Or at least I may get sick more often than I thought.
You see, I went to the doctor today because my kids are infested with strep, which was no big surprise to anyone, and I’d started to feel a little down. I didn’t feel all that sick, just tired and groggy and achy. The achiness could be contributed to stress, which seems to fill all of my days lately, and when I’m like that my shoulders are continually up around my ears. But I took my temperature, just to check.
It wasn’t high, just around 99-99.5. But I don’t get fevers. (Except for that time I probably had the flu but refused to go to the doctor because there was nothing they could do about it anyway.)
I woke up this morning feeling pretty awful, like I wanted to stay in bed forever, or at least until it was time for Doc Martin on TV tomorrow because that show is awesome and if I don’t watch it when it’s actually on TV I probably won’t ever see it again because there are too many other shows that I don’t have time to watch when they’re on TV because it’s usually later than I want to stay up, but really enjoy watching anyway. (Mad Men, I’m looking at you.)
But we all know I don’t have the luxury of sleeping past 6:30, except on Mother’s day when I slept until 8:30 and it was heaven. So up I got and the more I moved around the more I decided it was just allergy gunk that was going on inside my noggin. But then I took my temperature again and it was a little high again so I made Chris tell me I should go ahead and go to the doctor just to get checked out. Because I am incapable of making myself go to the doctor. I live in fear of them looking at me like I am a hypochondriac and wasting their time on nothing so I never go, which kind of explains why it took them forever to find me in their system.
Last time I went was for a sinus infection when I was pregnant with Adele. The nurse practitioner told me I looked great, which was a far cry from my hoo-ha doctor, who told me I needed to stop gaining so much weight. But I blame that on the fact that he was a man and had never actually experienced the miracle of having a tiny foreign presence inside your body soaking up all your nutrients and making your back itch in that one spot over and over and over again that no one could seem to scratch the right way to relieve the itch, plus there’s those weird skin tags and discolorations that pop up and the fact that you don’t poop for months at a time and you know what would make me feel better about the fact that I have stretch marks all over my body even though my mom never had any and everyone knows that when you get pregnant your body is supposed to handle it the exact way your mother’s does?
This pint of Ben & Jerry’s. And those French fries.
What was I saying?
Every time I feel like I might possibly be sick, in my mind it’s because I’ve done something wrong, like eaten a bunch of junk food or not exercised enough. So I feel like if I go to the doctor, they’re just going to fuss at me for not taking good care of myself. So I don’t go.
I realize how ridiculous this sounds. But I can’t break it, you guys.
But I went today because I told Chris to tell me to.
And there was no fussing or chastisement or even a slightly down-turned frowny face that could symbolize someone’s disapproval in me.
Also I weigh less on their scale than the one I have in my house.
I tested negative for strep, but I’m pretty sure the nurse practitioner didn’t believe the test because she said everything in my head was red and swollen and since my strep-carrying children for some reason love spitting in my face, it was more likely that I had it and it just hasn’t shown up yet. Or I have a sinus infection.
Either way, I’ve got giant blue pills that hopefully will clear everything up and I can stop feeling guilty for allowing myself to get sick.
But, as any parent will tell you, even possible death by sinus infection and/or strep will not exempt you from the fact that while you were brushing your teeth this morning your daughter was digging into the tub of Vaseline you left out for your son’s eczema-laden feet and promptly forgot about.
This is how I found her.
|See how the water just beads off of her? |
That's not a good sign.
And even after her bath, she still pretty much looks the same.
It feels so gross to touch her hair, you guys. And it’s not coming out. I figure that fact, and these photos posted all over the internet, are her punishment, not to be completely doled out until she’s 14 and easily embarrassed.
She deserves it.