Not Enough Caution, Too Much Optimism

Saturday night was not good for Mrs. HM. Up every hour. Struggle to sleep. Still had the dizzies. Moving kind of slow all day Sunday, until I tried another shower around 4:30. I think I lasted an extra two minutes in the hot water this time. Some progress.

The Pony was off. He fetched things for me, and warmed my pizza lunch. As long as I was sitting still, I was fine. I am trying to get a lot of rest, but at least get up and move around.

Farmer H brought me the DQ grilled chicken sandwich for supper, since he was gone all day. I swear, I don't know what else those freaks can think of to do wrong with this sandwich! This time, it had the fibrous over-cooked layers of meat on the bottom, AND a tomato slice that was a half-inch thick with that green stem part through the middle of it.

I just want to get better.

Cautiously Optimistic

Saturday, I awoke with the slim hope that I am getting better. I had slept a solid 3.5 hours without waking every hour. I wasn't freezing. I got up around 10:30 and took my regular medicines. My temperature was only 99!

Since I was feeling kind-of okay, not extremely nauseous, I decided to wash the dishes that have been sitting beside the sink. I was kind of weak walking around to the sink. I did not like the cold shower that sprayed out of the dang spigot that Farmer H won't treat with vinegar to make it stop doing that. But sooon enough, I had hot water in which to plunge my hands. 

I washed the container from the delicious noodle/chicken/mushroom/pea dish that went to waste because we got sick right after I made it. And a pan from The Pony's supper, and a pan from my oatmeal, which wasn't really dirty, but looked like it hadn't been clean to start with.

WHOA! Too much! So exhausted. I hobbled back to the table and HIPPIE. Rested a minute. Read some internets. I was again feeling kind-of okay. So I decided to write out the bills for Pony House expenses. About halfway through, I started to regret it. But I had to finish.

Then Farmer H came home with my DQ grilled chicken sandwich. I mustered the strength to take it to the living room and eat it. Took about a half hour. He was watching that dang Barrett/Jackson Auto Auction. I KNEW he would fall asleep in his recliner. Yet he wouldn't give me the remote. Kept it where I couldn't reach it. So I got stuck watching an hour of that dang show. Then he denied sleeping.

I took a shower, but got SO EXHAUSTED that I couldn't stay in that delicious hot water very long. Then Farmer H went to the auction, and I waited on The Pony to get home.

I tried putting on socks standing at the piano bench, like I always do. I almost fell over! Pony had to rush over to help. This dizziness is a pain.

Pony agrees that I am getting better, but that I just overdid it today. I hope he's right.

The Under-Roof Castle King Strikes Again

On Wednesday, The Pony picked up Domino's Pizza for himself. He also asked if Farmer H wanted some. He did. I did not. The Pony has a standard order. He knows what pizza and what bread bites and which sauces he will need to get two days out of his meal.

Farmer H ate half his pizza on Wednesday. Then the other half on Thursday. I was sitting on the short couch, trying to get warm under the afghan, and didn't really pay attention to Farmer H. He had microwaved his pizza, and was traipsing back and forth starting a bath in the big triangle tub in the master bathroom.

It wasn't until The Pony was home, leaning over the long couch, that I noticed something amiss.

"Pony? Was Dad supposed to have garlic butter?"

"No?"

Yet we both saw the empty container on Farmer H's plate.

"You took The Pony's garlic butter. He was counting on that for tonight."

"If I want garlic butter, I'll have garlic butter!"

"That is so unfair!"

"You've let me have it before."

"Dad. You always ask, and I get extra so you can have some. But this time you just took it."

"I'm not gonna ask if I can have some garlic butter."

It's a losing battle.

Broken Record, Day 7

I know my tales have become dreary. I feel bad for you, but I feel even worse for The Pony. Poor Pony. I've told him he can wake me to say goodbye when he leaves around 7:15. I know he's worried about me and my malaise. 

Every day, he's so chipper. 

