I'm Not Dead Yet
January 11, 2011
It's been a bleak couple days...scratch that, it's more like five days now...around here. We're all finally through the worst of it, I think. Kind of. I'm wearing actual pants today, at least.
Jason and I came down with...whatever the unholy hell this was...on Thursday, while the boys held off until Sunday, but it's not like Jason and I were feeling any BETTER by Sunday, if anything we felt worse, since that was our solid third day of on-off fevers and hacking up lungs and headaches and congestion and basically having all of the strength of a pair of newborn, whiny-ass kittens.
Oh. And then our television -- the good one, the not-at-all-old one, the TiVo-DVD-gaming-systems-connected one broke. Just: Poof. Pfft. Kaput.
Right? It's downright unconstitutional, if you ask me.
I called my OB on Friday once I realized that I was possibly suffering from the flu and not a cold, and he gave me a horribly unsatisfactory line-up of drug options, none of which did a single blessed goddamn thing, and eventually I gave up on taking them altogether and have essentially been self-medicating with nothing more than water, saline spray, Chapstick and moaning.
(And yes, GOOGLE, I'm aware that I should have gotten the stupid flu shot. Thanks for providing me with no fewer than 1,324,029 search results saying just that when I went looking to see if I could maybe borrow some other pregnant-lady-on-the-Internet's doctor's list of better recommendations, because I got shafted, y'all. Tylenol. One punk-ass weak-sauce type of Robitussin. Whatthehell.)
(I tend to react badly to the stupid flu shot, for the record, and usually end up getting sick much more often the years I've gotten it.)
(Oh, fine. I can't even pretend I made any conscious decision about the flu shot at all, because I mostly just completely forgot about it, like two days ago it was September and now you're trying to tell me that it's JANUARY? You are high, good sir. GOOD DAY.)
Yesterday Jason became convinced that he was dying and went to see his doctor, who gave him some Sympathy Antibiotics, or possibly Just Get Out Of My Office You Diseased Person Antibiotics, even though I'm pretty sure none of us actually need antibiotics. We just need to construct a giant antibacterial hamster ball around our house.
But not until we can get a new TV delivered.