2-Week-Long Cold

Jesus Murphy. It's been forever. But I've been sick. Two weeks! And I've been pushing through and chugging along because that's what you do. Back in the day I would have done my work, and then passed out on the couch. Now I have to go pick up Jack from daycare and take care of him till bath and bed. The Dude has had crazy times at work and hasn't been getting home till around 7:00, missing everything.

Then there's shopping to do for him, his laundry, and cleaning up from play time. Then I can rest. But it hasn't been enough rest to get better. I've been taking Advil and Buckley's cold pills all this time because swallowing hurts, congestion is coming and going and I've been making out okay. Jack's birthday party was on Sunday and I made sure I was full of pills to see me through.

I'll write about his birthday another time. Yesterday was his actual birthday and I had a doctor's appointment, had to stop work early and the Dude picked up Jack (late) instead of me because I had a fever. I'm now off until Tuesday on doctor's orders. I was told I should find someone else to care for my baby, but who? This is when having family around would make a big difference. I can't exactly call them up three hours away and ask them to make the journey over this. Surgery, sure. But not a virus. This is one of those things you just have to sort out on your own and it stinks.

Today I slept until 2:00 p.m. I couldn't even believe it, but I must've really needed the rest. The Dude just texted me and said he couldn't pick up Jack today. So that means I have to go out in the rain and do it myself. *Sigh* Two steps forward, one step back. And this is how your illnesses linger when you have a small child. They bring germs in and then require more work out of you, leaving little room to get better.

It was hard yesterday, not picking him up, not touching him, trying to avoid making him sick. He was so cute playing with his dad and smiling and clapping. And just like a year ago, I was too incapacitated to really enjoy him.

Nuts to this cold.

I'm sick too

It's day nine of Jack's first cold and I have succumbed so hard to the inevitable health decline you experience from seven straight nights of close interactions with someone who's sick and clinging to you. Up and down, plenty of that. And now I'm coughing and sneezing and waking up with the sensation a baby elephant is residing in my lungs.

This loss of sleep has been kicking my ass, but the Dude is on holiday until tomorrow and for the past three days he's been doing the lion's share during the day. My being up at night is to give him the battery recharge he needs to handle that. So, it's worth it. But damn.

I went to a walk-in clinic today (And thus left the house for the first time in five days) and experienced the profound boredom that waiting in a room with unwell people brings. Thank god for smart phones. It was over two hours of sitting there rubbing knees with strangers. The Kobo app and Candy Crush made it bearable.

And I was given a steroid nasal spray. I really hopes it does something because, yeah. Tomorrow is the last day I'll have my husband here to take the reins. Then it's back to me.

Jack is pulling himself up onto his feet and now cruises along the furniture. There is no stopping this kid. I'm wondering how it'll be taking him to meet-ups now. He won't be held and he's too damn heavy (21 pounds!) to do that anyway. I'll probably have to just follow him around.

I'm up and I'm doin' stuff!

It's exciting to see him do new things, which is pretty much all the time. He's waving, babbling constantly, able to lower himself back to the ground, and nothing makes him happier than destroying a block tower. Or Big Bird. He loves his stuffed Big Bird.

I'm having a hard time finishing this... I'm just really tired. Was this post cohesive? Well, I hope so.

Zzzzz...

When Baby Has a Cold

Jack has his first cold.

Oh, I could talk about Christmas, all the lovely things our families gave our son and the joy of watching my son grip the wrapping paper and make small tears. But on Boxing Day, it all came to a screeching halt. But I'll go ahead and briefly describe the BC (Before Cold) era.

See, we had rolled into my mother-in-law's Christmas eve before the sun set, had dinner and put Jack to bed. We woke up to a picturesque sight. The ice storm that hit the province days before had the trees glistening in the sunlight. She lives in a small town and the views from any angle are all things charming.

We did Christmas dinner at my aunt's house and spent the night. I had too much wine. Then in the afternoon we headed on out to a family friend's house on the island, and then off to the Dude's aunt and uncle's for dinner. Jack seemed to be holding up well enough, but was clearly starting to get grumpy. So, sensibly, we left. In the morning, we would see the Dude's grandmother in the nursing home and then come back home to Toronto.

That totally didn't happen.

I can't remember when it started, but Jack started waking up crying. I always take the night shift. If it's rough, I'll just sleep in from 6:00 a.m. on and the Dude will handle the morning. But the crying wouldn't stop and he felt warm. Eventually I had to wake up the Dude and we brought our baby into the bed. The Dude got maybe a few hours of sleep. I got none.

