Sick as in blowing large amounts of very thick green stuff out of my nose for the last week. You know how it is.
Also busy with holiday tasks and house-hunting. We’ve seen about a dozen houses. We like one or two. We love one.
And: adventures in snow globe making. Not sure how it’s going to work out, though. Pictures if it does.
We are, all three, sick. Which sucks. But now Charlotte really likes green tea with honey. And by that I mean that a not-quite seventeen month old toddler tells me that she wants tea and then will drink a whole cup of it (cooled down first, of course).
She also asked for the potty tonight, peed in it and then said, “All done.” I am tempted to lose my shit with excitement that potty time is coming very early, but I’d like to see a repeat performance or something.
Or maybe it’s just the Benadryl and dehydration talking.
I am having trouble remembering when Charlotte could not walk and or talk at all. Because, shyte, these days, well these days, she learns so many new words in a day that I can’t keep up with her.
Charlotte’s been sick before. When she was eight days old, a friend came over with a cold and got her sick. Emergency room to check her breathing, and a lot of very extremely just filthy language out of me toward the person who got her sick (and who has a kid and should have known better). Charlotte got a nasty stomach bug over the holiday break. I picked her up one morning, and the front of her PJs were warm and damp, all over her chest and little belly.
It was poop.
Poor thing.
Charlotte’s had a fever before, but she’s never just had a day where she didn’t feel well without anything visible being wrong (aside from another fever). Yesterday, she wasn’t her playful self. She was too weak to practice walking. Her head was heavy and hot. She wanted to cuddle, to sit on my lap, put her head on my chest and chill.
Now. This child. Unless it’s bedtime or storytime, she doesn’t not like to sit still on a lap for long. This was strange behavior indeed. Her fever wasn’t high enough to merit medicine or a visit to the doctor. Her stomach seemed fine. It was nothing big.
But there was also little I could do for her to make her feel better. I didn’t necessarily feel helpless so much as just bad. I felt badly for this usually bubbly and happy little kid who just plain felt like poop. All I could do was cuddle her, change her diaper and make sure she had enough to eat.
Her fever is lower today, and she’s interested in playing. She also got up an hour earlier — in anticipation of changing the clocks this week? Is my daughter that smart already?
Luckily, a coffeemaker with a timer showed up yesterday and got me out of bed earlier this morning. It also could be the very thing that woke Charlotte up early. She’s never heard a coffeemaker before.
I am on the phone with my wife, who called me at work to chat. We have a friend who is ill, and my wife wondered what is worse when you are sick: upchucking or buttchucking? I think constant pooping is worse; she thinks knee-grinding vomiting is worse.
“I think pooping is worse.”
“What? No way. Puking makes your whole body hurt the next day.”
“What about explosive diarrhea? You’re bung burns for a week. You’re shitting all over the place.”
“But you can’t control puking.”
“I repeat: What about explosive diarrhea?”
“At least you can aim it.”
“Oh, fuck.”
“Yeah, dude, puking is the worst.”
“No, worst would be double-barreling that shit. Blowing out of both ends. You’re like painting the walls in bile and dooky. That would be hell. Holy fucking shit. That’s nasty.”
“Oh, my god. But puking is way worse than shitting.”
“No, not necessarily when you’re sick. I mean, only a truly fucked up individual would like to puke more than taking a big dump, like after you have after a nice pasta dinner in any given Thursday or especially after Chinese food. But when you’re sick, it’s no holds barred with that shotgun ass. Brown birdshot everywhere. You get all chapped back there, I’ll bet.”
“Geezus. How do you know?”
“What? I don’t know. I imagine.”
“Bullshit.”
“I’m saying that sick squirts are terrible because the whole thing ruins something that is normally pleasant. Normal people poop, and most of us like it. It’s not like you ever puke when you’re not sick. It always means something’s wrong.”
“You should put this on Facebook.”
“No, the person who’s sick is on Facebook. That’s just mean. How about the B L O G?”
“Heh heh, you should totally do that. I’m going to check.”
“Let me get this fucking poll thing to work….wait a minute….shit. I hope this works.”
So I ask my kind readers which bodily [mal]function that you find LESS pleasant when you’re sick — not in normal time?
