mess of kindness today!! Mozart was sent home from daycare today with a fever, so I left work in a rush and scooped him up to come home to - wait for it - 45 degrees again. *sigh*
But, the heat is on again and while the rest of the house is still very cold, the living room, where we are watching a riveting video of Thomas the Tank Engine, is bearable. And by the time the Wife gets home, dinner is ready, and I head back to work to wrap things up before a big meeting tomorrow, we'll be at our balmy 57 once again...
Mouse!
Mozart's thing these days is Stuart Little - well, Elmo and Stuart Little. It could be worse, really. I think it's a cute video. And it's a good thing 'cuz over the past week we must have watched it at least 15 times. I always strove to be one of those moms whose kids don't know what t.v. is. And, really, I still do. But that has gone by the wayside because, what can I say, if it affords a Mama a bit of worry-free rest, it's worth its weight in gold.
So along with this new-found obsession of his, he has taken to saying, "Mas! Mas! Mas!" Somewhat constantly. For some time, I wondered where he learned the Spanish word for more. The context always seemed to fit. But then I realized it was really "Mouse!" that he was saying. He's eating and he says, mas. He's playing with his toys and he says, mas. He looks in my belly button, and you guessed it, he says, mas. In the dryer, mas. In his shoe basket, mas. Down his pants, mas (he's a boy, what can I say). In the toilet, mas. Yeah, you get the picture.
So this morning we are going through the usual routine. Kind of, for I went to work for the first time in a week today, and was doing the routine myself as the Wife is now down with this terrible flu. As I'm getting Mozart ready he has a toy truck and is talking about mouse this and mouse that and can we watch mouse, etc, etc. I am in kind of a hurried daze as I'm trying to dress him and make myself look presentable.
I manage to get him fully outfitted and put him down, making my way into this odd little room we call the dressing room (it contains several sets of drawers, a bureau, an open wardrobe and a vanity) to, well, get dressed. Mozart tags along behind me and I am wishing he would stop asking to watch mouse and just play with his toys. As I am putting the iron away, I note that he suddenly looks very interested in his toys that are strewn about as he toddles over to them saying, "Mas!"
I let out a sigh of relief, and follow this by an immediate shriek. Mozart has bent over and is holding in both of his chubby little hands A MOUSE! And I don't mean a toy mouse here folks, no, this is no Stuart Little, this is a for-real-kind-of-vermin-mouse! And instinct takes over and I swipe it out of his hands, and now I'M HOLDING THE MOUSE!! With my bare hands! Ack!!! I scream to the Wife that she's got to get up and wash the Boy's hands immediately because he just had a mouse in 'em and now I've got to do something with it! Bless her, she moved faster than I've ever seen her get out of bed ever before.
I took the little beast outside. I realized as I was doing so that it was dead as it was a) not moving and b) cold. I also realized that it was quite soft, poor thing, and no wonder why Mozart was so thrilled. He probably thought it was a new stuffed toy. I am just glad that I was paying attention enough to have grabbed the thing from him before he kissed it. He's also very into kissing things lately...
So along with this new-found obsession of his, he has taken to saying, "Mas! Mas! Mas!" Somewhat constantly. For some time, I wondered where he learned the Spanish word for more. The context always seemed to fit. But then I realized it was really "Mouse!" that he was saying. He's eating and he says, mas. He's playing with his toys and he says, mas. He looks in my belly button, and you guessed it, he says, mas. In the dryer, mas. In his shoe basket, mas. Down his pants, mas (he's a boy, what can I say). In the toilet, mas. Yeah, you get the picture.
So this morning we are going through the usual routine. Kind of, for I went to work for the first time in a week today, and was doing the routine myself as the Wife is now down with this terrible flu. As I'm getting Mozart ready he has a toy truck and is talking about mouse this and mouse that and can we watch mouse, etc, etc. I am in kind of a hurried daze as I'm trying to dress him and make myself look presentable.