While I recuperated from a night that was hell on wheels, the Dude and his mom brought Jack to the walk-in clinic. Verdict? A cold.

Now, I didn't know this, but A. a baby often has several colds in the first year, and B. they can last TEN days. 10. One-zero. Cue misery. I mean, we had obviously gotten away with something all this time never having dealt with a BC before, but it was here now and damn it.

We did not visit grandmother, we did not go home. We stayed at my MIL's and took care of business. This was nice. Food and drink were made available, no housework need be done and we could just focus on taking care of our sick baby and otherwise resting from caring for our sick baby.

And then I had to spend all night alone with him. The Dude needed to drive home and fatigue on the highway serves no one. So, I got the queen bed to myself with the baby and he laid on me all night, effectively keeping me awake until 6:30 a.m.

He'd wake up with a hoarse cry and I'd give him some formula. Then he woke up some more and I had no more supplies in the room, so I left him crying in the travel crib while I mixed him up another bottle. He woke up a lot to sob about his impacted breathing, and pitifully snuffle and wail. I'd give him baby Tylenol every four hours to keep a fever at bay.

In the morning I was relieved of my duties and I slept for 4.5 hours. But then it was go time and I was on the clock. We got home in one piece, and I did the night shift again when Jack wouldn't sleep in his crib, even with it on an incline to promote drainage.

So today, knowing that tomorrow I would have no sleeping in with the Dude back at work for two days, I got cracking. I researched everything and then I set out. I got my nails done first to give myself a break, but then I got serious.

1. Vicks VapoSteam. The Dude bought a humidifier and we have it running now. You add a little VapoSteam and it gives a little extra sumpin' sumpin' to the steam to help clear the sinuses.

2. Hydrasense Easydose. I use the regular full power stuff on myself for allergies and this stuff does not kid around. So we tried it. They come in capsules and we squirt one into each nostril and then wipe up the contents as they make their gross exit. (Okay, this is so gross, but one time it worked so well that a giant booger shot through to the other side of the nose and when I squirt up that side next, the capsule acted like a suction and sucked it right out. Incredible in its ickiness.)

3. Shower steam room. And! For bonus effectiveness, I put some of the VapoSteam in the shower and created this medicinal box of easy breathing. I ran Jack's bath and a whole bunch of stuff came out of his nose by the time the bath was over.

4. Vick VapoRub. Classic. We use just a dab on his chest.

5. Crib is still on an incline for drainage.

And for hydration, I added an ounce of water to the formula because Jack doesn't seem keen on drinking water on its own. And of course Baby Tylenol every four hours.

No screwing around.

So far Jack has woken up once, but went back to sleep. We'll see how well this goes. The Dude got Jack sleeping a lot for naps in the car seat (Again, the recline was the key) and I'm going to use all these tips and tricks to keep things going tomorrow.

I really do think my baby is a trooper, though. Not only is he going through his first cold, but he also cut two more teeth while at my MIL's. He could have been so much worse.

Oh, parenting.

But know what's great? He's been so snuggly and cuddly with me, and he can't do without his stuffed Big Bird. Precious.

Jittery Mom

So, today I got to be that mother, the one who thinks her baby is sick and so schedules a last-minute doctor's appointment only to discover her son is totally fine, whoops.

Why did I get nervous? Eh, baby poop stuff. I'll spare you the details. But turns out there's a lovely collection of other symptoms that make iffy poop an actual problem. Also, when we were in the appointment, Jack dropped a deuce and it was totally normal looking, which of course it was. On a related note, I have always had this little fear of going to the doctor's for medical concerns because I'm convinced it'll clear up on its own by the time I get there and I'll look like a hypochondriac.

The doctor was patient with me. I can't have been the first new mother to be rattled by baby bowel movements. I still felt sheepish.

Now, this all meant I didn't go to a mom meet-up like I'd planned on. The last time I missed a mom meet-up, a reporter showed up and did a news segment on the group and I caught it on The National. Not that I feel like I missed out on being on TV. Been there, done that, y'all.

Totally grabbed a screen shot for a souvenir. 

But still, it would've been neat, and the conversation that would have come out of that reporter's questions would probably have been a good one. Stimulating conversation is at a premium these days.

There's another meet-up tomorrow, and I'll be making that one. Unless of course Jack develops another imaginary ailment.