"Bye, Mom. Do you think you might be feeling a little bit better? Just a little? Or at least are you not feeling worse?"

So far, it hasn't really been worse.

Right now it's 11:10 p.m. Thursday night. I still have a cup and a half of water to drink. And I need to make a bowl of oatmeal so I have something in my stomach for the vitamin and aspirin land on. Last night I had the Maple Brown Sugar instant oatmeal. 

It was SO SWEET. It's been a while since I had some. Almost too sweet.

Being Sick Is Hard Work

I'm exhausted from trying to drink 8 cups of water a day. From shivering so hard that my sinews twang like banjo strings. Tuesday night, I'm surprised Farmer H didn't think I was possessed, I was shaking the bed so much. I had to go get the afghan from the living room, and drape it over the regular blanket on my side of the bed. A couple hours later found me almost incinerated! 

I took a bathroom break. My cheeks in the mirror were the color of a red Solo cup. When I laid back down, I didn't put on any cover. That lasted about a half hour. Then I got chilly again. This fever won't quit. I can't decide if the fever or the nausea or the dizziness is worse. Depends on which one I'm experiencing at the time, I guess.

The best part of the day is when Farmer H brings me that DQ grilled chicken sandwich around 2:00. By 3:00, I can work up to eating it. Wednesday, it was the SADDEST chicken sandwich I ever saw! The bun was round, but the tiny scrap of chicken was like a Vienna Sausage. It was still tasty.

Right now I have to get ready for my Z-Pack pill. I'm making a frozen chicken patty, with BBQ sauce. Also some saltine crackers. It's 6:38 p.m., and I'm on my 4th cup of water. Four to go.

I'm hoping to sit up on the couch long enough to watch The Amazing Race. They're bungee jumping off some incredibly high structure. That might take my mind off my sickness for a while.

Mrs HM Is Somewhat Conveniently Cared For (PT 2)

When we last convened, Mrs. HM was sitting in the waiting room of convenient care, clinging to her sanity by a thread. One, by one, the other denizens were called back. The 50ish Hacker. The Heavy-Breathing Lithe Man Dressed in Black. The Congested Blond Moppet. And then it was just me and Father/Daughter.

The door to the inner sanctum flung open, and a gal announced: "HM." Only my real name, of course. I knew I wasn't next. Father/Daughter stood and ambled over. Huh. Who knew there was so many HMs in this area?

When it was finally my turn, I tottered precariously on my dizzy legs. Did the weigh in, not even caring enough to take off my jacket. Sat in the room and gave my complaints, and got vitals taken. Then the NP came in. She was not the one I had last time, who cured my double ear infection. That one looked like an earth mother cross between a former colleague, and Genius's friend's mom. THIS ONE looked like a bird. Beaky and beady-eyed.

For some reason, Birdy seemed to doubt my symptoms. It didn't help that my traitorous temperature was only 99 when shot with a temple gun.

"Do you have THE VIRUS?"

"I don't know. I don't think so."

"Do you want a test?"

"Why? It's not like you'd give me any kind of treatment..."

Birdy shrugged, as in, "Touche!" I had her there.

"Three days of fever for a sinus infection is unusual."

"It's how I felt last time."

"You have a little congestion, and some color on the right side."

"I had a cold last Monday. Lasted four days, and I was over it. But then on Saturday, this congestion and bloody snot started."

"Oh! That makes much more sense. You got over it, then it came back."

"Last time I got doxycycline, and that worked."

"Huh. How about a Z-Pack? Are you able to take Azithromycin?"

"I've had it before."

"Let me go compare it to your other medications. We'll see which is best."

She came back shortly. Said she was calling in the Z-Pack. No idea what's wrong with me, or why I'm so dizzy. To follow up with my doctor if that continues.

Farmer H drove across the street to my pharmacy and got my Z-Pack. I felt SO BAD. Nothing to eat or drink without feeling nauseated. I did tell him that maybe a DQ grilled chicken sandwich would stay down. My sweet baboo got it for me.

