I try to wake up around the same time every day. It doesn't always work because most nights I spend up all night staring stupidly at the television, the glow in the dark stars on my ceiling, or reading. It's not that I don't want to sleep, it's just that my body and mind have other plans. Some nights it's because my mind won't shut off, others is because I'm in too much pain, it's too hot, it's too cold, too humid, can't get comfortable, or lately it's because a local station that used to play one or two decent shows (re-runs and literally 1 or 2 episodes of a show) a week (I'm not kidding--I'm talking about 2 hours of one show a week, maybe one or 2 B movies, and the rest of the time would be filled by infomercials) now plays hours of awesome television. I'm talking Criminal Minds, Cold Case, Leverage (the one with Timothy Hutton and the super sexy Christian Kane, not the boring Glen Close series), and the drool worthy Flashpoint. And they play 4-8 hour marathons of these shows. Until 2-3am. And it's been well over a year since I've been on a date (my own choice and I don't really want to date right now), but still.. beautiful actors like that are just too difficult to change the channel on, even if I wasn't single. Especially since they're all good guys. And all heroes. But I digress...
I had to break down and call my GP Friday. I've had a sore throat for a few days, but ignored it like I always do. Then I started getting congested and noticed that my lungs were also pretty congested and I was coughing quite a bit, but it wasn't going away; it was getting worse. Normally, I'd ignore it and see what happens. (Re: blow it off as long as possible until either I'm a day before I drive myself to the ER, or I end up in the ER because of an asthma attack I can't get under control and either my bronchitis has already developed into pneumonia, or it's only a matter of hours before it does so). Except I can't do that anymore. Aside from the fact that my immune system doesn't have the superhero powers it used to since my new medication stopped it, there's also a giant warning on the medication to call my doctor at the first sign of infection. But hey, at least my superhero immune system isn't turning it's powers on me as much anymore, either. I did feel like an idiot debating whether I should call the doctor on Thursday because my sinuses and lungs were congested for a few days and I was coughing. That evil "h" word kept creeping into my mind. Yes, I'm supposed to call her at the slightest hint of a cold, infection, blah blah blah. But some sniffles and a cough? Am I overreacting? I don't know. Then I figured I'll take my temperature and call her anyway. I took some Advil 3 hours earlier, but what the hell. 100.2. Whoa... that explains the headache, but I didn't feel quite so stupid calling her anymore. My normal temperature falls somewhere around 97.4, so 100.2 for me is actually kind of high. Certainly didn't take my body long to pick up a bug, now did it? But hey, I didn't hurt myself!
Then I'm sitting there having coffee with mom yesterday and like any other mother/parent, she HATES that I'm sick. Not just the cold thing. The disease. She wishes there was something she could do about it--take my place, find a cure.. something. Anything. I know the feeling, even though I don't have kids of my own. I do have 5 nieces and a nephew, and I did help raise my nephew until he was about three. But there isn't anything I wouldn't do for any of them--especially him. As long as he doesn't puke down my shirt into my bra again. That was the first time I knew what true love was--when you're holding a baby in your lap and he not only pukes on you, but down your shirt, in your bra. And as you hold him out, completely in shock because there was NO warning, you find yourself staring into these huge baby blue eyes and see that he's laughing at you. And you're not mad or upset, but you find yourself laughing hysterically at it. (He's the female version of me.... I feel bad for his mother). But again I digress. As my mom is talking, she explains she realized in a way she is helping me. Kind of. While so far I've managed to avoid injury, she's taking my place on that front: she stubbed her toe pretty fiercely on the kitchen table leg--didn't break it, but it's all kinds of pretty colours--, she scratched her arm on the bushes out front untangling the dog the other day, and has a pretty good-sized hole in her arm from being pounced on by the dog that morning. They were playing and it got a bit crazy. She was trying to keep her quiet and in her room so that I could get some sleep when it happened. Those are the kinds of injuries that would usually happen to me. It's not like she's doing it on purpose. It's just kind of happening that way.
Now if I can just find a way for her to not get hurt and me to keep from getting hurt and neither of us to get sick, even though it's already too late for me at this point this time....I'll figure it out eventually...
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