I manage to get him fully outfitted and put him down, making my way into this odd little room we call the dressing room (it contains several sets of drawers, a bureau, an open wardrobe and a vanity) to, well, get dressed. Mozart tags along behind me and I am wishing he would stop asking to watch mouse and just play with his toys. As I am putting the iron away, I note that he suddenly looks very interested in his toys that are strewn about as he toddles over to them saying, "Mas!"
I let out a sigh of relief, and follow this by an immediate shriek. Mozart has bent over and is holding in both of his chubby little hands A MOUSE! And I don't mean a toy mouse here folks, no, this is no Stuart Little, this is a for-real-kind-of-vermin-mouse! And instinct takes over and I swipe it out of his hands, and now I'M HOLDING THE MOUSE!! With my bare hands! Ack!!! I scream to the Wife that she's got to get up and wash the Boy's hands immediately because he just had a mouse in 'em and now I've got to do something with it! Bless her, she moved faster than I've ever seen her get out of bed ever before.
I took the little beast outside. I realized as I was doing so that it was dead as it was a) not moving and b) cold. I also realized that it was quite soft, poor thing, and no wonder why Mozart was so thrilled. He probably thought it was a new stuffed toy. I am just glad that I was paying attention enough to have grabbed the thing from him before he kissed it. He's also very into kissing things lately...
Flu - still
Still got it. The Boy is ok. Thank the Goddess. Mommy is down. I've never missed this much work at one time. We are keeping Healthy Choice in business - on our 2nd case of chicken soup.
Flu - bleh
Mozart got a clean bill of health today. I was not so lucky.
Freezing cold, shivering, hot sweats, prickly skin, achey joints, headachey, super thirsty, but don't want to drink anything, slightly queasy, no goodness.
And seriously. How is it I can be so hot and feel like the marrow in my bones is freezing at the same time?
Freezing cold, shivering, hot sweats, prickly skin, achey joints, headachey, super thirsty, but don't want to drink anything, slightly queasy, no goodness.
And seriously. How is it I can be so hot and feel like the marrow in my bones is freezing at the same time?
A new cycle begins.
And so Mercury is finally out of Retrograde. I'm no astrology buff, but I gotta say, with the last couple months we've had, this is a HUGE relief. I don't know what this new cycle is, but I'm already looking forward to it.
Mercury came out of Retrograde with a bang, though. Mozart hadn't been feeling well for about a week and woke up on Sunday not quite himself. I'm not one to overreact with kid-stuff anymore. Poor Mozart - they say that after the first kid, parents tend not to freak out about the little stuff anymore. And by the third kid, a parent may not think to take their kid with a fractured arm to the hospital (this happened to the Wife - she reports having to "cry in my bed for hours before she eventually took me"). Well, having been foster parents, we don't overreact about kid stuff, and in that department we might have what you call the Duggar Syndrome (just now named after that family with insanely-crazy and ever-growing numbers of children), after having had 17 kids through the house.
So, yeah, he was sick on Sunday. I noticed it in the morning when he slept until 8:30am (what!?!, and YAHOO!!, and, um, wow, that NEVER happened before). Then he was wheezy and raspy and breathing kinda quick. He was running around like usual most of the time, but then would poop out and get clingy. After nap, instead of running about and playing he crawled up on the couch and just lay there like a tired old man. I should have been alarmed. Instead, I took a picture. By that night though, I started to get this nagging feeling that it might be more serious, and started to worry about him all on his own in his room by himself while we slept.
I'd recently heard about RSV and how dangerous it could be (somehow I missed the hype about it when we were foster parents), and thought to look it up. Well, yeah, the website said this:
So we did. His respirations were 66 (much to high) and his oxygen levels were 92 (too low). They gave him Albuterol and a chest x-ray* and five hours later, after some talk of him not being where they'd like to see him yet with his oxygen levels, we were discharged with diagnoses of "acute asthma attack" and "bronchiolitis, possibly caused by RSV", nebulizer for more Albuterol treatments and an antibiotic. They said to give him the neb treatment when we got home and every four hours if he needed it, but that we shouldn't wake him because he'll wake up if he needs a treatment.
