Somewhere around mid-December my husband brought home a nasty cold. After two days of sniffling and sneezing he was better. For my son, and for me, this cold turned into a sinus infection and we both have been through three rounds of antibiotics to get rid of it. My boy is finally better, but the last two days have left me feeling even worse.
I am typing this with a raging headache, which is a frequent occurrence. I have to use an inhaler before I exercise thanks to my asthma and I take medication and use two different nose-sprays and a rinse for my sinus problems. I am sick. A lot.
I am also a klutz. I have broken the same ankle three times. That stuff they say about the bone getting stronger after it breaks? Not true. I have suffered two concussions and now keep prescriptions in my cabinet for dizziness and nausea.
My ailments over the years have ranged from adhesions from my two c-sections (ow), to pleurisy (more ow), to meningitis (mostest ow). I had meningitis, I can say mostest if I want to.
I once played a board game with two of my sisters where they had to guess the answer I would give to certain questions. One of the questions was, “How many days a year are you sick?” One sister answered 300 and the other one wrote down 350. They were both wrong. My answer was 365.
At the beginning of 2009, my husband said he was going to start a journal to keep track of all my illnesses. Last night, I called him at work and said, “Go ahead and put down that today, on top of my lingering sinus infection, I had dizziness and a sore throat”.
He replied, “I stopped keeping track. I figure it’s easier to write down the days you are well.” That’s how often I am sick. I didn’t even make it a month-and-a-half before he gave up.
My poor health probably just boils down to stress and insomnia, but you know what boys and girls? It’s getting old. I am sick of being sick.
I wish they could give me a pill for that.