Yeah, it wasn’t pretty. I spent more of my time coughing into my elbow (which I learned when Kate was in kindergarten, remember when we used to cough into our hands?). For the past two weeks the cycle goes like this: Wake up coughing, slowly make it through the cough to work, try to talk as little as possible (Steve insisting that I schedule quiet time between conference calls), perking up mid day, exhausted end of day, tv watching (gotta admit, I kind of love Smash and American Idol, please don’t tell anyone) when the coughing starts up again. I try to stay vertical, which is tricky at 2 am. One night Steve sat up with me, which was pretty sweet, even though I suspect it was so he could get more time playing Solitare on the iPad. Morning…repeat. Sometimes the mack truck that uses my body as a practice ramp is more present than usual.
I have realized that I am a really bad sick person. I used to claim I am good at being sick, but pretty much I just moan and whine. I refuse to take advice, and I pretend like I don’t need medicine. I am not grateful for anything, just having a big ol’ pity party of one.
Last night I stayed vertical, didn’t have any milk in my tea, doubled up on my meds and slept almost through the night. The mack truck has got to find another body to practice on. And this, my friends, is proof I can make a blog post out of nothing…