Well, he woke up two hours later. Definitely needing another treatment. The Duggar Syndrome was now completely gone and replaced by Frantic First Mommy Syndrome. Thankfully, I had enough sense to call the ER, rather than just taking him back for another $100, and they said he could really have it every two hours, but if it was any less than that or if the treatment didn't work, then we did need to take him back in.
Somehow we made it through the night, and I stayed home with him in a sleepless/stupefied state. Took him into his regular pedi and they did the RSV test there and a script for Prednisone to help the Albuterol work** because it was still not working as well as he'd have liked. The pedi is not giving him a diagnosis of Asthma - yet - because this is only his 2nd episode of weird respiratory stuff. The test for RSV came back negative today. This is a huge relief, in a way, but also begs the question of why he had such a problem. The pedi says that it could be asthma - I have the exercise induced kind - and also, because I took so much Tylenol during my pregnancy with Mozart (seriously, three times a day, every day for the last two trimesters, didn't touch the pain) and they have recently come out with a study saying there is a link (apparently, there are other studies, but I didn't ever hear about this until after he was born!!), but he's still not ready to give the diagnosis.
Anyhoo, we all survived, and we're ready for that new cycle now. But a couple things of note:
Mercury came out of Retrograde with a bang, though. Mozart hadn't been feeling well for about a week and woke up on Sunday not quite himself. I'm not one to overreact with kid-stuff anymore. Poor Mozart - they say that after the first kid, parents tend not to freak out about the little stuff anymore. And by the third kid, a parent may not think to take their kid with a fractured arm to the hospital (this happened to the Wife - she reports having to "cry in my bed for hours before she eventually took me"). Well, having been foster parents, we don't overreact about kid stuff, and in that department we might have what you call the Duggar Syndrome (just now named after that family with insanely-crazy and ever-growing numbers of children), after having had 17 kids through the house.
So, yeah, he was sick on Sunday. I noticed it in the morning when he slept until 8:30am (what!?!, and YAHOO!!, and, um, wow, that NEVER happened before). Then he was wheezy and raspy and breathing kinda quick. He was running around like usual most of the time, but then would poop out and get clingy. After nap, instead of running about and playing he crawled up on the couch and just lay there like a tired old man. I should have been alarmed. Instead, I took a picture. By that night though, I started to get this nagging feeling that it might be more serious, and started to worry about him all on his own in his room by himself while we slept.
I'd recently heard about RSV and how dangerous it could be (somehow I missed the hype about it when we were foster parents), and thought to look it up. Well, yeah, the website said this:
Call the doctor immediately if he has one or more of the following symptoms:He was still eating and his color was good, but that first bullet up there had me alarmed (um, finally!) because I counted his breathing at 59 per minute and I think they had been faster earlier in the day, and he was definitely using a lot of muscles to breathe, and he was wheezing and sometimes grunting. I called the pediatrician and the on-call didn't even let me get past saying how fast he was breathing, she just said, "Go, now, to the ER."
- Labored or fast breathing (faster than 40 breaths per minute when not crying), flaring nostrils, the rib cage expanding more than usual with each breath, wheezing, grunting when breathing
- A cough that's getting worse after the first few days
- Difficulty feeding
- Bluish lips or fingernails
So we did. His respirations were 66 (much to high) and his oxygen levels were 92 (too low). They gave him Albuterol and a chest x-ray* and five hours later, after some talk of him not being where they'd like to see him yet with his oxygen levels, we were discharged with diagnoses of "acute asthma attack" and "bronchiolitis, possibly caused by RSV", nebulizer for more Albuterol treatments and an antibiotic. They said to give him the neb treatment when we got home and every four hours if he needed it, but that we shouldn't wake him because he'll wake up if he needs a treatment.
