Limelight Stealer aka Cruel Irony

First, let me apologize to all of you whose blogs I read and, normally, comment on. I've been reading and bookmarking your posts to come back later and comment. It just seems like I'm the mouse on the wheel lately.

No one here would believe me, but I used to be a really healthy person. I rarely got sick. Years would go between colds. Of course, when I did get one it would become bronchitis, but it wasn't common. I've never broken a bone nor had stitches because of an accident. I had two minor surgeries in my early 20's; both were for cysts just below the surface of my skin.

Since moving up north and becoming a teacher, I've gotten sick every year. The lucky years it was just a touch of the flu or a bad cold. The unlucky years involved a hospitalization with a pulmonary embolism and pneumonia or ER surgery to remove another infected cyst. What can I say, I'm a cysty girl.

I wasn't looking forward to Jim having his turn because I don't want to wish feeling bad on anyone, but I was glad I was going to be able to help him recover from his oral surgery. You know, take care of him for once. Yesterday morning, we dropped Sera off at daycare and headed to his oral surgeon's office. I dropped him off and ran to a local grocery store down the road. I bought my favorite grande nonfat, no whip mocha and a muffin. I ate the muffin in the car while heading back to the doctor's office. Jim had just finished his paperwork and was called in minutes after I got there. His procedure went well. He came out groggy and doing an awesome Godfather impression. We picked up Sera, his prescriptions, and headed home.

We were just as happy bringing Sera home. She'd had an unusually groggy morning and seemed to be under the weather. It was time for lunch. I made macaroni and cheese as Sera loves it and it was one of the foods Jim could eat. I overcooked the pasta slightly so no chewing would be required. They were both tired, so after lunch it was nap time. After two hours, Sera woke up. Jim woke up while I was getting Sera up. They were both doing great. Jim was feeling good. The numbness was gone, and the vicodin was working. Whatever had been bothering Sera seemed to be gone, too.

We spent the afternoon quietly at home while the waves of nausea swirled around my belly. As each minute passed, I felt worse and worse. I should have realized something was up when they were napping. I went to eat some mac and cheese and just didn't feel hungry. All I had eaten was that muffin. Did I mention that it had cream cheese frosting? I usually don't buy the ones with frosting, but this had looked really yummy. It was all I could do to heat up mashed potatoes for Jim and make Sera a sandwich for dinner. When I took her up to bed, I had to sit down and rest because I broke out in a clammy sweat.

I just went through about 28 hours of feeling as sick as I've ever felt. There were times during the night that I just wanted to die. I tried to go to school this morning, but couldn't even get dressed. I also didn't think it would look good for me to have to keep a trash can by my side or go running out of my room multiple times a class period.

And how is Jim you ask? The one I was supposed to be taking care of? He bounced back from surgery like a champ. He has no swelling and no pain. He took a pain pill this morning and never took another. He does advise others, however, to get their wisdom teeth removed much earlier in life. They gave him some scary stats just before he went under.

For just one example of the irony, look at the subject of my last post.