I’ve had food poisoning for the last 72 hours. Yesterday on the way to urgent care, I remember thinking, I’ll never feel better. I will just never eat again. My stomach will always hurt like this and I will never be able to eat anything again.
We drove by Panera and I lay my head on the window pane of my car looking at it and thought, goodbye old friend. It’s been a nice life.
Today, three doses of antibiotics later, I’m up out of bed making toast for myself and writing a blog entry to keep myself awake as I eat it.
Maybe I need to cut down on the drama in my inner monologues juuuuust a little.
I remember growing up and thinking that romance was flowers, a guitar being strummed as a boy sang a song he wrote for you on a romantic picnic (that one actually happened) (#itwasntdavid) (#oops), and breakfast in bed.
But really, romance is your sweet husband who has been pulling your slack all day coming into your room at 8 pm with a piece of toast, your meds, and a glass of water that he coaches you into drinking in its entirety, earnestly praising you as you sip and chatting to keep you awake long enough to get that glass of water swallowed.
That is love.
My in-laws are in town and I prayed for (and had a few friends praying for) me to have low anxiety while they were here. I tend to fuss and get all worked up when people are at my house and I wanted to savor and enjoy the company and stop being so anxious.
In response I get put on barbiturates (to slow my stomach spasming and cramping…but with the convenient side effect of lowering my anxiety.) Someone has a sense of humor.
Anyway, as you can see, reports of my demise have been greatly exaggerated, most likely by me.
But really, I just finished my toast and actually am sleepy again, so off to my sick bed again…join me the next time I am feeling better for a post on Zoe at 11 months. I had almost finished it before I got sick and I HAVE to post it tomorrow or it will be too late as she turns 1 on TUESDAY. AHHH!
Thanks for passing the time with me…