Tag Archives: sick

That which was no fun at all

I went through that crazy period of time where I just wasn’t feeling very well.  My doctor had put me on one course of antibiotics, which helped a great deal but didn’t get me to 100% awesomeness.  After a while, I paid her another visit.  She was sympathetic, and gave me a prescription for a super-duper antibiotic, with instructions that I didn’t need it.  Now.  But if, without really getting 100% better, I got worse, I would have it to fill and wouldn’t have to visit her again.

Well, I got mostly better.  Never really shook a sniffle, but I felt better than I had for quite a while.

Then Friday…. I woke up with a touch of a sore throat.  Kinda like you get if you sleep in a weird position with your mouth open.  But then by mid-afternoon, I was definitely not feeling well.  Took a rest on the couch for awhile, woke up with a bit of a temperature.  Took it easy the rest of the day, took some Tylenol and went to bed early.

Woke up Saturday (at like 1:00 pm !!!) and swore someone must have shoved glass down my throat while I was sleeping.  Managed to look at my tonsils and they were coated in white puss.  Fever got up near 102.  I was alternating between violent chills and sweating spells.  Lightheaded, nauseated, and slightly delirious, I called my doctor, to sort of realize she’s a one-doctor office, and she’s not there on Saturday afternoons.  Explored options for urgent care clinics in my area.  There’s a good pediatric one, but they only take patients up to 21 years old.  Called the two they mentioned, but neither was open, which seemed odd and made me realize they were less of “urgent care” and more of “walk-in because you don’t have insurance and a regular general practitioner”.  Waiting until Monday wasn’t an option, and the very thorough symptom checker at the Mayo Clinic web site left me convinced that since I could check off just about every strep throat symptom, plus lacking normal signs of a cold or the flu, that strep was a reasonable conclusion, and I sent Frank to fill that prescription that had laid in wait in my purse for three weeks.  He also got me lots of yogurt and probiotic supplements to counteract any antibiotic-related digestive ills, sweet man.

Saturday evening I thought I was going to die.  Not only was my throat completely raw, but I felt like every time I dozed off that I stopped breathing, and I would jerk awake in a panic.  My breathing was labored, or so I felt… I asked Frank to pay close attention and he said it didn’t seem like I was working very hard to breathe (meaning I didn’t seem to be having trouble) and that when I did doze off, I was breathing then, too.  I wanted to go to the bathroom but felt too lightheaded to walk and made Frank walk with me.  I was convinced my lips would be blue from lack of oxygen, but they looked fine.  I looked quite flush and healthy right then, actually, which just wigged me out more.  I decided I was more delirious and just went to bed.  For 12 hours.

Sunday, more general miserableness, but I actually ate (but only motivated by taking antibiotics and needing to take them on a full stomach).

Monday, more humanness returned, but going up the stairs in our house made me want to take a nap. I cooked a simple dinner (something my mom made all the time when I was a kid… I obviously was in need of some comfort!)

Today, finally, almost normal.  Still pretty tired and worn-out feeling, but my throat has only a smidge of a hint of hurting.

I do NOT want to do that again, thank you very much.

In other, more interesting and less grody news, my application for school is complete, and is part-way through the review process.  My contact at the admissions department is super cool and is keeping me apprised.  My coursework has all been reviewed for proper content (I don’t have the results yet — don’t know if I have any catch-up to do in the general education area, but I’m very confident I have enough business coursework for the content area) and is now just awaiting the final review to decide if I’m “in”.  So that’s cool, and nerve-wracking.

Negative first reaction

Have you heard of it?  It’s where a person automatically knee-jerks a “no” answer.

Lane is a classic example of this.  We’re in the process of painting our dining room, through the requisite spackling and taping and tarping and whatnot.  My job has mostly been to help in my free moments, keep the kids out of the way, and to not throw things at my mother in-law when she starts telling me I’m taping & tarping a sliding glass door before I’ve even started doing it.  (Luckily I didn’t have to throw anything, since my father in-law yelled at her to shut up and just let me do it.  Ha ha!)

Anyway, in an attempt to keep the wee ones occupied so I could do something to help, I tried plugging them into the boob tube.  Lane wanted to watch a movie, and I had just gotten in the mail a DVD of Disney Princess Sing-Along songs, which I knew she would LOVE.  Only when I tried to get her to watch it, she started screaming “NO” and crying hysterically because it was new and unknown.  Mean mommy I am, I made her watch the horrifying DVD anyway, and she claimed through the whole thing not to like it.

Now that I’m somewhat incapacitated from the effort it took to regurgitate my body’s weight in bologna this morning (sorry, I said I’d keep that to myself, didn’t I?), and Jake’s equally suffering from this latest affliction, I figured a movie or two this afternoon would be a reasonable way to keep the household subdued so he and I could veg.  (Actually first I tried to pawn her off on the neighbors but they had a soccer game to attend.)  And what movie did Lane pick?  The abhorrent princess sing-along movie.

Frigging pip.

A small bit of advice

If you ever feel the slightest, possible twinge of any sort of stomach bug, or if anyone in your household is currently showing outward signs of gastroenteritis, do not – I REPEAT, DO NOT – eat bologna.  If you do indeed begin suffering from the bug, the bologna will wreak havoc with your digestive system the likes of which you have never experienced before and which you would not wish on your worst enemy.  The generated odors alone will have you begging for mercy.

I will spare you the details around how I found this out.  Just trust me.

Trifecta of crappitude

Today is one of those days, where like the planets align to put you in a shit mood.

I’m on the tail-end of what is my fifth menstrual cycle in five years.  Pregnancy & breastfeeding is pretty good for holding Aunt Flo at bay.  But man, once she weasels her way back into your life she smacks you upside the head and kicks your ass.