I will certainly get to posting photos/etc. from my short trip weekend. But now I’m tied to hankies, tea and athletic shorts. I’m ignoring all warnings about the bad flu, but remind me I said that.
You might think someone who’s “into” cycling would have a lot of those tight pants. Nope. None. The only ones I have a loose and light. What’s funny is that all the athletic type shorts I own are gifts and also from the universities/college I attended. My undergrad ones are missing and, frankly, illegible. My MA pair, well, I can’t wear them outside. They cling, uh, the wrong way. It’s not decent. No. Not at all.. I’m wearing my Doc pair tonight. You can kinda read them. I got them for my 24th birthday. Six M-F-in years ago.
What the hell do I need all these nylon shorts and degrees for?
My brain is a little fevered. Excuse me.
Dang, with what feels like another (?) sinus infection coming up and the jaw/cheek/molar discomfort associated with it, I nearly went bonkers at work today when they were replacing the weather-stripping on the firedoor right outside my office. The drill had me clutching my cheek like some hypochondriac. It was pathetic. So I took a walk to get some coffee and chocolate. That made everything better. Which might also be pathetic.
Also, my hands smell like ballpoint pen ink. WTF?
I have all my wisdom teeth. Almost. One is about 1/3 to 1/2 of the way in. My bottoms did screw with my “bite” so that my front teeth don’t touch, and I have to cut up pizza usually. But I didn’t have to do the surgery thing like my former dentist said I would. Which, I think, is a win. Plus, you know, reconstructive surgery to fix my bite is nothing I want to do, which I’d have to go through in order to admit that mistake. Not very constructive in any way, save admitting mistakes, something I don’t think I’m terrible at. I don’t need a lesson and my jaw broken.
My jaw was hurting early last week on the upper side of said not-all-the-way-in wisdom tooth. I got worried. Finally got off my ass to look up “impacted wisdom tooth,” and I read that if it’s half out and you have room and it’s not biting your cheek and your gums aren’t infected, you’re good. I thought I’d read something in the past that said they were impacted if they were not out all the way, but I couldn’t find anything to say that. It’s been years; maybe the research changed or something. Whatever. My teeth never actually hurt, and my usually sensitive teeth were not more sensitive than usual, so I assumed all was well.
So I thought maybe I pulled a jaw muscle or whatever. Played with the inside of my cheek so much that I made it bloody and tender for two days.
Then I realized that my sinuses have been poopy lately. I had a bad cold two weeks ago, and I spent last week throwing up in the morning when I brushed my teeth, from a dripping nose. And my head was hurting. Duh, I think I have a sinus infection. Turns out jaw pain/cheek pain is a big symptom. Doh.
At first this was great news. No digging a big tooth out of my head. (Knock on wood!) But this weekend, I felt too crappy to move. I stayed home all day Saturday and only left Sunday for a short ride. In retrospect, I should have stayed home, but I was very excited to ride with my buddy. Fatigue is another big part of a sinus infection, and I want to stay home, read and watch movies all day. But I have a community meeting I don’t want to miss tonight and some stuff to get done. So I’m going to work. Hopefully the four-mile-downhill ride there will help a little.
I am finished bitching for the day. At least I have a job I really like, and I don’t have to suffer through a sick soul to boot. I am a lucky guy with a cute neti pot.
My grandmother, pictured here on Easter this year, is at my parents’ house in Hampden. She fell in 2003 and required a metal rod be inserted into her leg; she had heart surgery then to boot. Before, actually. She fell last week and wrenched the same leg. While the X-rays came back negative for breaks, they think she either sprained or tore something. I am watching her today while my mother goes for a doctor’s appointment, then with my mother and uncle to take my grandmother to the hospital for her appointment to see the extent of the damage in her leg. I don’t like seeing such an independent woman laid up and unable to even walk. Or the look on my uncles’ and mothers’ faces when they realize that their mother is getting older. I am just hoping she will pull through and literally get back on her feet. No one ever thought she’d get around after her last accident. I did not believe she’s ever get upstairs in her Canton rowhouse again. But she did. She loved walking around in the grocery store with a cart. I hope she gets to do it again and soon.