My lovely little children, demonic monstrosities from a hell dimension that they are, have sicked me up. Again.
Or maybe it was my darling husband. Again.
I don't know which one is responsible. I also don't care which of the jerks did it. All I know is that I want a) relief from this and b) retribution.
I don't know how to achieve either.
Tylenol hasn't helped. Advil hasn't helped. Naproxen hasn't helped. Not a damned thing has helped.
Hot shower? Tried it. Popsicles? Tried them too. Temporary relief at best- and false hope at worst.
My throat feels like I ate a brick, chased it by chewing lit cigars and swallowed really old bong water (not that I would know anything about that). My body aches, I have a manic depressive fever that comes and goes with insane, completely unpredictable randomness. And I can't hear out of my left ear. WTF? What kind of sickness did they give me? It's like some horrid cross between a viral strep infection and a inner ear gnome who eats crackers on my ear drum.
Obviously, my family will be 'ground' zero for the next global pandemic of 'feeling crappy' (without having something curable). Complete chaos reigns in my living room right now, because I feel too icky to fix it.
This is balls. I'm going to start sterilizing myself after every form of interaction I have with any of these people. I'll put my universal precaution skills to the test. Glove up to tuck them in, wash my hands after hugging them, and changing clothing before leaving their bedroom.
Not that I'm complaining (yes, I bloody well am). I love them. Very, very much. But I am sick of being tired, sick of being achy and sick of being sick.
My momma called tonight, and when she found out I was home from work, we chatted for a very brief time (because my damned throat was too sore to talk to her). And I suddenly remembered being sick, at age 9, with the chicken pox.
And I remember SCREAMING at her (as a 9 year old), "You know how to make me feel better! You just don't want to!"
And now, looking back on it, she probably did know how to cure the chicken pox, but letting me suffer was the only form of retribution she could exact from a 9 year old.
I hope my kids get sick again, so I can withold a vital cure, like oatmeal baths. That'll learn them.