Once home, Pony got my first two pills out of that blister pack. I took a bite of my chicken sandwich, and IT WAS SO TOUGH!

"I HEARD THAT, Mom! How disappointing."

"Yeah. I jammed my teeth together. Now I will have teeth too big for my mouth again. But the rest of it looks okay. I just have to take tiny bites."

As I write this Tuesday night, I've spent another day mostly sleeping. Still dizzy. Still fevered, though it went away for a couple hours around noon. And it seems to stay at 100 or less. Farmer H brought me another chicken sandwich around 3:00. That, and a Hawaiian Roll, plus a banana, was an improvement on my diet. For supper before the next Z-Pill, I had a plain chicken patty dipped in BBQ sauce. It might be the best thing I've eaten in four days. Right now I'm having a few saltines with my nightly aspirin.

I really wish I could get over this dizzy/nausea/fever thing. I did manage to work in a shower, but had to cut it short when my dizziness took over.

Mrs HM Is Somewhat Conveniently Cared For (PT 1)

You KNOW Mrs. HM is sick when she asks Farmer H to sweave her to convenient care.

Monday saw me lying abed until noon. I'd been in bed off and on since 9:30 the previous evening. Still chilled to the bone. Yet at noon, I felt cozy. Comfy. The right temp. A check of the thermometer showed the fever was gone. For a while... 

By 3:00, I was back in bed, snoozing for a half hour. Cold again. Farmer H came home. I said if I wasn't better by Tuesday, I wanted him to take me to convenient care. He said, "Let's go now."

Since I was chilled, and back at 99.4, I agreed. Not even a shower. The thought of stepping out all wet made me freeze a little inside. At least it wasn't 101, but who knew how high that fever might climb again. I'd already given it since the wee hours of Saturday morning.

Of course, the problem with going to convenient care at 4:00 is that it's not all that convenient. I prefer to go just after noon, when few people are there. However, I hadn't noticed more than a couple cars there over the past week when I was in town. Monday evening, the parking lot was about half full.

Farmer H did not go in with me. They would have allowed it, and I would have liked the support as I wobbled in, but he said he didn't think he needed to go. I sure didn't want to expose him to any new germs, either. So in I toddled. Strapped on my mask at the door.

Once in the inner sanctum, I was reminded of the railyard scene in Gone With the Wind! Bodies as far as the eye could see! Only these were alive, and not soldiers. Okay. Maybe not quite that many, either. A hacking 50ish housewife, a heavy-breathing lithe man dressed in black, a young mother with the cutest little blond moppet you ever saw, and the father-daughter duo at the window ahead of me.

I hung back, leaning on the wooden rail along the wall. I was NOT feeling good. This was almost too much to bear, standing to wait my turn. I swear that guy was filling out his paperwork there. The receptionist asked assorted questions. Seems the insurance wasn't right. Tried another. Said it might have been for the girl's athletic physical in their system. Although she did not look very athletic. After about 10 minutes, they went to sit near the lithe man filling out his own paperwork.

I checked in quickly, since I'd been there a couple months back with the double ear infection. My complaint this time was that I might have another sinus or ear infection. Three-day fever, and dizziness. I sat down parallel to the 50ish Hacker. Across from Father-Daughter. Catty-corner from Cute Blond Moppet. Who was hacking a lot of congestion. No mask on the little shaver. His mom got up for some tissues, and had him blow three times. I sent Farmer H a text that I was 5th in line, and he might as well go mail that check (in its third envelope) to the Gravel Guy.

The only thing keeping me sane was gripping my cell phone, and texting Farmer H the countdown until my turn. If I'd been home, I would not have been sitting up for 45 minutes. But here I had to. And to look not-crazy. At least I wasn't shivering. The room temp, in my jacket, was pleasant. Maybe like a freezing person feels warm right before dying!

More tomorrow. It's now 10:38 p.m. My energy is ebbing, and I'm fighting HIPPIE's keyboard.