I’m sick.  Not sick enough to be bedridden, but enough that I’m in a fog and I’m a lung cookie factory.

Today is also the tenth anniversary of my mom’s death.  So I can’t help but participate in the reflection that such an anniversary propagates, and it’s not exactly a mood enhancer.

Luckily my life’s not completely in the toilet (even if between the lung cookies and the hygiene needs I feel like I’m in the bathroom more than I’m not).  This week is the week I do my once-quarterly consulting work for my old company, so I’ve got stuff to keep me busy and the kids are spending a bunch of time at their grandparents’, so it’s been relatively calm and quiet this week.  Plus the consulting work means I get a sweet little paycheck in a couple weeks, which I’m tempted to deposit completely in my IRA and go on a stock spending spree.  The account in general may be in the shitter but there are some SWEET deals to be had on Wall Street right now.  This in general is conducive to optimism.  And of course the whole how-lucky-I-am facts around having a great husband and awesome kids.  As much as situations are conspiring to try to make me have a shitty day, it’s hard to stay down for long.  That’s definitely saying something, right?

Steamy evening

Jake’s got a bit of a cold going on. Oddly, this seems to have skipped the sniffly-nose stage and just settled immediately into his chest. He’s otherwise perky and himself, until he gets so inclined to cough up a loogie, and then it hits the back of his throat and he gives me the most pathetic look. “What is that awful taste, Mom? And since I can’t muster the facial coordination to spit, what on earth should I do?!?” he seems to say with his eyes. Mostly though, he just makes a sound like “Guh-nuh” and when he makes it he sounds underwater.

So I stripped us both down and took a hotter-than-I-prefer shower with him, then sat in the steamy bathroom for like 10 minutes after that. Of course, no coughing that whole time, so Lane and I turned on the antics and brought out the Tickle Monster to get him to breathe deeply and elicit some productive coughs.

I always knew he could do it

(Preface: right now in our temp apartment, we are all sharing a bedroom. Lane’s bed, our bed, and Jake’s crib are all resident in one bedroom.  It’s not ideal, but it’s working well enough, and it’s slightly pertinent to this post to I wanted to make sure you knew.)

I’m sick.  Not like at-death’s-door sick, but death-sent-me-an-email sick.  A bit of nausea (and a lot of revisiting the slice of pizza I had for lunch) and chilly like crazy.  Our thermostat is at 69 and I’m still sitting here in fuzzy pants and slippers and the coziest biggest thickest sweater I own, plus I have a down blanket wrapped around me.  Digestively, something is… happening.  I’m not sure what but my imagination is running rampant and I will spare you the details of that.

I always do Jake’s bedtime.  Always.  The boy is a boob fanatic, and has always nursed to sleep.  Lately though, there’s been a willingness on his part to lay in his crib after nursing and not (constantly) scream his head off.  We have a very flat pillow in there, and I’ve found that rubbing the pillow seems to settle him and convince him it’s a great thing to put his head on.  And, in the absence of most other noise he’ll drift off to sleep.

So, ‘upgrading’ my illness to death-called-and-we-chatted-awhile, I laid a bit of a guilt trip on Frank and he mostly took care of parenting this evening.  He gave Lane a bath after she had a poop accident (because watching Sleeping Beauty with a small interruption is worse than poop in your pants?  I don’t get that) and then I nursed Jake while Lane got her bedtime stories, put him in his crib, and promptly told Frank to take over.

And lo and behold, sleep was achieved… by all of them.  Frank included.

It’s all out of love

I like to visit fark.com – in general I’m a nice person, and Fark isn’t always full of nice people (OK, rarely) – but I find the discussion threads so interesting. What’s awesome about it is that there are people from all walks of life there — in the last couple of weeks I’ve been in discussions with ER doctors, psychologists, toxicologists, other moms, people involved in the writer’s strike, and a guy who’s trying to figure out a subject for his dissertation. (Of course this is what they claim, I have no way to know for sure… but I tend to be a smart cookie and these people certainly talked a good game.)

Some of the threads are just hilarious – like this one about Wikipedia. The rampant and intentional spread of misinformation had me in stitches.

Some spiral downward pretty quickly – like the ones that debate race, gender issues, circumcision, breastfeeding, religion, or politics… I steer clear of those. OK, maybe not the breastfeeding ones. 😉 But I tend to focus on the fun threads.

There was one recently that focused on boogers, and I mentioned that I have, in desperation, used my mouth to suck snot out of my son’s nose. He had a bad cold, and the bulb syringes I had simply did not form a good seal on his nose. He needed to nurse, and I was desperate to calm him. So, yeah, it was gross but I did it without hesitation. And after having to do it a couple more times, I went and bought every type of bulb syringe I could find in hopes of finding one that would do the job easily and without making his nose bleed. Luckily, I did find one, and I haven’t had to suck snot since.

Now granted, there are a lot of single, kidless, basement-dwelling people on Fark. People were shocked. Shocked! Swore they could never do something so gross.

But at the same time, probably a half-dozen parents also said, yeah, they’d had to do it too. One guy talked about how he jerry-rigged a turkey baster to do the task.

It may stand as one of my favorite Fark threads. Intellectual discussion actually abounded over boogers. Awesome.

Seriously though, and this is approximately how I tried to explain it to the noobs at Fark. Nobody thinks they would ever have to do something so gross. My son was about five months old when the need arose. He was small and helpless and hungry and upset and he could barely breathe through his sobs and I was desperate to help him. It truly is amazing what you will do for a little person in your lap, who is the embodiment of all your love and life and devotion.