Well, he woke up two hours later. Definitely needing another treatment. The Duggar Syndrome was now completely gone and replaced by Frantic First Mommy Syndrome. Thankfully, I had enough sense to call the ER, rather than just taking him back for another $100, and they said he could really have it every two hours, but if it was any less than that or if the treatment didn't work, then we did need to take him back in.
Somehow we made it through the night, and I stayed home with him in a sleepless/stupefied state. Took him into his regular pedi and they did the RSV test there and a script for Prednisone to help the Albuterol work** because it was still not working as well as he'd have liked. The pedi is not giving him a diagnosis of Asthma - yet - because this is only his 2nd episode of weird respiratory stuff. The test for RSV came back negative today. This is a huge relief, in a way, but also begs the question of why he had such a problem. The pedi says that it could be asthma - I have the exercise induced kind - and also, because I took so much Tylenol during my pregnancy with Mozart (seriously, three times a day, every day for the last two trimesters, didn't touch the pain) and they have recently come out with a study saying there is a link (apparently, there are other studies, but I didn't ever hear about this until after he was born!!), but he's still not ready to give the diagnosis.
Anyhoo, we all survived, and we're ready for that new cycle now. But a couple things of note:
* A baby chest x-ray is a horrible thing. They have this plastic contraption that you have to stick the baby in, with his hands over head, squish him in, strap his head in, while he screams. The respiratory therapist gave us a head's up, thank goodness, cause I'd have been freaked if I just went in there without warning.
** Albuterol is kiddy speed. Add Prednisone and you have kiddy crack. Mozart is generally a typical 20 month old. Usually very mellow, with little bouts of tantrums. This kid is currently a maniac. He is crawling out of his skin. He tried to flip the coffee table for gits and shiggles.
I can breathe!
Both figuratively and literally :)
I generally tend to get sick under three scenarios. 1) I am simply overtired and haven't been taking care of myself, 2) I have been dealt an emotional blow, or 3) when something stressful, even happy-stressful, is taking a lot of energy over a long period of time and suddenly it is over.
The first only makes sense. If I don't get enough sleep, don't eat well, and generally don't take care of myself, what do I really expect... The second, well, all I can say is that with every break-up that I've had and every child that left to an not-so-great situation, I got sick. When things are out of control and it's breaking my heart, my immune system takes a blow. It's true, often, I am up worrying or the like, and not sleeping as I should in these situations, sometimes not eating as I should, so I suppose that makes sense too - though it has happened even when I've kept my routine. And the third, well, that's less explainable. I feel like there is so much tension being build up and I am running on adrenaline until the big event happens - that when the even finally happens, my body lets down its defenses and lets in the germies.
And that is what happened on Wednesday. I am elated by the election results. I mean, I really did feel like I'd been holding my breath for the last several months, and finally, some time after the networks called it, I finally felt like I could breathe again. When they first called it, I was unconvinced - in fact, I wished I'd been able to just go to sleep without watching any of the results come it - flashbacks to 2000 anyone... but by 12:30 in the morning, I began to believe. Began to relax. And began to rejoice. In my dreams, for I really was utterly exhausted.
While I was sleeping, the Wife remained awake and monitoring the remaining results roll in, and as she posted in the wee hours of Wednesday:
So now here I am, wrapped up in a blanket, feeling much better than yesterday, but still trying to take it easy. I'm looking around at the various messes that never seem to stop piling up and thinking I should do the dishes, sort through this pile or that, or clean out the fridge, and maybe I will, but for now I will finish this off and drink my tea with the knowledge that the tides are finally turning and there is hope that in the future we will be considered a bona fide family with the same rights and benefits that other families already have.
I generally tend to get sick under three scenarios. 1) I am simply overtired and haven't been taking care of myself, 2) I have been dealt an emotional blow, or 3) when something stressful, even happy-stressful, is taking a lot of energy over a long period of time and suddenly it is over.
