I’m entrenched in my trusty recliner.
Bundled in sweats, a long sleeved T, socks, slippers, and tucked under a cozy blanket. I have hot apple cider nearby and we’ve officially turned the heat on for the first time in months.
I went back to the doctor this morning, per his orders. The cold from hell/pneumonia/death has come back with a vengeance after giving me a slight reprieve last weekend. Each day this week, I’ve awoken to feeling worse than when I went to bed the night before. Which is a little back-ass-wards, if you ask me. Isn’t sleep supposed to be GOOD for you?
Anywho, Doc says I’m still sick (Gee, ya don’t say!) and so I must be one of those people in a small percentage that need antibiotics for longer than the standard ten days. Had I called him Friday (when I was actually feeling halfway decent), we could have just continued the antibiotics I was on. Since I didn’t foresee this return slide into hell (How slack of me, I know!) and waited until Tuesday to call, I have to start a whole new antibiotic. The one he wanted me on was going to cost $185. We said no. The next best one is about half of that and has a generic substitute available. Joy.
Cabin fever set in about two weeks ago.
Yes, I know I have crafting projects UP TO MY EARS. Yes, I know I have work for BB2G to keep my mind nice and busy. Yes, I have recipes to try out for a new project.
There are also only so many hours a day a person can be left with their own thoughts for company. And whilst I love my interwebs friends, a person needs to actually speak, no matter how hoarse they may be. (Insert joke about my liking the sound of my own voice here.) Since my local “friends” are all busy with their Halloween plans and not at all concerned that I am STILL sick from their daughter’s “allergies,” I’m kinda on the lonely side. The new friends left for vacation this morning, so no calling them to come keep me company.
Doc says I need rest, fluids, rest, meds, and REST. (His nurse just called to remind me to follow up with my RA doc, she ordered more rest.)
I’m tired of resting.
I’m tired of sitting here while life passes me by. While other people get to go out and about without worrying about the plague. While other people work to support me.
I’m tired of feeling guilty for being sick.
And I’m sick of feeling guilty for being me.
P.S. This marks post #24 so keep your eyes out for the next post and the giveaway to celebrate the fact y’all still read my whining ass.