How Fragile We Are

This whole "getting sick" thing has made me realize a few things.  First of all, I'm a horrible sick person.  Some people are saints when they suffer.  I am not.  I think that the world should stop and just let me be until I feel well again.  Unfortunately, being a momma does not allow for *stopping* so hats off to momma's every where who momma even when they're sick.  And a shout out to momma's who do it on their own, with no daddies in the picture.  And a holla' to those who have more than one bundle of joy running around when all you'd like to do is pop a few t3's and wake up when it's over.

I've noticed that there are generally two camps when it comes to illnesses and medication.  There are those of the mind that medication is a necessary evil when you're ill.  They try to avoid antibiotics but understand the need.  Then there are the ones that avoid medication at all costs.  Immunize the kids?  Hell no.  Let them build up a natural immunity to Polio.  Instead of tylenol, they use natural remedies like green tea and ginger.  Me?  Well, I belong to a third camp that I like to call, "Fry, SUCKERS, Fry."  Basically, I think everyone should be given a 7 day dose of antibiotics twice a year to fight what ever *might* be lurking below the surface.  There are germs and bugs and diseases absolutely everywhere.  It's amazing to me that we make it through the day, month, year without dying of Meningitis or a staph infection or something of the sort.  My son says that he wishes the world was made of penicillin - which would be lethal for me, but how great for him if every thing tasted like Banana and he never got sick.  Oh, I know, I know...we have a natural immune system that works very hard to fight these things every single day...but I'd sure worry a whole lot less if I had an IV drip 24/7.

Third:  I think I may be a freak of nature.  Right, okay...get all the jokes out of the way, but once you hear the evidence you might agree.  When I was 3 I had my adenoids out, when I was 5 I was scheduled in to have my tonsils out and they noticed my adenoids had grown back, so they took both out.  Before I was even 6 years old, I had removed twice what most adults don't even know exist.  Anyways, when I was a the doctors the other night, she said I had *pustules* on my *tonsils*.  My tonsils have grown back.  I'm tempted to cut a finger off, just to see what happens.  Maybe I have a super human power to regenerate missing limbs, they could isolate the mutated gene, I could make millions, and war amps would have to file Chapter 11 (unless, of course, they start a secondary business just returning keys to people who've lost them...because I'm pretty sure the world would shut down otherwise.  Little known fact, though...the Post Office does that too...)

And my final realization from this illness is that my father should be paying my therapy bills.  Growing up, if I ever had a headache a series of questions would follow...was my neck sore?  Was it stiff?  Did I have a fever?  Could I see any spots on my body?  Because it might be Meningitis.  After I passed all the check points I would be given a Tylenol 3 and sent on my way.  I was 12.  Every single illness was met with a tra-billion questions veering towards one deadly disease or bacteria or virus.  Nothing was safe.  My father was/is probably the only person who has ever gone into a McDonalds and asked for his hamburger to be "extra well-done".  E-coli, of course, but come on.  It's to the point where I can no longer google my symptoms because I suffer from self induced panic attacks when I discover my hang nail can house a staph infection and I can die.  DIE.  I know, I know...it's gonna be a hefty bill.

I'm happy to report that I can now eat things like rice and super soggy cereal, but get severely tired after a game of Yahtzee and have to rest for an hour or so.  But I have to go, because my fingers are getting tired from typing and my neck is sore. 

Does someone have a cool, damp cloth for my brow?