The first only makes sense. If I don't get enough sleep, don't eat well, and generally don't take care of myself, what do I really expect... The second, well, all I can say is that with every break-up that I've had and every child that left to an not-so-great situation, I got sick. When things are out of control and it's breaking my heart, my immune system takes a blow. It's true, often, I am up worrying or the like, and not sleeping as I should in these situations, sometimes not eating as I should, so I suppose that makes sense too - though it has happened even when I've kept my routine. And the third, well, that's less explainable. I feel like there is so much tension being build up and I am running on adrenaline until the big event happens - that when the even finally happens, my body lets down its defenses and lets in the germies.
And that is what happened on Wednesday. I am elated by the election results. I mean, I really did feel like I'd been holding my breath for the last several months, and finally, some time after the networks called it, I finally felt like I could breathe again. When they first called it, I was unconvinced - in fact, I wished I'd been able to just go to sleep without watching any of the results come it - flashbacks to 2000 anyone... but by 12:30 in the morning, I began to believe. Began to relax. And began to rejoice. In my dreams, for I really was utterly exhausted.
While I was sleeping, the Wife remained awake and monitoring the remaining results roll in, and as she posted in the wee hours of Wednesday:
Reelected the 1st President ever who publicly supports marriage equality.And while I was overjoyed on waking, I couldn't really express it as I felt rather like I'd been hit by a semi. I dragged myself up and went to work nonetheless, though I admit I got little accomplished. By the afternoon the mild headache had worsened, the stuffiness had turned into a full clogging, and I was regularly sneezing. By evening I was a full-on faucet-face. This is not a pretty thing, people, I'll spare the details, but let's just say that nothing within my vicinity was free of germs. I was in bed by 8:30, dosed up with Sudafed and a myriad of various herbs, tinctures and teas. I woke feeling somewhat better, but by the time I got Mozart down to breakfast I was fairly miserable again. I realized this when I looked up from my coffee and saw him mimicking me, head resting on hand, and groaning. While that was way too cute, it made me understand just how bad it was. And really, it would have been completely irresponsible to go to work and expose coworkers and clients alike to all of the germs going on.
Passed marriage equality in ME in the first time by ballot initiative.
Approved marriage equality law in MD.
Approved marriage equality law in WA.
Defeated an anti-gay constitutional amendment for the 1st time in MN.
Elected the 1st openly LGBT US Senator.
Now, that's how to do an election! :D
So now here I am, wrapped up in a blanket, feeling much better than yesterday, but still trying to take it easy. I'm looking around at the various messes that never seem to stop piling up and thinking I should do the dishes, sort through this pile or that, or clean out the fridge, and maybe I will, but for now I will finish this off and drink my tea with the knowledge that the tides are finally turning and there is hope that in the future we will be considered a bona fide family with the same rights and benefits that other families already have.
Bodily Takeover
When I overdo it, my body tends to give me the smack-down and just take what it needs by any means necessary. Usually what it needs is a good rest and the method for getting it is to get sick.
So here we are on vacation, after a very hairy week wrapping things up and getting ready without much sleep, and my body did just that.
I won't go into the gory details, but suffice it to say - it wasn't pretty. And instead of going out and enjoying a day and dinner with family, I was huddled down in multiple blankets trying to keep up any kind of warmth on a day that was nearing 90 degrees. I've had two rice cakes since the ordeal began. I can't tell if the tummy is growling because it's just hungry, or if the rebellion continues. I am now going to brave a cup of coffee, hope for the best, pray that the 4 hour ride this morning will be A-OK, and that by the time we get to the family reunion yesterday will be a distant memory.
So here we are on vacation, after a very hairy week wrapping things up and getting ready without much sleep, and my body did just that.
I won't go into the gory details, but suffice it to say - it wasn't pretty. And instead of going out and enjoying a day and dinner with family, I was huddled down in multiple blankets trying to keep up any kind of warmth on a day that was nearing 90 degrees. I've had two rice cakes since the ordeal began. I can't tell if the tummy is growling because it's just hungry, or if the rebellion continues. I am now going to brave a cup of coffee, hope for the best, pray that the 4 hour ride this morning will be A-OK, and that by the time we get to the family reunion yesterday will be a distant memory.
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