I'm still sick.

I'm still sick.

I'm still SICK.

grumble.

Flashes of wellness taunt me. Tease me. Like a 3rd grader on the playground hogging the hopscotch squares.

Oh, I hate being sick.

Yes, I understand the irony.

I've drank about eleventy gallons of Gatorade. I'm peeing green. My nose glows like you-know-who and let's be clear, I bark like a seal - not a dog.

Where's my Nyquil?

Yesterday I drove home from Indiana. Still don't remember much of the stay. The drive home was coughing and staring at the lights ahead of me.

"Dee," I said, gasped, on my Bluetooth. "I can't talk, everytime I try I end up hacking up a lung. But I'm zoned, with 50 miles to home. Say something. Say anything. Don't stop."

If she'd had 'In Your Eyes' at the ready, she'd've blasted it into the phone. Instead, she hummed it at me.

This? Is why I love that woman.

Meanwhile, she's reading recipes at me while I putter through construction. Bear's out like a light in back and it's all I can do not to pull into a McDonald's parking lot and climb back there with him for a nap.

Hack. Wheeze.

Arrive home and beg CD for Nyquil. Need Nyquil. And a brandy chaser. With honey and hot lemon juice. It all goes down fine and I feel alive for about 30 minutes, mellow and myself again.

Then I get a blessed 5 hours sleep before I cough myself out of my dreams, off the bed, and land face-down on the floor. Mano y mano with a dust bunny named Ralph who was looking a little frisky about having me in his territory.

Holy shit, do I need to clean.

Hack. Hack. Shiver.

It's been a long few days. Blurry, with moments of jello. And sanity. Aha, all better. An hour later? Not so much.

CD stayed home today so I could rest. Turned a corner, hurray. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Or maybe that's an oncoming train?

My tongue raw from sucking on drops. But the coughing attacks linger. With a vengeance. Like the everlasting John McLane, they still hammer me long after they should be dead. Without warning, they shake me so bad that I have to press my breasts back into place; I'm a Ruben before, and a Picasso after.

Now it is night, and time for Nyquil. I need another 5 hours. Maybe 6.

But someone has put away my Nyquil. I need my Nyquil.

Give me back my Nyquil.

Please.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 05:58 PM | Comments (9) | Add Comment
Post contains 442 words, total size 2 kb.

1 Get well soon! (((hugs)))

Posted by: Eyes at November 07, 2006 04:00 AM (L67iN)

2 Ugh, being ill is horrid, get better soon! x

Posted by: Fiona at November 07, 2006 07:32 AM (vA34y)

3 (((HUGS))) So not fair you're this sick!

Posted by: Angela Giles Klocke at November 08, 2006 03:45 AM (TC0np)

4 i hope you are feeling better now and if not i hope your supply of nyquil is holding strong

Posted by: shana at November 08, 2006 04:31 AM (rtU/i)

5 Thank you... I've moved on to Codeine now, to try and soothe the cough.

Posted by: Elizabeth at November 08, 2006 05:07 AM (1ehDg)

6 Sorry to hear that you're not feeling so well!! Abby and I are the only ones who haven't been run over by the cold train. I know our time is coming ... and I have the Nyquil on stand-by. I hope the codeine helps and you feel better soon! *hugs!*

Posted by: Michele at November 08, 2006 10:06 AM (5VGFA)

7 Aww, man! I think the whole blogsphere has it. We're coming off a month of what sounds like the same horrible virus/uri type thing. This week my kindergarten class has sounded like a tb ward. Get rest, get well.

Posted by: paige at November 08, 2006 01:04 PM (33G+Z)

8 Ugh - I have what you have, so I know how badly you're feeling. I was just glad I had tylenol 3 with codeine already on hand when it really kicked in...! Hope you're feeling better soon.

Posted by: Betsy at November 09, 2006 09:58 AM (2K21d)

9 Ick, I'm amazed you managed to blob through your sickly fog. I only crawl into bed and disappear from the world in a haze of Ellen and the View. Just get a Nyquil drip

Posted by: Rebecca at November 09, 2006 04:14 PM (YpTvo)

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