Sick, God Works in Mysterious Ways, Hungry
I've spent the past three nights in a fever, cold sweat, chills, tangled sheets. Not nights of passion, but nights of pneumonia, the walking kind. Which is kinda ironic considering I couldn't sit up, let alone stand up for more than 2 minutes at a time (propped up on three pillows mind you). It hit me Monday evening, when my lungs started hurting at work, and I woke up Tuesday feeling pretty bad. Now that I'm on the mend ( actually drank my first glass of cold water today!), all I want to do is eat (though my taste is still a bit "off"), and stay away from orange Gatorade and tacos.
When this girl is sick, she just wants her mother and when she doesn't have that, she channels her and begins to think like her. For instance:
Tuesday morning I wake up with a fever and decide to go to the doctor. I come home, get out of the cab, drop off my prescripts at Walgreens, go to the store to get food, pick up meds (at this time, I'm ready to drop into a grave, I wouldn't care), go to the Chinese restaurant to pick up my food-I called in my order while waiting for my meds. By this time I was in no mood to cook. I call my dad, eat, take meds, then pass out. I awaken sometime that evening, drenched in sweat, a bit delusional, weak, and pissy. I turn on the tv for companionship when it hits me. I haven't tinkled. Now, I'd been drinking room temp Gatorade and water for most of the day, so I should have needed to go by now. I panic, thinking kidney damage and hospitalization and the end of the world. First thing I know my mom would say is "You're not drinking enough fluids, you gotta flush that stuff through your system." So, when dad calls, I calmly tell him about my concern, but he just tells me that I'll go when I need to. Calmed, I relax and take another nap. Later, when my mom calls, I tell her about my concern since I still haven't gone. Of course, she says I'm not drinking enough and I tell her all that I've had. Hours later, I've never been so happy to tinkle in my life.
Moral to this story, mother is always right, and dad is too. It's funny how an independent woman such as myself wants to curl up and be coddled when I'm sick. I want it all, someone to read to me, wipe my brow, and my snot if needs be. Wake me up with soup and my pills, fluff my pillows, keep a straight face when my hair is all over my head and my face is puffy and I look like something from a Thriller video. Bring me the latest gossip mags and run the shower so I can breathe steam. Even though I didn't have my mom, I did have help. My dearest friend brought me some things from the store (she left for China today. For six months she'll remember the "sick me"), the UPS man brought my package to my door and wished me well, my chef offered to go to the store for me. I realized that though I am independent and alone (all of my family is in Texas), I am well loved.
I found out today from my dad that the peanut butter I bought last week to make the frosting for some peanut butter brownies I was going to make for friends was recalled due to salmonella (never trust peanut butter with a fairy on the jar). I had planned to do some baking, cupcakes for Valentine's Day and probably the brownies. I told my mom that if I hadn't gotten sick, I would not have found out about the peanut butter (I've been too sick to watch the news or much tv for that matter) and would have made many others ill. God, in His infinite wisdom does work in mysterious ways, but it would have been nice (or is this selfish?) for a sign that didn't involve my getting pneumonia. Or any other disease or illness.
My tastebuds are still out of wack, but I've been dreaming about fish tacos for a couple of days now. The line cooks at work make some really good ones. I'm starving, but either from the meds or being ill, all I taste is salty and sweet. I also want angel hair pasta with roma tomatoes, shallots, and basil. Or a good cream of mushroom soup, or that yummy risotto they serve at work.
Well, it's time for another taco (oh not another taco) and watch a movie. Today is the first day I've been out of bed this long. I hope I can make it through work tomorrow.
When this girl is sick, she just wants her mother and when she doesn't have that, she channels her and begins to think like her. For instance:
Tuesday morning I wake up with a fever and decide to go to the doctor. I come home, get out of the cab, drop off my prescripts at Walgreens, go to the store to get food, pick up meds (at this time, I'm ready to drop into a grave, I wouldn't care), go to the Chinese restaurant to pick up my food-I called in my order while waiting for my meds. By this time I was in no mood to cook. I call my dad, eat, take meds, then pass out. I awaken sometime that evening, drenched in sweat, a bit delusional, weak, and pissy. I turn on the tv for companionship when it hits me. I haven't tinkled. Now, I'd been drinking room temp Gatorade and water for most of the day, so I should have needed to go by now. I panic, thinking kidney damage and hospitalization and the end of the world. First thing I know my mom would say is "You're not drinking enough fluids, you gotta flush that stuff through your system." So, when dad calls, I calmly tell him about my concern, but he just tells me that I'll go when I need to. Calmed, I relax and take another nap. Later, when my mom calls, I tell her about my concern since I still haven't gone. Of course, she says I'm not drinking enough and I tell her all that I've had. Hours later, I've never been so happy to tinkle in my life.
Moral to this story, mother is always right, and dad is too. It's funny how an independent woman such as myself wants to curl up and be coddled when I'm sick. I want it all, someone to read to me, wipe my brow, and my snot if needs be. Wake me up with soup and my pills, fluff my pillows, keep a straight face when my hair is all over my head and my face is puffy and I look like something from a Thriller video. Bring me the latest gossip mags and run the shower so I can breathe steam. Even though I didn't have my mom, I did have help. My dearest friend brought me some things from the store (she left for China today. For six months she'll remember the "sick me"), the UPS man brought my package to my door and wished me well, my chef offered to go to the store for me. I realized that though I am independent and alone (all of my family is in Texas), I am well loved.
I found out today from my dad that the peanut butter I bought last week to make the frosting for some peanut butter brownies I was going to make for friends was recalled due to salmonella (never trust peanut butter with a fairy on the jar). I had planned to do some baking, cupcakes for Valentine's Day and probably the brownies. I told my mom that if I hadn't gotten sick, I would not have found out about the peanut butter (I've been too sick to watch the news or much tv for that matter) and would have made many others ill. God, in His infinite wisdom does work in mysterious ways, but it would have been nice (or is this selfish?) for a sign that didn't involve my getting pneumonia. Or any other disease or illness.
My tastebuds are still out of wack, but I've been dreaming about fish tacos for a couple of days now. The line cooks at work make some really good ones. I'm starving, but either from the meds or being ill, all I taste is salty and sweet. I also want angel hair pasta with roma tomatoes, shallots, and basil. Or a good cream of mushroom soup, or that yummy risotto they serve at work.
Well, it's time for another taco (oh not another taco) and watch a movie. Today is the first day I've been out of bed this long. I hope I can make it through work tomorrow.
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