It’s Monday, and boy am I moody.
First off, I never got to post my Stalking the Dead Sunday post yesterday. And I had a number of good ideas for that one. Second, I never got to formally present our new graphics and logo. Why am I so slack, you ask? I’m fighting the plague.
I went out alone on Saturday evening to see my friends’ band play. I ordered one drink, in order to secure my seat at the bar, but didn’t even finish it. I watched them play one set and then left. I didn’t think it was smart to be out solo on St. Patrick’s weekend with all the amateurs around. I was on my couch watching TV with family by 10:30. I went to bed around midnight.
Sometime after 4am, I woke up with severe pains in my abdomen. I tossed and turned for a little bit, and then decided to get up and use the bathroom. Only when I stood up, my head started spinning and that was the end of me. A vomit spree began that lasted until around 7pm last night. Over the course of the day, I managed to keep down a couple of sips of water, a few sips of ginger ale, an Italian ice, and some broth (that came later in the evening). In fact, it’s lunch time on Monday and I’m only now sitting upright and waiting on some more broth. This sucks.
We’re all infected.
We all have our ailments and we’re all bound to acquire more. Such is life. But this has been truly awful. I’m not a puker. I can count on one hand the amount of times I have thrown up due to alcohol in my life. One hand. That’s it. And over the last few years, I’d become an expert at getting sick nearly every morning. But that was due to all of the crappy chest congestion I was drowning in. I would wake up choking and have a weak gag reflex, hence a daily date with the toilet. Hot steam in the shower would help clear the chest up, too. But I never considered that to be actually throwing up, since the bulk of it was mucus. I did do a lot of yacking when I was pregnant. That was awful. I was diagnosed with hyperemesis during my first trimester, which basically meant I had morning sickness 24/7. I was a hot mess. I lost 11 pounds that first few weeks and worked hard the rest of my pregnancy to gain it back. That was my last run in with actual nausea.
I didn’t mean to act like a baby over this current illness, but I totally did. I’m not used to feeling my body do things like that. And this dehydration stuff is for the birds. I feel like a truck hit me. I don’t like fevers and I don’t like feeling sick. I’m used to upper respiratory infections and probably would have handled that better. But, thankfully, this has stayed out of my lungs. Having CF sucks.
The worst part of it? I let it get to my head. I have spent my entire life preparing for the end. My parents were told I wouldn’t see age 12. I’m clawing my way to 40. And it breaks my heart when I let myself sit and have a pity party and whine about not feeling good, when I know so many brave people, most of them young people, who are going through much worse. People who should have their whole lives ahead of them, but instead are facing cancers, transplants, surgeries, debilitating illnesses. Who am I to complain? My heart breaks for them. I wish so much that there was something that I could do to ease their pain.
But then, another voice in my head says, why shouldn’t I complain? I have every right to. Like I said, I’ve been fighting to breathe and live my entire life. I’m always everyone’s rock, always the person they go to when they need someone. I’m strong all the time, even when I’m really not. My friends know…It’s All Alright. I deserve to curl up in a ball for a few days and have people pet me and tell me everything will be okay. But that’s not super.
And so, I’ll do what I always do, for the sake of my family, for my friends, for those who depend on me….I’ll allow myself one down day, then I’ll cowboy up and go back to doing everything I’m expected to do. And I’ll do it with a smile on my face. Because that’s who I am.
I don’t have time to be sick. If I keep moving, it can’t catch me. And when it does, it won’t hold me down for long. I’ll shrug off that kryptonite like a minor incident, and resume being super. And for those of you whose bodies are betraying you, please be strong. You are not alone.