The Birth pt 2

Okay, the pitocin. I was able to put it off for a stint, but I had been kept awake for 24 hours and lost my resistance. Pitocin, without a doubt, is a terrible experience. And I didn't have the stamina needed to sustain it. After three hours of fast-paced, hard irregular contractions that raked my body with pain, I caved and got an epidural. Meanwhile, they cranked the pitocin all night and by morning I was suffering in an immobilized state. They inserted a catheter into me because I could no longer get up to pee and I still was able to feel it going in.

This is a crappy way to labour.
Fetal monitoring

When the nurses changed shifts, my fetal monitor had slipped. The nurse freaked out at the new erratic numbers and started rolling me around and the OB came in and wanted to attach a monitor to baby's head, up my cervix, which was only 5 cm after all that. At this point I said simply and loudly, "No. Just get him OUT. I want a cesarian."

And that's what happened. It was quick, I was scared, the Dude was left behind with no instructions and I was wheeled out of the delivery room and to the OR. I had to lay in a crucified Jesus pose while I was hooked up to things, given more anaesthesia and prepped for surgery. My midwife came and sat with me, offering comfort and eventually the Dude was given a place beside me.

There was pressure. I held the Dude's gaze the entire time, and it was the only thing keeping me calm. I love that man, I really do. He had no interest in watching the procedure. He was there for me. The curtain draped over my face quite a bit, my torso being so short, and it was yet another minor indignity.

We heard, "It's a boy! And he's peeing!" John was proclaimed a healthy baby, 9 pounds 13, and scored a 9 out of 10 on his Apgar. All the concern over him was unwarranted. The placenta looked in good shape, I'd had a lot of fluid and the cord was great. I cried when I heard him cry. The Dude was crying and we had a son.

He doesn't look a thing like a newborn. He instead looked about 2 weeks old or more. His neck was strong and he could already hold it up some. He latched to my breast within 40 minutes of the birth. Slightly overcooked, but seemingly healthier and stronger for it. My body sustained him well, but never seemed to be able to transition out of the pregnancy.

The recovery was a little rough. We paid a little extra and got a private room since we'd be there awhile. Unfortunately, the sleep deprivation was constant. I was woken up frequently by staff to give me meds, take my vitals or talk to me about various things. And this was on top of Jack (Which is my preferred nickname for my son) waking up and needing us. Rather than go into a lengthy sleep, he began a cluster feed immediately and I was nursing all the time while the Dude changed diapers.

Eventually I developed hives. They spread all over my body and itched horribly. I was given Benadryl, which worked, but they still came back. I was exhausted. I found nursing challenging with my incision and the pain meds were only enough to take the edge off, not eliminate it. I needed help up for everything. I could barely walk. The Dude was in and out a lot running necessary errands and fielding phone calls and texts, getting me drinks, and getting himself food since they would only feed me.

I was discharged after two days, hives in full effect, pain constant and feeling highly depressed about my chances of taking care of a baby. The Dude talked to my aunt and she came a little early to be with me. My father-in-law, now in town, took us home and I was helped into bed. My hives spread to my face and my lips looked like bees had stung them.

My aunt arrived and after more Benadryl my hives subsided. It was a battle for another day or two to keep them away. I developed more nursing issues after that. My milk didn't come in. I was only getting colostrum and Jack was going hungry. After losing 12% of his body weight, he was put on formula and I had to start pumping to generate more milk.

But this proved difficult. I was still exhausted and needed to nap, eat, tend to my body and the manual pump I had was not very efficient. The Dude went out and bought an expensive electric one. It works great, but I only got to use it once.

Last night I developed a fever of 38.6 C (Almost 102 F). It started with uncontrollable shakes and chills. After a couple hours I was heating up. My midwife said to go to the emergency room, and my father-in-law came over and drove us to the ER while my aunt stayed with the baby.

We were there till 4:00 a.m. The woman beside me, separated by only a curtain, was not given much chance to last the night and her family surrounded her as a priest gave her Last Rites.

They took blood and urine and I was sent home with an appointment for an ultrasound for 1:00 pm, which my father-in-law also drove us to. I wrote part one of the story before this appointment. The ultrasound was 45 minutes behind schedule and it was both an abdominal and a trans vaginal. I was uncomfortable.

