For the last week or so I have been sick. Like annoying, coughing, nose running, feel like shit sick.
I've had plenty of time to think about this whole sick thing while I've been down & out and like usual, I have some shit to say about it.
I'm tired of taking, well, everything. I won't take a cough drop anymore. Nope. Not gonna do it. I don't care if it helps me stop coughing (it doesn't), it makes my entire mouth feel like I've blown a medical leprechaun. Seriously, it's like a Jager Bomb without the bomb. Or the orange juice after toothpaste thing. But it lasts all fucking day. Just no. I'll cough. Add the cold meds to the birth control, happy pills, antibiotics, thyroid meds & whatnot, I can't remember when to take what. I'm so confused I gave the Mini vaginal fungus cream (remember all the antibiotics I'm taking) to use on her hands. The good news, she won't have yeasty hands. Bad news, I missed out on that Mother of the Year award...again. Pfffffftttt.
Vicks vaporub. I love the smell of this shit, I don't care if it works or not. The problem here is, it only lasts about an hour. If I have to get up every hour and re-apply this stuff, I might as well save the $3.49 cause it makes me feel like someone blew a load on my chest. Really. It just feels like that.
Men. Don't get me wrong here, the SAB was a complete fucking saint while I was sick, HOWEVER, he made sure to get his digs in whenever he could. If I had to hear "Well, I wanted to go the movies but she was sick" or listen to him whine about how cranky I was one more time... I was considering just gagging on my own phlegm. Cause who asked you to hang around & do nothing while I was sick? Herein lies the real truth, the SAB loved it when I was sick cause it gave him an excuse to take care (do nothing) of me. And ya' know what? I appreciated the fuck outta that shit. Whatever the reason.
Almost no sex. This is bullshit. Oh we tried, I wasn't dead. The SAB actually said he didn't want to risk it because I'll start one of my coughing jags and pee all over the place. We ain't that kinky. But, seriously, somebody (get on that) needs to come up with a better way. Sicky Sex Machine has a nice ring.
The work thing. I hate calling in sick. It's like the worst. It's a waste of a personal day. A very wise man once told me "Never call in sick when you're really sick". I believe that shit. Sadly, I'm all old & sick & stuff. So, bye-bye personal days...
Kids. I hate kids. But it so much worse Mommy is sick. I'm fortunate that the Mini was with her Dad for the worst few days so I didn't feel bad about ignoring her. What? I feel badly when I'm forced to ignore her. It's totally different when I'm ignoring her just because.
The depression & guilt. I'm sure it isn't just me. When I'm sick I feel absolutely horrible about ALL THE THINGS. The cleaning that isn't getting done, the shopping, the Mini, the SAB, my crankiness, all the things. You get it. The guilt of not getting all the things done makes me depressed. So now it's all sicky, depressed, guilt filled, sexless, whiny, cranky, me.
The mouth. This has been by far the worst. My mouth tastes like I licked a dead donkey's dick. I taste nothing except rancid, rotting, nastiness. My tongue is covered in bacteria. I have scrubbed it so hard, the skin is peeling. I soak it in peroxide. Nothing like spitting up peroxide flavored foam to get your day going. Yes, the visual here is fabulous.
Lastly, I'm just tired. For the first 4 days of this glorious sick-o-rama, I was out and about, cooking, cleaning, taking care of the children. Being me doesn't stop for a cold. When I finally relinquished the Mini to her Dad, I laid sloth-like for 2 days. Guess what? I'm better. Not 100%, but better. Who knew rest actually worked? I may have to try that shit again.