Finally, after nearly a week of feeling completely and utterly miserable, I am pulling myself out of the dregs of sickness enough to post, hopefully, coherently. I posted a little blip earlier today, but it made very little sense, so I decided to delete it and start over when I could form some clearer thoughts.
I passed a kidney stone last weekend. That was the first thing. I went to see He's Just Not That Into You on Friday night with my best friend (and I could probably write an entire post about that movie, but that ship has sailed, so I'll just say that it was all right, made me very frustrated and sort of sad, and was tied up in way too perfect a little bow for my tastes). When we got back to my house and were amusing ourselves with this little nugget, the lower back pain started, and I knew immediately what it was. This was, unfortunately, not my first go-round with kidney stones. By the time I'd passed it, on Saturday evening, I was so sore and achy I just wanted to curl up in a little ball and whimper.
Sunday evening, the three of us went out for dinner, and while we were at the restaurant I started coughing. And it was the kind of cough that had substance behind it -- the plegmy kind. (I know: ick. Sorry.) Anyway, I told Joe, "I really hope I'm not getting sick," but unfortunately my hope was NOT ENOUGH, because I was felled almost immediately. I made it only halfway through the Oscars before I went to bed, and when I woke up Monday morning I could barely speak.
The first part of this week is all a blur in my mind, to be honest -- a blur of back pain and sinus pressure that made me feel like my head was going to explode and hacking coughs and debilitating fatigue. In my entire life, honestly, I cannot ever remember feeling so physically horrible. In the depths of a sickness like that, it was easy for me to believe that I'd never be well again.
And then Joe caught it. So then I had to listen to him whine about how awful he felt, when I felt just as terrible (boys are such big babies when they're sick, aren't they? [she asks, as she composes an entire whiny post about being sick]).
And then, worst of all -- Andrew caught it. And from that point on, all my focus turned from getting myself well to getting him well -- and it was so, so hard. He's had minor colds before, which usually come in tandem with mine, but this particular plague was like nothing we'd ever been through before. The poor little guy was so miserable, it was pathetic, and I felt helpless. The pediatrician couldn't see him yesterday, so I resorted to lukewarm baths and infant Motrin to reduce his fever (which peaked at 103 degrees). He couldn't nap comfortably; every time he fell asleep he'd wake up coughing and then he'd cry, huge tears that ran in streams down his feverish cheeks. So I'd pick him up, all 25 pounds of him in my weakened state, and stroke his clammy forehead and do my best to soothe him with the last little bit of voice I had left. For nearly three hours yesterday afternoon, the two of us just sat in the rocking chair together without getting up, without really moving, and just felt miserable together.
I was determined to go to work today, at least for part of the day, but every little thing took such a supreme effort this morning. I literally laid on the bathroom floor for ten minutes before I could muster up the energy to get in the shower. And once I was in the shower, I was almost too dizzy to remain standing. I managed about five hours at the office before I gave up and came home -- and I came home to find both Joe and Andrew much, much improved. THANK GOD. They are both recovering from this sickness much more quickly than I am -- probably because I haven't really had a chance to just stop, rest, and get well.
Tonight was the first time I'd eaten since Monday evening. I've had no appetite, but tonight I made my ten-minute version of tomato soup, and it was delicious. I feel much, much better now. Still not 100%, but definitely on the road to recovery and far beyond the I can't stand this anymore, oh please KILL ME stage of the illness.
And now...to deal with my house. There are used tissues and glasses caked with orange juice everywhere. An unfortunate incident with the NyQuil took out both our dining room table cloth and our 2008 tax returns (which have already been filed, thankfully; it was just our own copies that were destroyed). All of the linens need to be washed and washed again, and virtually every surface needs to be disinfected. Being sick sucks, but being sick as a family really, really sucks.
*Taking a page from the lovely Jonniker, the title of this post is also the title of a song -- by the band Disturbed. And this past week was nothing if not disturbing for me, so I think it fits.