Thursday, October 20, 2005

Now...with even MORE TMI!



I’m cheating and actually starting to write this on Wednesday night in Word. That way, if tomorrow morning I feel as big a shitbag as I do now, then I at least have a head start.

I mean, seriously, this isn’t funny any more. I caught a stupid cold on 10/4, which turned into a flu/fever/chills etc. a couple days later. After a week and a half, while still hacking up an organ, I at least could tell I was getting better. Then on 10/18 (yes…TWO WEEKS LATER), I got much much worse.

I now have strep, can’t swallow, spent tonight vomiting in the shower (oh chill out, it was mostly popsicles and Slurpee), and am on fire from a raging fever. While I may have mentioned that I had no voice earlier, at least it was a semi-recognizable squeak. It is now mostly air.

My glands are swollen, I’m sniffling again and my ears are blocked. So not only can I not speak, I can’t hear either. I’m a barrel of laughs on the phone.

I have had to cancel just about everything I was supposed to do this week. Somehow, I’m going to have to pull it together for my doctor’s appointment on Friday. Even though I know she's just going to say, yup, you're still sick.

And Mr. Blogger, the former EMT, is just having a field day with Mrs. What The Hell Is Wrong With Me Now? You should have heard me trying to call him from the shower, because I was afraid of passing out from all the puking. Amazingly, even though he was rooms away, and the shower was running, he managed to make out the loudest whisper I could muster. That’s my Honey…better than Lassie.

At least there was good TV on tonight. So while I caught up on ANTM, Martha’s Apprentice and Sex and the City reruns on TBS (although the way they have to edit out all the good sex and swearing is just CRIMINAL), I was able to lounge on the couch and suck on more popsicles. And Mr. Blogger made me homemade Fresca Slurpees (which we resorted to because even I won’t send him out a second time) and mashed potatoes.

Then (and I realize that by divulging this information, someone’s going to end up nominating him for sainthood…well that, and wonder if I’m really just THAT good in bed), he gave me a foot massage with The Body Shop’s Peppermint Cooling Leg Gel. I’m telling you dear readers, BUY THIS STUFF NOW. Ok, and get a hot man/woman/whatever floats your boat to massage your feet with it.

But then MB realized that the peppermint part was going to hurt his hands…currently in the throes of his winter dermatitis and often cracked and bleeding. He wasn’t going to say no to The Invalid, so he went to the first aid supplies.

And when he returned, there was my adorable husband, blue Zee Medical Nitrile Gloves donned, ready to do battle with the Leg Gel.

When he inevitably catches what I have, and is the sneezy, coughing, pukey mess I am, I owe him at LEAST a foot massage. I think this is what they had in mind when they said “in sickness and in health”.

3 Comments:

Blogger emily said...

First off I feel sick just reading this blog. And I mean that in the physical sense because you've explained it so clearly I already feel a sensitivity in my glands to the cold air which ALWAYS means I'm going to get sick. And I didn't feel it before I read this. If I do get sick, I blame you.

And the hubby... oh the hubby. I only wish that I could say I ALWAYS treat my wife that way because I know she does it for me.

2:25 PM  
Blogger kiwi said...

Emily feels sick because she has a foot phobia except for the wife's. Just wait until you're pregnant. Jose unexpectedly gives me massages. The perks of being pregnant.

10:23 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

My first reaction was, "Oh my poor baby!" Then you got to the MB part: you're rich, not poor. I'm definitely going to see if I can talk someone into doing the gel bit for me.

1:43 AM  

Post a Comment

<< Home