Each towel, sheet and nightgown that was hurried out of the room was done so without a second thought. I don’t regret a single kiss or cuddle. Even now I wouldn’t go back, except perhaps to not make corn the night before the bug hit. I am sick, the kind of sick that makes you tread softly for fear that any undue jostling might lead you into a dizzy fall, landing you smack in front of that impossible to hug at 8+months pregnant porcelain throne.
I cannot eat, cannot drink and cannot get the throbbing in my head to go away. I am also decidedly out of sorts. Whiny and unhappy, so desperate not to feel sick or further compromised in what I can do physically. Too yucky to read, too uncomfortable to sleep, plenty energetic to weep at the injustice of feeling so crappy.
The one bit of humor I did find was in responding to a voice mail from a local newspaper reporter. He was sleuthing, wanting to talk to a local doc about the recent stomach bug that impacted an area resort. This paper, and in its defense, most papers, are seeking out the negative angle of everything. It’s kind of exhausting deflecting far fetched ideas time and again. I told him that I was in fact home with the bug and had not been near the resort to which he admitted he was actually finding and hearing from the Health Department that it’s flu season. People get sick. No real story…unless of course you are me and desperate to blog.
Here’s hoping I am back soon with a better story.