Friday, February 3, 2012
I was sick and briefly part of the Ingalls Family.
So the other night.
Sunday, if you are keeping score.
I noticed I had a little "tickle" in my throat...
I thought to myself, "self, you better not be getting sick".
Momma's cannot get sick. Ya just can't. Too much to do. Too many mouths to feed. Too many bottoms to wipe. Too many math homework sheets to do. Y'all know how it is.
However, when I awoke Monday morning I was pretty sure the sickness was comin' after me.
I decided to fight back.
I loaded up on Mucinex...which I felt like a convict buying. I had to show identification and sign my life away.
Clearly I haven't bought high dose cold medicine in the post-meth lab era.
I also grabbed some vitamin C, ibuprofen, orange juice...and the new US Weekly (I would need good reading material if I was confined to the bed).
I popped my pills (see, I do sound like a convict) and decided I would beat this funk. I would beat it while shopping at the Fayette Mall. No measly cold can stand between me and my shopping.
I was wrong.
By the time I rolled up to the carpool line I felt as if a mack truck was slamming into my head. I was chilling. And I am pretty sure that there were voices in my head saying, "come to the light"....
The following two days are but a mirage...
I was down and out. Went to bed at 7pm on Monday night and had a fitful night's sleep where I am pretty sure I felt as if Jesus was going to ride down on chariots of fire and rescue me from my misery.
However, I have since recovered and am back to at least 90%...
Not really sure as to where I was headed with this...
Although I will say that while I lay in bed Monday fighting off the plaque I wrote some of the best blogs in my head... I had these deep meaningful conversations/writings...at least in my fevered state they sounded good.
I also remember thinking this must be how they felt on Little House on the Prairie when the entire town came down with Typhus (is that what it was???).
Here I am laying in the bed...a fever overcomes me...beads of perspiration dot my forehead, I am moaning, tossing and turning, my body shakes...Pa comes in to tell me that Doc Baker is on his way over (via horse carriage of course). I can hear Ma come in to check on me... It's like I am living in Walnut Grove...
And that is the last thing I remember.
Again, I am not sure where I was going with all of this...except maybe to get some sympathy?? Ya know Momma's don't ever get any sympathy.
And now Daddy has the plaque.
And he acts like he's dyin' or something.
They can be so dramatic.