After going through the ER again I was informed I had Endometritis, an infection of the uterus. I'm now alone in a hospital room away from my family for up to two days. I've cried a lot today. I'm tired. I'm low. I'm afraid of losing my milk. It'll be hard to pump in this room. It's from 1930, the whole ward is outdated and sorta scary and what few plugs there are are inconveniently located. The Dude fought the staff to get me a private room, and that is sustaining me right now.

That and the knowledge that it's either this line of treatment or I pretty much suffer indefinitely. Jack is in good hands, the Dude is home and finally getting some needed sleep and I guess now is the time to rest, myself.

So now I sleep. Tomorrow brings antibiotics, hospital food, pumping efforts, and complicated trips to the bathroom.

40+6

Oh, I haven't given birth yet, though I have contracted a nasty cold.

It's one of those colds that causes you to cough so forcefully that you throw up. I was already throwing up from time to time due to acid reflux, solved by sleeping upright on the couch at night. But now I was vomiting after I ate. And the runny nose has also been a delight.

So, with it being officially the 18th, I'm six days past my due date. This, generally speaking, is not a cause for concern. 40 weeks is average. Pregnancies can last between 38 to 42 weeks. Hence I don't need to be alarmed. My body is not an egg timer. But there is a difference between knowing this intellectually and the way it feels.

How does it feel? Well, I feel like a walking time bomb of fluids and pains. I've been experiencing pre-labour things for weeks: extra Braxton hicks, menstrual-like cramps. But still waiting on the THIS IS IT sensation of a real contraction, something I'll have to trust I'll recognize for what it is when the time comes.

The birth pool is set up in the kitchen. It's sort of just there, taunting me. One night when pre-labour pains were especially intense, I asked the Dude to get it ready just in case. And of course everything calmed down and I went on being pregnant forever.

But back to the cold, it's sort of been ruining my life for several days and last night entirely robbed me of sleep. I was waking every 20 minutes to sip water to quench my desert-like throat, or to cough violently. Then I had to go downstairs every 60-90 minutes to go to the bathroom and blow my nose. Putting off the bathroom ran me the risk of urinating a little from the coughs, they were that intense. I couldn't drink enough, I couldn't pee enough.

So, I called Telehealth and was informed to see a doctor within a few hours, probably due to my advanced gestation. And being that it was Sunday, I had to get to a place downtown that was only open until 4:00. Spent $35 on cabs there and back. That's how you know I'm sick, when I don't even consider the TTC.

Now, I haven't seen a doctor throughout my pregnancy. I've seen midwives. And because I haven't had cause to see a doctor, I've not bothered, even for a yearly physical. Why? Well... when you show up pregnant to a doctor and they want to know about your medical care during pregnancy you run the risk of condescension and disapproval. And I also can't help but feel my regular doctor would feel affronted by what is frankly my lack of confidence. It's not that I don't think she's a good doctor, it's just sometimes her bedside manner has been patronizing and appointments are always late and rushed, and there would be no home birth option and I don't know how knowledgeable she is about natural birth.

Anyway, this doctor at the walk-in was off-putting in exactly the way I had anticipated. He asked me about my doctor, I told him I had a midwife and he wanted to know what she said about my cough. I responded that she felt I should see a doctor about it. Fair enough, right? Midwives aren't GPs. They don't treat illness. They don't prescribe antibiotics. They're pregnancy and birth specialists.

His response was a dismissive, "Oh, that's helpful." Well, actually, I think it was. It's responsible for midwives to refer their patients to doctors when necessary. Then he wanted to know what my midwife intended to "do" about my pregnancy. I asked him to clarify that, because I'm not sure what there would be to do about a natural process that will end in due time. I'm still well within normal parameters, after all. He was wondering why I hadn't been induced yet, why I hadn't been transferred to an obstetrician yet.

I told him it was standard, that normal pregnancy was between 38 to 42 weeks and that now I was hoping I wouldn't give birth soon anyway until my cough was under control. He prescribed me some antibiotics, scared me off my neti pot and away I went.

You know, I just don't... care for doctors. I always go in hoping to like them, to see a friendly face and occasionally I'm pleased to meet someone who speaks with kindness and compassion and respect for you as a sentient person. But more often I just keep meeting these medical folks who talk down to me, try and frighten me or otherwise make me feel either confused or violated in some manner.

When we got home, the Dude propped me up in bed with every pillow in the house and we watched a movie until I found a way to lean over onto my side, feel the sweet bliss of gravity and fell asleep. Eventually I know I'll take sleeping horizontally for granted again, but I have to say, that much-needed nap felt godlike.

