12 February 2014

Wide awake and not that brilliant

I keep drafting things in my head as I’m falling asleep. Different topics I’d like to discuss, in the particular way I’d like to discuss them. Since it’s as I’m falling asleep, I’m (1) not even a little bit inspired to do any actual writing that coincides with my writing-thinking and (2) simultaneously convinced that if I were to do so it would be some of the best writing anyone has ever written in the history of words.

Given that I’m not getting back out of bed and firing up the laptop when I’m already warm and half asleep, I’ll write some words that aren’t the best writing ever instead.

I’m in the throes of my Winter Sickness Cycle. Invariably, I get…something unpleasant right around Christmas, as soon as I get a couple days off and my body can REALLY fall apart. Then I go back to work when I’m not yet well, and I sort of battle a constantly changing barrage of viruses and bacteria through mid to late February, at which point I usually finish up the whole unwell thing for the year. Unless I get a kidney infection.*

*In August I was flying to Portland with my brother for a dear friend’s wedding, and I woke up the morning of my flight feeling all over sore and fluish and generally unwell. I thought maybe it was the result of some ill-advised running I’d done the day before (stupid muscles), and thus I willfully ignored all symptoms. Then I had a low grade fever for four days, and by the time I was at work on the following Tuesday, I still had a fever, but also was on the very precipice of public weeping because my entire body, and particularly my lower back, was in so much pain. My old job had an unspoken IT DOESN’T MATTER IF YOU’RE SICK EVERYONE IS SICK THAT’S NO EXCUSE YOU STILL NEED TO WORK EVEN IF YOU’RE SICK LOOK AROUND EVERYONE IS WORKING type of vibe. This, combined with the fact that *I* think I'll sound like a weenie if I simply announce that I’m sick without some corroborating evidence, plus the detail where even when I’m legitimately dying, I feel like my announcement sounds like one that’s coming from a Lying Liar Who Tells Lies, leads me to go to work when I’m sick an awful lot more than anyone ought to. And then I was just coming back from a PTO day, and I know that *I* always internal-eye-roll at the people who call in sick immediately after a vacation. Yeah right, buddy. Next time? Drink less. Anyhow, this particular August Tuesday, it occurred to me that I might actually drop dead, so after much fretting and practicing my lines in my head, I announced that I needed to go home because I really actually did not feel very well. And then I worked until lunch because I have a misguided sense of guilt and work duty. Then I tried very hard not to pass out dead while driving to urgent care. Then the urgent care doctor both validated and terrified me by announcing that my eyes were dull and lifeless, and if I’d come in any later I’d be in the ER. I got a shot of antibiotics in my butt and more to take at home and a great big bottle of professional grade opiate pain killers too. Yay, kidney infection!**

** Also? I didn’t have any lead up UTI or bladder infection symptoms. I AM A LADY WITH LADY PARTS AND I KNOW WHAT A UTI FEELS LIKE AND I DIDN’T HAVE ANY OF THAT WARNING.

Where was I? Oh. Winter illnesses. Yes. Well this winter has been as usual. Not as bad as last winter when I got the cash money actual influenza flu and had to crawl on my hands and knees to the bathroom to get some water from the sink because I was literally so weak I could not walk, but not quite good either, because I got my first cold sore of my life. Cold sores, as I’m sure you know, are disgusting face herpes. While I’m perfectly aware that the vast majority of humans have been exposed to this virus, and it’s the sort of thing that you either get or you don’t, I was quite comfortable in the ‘don’t get it’ camp. My siblings all get cold sores, my son gets them, my dad gets them. I’ve surely been exposed, but at 31 years old, I thought it was pretty clear that I don’t actually GET them. And then I did. Get one. On my face. And it was disgusting. And I was ugly and I hated it and it was the worst and I’m retroactively sorry for not being more sympathetic to anyone with their face wounds because THAT IS THE WORST.

I feel like the cold sore discussion derailed me a bit. Where WAS I?

My new job is great.

I sort of lost track of where I was going with all of this because I’m not half asleep so it isn’t that brilliant but I’ll just go ahead and hit publish anyways.


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