I’ve been quiet lately, in case you hadn’t noticed. It’s possible it was the stress of the holidays that left me unable to formulate any coherent thoughts, but it might just be that, after sharing 100 authentic days on social media, I didn’t feel like sharing much for a little while.
I went on vacation with my family in Florida over the holidays. We stayed with my in-laws, who are Snowbirds, and while we had some great times, we had a rather traumatic ending to 2015. Thankfully everything turned out well, but it involved paramedics and lots of blood (this is the single most dramatic scenario I’ve ever been witness to, and I hope I’ll get to write a blog post about it some time, with permission). In the aftermath of that, I guess my defenses were down, and I ended up developing pneumonia, which I’m still recovering from.
Actually, I’m sitting in the waiting room at the ER, as I write this.
I’ve had chest pain for a week now, and it had gotten worse in the past day or two. Probably just a bruised rib from all my coughing*, but medical officials take this kind of shit seriously. So, given that it was a weekend and that the health network I called for advice made me promise I would go the the closest ER immediately, here I am.
It’s pretty funny.
Not funny strange, funny hilarious, because I found myself looking forward to a long wait in the ER. And The Husband was jealous. He offered to come with me and get my parents to look after the kids and I laughed at him. I know he loves me and was probably moderately concerned for my well being, but the reality is that he was really just looking forward to a few hours where he could read, uninterrupted.
I totally don’t blame him, since I felt exactly the same way.
The idea of not having any kids hanging off of me, of having someone focus only on my well being, without distractions, of having a few hours where I could tap away on my laptop about whatever I felt like seems like heaven.
Even if it has to be in the ER.
With a stabbing pain in my ribs. Surrounded by a bunch of incredibly anxious people who have as-yet-unknown illnesses. And one woman moaning in the background. And another man intermittently yelling “GET ME OUT OF HERE” at the top of his lungs.
Whatever. I’ll take my Me Time wherever I can get it.
*turns out it’s inflammation of the lining of the ribcage. which is not uncommon during the recovery stage of pneumonia.