Uh-Oh...Mommy's Sick. REALLY Sick.

I am not a good sick person.  Don't get me wrong, I am a hypochondriac through and through--but only with BIG things.  Like heart attacks.  Or appendicitis.  And possibly blood clots while being pregnant (yes, I have been to the ER for those afflictions, and yes, all were proven false).  So really, I only like to be sick when it's a trip-to-the-ER kind of thing.  Not when it's a cold/flu thing.  However, even given my best attempts at side-stepping all colds and flu the entire season, somehow a little something snuck through (I'm pretty positive I got it from either Target or the book fair at Connor's school--whenever I'm in those places, I literally see the place like you would under a microscope and all I see are GERMS, GERMS, GERMS...salmonella surprise, E.Coli, etc...).

This "sick" that has ravaged my system for over two weeks now could not be ignored any longer.  I tried negotiating with it.  I tried self-medicating it.  I even drank my own weight in coconut water because I have this ridiculous idea that coconut water can basically cure everything.  It didn't work.  Last Friday, Dylan had the "you are sick, you need to see a doctor" talk with me.  Of course I refused--and I adamantly insisted that I was FINE even though I was entertaining a fever that caused me to sweat through three outfits that day.  I'm talking sweat running down my face, my "moisture-wicking headband" (RIGHT) soaked through, breathing heavily because I just made a freaking SANDWICH, kind of fever.  I acquiesced and visited our local Urgent Care on Sunday and got...nothing.  They ran a strep test, negative.  They took blood to run a mono and CMV test but the results would take a few days.

Monday morning came and there was no denying that the fever was still in full force (and couldn't be brought down by much with copious amounts of ibuprofen or Tylenol).  I made an appointment to see my PCP the following day.  Trying to remember that visit is like piecing together a dream you had the night before--bits and pieces, so I was obviously delirious (see, this is where shit gets real people).  She put me on an antibiotic and then proceeded to take 6 VIALS of blood--she wanted to test for mono, CMV and other "autoimmune diseases".  Wait, what?  While I felt a little better that I had an antibiotic, I became even more anxious about what else could possibly be wrong (Google "autoimmune diseases" and just TRY not to freak out).

I filled the antibiotic, bought more ibuprofen (and yes, coconut water) and valiantly tried to rest for three days.  Dylan bowed out of a work trip to Texas so he could be home to help with the boys and the house.  Here's the thing...I'm not good at resting.  I was exhausted but my head was filled with rush hour traffic thoughts of what I needed to do or should be doing.  When I would lay down, I felt like my chest was tight and a heart attack was imminent (I KNEW that wasn't going to happen, so no worries, I didn't call 9-1-1 or anything).

So, while I've been failing as a patient this past week, Dylan has been excelling at his adopted role of Mr. Mom.  Bee napped consistently for Dylan, he ate and played and was generally happy as a clam.  Connor was more helpful than ever and loved that Dylan was home before and after school.  Now, Bee did have crusty food leftover on his face and clothes (which he would lick off at a later time) and he wasn't changed out of his jammies until sometimes the afternoon.  But guess what?  He survived!  And I noticed a new confidence about Dylan--it was like he was thinking, "Ben Affleck has nothing on me suckas!  I handle this with more fun, style AND all without a full-time nanny!!!" (I didn't mention the squash on the back of his shirt, the formula stains on his khakis or the fact that his socks didn't match, or the slightly-crazed look in his eyes around 5pm--after all, those just added to his allure).

My bloodwork still has not come back (which I'm trying to convince myself is a good thing, not that I've contracted some rare strain of malaria, typhoid fever, rubella...) and I'm on my third day of antibiotics.  Besides the full-frontal assault the Cipro is doing on my digestive system (which I'm counter-balancing with daily probiotics), I'm hopeful that I'll be feeling back to normal soon.  I miss singing silly songs to Bee, dancing with Connor to "Thrift Shop" and staying up late enough to watch a few shows with Dylan.

I'm really proud of my "boys"--they were great team players and wonderful support for one sick mommy.