Probably the most difficult part of this whole ulcer thing – aside from the OW, of course – is the fact that I can’t have sugar.
Well, I CAN have sugar, technically – the doctor didn’t say anything about avoiding it except in a sort of roundabout way – but sugar gives me headaches, and I can’t take Advil anymore, so no headaches = good, yeah? (I can’t tell if treats make the ulcer worse, since currently anything I eat kind of makes it hurt.)
But as you all may be aware, I am a sugar addict. I just had to cancel my plans to join a group of friends tonight because we were all meeting for dessert at this fabulous dessert restaurant; I took one look at the menu and went I can’t be around this stuff without having something. Which…is good, right? Progress? Kind of like a newly-enwagoned alcoholic bowing out of an evening at the bar?
I’m still keeping my fingers crossed that the gastro doc (with whom I still need to make an appointment, gack) will give me antibiotics and then this whole thing will be done. And I can celebrate with dessert.
Through my mighty powers of contagion, I managed to fell the rest of my household yesterday. Not So stayed home, which ironically meant that I got to sleep in. (Ironic, in this case, is apparently meant in the Alanis Morissette sense. Shush, I’ve had a fever.) Sleeping in when you have a cold is lovely. I highly recommend it to myself, and will keep it in mind for next time, when I will invariably be seized with a compulsion to clean the house the second I start feeling wretched.
What’s up with that, anyway? Whenever I get sick I get all over-achieve-y. When I was a kid, I used to know I was really sick because I’d voluntarily clean my room. (I was not a spic-and-span sort of child, obviously.) Now it’s cleaning plus work plus obsessively reading my RSS feeds because god forbid something should happen in the world without my knowledge. It’s almost a relief when the illness progresses to the point at which I can’t focus my eyes or stay upright.
But that’s all water under the bridge, since I’m better now. Well, except for a few errant sniffles. Er, and a bit of a hacking cough. Aside from that, though, I am the picture of good health!
Although maybe it’s a bad sign that I’m obsessively doing laundry…
Oh my god, y’all, I am sick again. How can this be? I never get sick. Yet, here I am, with my second ass-kicking cold in as many months. It’s not right, I tell you.
The good news is that my lovely husband got me the tissues with lotion in, so my poor beleaguered nose can get a break. Since I need to blow my nose roughly every ten seconds, this is a wonderful thing.
I hate being sick. I especially hate having a runny nose. When I was in high school we lived in the Santa Cruz mountains, way up in the redwoods, and my mom said she used to know when I was awake because I’d start blowing my nose. Which, way to recognize that your daughter is allergic to the damned trees, mom. So, yeah, I spent four years in asthma hell, and every time I get a cold it’s like high school all over again. Except with marginally better hair.