Yay, Jen! I haven’t puked since about 8:00 p.m. yesterday. I thank the good drugs.
I still feel terrible though. My back still hurts. My headache is as bad as ever. I feel very weak. I’m able to eat but don’t have much of an appetite so I really have to force myself and that’s no fun at all. For some reason, applesauce on peanut butter toast is just about the only thing I’ve managed to eat. And bananas. I love bananas.
I’ve peed, like, TWICE in the last 24 hours, even after all those IV fluids. This just shows how dehydrated I must have been (and probably still am). I’m guzzling Gatorade and lots of ice water. It makes me cold and kinda angry.
The carnival at the school seemed to go off just fine without me. I went, but bailed pretty quickly as soon as I found out there were plenty of people to cover the prize room where I had been assigned. After a quick chat with Dawn, I headed home. I fell asleep almost immediately and didn’t wake up until the kids came home very noisily.
Weird stuff goes on in my brain when I’m on potent drugs. This afternoon I dreamed they had way too many Charleston Chews to sell at the school carnival. Then I had a new house and was married to Jay, one of my co-workers at Catapult (I know, Ed—you’re relieved it wasn’t you for once). Victor lived with us and did not seem to enjoy the situation even a little bit, especially when I was trying to get Jay to make out with me. And then I was spraying glass etching stuff on stencils all over the walls and kept saying it was really going to make my mom mad. I also have a vague memory of dreaming that Erin’s dad was putting out records—yes, the VINYL stuff—and we were all trying to be supportive but they were awful. Also, they were VINYL.
Sherilee, I watched the last half of a Top Chef episode rerun when I woke up. It was the one with the farm food. Interesting. It’s hard for me to read your reviews each week and not get sucked in. Now I might have to curse you because I might just be hooked on yet another show. I really hate reality TV and its unnecessary drama, but at least the people on that show have some talent.
Yikes. Suddenly I’m worried I might have imagined that Top Chef episode. Please tell me it was real, Sher. They sent home that headband/too-much-spray-tan girl, right? Gah.
As I’ve mentioned a thousand times, I hate football. I usually make an exception for the Super Bowl for the commercials, especially if Justin Timberlake is in one. Please tell me who I should root for, Lori or someone else I like in spite of their football feevah.
I finally finished reading The Cider House Rules yesterday. That took for-freakin’-ever! It was an interesting story, though, and one more check for my 100 Books to Read list. I haven’t decided what I’ll tackle next. Right now my dreams are way more mysterious and strange than the plot of any book I can imagine.
Dr. Kelli said this pain medication should be in my system “a while.” Frustrating, since it’s not doing anything good for me anymore. Until I start getting some strength and sanity back, you can expect these meandering types of posts. So sorry. Sorta.