Two weeks, three days. That’s how long I’ve been carrying on like I’m a badass (you all know better). Building furniture, cleaning, making any sort of food that the broken-hearted might want to nosh on, not allowing myself my mandatory afternoon naps (or rest, really – I don’t sleep), all while not acknowledging that my body is pissed the fuck off. Being called a stupid invalid may be the driving force behind the insanity.
The day after my appointment with Dr. Awesome, I felt much worse by afternoon. My fever that was low grade, running from 99.7 to 100.4 decided to hike itself up by two degrees during the first half of the day, then hovered between that and a sweet 103. I’m one hot babe. Tylenol doesn’t seem to be the best antipyretic, which is to say the shit doesn’t work for anything, with the exception causing liver failure.
Still, fuck you sickness. I’ve got faking to do. I did laundry, sanitized the bathroom and all of the surfaces I’ve touched in the shared living areas (doorknobs, microwave, keurig, refrigerator handle, kitchen cabinet doors, drawers and knobs, light switches, remotes, and the stairway railing). I even fixed the fucking garbage disposal because whoreface dumped half of a roast down the drain and the blades seized up. A quick turny-turny with a ratchet on the underside and a generous soaking of the topside with pb-blaster, we were back in business for her to fuck it up again.
“Are you still sick? You must not be that sick. If I were sick, I wouldn’t be able to get out of bed.” -Harpy
Sure, sure. Everyone I know has the ability to kick a viral infection in four days and has it layered on top of a fuck-ton of incurable diseases. Slunt.
THEN, when I should have been gaming it up like the fabulous geek that I am, I took a minute to cry it out in private and swallow a handful of pills. My entire body aches to the bones, my knees and ankles are swollen, and my face is so full of boogers my teeth hurt and my vision is blurry. It was a very quick pity party. “I’m just fine.”, then I was back at it.
This morning I decided I should shower to decontaminate myself a little bit, even though it was the last thing on earth I wanted to do. I proceeded to barf all over my feet, so now I must lysol the shower and my shower bench. It just keeps getting better!
More than anything else, I’m pissed off that I’m germy and can’t lounge in bed with Manchild when all I want to do is be near him because who knows what will happen on Tuesday. So what do I do? I ooze with rage when I walk into the bedroom and find him engaging in his FAVORITE activity (I even knocked!), then called his Mom a whore. What one has to do with the other, I have no idea. Smooooooth, Kara.
I can’t figure out what I should bring and what I should leave behind. We’re all piling into a Taurus, and Harpy requires 5 extra pillows which take up half of the trunk space, plus the shit for three other people who have to pack for 2 weeks of away time. I must bring my shower stool. All rooms are ADA compliant, so I won’t have to worry about filling a cup with water to rinse myself off because there should be handheld shower heads. Outside of clothing, toiletries and my traveling pharmacy that I plan to stuff into one giant duffel (that I’ll probably fall over while carrying), I’d like to bring my laptop, a few books, my knitting crap, and some food. Frozen meals, as well as some pantry shit. The most important is coffee. There is allegedly a microwave, mini-fridge, and a mini-keurig coffee maker. I don’t think it’ll hurt the frozen stuff to thaw as long as I finish them up within a week, or at least whatever doesn’t fit in the pathetic freezer nook. That’s a lot of stuff. And to think I used to be a low maintenance traveler. If I have to share a suite with bitchface and FIL, they’ll likely fill the fridge with their shit leaving no room for my stuff because I’m a sub-human of less importance.
I took a peek at my UA from Tuesday that I’m supposed to have repeated along with a metabolic panel, and I’m inclined to skip the cmp because nothing good will come of it. I can’t very well be there to entertain MC if I’m 2 floors above him in my own shitty hospital room, can I? Nope. Lots of protein, waxy and rbc casts, and cholesterol crystals (wtf?). At the very least, it may mean going back to dialysis 3x/week. Things were looking pretty good in August outside of the little torsion issue, but September seems to be destroying me. Fuck it.
Someone PLEASE put me out of my misery. Thanks!