I know it's been a while, and for that, I do apologize. My one-week break became a two-
week break which then developed into an "oh shit I'm sick" break. If you ask me, my body was rejecting the relaxation time. Alas, I am back, and snarkier than ever. As I sniffled the Rudolph nose that I can not wipe I started to cower over the thought that maybe I was in fact sick... Let the record show that it took me two days of being sick before I actually accepted it. This debacle was the origin of this post. I will try to depict the back and forth that happens when accepting that I am sick.
As you may have read in my previous posts having the flu or the sniffles if you will, can end up being a three week, if not more, non-expenses paid trip to the hospital of your choice mainly because of Pseudomonas, and pneumonia. Which, is why you can't blame me when I have a self-deprecating two-day debate with myself over whether I should tell my mother that my throat feels a little horse. Yeah, that's usually how it starts, fucked up throat, and me justifying it by saying that I snored too loud last night and it scratched my throat (no, I don't snore). It's not until I drink a gallon of water (metaphorically) without showing any signs of improvement that I gather the strength to mutter the words "my throat hurts". Which, results in my mother verbally pinning me down (because let's face it I can't actually go anywhere). She then scrapes the back of my throat with a long ass q-tip drenched in Listerine to see if maybe that would be the end of that. Apparently, it has something to do with the PH balance? Hell, do I know? This procedure usually ends up being enough, and my throat is soon fine. However, that was not the case this time, and soon I was hit with the presence of the chest tickling, punk ass, little goblin that lives within all of us. Even though I tried my hardest not to I let out a tiny little cough. Making whoever was with me turn around a stare in fear like that ridiculous dramatic chipmunk meme. This usually leads to the analyzing of the tissue. You see, when you're sick, the color of your phlegm usually tells you how sick you are. Which means I spend a long, long time staring at tissues trying to decipher the tint, tone, and shade in addition to plucking out variables that affect the mucus at hand. My dad and I have been known to have long conversations over this. Debating about the consistency, the elasticity, etc... Yeah, that's my life when I'm sick. Sexy stuff huh?
Don't even get me started on the machines. There are so many machines. First, there's the nebulizer, then the BiPAP, usually followed by the chest PT machine, and last but not least the cough assist machine. Since I had to pay an arm and a leg to acquire these machines I have had them for a very very long time. Thus, they are massive and so fucking noisy, and usually, I have to use them together which just amplifies the annoyance. I can go on for hours talking about my experiences when I get sick, but I really don't want to. Why? Because guess what, I'm still fucking sick.