April has not quite taken the course I would have imagined. This month has chewed me up and spit me out and quite frankly, I’m happy it’s half way over at the rate it is going. Some of you may have noticed my post have been a little skimpy. I’ve said nothing about a cake and haven’t even reviewed the last book I read. Damn you, April.
I had a sneaky suspicion something wasn’t quite right, but I like being tough. I believe that if you start thinking your sick and feeling sorry for yourself that you will certainly start become ill. That’s why I kept my positive pants on. Monday (March 31st), I had some sinus pressure (which is not unusual) and a bit of nausea (which generally comes with sinus pressure). Not a big deal. When I woke up April Fool’s Day morning (jokes on me!) I knew that there was no denying it. I had picked up some sort of stomach bug and my sinus pressure was just an added bonus. I was playing a pong game between There’s Nothing Wrong With Me and Calling In Sick (something I very, very rarely do) when my mother called. Her dog who had not been well was doing worse. I told her to get in the car and drive to my work and I would meet her there. There, decision made. I was going to work.
I stayed there with my mom during her dog’s exam and helped with her x-rays, but as soon as I saw my mom out the door I confessed to my coworkers that I was pretty sure I was about to spend the next 12 to 500 hours in the bathroom. I apologized over and over. I hate not being at work.
As the day progressed, so did this virus and my sinus pressure. I laid on the couch with one hand pressing a warm compress to my sinuses and my other hand holding a can of ginger ale. A bottle of Pepto Bismol sat near by for convenient shot taking. Bottoms up, bitches.
At dinner time, I got up and attempted making chicken yakisoba as planned. The beau asked, “Are you sure you want to bother with dinner?”
“I got this.”
I pulled the chicken breast out of the fridge and stared at them, then started gagging. “How do you feel about a grilled cheese night?”
“Whatever you want to do.”
I don’t know if it was the smell of the butter or the cheese, but one of them was making me wish I would never see this combination of food ever again. Finally, two sandwiches were done. I plated them with some chips and a pickle and set the beau up at the table. “Dinners ready!”
He came in and analyzed the tablescape (yes, I’m joking on Sandra Lee). “Um, I thought you were going to eat.”
“Nope. Not eating.”
“Aw, you didn’t have to make me something.”
“It’s fine. Enjoy your dinner. I’ll be on the couch.”
I am much like my mother in several ways. An example of this is how I try my best to keep all normalcy in the face of illness. Sure, I could have told the beau that my stomach contents were thinking of having a launch off party and he shouldn’t expect anything to eat, but that’s just not how I roll. Maintain normalcy at all cost.
I fell on the couch, clutching my aching head and thanking the stars above that I had gotten away from the smell of those grilled cheese. That’s when I heard the beau’s feet heading towards the living room. I peeked through my hands at him making his way to the couch with his dinner.
“It doesn’t feel right sitting at the table by myself. I was lonely.”
The next morning, I woke up and even though I had prayed to the sickness gods that I wouldn’t be worse… I was. At this point I had self-diagnosed myself with the double whammy… a brain tumor and a stomach tumor… and for an added bonus, my sinus headache had caused me to grind my teeth all night and I had nailed that stupid flap of gingiva that hangs over my lower wisdom tooth.
Not only is the flap super painful and swollen at this point, but it becomes a trap for bacteria. Now I’m constantly rubbing my sinuses, rubbing the sore side of my jaw, taking Pepto Bismol, sipping ginger ale, swishing salt water in my mouth, taking my sinus medication and 800 mg of Advil every four hours. I can tell you that those last two bits … my angry stomach did not appreciate at all.
You’ll be glad to know that I did recover from the GI bug, but it took nearly a week to get my appetite back (partially because of the 3200 mg daily ibuprofen intake). Over a week later, I finally went to the dentist to be lectured about how my wisdom tooth removal was sixteen years overdue and this would never resolve until I had them removed. I nodded and took my antibiotic prescription so I could finally get the smell of death out of my mouth.
The beau text me during the turning point of my gut funk to inform me he had found four baby kittens at his work. Like a sucker, I told him to take them to my work. I would call ahead and let them know not to yell at him when he showed up with a box of kittens.
It’s not that we don’t love kittens, it’s just that we aren’t very good at the adoption business. Most people who walk through the doors of an animal hospital are not looking to adopt an animal. Some of them are even trying to turf their current animals off on us. It’s just not a fair situation for anyone.
It turns out, this litter was lucky that the beau scooped them up and rescued them. One weepy eye little kitten was about to need serious medical intervention.
Oh yeah, that is as bad as it looks. Hattie (named from Cap Hatfield who had the injury that turned his eye white) had an eye infection that took a serious turn for the worse. This is her right before surgery to have her eye removed. Here she is after she had recovered enough to get back to her siblings.
And here she a few days later, falling asleep sitting up, stoned out of her mind on her pain meds.
She’s currently doing fine and her fame on Facebook has gotten her whole litter some early attention. Hopefully, we’ll be able to find homes quickly for all of these gremlins.
On The Subject Of Work:
TEAM ESAH rocked the Run For The Animals Marathon! We raised almost five hundred dollars in donations for the homeless animals in our area.
And while we were there… we did some Stella advertising!
Nice t-shirt iron-ons, huh?
Stella is still looking for a forever family. We have had a stroke of luck and a lovely man named Jack Huh has come in to help us. Jack has volunteered at several ASPCA shelters and has worked with many dogs to make them more adoptable. He’s coming by to hang out with Stella a few days a week. He’s been calling around to see if he can find a shelter in our region to take her, but so far as struck out. Sadly, many of the shelters are full if not overloaded. We are keeping our fingers cross that he’ll get us a break.
And that’s that! Look for some cake updates and some book reviews! I think I’m back on track!