I've had the flu or a stomach bug the past few days, although I felt much better earlier today.
Went over to my mother's house on Saturday; no problems, even though she'd told me she hadn't been feeling well for a couple of days. She did feel okay Saturday morning.
No problems for most of Sunday.
Then, Sunday night - I threw up a few times, had to run to toilet a few times, too (I won't get into specifics, heh).
I stayed home on Monday and Tuesday. I started to go to work on Tuesday, but felt all weirded out driving, so I went right back home.
Came home, and hubby almost immediately took any fun out of me (trying to set up a radiology appointment at the hospital and having to contact the neurosurgeon's assistant - a non-responder if there ever was one - kind of set me edge for a little while), and I actually cried a bit before.
I could pull the whiny, "Why me?" bit, but it's old and cliched, so I won't go there. But I really wish the past two years hadn't happened; why couldn't just be like that stupid Dallas episode, where Bobby finds out the past year was nothing but a dream.
(Newhart did it much better - funnier, naturally - a few years later.)
Heck, I'm not even talking about the aneurysm I had or having one of my kidneys ripped out (which will come some time this year). That, I can handle.
I can't get into anything more than that except to say that...life at home just isn't the same anymore. Which is probably why I actually look forward to getting out of the house super early in the morning...except for the fact I have to adorable, sweet doggies.
Sorry for rambling on like this, but I just had to get this out, and I don't know who to talk to.
Thanks for listening, whoever you people are.
Love and kisses,
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