Never ask, “What Will Happen Next?”

The last time I wrote, we had mono, conjunctivitis, bronchitis, and sinusitis in the house.  I ended that great post with the question, “Wonder what will happen next?”

Well, I’ll tell you what happened next.

Pleurisy!

What is pleurisy?

Pleurisy is inflammation of the lining of the lungs and chest (the pleura) that leads to chest pain (usually sharp) when you take a breath or cough.  Source:  PubMed Health

pleural space--pleurisy

Image via WebMD

Who has pleurisy?

ME!

I can’t bend over, talk much (can you imagine?!) laugh, lie down, sweep, mop, carry laundry, hold the toddler, or push a cart around the grocery store without getting short of breath.  So, basically, I’m short of breath all the time.

I’m on breathing treatments, an Albuterol inhaler, oral steroids, pain meds, and my second round of antibiotics (for whatever is causing the pleurisy and the ear infection that didn’t go away with the first round.)  By the end of this round, I will have been on a strong antibiotic, that makes me nauseous, for 20 days.  I’m waiting for whatever side effects that may cause.  I’ve been told, by my friend Dawn, that I should be ingesting some probiotics.  Probiotics are found in foods such as yogurt and sauerkraut.  Blech.  I’ll take my chances.

sauerkraut

I'm not eating that.

 

As the doctor ordered, I spent the entire day in bed.  An entire day in bed!  Well, surely, that was the silver lining, right?  Um, no.  It stinks.  I did nothing but play mindless FB games and watch TV.  And have the jitters from the albuterol.  I couldn’t sleep because, even with the pain meds, it hurts to lay flat.  I can’t sleep sitting up.

My husband was nice enough to take the day off and run the kids to school and pick them up.  I was still awake at 5:45 AM.  No sleeping in.  I didn’t go to work, which always makes me feel guilty.  I did manage to put together a crock pot meal I found on Pinterest a while back.  It was terrible.  Seriously, I spit it out on my plate.

All in all, not a good day.

Tomorrow, I return to my normal schedule.  Sure, I still can’t breathe well and my chest still hurts, but I don’t think I can take another day in bed.  It’s too exhausting.

 

 

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Hell Week at Momfog’s House

English: Picture of myself with Conjunctivitis...

Image via Wikipedia

This has been a really crappy week. Everybody is sick. It started with Molly. Three days of excruciating ear pain. About the time she got better, I started feeling bad. It was a cough. Then it was a runny nose. Then my chest started making a noise like crumpling paper. I figured it was time to go to the doctor.

The diagnosis?  Sinus infection.  Ear infection.  Bronchitis.  The cure?  A shot of steroids in the place they always give you a shot (man, did that burn!), some heavy-duty cough medicine, and a round of strong antibiotics.  On a happier note, I got stronger meds for my back pain.  Woo-hoo.

I left the doctor’s office and got a phone call from daycare.  Anna woke up from nap with her eye glued shut.  Pink eye.  Fabulous.  I mean, what’s better than a highly infectious condition in a two-year-old who sucks her finger, touches everything, and gives kisses all day long?

Then, I go to pick up the other kids.  The oldest, Aidan, has a sore throat, is exhausted, and obviously has a fever. Great.  Strep throat.

I took Aidan and Anna to the doctor.  Anna has an ear infection, a sinus infection, and conjunctivitis in both eyes.  Her whole face is oozing green junk I have to wipe off every five minutes.  Her eyes are swollen and have dark circles under them.  She looks like she went 10 rounds with Mike Tyson.  And, even better, she’s one of those kids who get hyper on Benadryl.  When she’s hyper, she’s sassy and LOUD.  I was unsticking her eyes this morning and she actually said to me:

“Be gone,”

and dismissed me with a flick of her hand.

princess clip art via Microsoft Images

Princess Anna

Later in the day, I heard her screaming in the back of the house.  I called her name and asked her what was wrong.  She answered simply, “I’m screaming.”  Oh, okay.  I guess it’s good to practice screaming on the off-chance she might one day be chased down by an undead boy from Camp Crystal Lake who wears a hockey mask.

As for Aidan, he doesn’t have strep.  He most likely has mono.  He wasn’t happy with the diagnosis.  For starters, that throat swab freaks him out and it was pointless.  On top of that, I had to ask him who he’s been kissing.  Of course, I HAD to ask him that.  I’m his mother and it’s my job to embarrass him.  It worked.  He gave me a dirty look.

Anyway, there’s nothing you can do about mono.  He’s going to feel like garbage for the next few weeks and all I can offer him is ibuprofen.  He’s done nothing but sleep for two days and barely had the energy to walk around the grocery store when we went to get Anna’s medication.  He said it feels like a ball is stuck in his throat.  I’m guessing that’s the swollen glands?  I’m not sure.  All I know is I can’t do a thing for him.  That sucks.

The other two kids have a slight cough.  I’m hoping and praying it stays that way.  If they get something else, there’s a good chance they’ll give it back to Molly and the merry-go-round of sickness will continue on its merry way.