So, still waiting. Somehow having this cold, although annoying and awful, makes me feel a bit better about still being pregnant. It'll be easier to nurse it away without the baby here than with. So at least my lengthier gestation is serving some sort of a purpose.

30 weeks

Vomiting is slightly traumatic. Some people can do it unceremoniously and others... can't. I chucked my cookies for the first time this pregnancy last night. It came on hard and sudden while I laid down for bed and I barely made it to the bathroom. The Dude rushed in to hold my hair and cleaned up the mess I made. He's good. I mean, the man loves me.

I cried last night before bed. My ribcage was aching. Turns out it's expanded three inches already, which was alarming even if it was expected. My lower back was in pain. My sour heartburn was around as per usual and I had a constant gas bubble sitting inside my chest. I would pound it out and another would reappear. I was just so damn fed up with feeling subpar.

The Dude had a McDonalds craving and so that was what I ate last night and subsequently lost to the porcelain express. The only good thing that happened after the tears and the upchucking was that the McD's seemed to absorb all the acid and take it along for the mass stomach eviction. I had the best night's sleep I can remember in a long time. It was six hours of broken sleep, but heartburn-free. Of course it was back in the morning, but I had a reprieve from one of my most trying symptoms.

I have roughy 10 weeks left of this nonsense. I went to the midwives yesterday. Blood pressure? Perfect. Weight? On target. Measurements? Normal. Glucose? Healthy. My healthful, uncomplicated pregnancy still comes with all these quality of life issues. Gotta say, I'm not feeling the glow. I'm told I have the glow, which is great, but I feel old. Like, creaky with bouts of bodily failures.

My cloth diapers arrived in the mail today. They're really cute and high quality. The colours are nifty too. The fact they don't become instant garbage as soon as they're used gives me a sense of satisfaction. I always thought that was gross, the disposable nature of diapers. I'm grateful to live in an era with sensible (and adorable) alternatives.


I wonder if my child will ever want to read my blog. If so, let me tell you, kid, this sucks. If nothing tells you how much I want to be your mother, going through this crappy pregnancy should give you an idea. Also, I reserve the right to throw my suffering in your face if you give me lip. Ha!

Preggo sick

I have a cold, a cold I can't treat with plentiful amounts of over-the-counter offerings. I want so badly to take things that would offer me some refuge from this. I can honestly say that a pregnancy cold is something more insidious than your non-preggo cold. You're already more tired and achy than normal, so throwing cold symptoms on top of it without the ability to take whatever drugs you want for it, you're in for a bad time.

I don't normally get sick, but pregnancy does lower your immune system, which is to protect your fetus from being attacked as an intruding force. And that sorta makes sense. "Hey you! Yeah, buddy, you who's feeding off the organs there! Knock it off! Pew-pew!" A lazier immune system that'll give this foreign body a pass is something of a must. Too bad getting sick fast and hard goes along with it.

Sick, so sick

Oh man, I'm unwell. And it's been attacking me for days. It started on Saturday, and I have a reprieve on Sunday morning, but it teased me through the afternoon and really started in earnest in the evening. I suffered most of the night, throughout the morning and had to catch a bus home Monday afternoon.

And that wasn't too bad. I could even stop into a Starbucks for a piece of lemon seed loaf. But when I got home, that was it. Chills. I couldn't get warm, even with three blankets. I was sick to my stomach and couldn't bear the idea of food. I was weak, achy, and I completely succumbed to overwhelming fatigue. And this is on top of the highly unpleasant main symptom that had me two pounds lighter in two days while visiting my family. I'd estimate I'm down another pound.

I took the day off, after being called to the line of duty, so to speak, all last night. I couldn't bear to face the day. I could hardly pull myself out of my bed.

And now I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow, so I'm taking another medical day. I'm yet to work in my new office. It's there, ready and waiting, set up and all that jazz. I can't help but feel guilty about it. It's not like I'm well enough to be working, but my station is there, visible from my couch, and I feel delinquent.

Ugh. My stomach is aching so bad right now. I'll cut this off.

Hello 2011

I rang in the new year with friends and woke up sick as a dog, through no fault of my own. And by that, I mean I didn't have a hangover, I had a sore throat, fever, aches and a stuffy nose. I'm glad I'm not superstitious, because otherwise that and my messy apartment would be a real concern for entering 2011.

