Playing Hooky

That's what it feels like. Because I have been conditioned all my life to go, go, go, no matter what, unless I'm deathly ill. Heck, in my twenties, I went even when I was deathly ill. I worked in a warehouse, driving a forklift, unloading trailers, loading the small Toyota longbed which we sent out on daily deliveries. Every Thursday we rented a big truck which our truckdriver, Melody, drove. I admired that woman to no end. She was one tough momma.

I remember one day there, laughing hysterically about something and I could hardly hear myself laughing because my ears were clogged with infection. My tonsils were infected and swollen and I could hardly swallow. My throat ached, my eyes were watering, my nose was running. But I didn't have sick leave and I had been programmed all my life that you don't stay home from school/work unless you are so sick you have to crawl to the toilet. Not that I was sick much. I pretty much just kept going, no matter how I felt. Especially since I worked for minimum wage, had no medical insurance, or sick leave. Other jobs I've had, the State for one, required a doctor's excuse if you were out more than three days in a row. Who went to the doctor for a mere cold? You had to, if you didn't want to get written up.

In the summer of 2002, I started getting sick and I kept pushing myself for days. I had already been under a great deal of stress as we were looking for a new place to live, and the thought of moving alone is always stressful for me. Before I knew it, I was deathly ill. My eldest son ended up having to be hospitalized with the same illness, pneumonia, for ten days. I was out of work for an entire month. I was so weak and so ill that I couldn't sit up in a chair for more than an hour at a time. After I finally was able to go back to work, I couldn't work more than four hours at a time, and had to drive to my friend's house, who lives near my job, to lie down and take a nap before I could manage the hour long drive home. I also had to use those drivable shopping carts that the grocery stores provide for people who are handicapped. Those suck. I can't tell you how many times the battery ran out on me, and I'd be stranded in the back of the store. I'd have to walk slowly up to the front and ask to speak with the manager about the situation. I was so weary. It was a very scary time in my life, as I've always felt strong and capable.

During that time, my youngest son was the best nursemaid you could ever ask for. He waited on me hand and foot. My dh strung a piece of rope from my bedroom into the living room and attached a bell to it, so I could ring it whenever I needed something. I was experiencing bouts of violent coughing. I was not hungry at all, but suddenly I'd become ravenously hungry, which would quickly escalate into nausea. I had to eat something, quick, but everything made me feel like puking. So I'd ring for ds2 and ask him to list off what we had on hand that he could make for me. Buttered noodles were a favorite, quick and easy. I was trying to keep myself hydrated so instead of the guys bringing ice water in to me all day long they'd bring me a bucket of ice in the morning and a gallon container of water. I remember I started having trouble drinking plain water, and found I liked it a lot better with just an ounce of juice or so per 8 ounces of water.

I was experiencing a lot of fear. We were right in the middle of signing the contracts to buy this place out here, and I was sicker than a dog with Parvo. I found the only thing that kept me comforted and calm was to keep my Bible near me (under my pillow), and my mom gave me a little booklet called 40 Thought Conditioners by Norman Vincent Peale that I read over and over again. I prayed a lot. I had grown distant from my God prior to this sickness, but I felt I was spiritally reawakened and renewed my relationship with God because of it.

I had gone to the doctor; he said it was a cold and gave me antibiotics and cough medicine. The cough medicine made me have horrible nightmares. I had a series of four in a row. One of them convinced me to stop taking the cough medicine. I was sitting in a darkened room, a large oval table with chairs and several suit-dressed elderly men sitting there with me. I said to the one nearest me, "So what? Am I here to meet my Maker?" He replied, "You will be if you take another dose of that cough medicine."

Uh, I did not take one more dose. A couple of weeks into being sick, my chest started feeling constricted and I couldn't breathe. I also couldn't sleep. I thought I hadn't slept for three days, but my mom tells me it was really nine days. I went in to Urgent Care and they told me I was having an asthma attack. They diagnosed me with bronchitis-induced asthma and gave me medication to use. It must have been Albuterol and it did help me to breathe. I lost 15 pounds in that month while I was sick. And of course gained it back within six months.

Eventually I got better. But I became afraid of my body's ability to heal itself. I was so weak. It took me a good six months until I felt like I had some strength. I'm now very careful not to push myself too hard. Luckily, thank God, I rarely get sick-sick. I think I've been out sick from work one day since summer of 2002, and that was because I injured one of my tonsils trying to swallow too big of a piece of dry pork which I hadn't chewed well enough. My tonsil became inflamed and infected, and I felt like crap and thought I was getting a cold. But it turned out that it was only the injured tonsil causing me to feel so crappy. Actually I have been able to prevent tonsillitis for over a decade now by gargling with strong salt water.

I'm baking Baked Maple Egg Custard as I type. Ooops, the timer just went off, I guess it's done. Of course, I futzed with the recipe. I used 2 1/4 cups milk and 6 eggs. I was trying to think of something to make that will help to use up some of the milk and eggs. We are getting over one gallon of milk each day and we have not yet started to use it for anything much more than drinking it and I've been freezing either a half gallon or gallon every day. A friend of mine has offered to send her cream separator in exchange for the website work I've done for her. We're pretty excited about it. She is hoping to get it shipped today.

So... I feel like I'm playing hooky, since I'm not deathly ill. My brain feels fuzzy, and I know I would have gotten nearly nothing done if I had gone in. At least this way I can nap if I'm tired, I don't have to be stressed out about everything I'm trying to do in not enough time. It was hard to make the decision to not go in, because I have so much going on this week. And so much left over from last week.

Ds2 just woke up and said he thinks he's stepped into the Twilight Zone, because the house is cleaned up (courtesy of dh) and I'm home on a Tuesday. One of ds2's birthday gifts that he requested was "The Aligner" by DMT. I found mention of The Aligner on this website, with this comment, "To a chef, there is nothing more important than his knife. It is not only an extension of his hands, it is an extension of his very personality. The knife is a chef’s paintbrush." Wow. That is cool. See, ds2 loves to cook and is such a good cook, I envision him becoming a chef. I know he would make an excellent chef. I love that he is so knowledgeable about cooking things, and many times I can just ask him questions, instead of having to go to the Internet and do a search. He seems to absorb the information by osmosis, a true sign to me of extreme interest. There are just some things I'm interested in, and others I'm not. I get pissy if I feel I'm being forced to learn something I don't want to, because it's HARD to try to cram that information into my head! But if I'm interested in it, I just suck the information right into my brain and remember it easily.

I am going to take advantage of this opportunity to figure out our budget and do some more crocheting on the baby sweater! I also just tried the custard and it is delicious! So smooth and delicate tasting, and SO SIMPLE! Just put all the ingredients into your blender My maternal grandmother used to make egg custard in little cups. I never much cared for it as a child. I wasn't much of an egg fan. I think part of the problem is sometimes the whisk that Grandma used didn't thoroughly blend the eggs.

Until next time.