On top of all that, we had 4 lost teeth this week.  Billy lost two in one day.  Then, on the day I went to the doctor, Aidan showed signs of strep that wasn’t strep but mono, and Anna got pink eye,  Molly lost one at school in her deli sandwich.  Later, Mikey nonchalantly pulled a tooth out while sitting in a frozen yogurt store, waiting for me to pick them up after I went to the doctor, and put it on the table.  I saw it on the table when I got there and made him wrap it in a napkin, which he threw away with his empty yogurt cup.

missing tooth clipart via Microsoft Images

What with being sick myself and tired from fried chicken day at work (don’t ask, just know it’s AWFUL), the conjunctivitis, and the strep that was really mono, the exhausted Tooth Fairy completely forgot her duty.  I had to make up a lame excuse for the thoughtless pixie, which my naïve and trusting daughter readily believed, thank God, and then look in the couches and coat pockets to find a stinking dollar to put under her pillow.

So, that’s it.  My week in a very confusing, meandering, and, I’m sure, nonsensical blog post.  And it’s only Friday night and there’s a three-day weekend.  Wonder what will happen next?

Confession:  I wrote this while on that newly prescribed back medication.  So, if it’s confusing, cut me some slack.  If you had the week I’ve had, you couldn’t write worth a crap either.  

My First Guest Post!

Hey, all.  Long time, no see.  It’s been a crappy two weeks.  My oldest daughter was sick and in pain with two really nasty ear infections.  I missed three days of work staying home with her.  Then, I got sick and couldn’t take any more days off.  So I’ve pushed through the week so far–the longest stinking week in the history of the world.  Oh well, I only have to make it through the next two days and then a three-day weekend.  Woo-hoo!

In happier news, I’m doing my very first guest post over at The Scoop On Poop.  I’m flattered she asked me and I’m really nervous about it.  It’s one thing if I suck on my own blog.  But what if I stink up her blog?  (Ha.  “Stink up” The Scoop on Poop.)    Anyway, I’ve decided to do something and it’s a pretty big deal.  Seriously life changing.  You know you’re dying to know what it is I’ve decided to do.

To find out, clink here to go over to The Scoop on Poop and read all about it.  Leave a comment and then check out the rest of The Scoop.  You won’t be sorry.  She’s seriously the poop, people.

The Scoop on Poop

The House Fire: Aftermath

So, it’s been more than 6 months since the house burned down.  Several people have asked how we’re doing now, so I thought an update post would be the easiest way to answer.  The shock wore off long ago and the depression that I convinced myself wasn’t depression, is gone.  Now, it’s just the Aftermath.

First and foremost is the housing situation.  We are so blessed to have a home to live in but it’s not where we want to be.  It’s out of our kids’ school district, it’s too far from church, and it’s in a town that smells like cabbage farts.  (There’s a paper mill here.)  We’re working on getting back to our normal smelling town.

Second, is the kids.  Now, to look at them, you wouldn’t suspect anything is wrong.  And I didn’t, until I asked my 12-year-old a question in a moment of frustration because he was taking too long to get in the car.

Me:  Why do you have to carry so much stuff with you all the time?  We’re just going to the store.

Him:  Do you remember what happened in June?

Me:  Dead silence.

What could I say?  The poor kid is toting all the stuff that’s most important to him around everywhere he goes.  I wonder how long he’ll do this.  How long until he feels comfortable leaving it behind.  I look forward to the day he stops worrying.

Junk Lady from Labyrinth

Hope this isn't my son is 50 years time...

After that, I noticed my Autistic son is stimming more.  His talks nonstop and his fingers are never still.  He knows how many days ago, exactly, that the house burned down and I’ve noticed he classifies events as “before” and “after the house burned down.”  He’s autistic.  He needs normalcy, routine.  Of course he’s stressed.   How awful of me not to notice.

pink flower guitar

Pink guitars make everything better.

The other three are taking it better.  My daughter, once she got her guitar and an MP3 player to replace her one-week-old birthday presents,  shows no signs of stress.  Number 4, who could only remark on the condition of the relatively undamaged porch when the rest of the house was burning to the ground, talks about the fire like he saw it in a movie or something.  Number 5 is two, so she doesn’t care.

Hey, 3 well-adjusted, if not materialistic and/or clueless, children out of 5 ain’t bad, right?

Then, there’s the husband.  He’s found refuge in golf.  Playing golf, watching the Golf channel, talking about golf.  I wouldn’t be surprised if he dreams about golf.  Golf, golf, golf, ad nauseam.  I mean, it has to be stress about the house, right?  Otherwise, he likes the most boring “sport” in all the world and that is unfathomable.  (Sorry, honey, but I like to take digs at you on the blog where you can’t do anything about it.  Love you. *wink*)

ugly loudmouth golf pants

If he starts wearing these, I'm having him committed.

Then there’s me.  You know that expression, “Eating your feelings”?  Well, let’s just say that I’ve eaten the feelings of every person whose ever had anything bad happen to them since the beginning of time in the last 6 months.  That translates to a whopping 15 lbs. of extra weight on my already overburdened frame.  It’s ridiculous.

Oh well.  Problem acknowledged, so now I’m doing something about it.  No, I’m not sharing what I’m doing or posting fat “before” pictures and asking you to hold me accountable.  I still have my dignity (what’s left of it after writing the term, “cabbage farts,” anyway.)  Okay, maybe just one picture.

big beach ball

Picture this with arms and legs and my head. That's me, exactly.

Point is, we’ve all dealt with the house fire incident in our own ways.  None of them terribly bad.  I don’t think any of us are scarred for life.

Unless the husband does start wearing those ridiculous golf pants.


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Putting Our Money Where Our Mouths Are
Depression