So 2010 was quite the year for me. It's not like I didn't chronicle everything in here already, big and small, but I do like to sum up things, so here we go, in chronological order:

• Hired maid service for the first time
• Hosted an Oscar party
• Went to California for a wedding
• Danced in the spring gala
• Saw Lady Gaga in concert
• Tried hot yoga
• McPal moved into the city
• Got engaged
• Booked a venue for the wedding
• Smokey died
• Dude was best man at his brother's wedding
• Went to Mexico and saw my family
• Was in my cousin's wedding
• Bought my wedding dress
• Turned 28 years old
• Went on extended trip home to our hometown

Add to that various parties, movies, books, visits with friends and great meals, and that's been my year. It was a good one.

2011 is the year the Dude and I plan to get married, but before that we're getting kittens! We still have to wait a week, however. Yes, yes, life is rough. I suppose it's safe to say that the year will also comprise of planning a wedding. I still have to find flowers, a cake, a DJ, wedding rings, and an officiant.

And of course, get over this stupid cold. *Hack* *Wheeze* *Sniffle* At least I got in a good new year's party before I came down with this. It was a really fun night: good company, tasty food, games, drinks, and celebration. And good thing I enjoyed it, too, because the rest of my holiday vacation is likely to be spent in bed.

w00t for Canada!

This is the cold that never ends. Yes, it goes on and on, my friends. Somebody started sneezing it, not knowing what it was. And they will go coughing on forever just because this is the cold that never ends...

Yeah, still sick. This one has been a bit of a trip. I've been getting bouts of feverishness tossed in for good measure. And tomorrow is Valentine's Day. I really want to be well enough to enjoy it. You know, you get through a chunk of cold and flu season unscathed, and you start to think you're immune. Well, my body sure showed me.

So! The opening ceremonies last night were pretty fantastic, except for the hydraulics fail at the end. Can you imagine being the dude responsible for that? There's some work you don't want on your resume. But other than Canada's failure to achieve a proper erection to light the torch, they were still able to rise to the occasion. Heh.

I thought overall, it really captured our country. I loved the fiddlers, and the skaters around the rockies. The Inuit bit at the start was very Lord Of The Rings. When the white-garbed Inuit with the staff slammed it down and caused those rippling rings, all I could think of was, "You shall not pass!"


And good old Wayne Gretzky lit the torch, inside and outside. I was pleased it was him. He's an athlete, he's a Canadian hockey hero, and everybody loves the Gretz. Rick Hansen was a cool choice, too. It looked like a rough push into the stadium, though. Maybe dude could use some snow tires.

I'll be watching hockey and figure skating. Those are my favourites. I care about the others in terms of medals, but I'll take the time to watch the events I really like.

Go Canada!

Sick and Valentines

Still sick. Had a woozy doozy of a day yesterday. Actually had to take the day off work, and when you work from home, that says a lot about how crap you feel. Today I worked and it took me forever as I hacked, sneezed, coughed and slugged my way through my job.

And now I have a glorious three days off. Recovery is ahead. Though tomorrow maid service is coming to clean the apartment and the Dude's stepbrother and his fiancee want to take the Dude out to a belated birthday dinner and I'm invited. I'd like to go, but we'll see how I manage with this nagging cough.

As for the maid service, it's my Valentine's Day present to the Dude. Past years I've sprung for a couples massage, or a hotel room at the Gladstone. Romantic stuff. This year I'm being pragmatic about what will bring us closer together as a couple. The Dude's been talking about hiring cleaners for over a year. He loathes to clean (Fancy that!) and so this is right up his alley. And in turn, it's also up my alley because although I am less adverse to cleaning than he is, I don't care much for it either.

My goodness, my throat feels like ass. Maybe a nap is in order. I'll grab Smokey. He's always up for a nap.

Sick 'n stuff

I'm sick. Not terribly so, but enough that living sucks. It's a basic cold, mostly a sore throat that makes it hard to talk or swallow. And though I've downed a ton of Halls, some Benylin, and I've tried to sleep this off, what helps? Uncle Ray's hot chips. Go figure. It burns to eat them, but it burns so goooood.

The Dude's been taking care of me. I don't do sick well. I never have. I always get over stuff pretty fast, though. Maybe because I stop doing everything once I'm sick and give myself a chance to recuperate. Or maybe I'm just a wiener. Whatever.

I go rest now. Zzzz...