Yesterday morning – after several days of nausea, stomach pain, vomiting, and diarrhea – I had my husband take me to the ER.  I knew something was wrong, but I had been trying to push through because kids and life and schedules don’t necessarily make it easy to be sick.

The ER people took blood, gave me an ultrasound to check my gall bladder, liver, and kidneys, and gave me a CT scan to check for colitis and diverticulitis.  They doped me up on some lovely narcotics, some nausea meds, and some cramping meds that had to be administered through shots in my thigh.  And I waited.

By the end of the day they came back with a diagnosis of severe dehydration and some sort of parasite in my GI tract.  The best they can tell (without my donation of a stool sample because, hello!, who the hell can poop in the hospital!?) the antibiotics I was on recently killed off all the good bacteria in my system.  Because I had no good bacteria in my system I managed to catch a parasite of some description that climbed in and spread its poison through my system.  Because of the parasite I wasn’t eating or drinking enough and thus ended up with severe dehydration.  It’s all a cycle I guess.

But, now I am home with instructions to rest for a few days and live on liquids and a bland diet until the medicine works with my body to reset everything.  I told the ER doctor that I had to feel better by Monday because I have to defend my dissertation.  I don’t care how crappy I feel or if they have to wheel me in on a gurney I will defend that thing on Monday!

The highlight in all this hoopla was listening to the little old man waiting for his CT scan while I waited for mine.  He announced to his nurse that he didn’t want to be there and that he wanted to go home.  She said, “well, you have to get your pictures taken first.” His reply?  ”Fine, just take a picture of my balls and let me go.”

Good times.

So.  I was at Urgent Care right as they opened this morning at 8:00.  As soon as I walked in the lady behind the counter said “Weren’t you here just a few days ago?”

To which I replied “Yes, I was here my pink eye outbreak monkeys just last weekend.”

It’s nice to be remembered.

Anyway.  They made me put on one of those sexy surgical masks so I didn’t infect the one guy in the waiting room that was already coughing up his own lungs. I left with a diagnosis of bronchitis and a sinus infection.  Despite my best efforts to rest and swallow these gigantic horse-like vitamin C pills I still managed to get sick.

My husband has been a true gem today – handling the laundry, grocery shopping, dinner, and general house upkeep.  Every time I try to get up to help I’m punished to the confines of the couch with the cat, the dogs, and the old family quilt.

Since I try to be an optimist I’m going to embrace this being sick thing.  This is what I’ve found to be the best part(s) of being sick…

Chicken Soup – my mother-in-law brought me some homemade chicken soup this afternoon.  Rumor has it the recipe is magic and came directly from the Jewish population of Miami, Florida in the late 1970′s.

Red Rock Ginger Ale – I tend to crave this when I’m sick (and when I’m pregnant).  It is the best ginger ale because the bite it has is so severe that it tends to burn your nostrils and make you feel anything other than congested.  Screw Sudafed.

The Walking Dead – new episode tonight, baby!  While my Tylenol PM takes over I’ll get to fall asleep to the joy that is Rick and Shane.  Yum!  It’s a shame there is no new Downton Abbey tonight or it would really be a party.

And, nothing says “sick day” like a couple trashy novels.  One is compliments of my mother in law.  The other was purchased by my husband at the pharmacy as he waited for my prescription to be filled.  It’s got pirates in it. Or ships.  Or something.

Certainly not a bad way to spend a sick day.  Now, if you’ll excuse me – my husband just brought me a fresh cup of coffee and I need to figure out why my son is running around wearing goggles.

I got home from class tonight and suddenly started to feel off.  I was chilled and unbelievably exhausted.

Exhaustion isn’t an uncommon feeling in my chaotic life, but I really just wanted to skip dinner, baths, and packing lunches for the comfort of my bed.  But, I charged through.

When hubby got home I had him do the whole look at my throat with a flashlight thing.  He saw redness.  I took my temperature and discovered I had a low-grade fever.  So, I abandoned him with the kids and ran to the urgent care before they closed.

After waiting and chatting with Dr. Jersey Shore I got a diagnosis of strep throat and a big fat bottle of antibiotics.

Now I’m home and snuggled in bed.  I’m going to watch trash TV and wallow in my sickness – especially since moms don’t get sick days and I have until they wake up at 6:30 tomorrow morning to feel better.

I wish I had more energy to finish the other blog post I was writing about community panties.  Intrigued, yes?

I guess I’ll work on it tomorrow.

Think I can bribe Hubby to go get me a milkshake?

But I’m pretty sure I have the flu.

I had the flu once in college – right around this time of year.  I had just moved to Georgia and was spending the holidays here because I lacked the money to travel to Ohio to be with family.  I came down with the flu and thought I was going to die.  Hubby was my gentleman friend at the time and was kind enough to skip out on his family’s holiday to drive an hour to take care of me.

He brought me Waffle House and we watched public television on my little 13 inch TV since I was too poor to afford cable.

It was wonderful – with the exception of that whole flu thing.

But, here I am again – 11 years later – and he’s still attempting to take care of me.  He’s in the kitchen right now making soup and he left work early today to help me take care of Jake – who just happened to have an outrageous allergic reaction to something and ended up swollen, covered in welts, and throwing up the medicine prescribed by the doctor all on my official sick day.

Good time, yes?

I only have a limited amount of time on this break from school and I’m refusing to spend it sick!  My sinuses and throat apparently missed that memo.  Bastards.

The bright side to all this (aside from Hubby’s magical nursing skills *wink*) is that I now understand the sheer wonderfulness of Netflix.  It’s a sick person’s gift.

But, if I ever find out who the outbreak monkey that caused all this actually is – that bitch is going down! Especially since it didn’t arrive care of Patrick Dempsey.

I’m sick.

Cry a river, right!?

I have finals this week, my kids have open house this week and start school a week from today, and Blogher is next week!  This is not the time to be sick.

At first I thought my ickiness was just leftover from our party fun Saturday night.  We were out late and a few glasses of wine were consumed.  But by Sunday afternoon I knew I was about to go full battle with the creepy crud.

Thank God I worked my ass off Sunday morning to finish my final paper and presentation.  That was God’s way of saying ‘I’ve got something else in store for you!”

Sadly, that something was not a pedicure and an afternoon of shopping.

Or a golden retriever.

So, here I sit all whiny and miserable.  My beautiful niece came and spent the morning with us and I used any bit of wellness I had left wrangling four children and their cupcake making adventure.  Once she left I crashed for a 3 hour nap.

I woke up feeling fuzzy.

Now I’m impatiently waiting for a pot of ham and bean soup to finish cooking, my husband to get home, and the start of my evening plans that include a warm bath and a couple Unisom.

Thanks for the moment of sympathy.

Don’t forget about me in my time of suffering.

Goodbye forever.