tha illest
This last month has been very, very challenging for me. I never-ever-ever get sick. When it happens that I do, I rebound quickly and thoroughly. Even when I am horribly, terribly sick, I’m not needy and I’m certainly not a whiner. I simply want to be left alone in a dark place and looked in on, pulse checked, etc. every now and again. Low-key. Not at all demanding. Self-sufficient to the bitter last. I never go to the doctor, preferring instead to handle things naturo- and/or homeopathically. I’ve been on antibiotics a total of maybe eight, nine times in my entire life, which is testament to the success of my personal philosophy (three of those times were routine, pre-surgical rounds of preventive antibiotics). I don’t care much for the docs, as I’ve been witness to a lot of slipshod medicine in my life. Not to mention that hospitals are largely unpleasant places. Even when my children were born, I was chomping at the bit to not let the doors of the place hit me in the ass.
All that having been said, I went to the doctor today. Not only did I go to the doctor…while I was splayed out all over the table (weak beyond belief, so the limbs fell where they would), I cried like an ultra-large tit.
Um, guys? I’m not really big on tears. Especially in public places. But I hurt so bad today that I want to die, really, and tears were a way to vent the yuck and the pain going on in my body at present.
I started getting sick just before Valentine’s Day and it seems I’ve picked up everything under the sun since then. This bothers me, and is worrisome, because (as stated before) I’m not prone to sickness. I think it’s got my husband, bless his heart, in a bit of a tizzy. In the last twenty-four hours, he has said the following to me:
“Sheesh, you must feel shitty. I’ve never seen you whine like this!”
and
“I’m concerned about your being sick all the time. It’s just not like you.”
He’s not being the King Of All Understatement; he simply doesn’t want to appear alarmist. Just like I am a no-whiner, he is a no-panicker. When I’ve reached the point of tears, it’s baaaaad, and when he’s reached the point of voicing concern, he’s freaked out. Rightly so, I guess, because by his reports I was lying in the bed talking crazytalk last night. Delerium is fun for outside observers; not so much for participants.
Out of the last four weeks, I’ve lost approximately two weeks of work. I cannot afford to be sick, but I can’t possibly do my job while sick, as it is both physically and emotionally taxing. Continue to ‘press through’ and work=more sickness and more time out of work. Catch-22’s are so ugly.
Because I’m fully about laying it all out there, I’m going to use this moment right here to be very brutally honest with some of you: You suck as friends. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, as people keep yelling, “THESE ARE INTERNET PEOPLE, THEY AREN’T REAL.” I’m tired of being the person who invests self and emotions only to find that there is no reciprocity. Call me foolish, but I thought friendships, no matter the medium in which they were formed, were made up of a big ole two-way street. I disappear from your life, for whatever reason, and I’d have thought you’d make an effort to reach out and find out why. Or instead of calling at your convenience, you’d call when you know I’d most likely be available. I select friends carefully, but I guess I’ll have to be even more stringent than I’ve been.
Which fully fucking sucks. Maybe I’ll just stick to the IRL people.
To those of you that come here merely as readers, as voyeurs, I appreciate your patience with me in times of little to no content. I know the frustration of clicking through to one of your favorite interwebnet ‘personalities’ and finding either laughable content or stale, half-assed entries. There are so many things going on in my life to write about, but I lack the energy or focus to do so right now because I have been so sick (times of wellness are to play catch-up with familial and work obligations). Ditto for e-mails, which I am pitifully bad at anyway. I’d much rather hear someone’s voice, but I know that this is not plausable or advisable in all situations. I may be stone crazy, but I do have a family to think about and therefore cannot wantonly fling the digits about.
This is all just a really wordy way to request that you all please be patient and don’t give up on me; I’ll be back and swinging just as quick as I can.
Maxim is home now, so I can go collapse back into the cozy nest of comforters scrambled about on my bed (being sick is doubly hard on me, as I’m not a lie in bed kinda gal….massive boredom sets in terribly quickly).
Before I go, I want to post what I originally came here to post. Initially, I wanted to scan it so that you could fully appreciate it, but I am too wiped out for even that; a transcription will have to do.
Late last week, Mathias wrote his first-ever note to somebody. That somebody happened to be me.
I NEED ChANJ FOR THE booK STOR. So I CAN GiT A booK FOR OUR CLASS.
MATHiAsS
I never cease being amazed at their growth, these babies of mine. Holy cow.
15 worked it out »