98% Whine, 2% Confession

I had high hopes of posting a special blournal entry about the fun mommy/son date Little Bug and I had on Wednesday (I took time off work and Little Bug out of daycare and canceled his therapy), but almost immediately after I got home, my week went in a couple directions I had not expected.

From Wednesday afternoon to Friday afternoon, Appa and I found ourselves faced with a pretty heavy and unexpected decision. Not a bad decision, by any means, but not one we had been prepared in advance to make. Ultimately, we made the choice that was best for everyone involved. It wasn't easy (especially in my condition, as you will see below), and it was a stressful couple of days.

The first night I had a horrible night filled with hot flashes and chills and hallucinations. I thought that it was stress from the situation. A pretty extreme reaction, to be sure, but as I do have some anxiety issues and this was a highly stressful situation, it made sense to me that I would react in such a way.

But once I was at work on Thursday, it became apparent it was not stress, but an actual illness causing my significant discomfort and making me plot out my escape route to the bathroom during a department breakfast filled with greasy eggs and meats.

I made it through about half the day before I went home and slept for the next 9 hours. I figured the stress was compounding whatever 24-hour bug my "carrier monkey" had shared with me. I didn't consider going to the doctor because I assumed it would all just go away.

We all know why you should never assume....

Blessed Friday morning came and my a$$y self found a lack of pretty much any sort of coherence. Appa had to stay home from work to take me to the doctor and make sure I could function.

ARE.YOU.KIDDING.ME. I've been sick more times that I can count recently. This is uncool.

Oh, but it can get more uncool, apparently.

I'm waiting to have it confirmed for sure on Monday morning (due to a miscommunication with my doctor, it was not confirmed on Friday like I thought it was), but it looks pretty much like I have a serious virus that takes 6-8 weeks to recover from. You know, because I totally have 6-8 weeks to lay around feeling like death.

What job? What 2 year old?

It's frustrating. My husband has basically taken on the role of single dad for the past few days. My interaction with my son has been limited to the times when he manages to race past Appa and burst into our bedroom chanting "Mama, Mama" as he pops up with his perfect grin to my side of the bed. Sometimes during my 5-10 hour "naps" I could hear him downstairs chanting my name and it broke.my.heart.

Which is why I am on the computer today.

Yes, I've been camped out in our recliner. Yes, I smell horrible (I try to shower and then lose my energy before I can shampoo and just sit down until the water turns cold). Yes, I'm trying to swallow down applesauce or pudding just to get some calories. Yes, I've been taking some cat naps.

But I am also trying really hard to work through this. It's not easy. I'm actually quite sick, and honestly, I am a big baby when it comes to being sick. I don't usually grin and bear it quietly. Appa gets up and does the dishes and martyrs around when he is sick. I moan and complain and pitifully sip my ice water while give Appa a play-by-play of my many ailments. He is a saint for putting up with me because I would drive myself nuts.

But I miss my boys. I miss talking to my husband, and I miss spending time with my son. The idea that this hellish feeling will go on for 6-8 more weeks is something I just cannot believe. There is this hope inside me that if I just take it easy for a few more days, things will go back to normal.

Maybe it will. I won't know for sure until Monday.

But today I have tried to be present for my family. I watched the Olympics with my husband and rocked my son to sleep for his nap. I'm feeling better today than I have the last two days, so that's a positive. As the day has gone on, I've gotten more and more lucid and functioning. I'm not myself, no, but I'm also not the moaning corpse I was for the last two days. Maybe tomorrow will be even a little bit better.

I'm not sure what I am going to do about work. Career-wise, this is pretty much the worst period of time for me to take an extended leave from work; I have a redesign for a newsletter I am just starting to manage that is going to need critical attention this week. I can't even think about the PTO that will be sucked dry; PTO that was being saved for my second honeymoon in April. A vacation already booked.

So, there are my whines and confessions. I am sick, smelly, tired, achy, feeling sorry for myself, and overall just a big baby about the whole business. I consider it a victory that I had enough energy to blog while the boys escaped the sick house this afternoon.

Is it bad that the only bright spot in all this is that I'll have a much better looking (if only temporary and unhealthily obtained) swim suit body in Jamaica?

Fingers crossed I can kick this soon.

Oh, and as for how I might have gotten this lovely little virus. Turns out that the mysterious illness that took Little Bug down hardcore a few weeks ago was most likely not a weird strain of the flu. It's was what I now have (that he so graciously shared with me via shared spoons and open cup practice). In babies, it's much different and remains for a much shorter period of time and is rarely diagnosed until it is passed on to a parent. Nice, sign us up for that case study. Sigh, I guess if I had to choose between him being sick for 6 weeks or me being sick for 6 weeks, I'd definitely choose myself.

Kids and their germs, man, kids and their germs....