One. Of. Those. Weeks.


OMGAWD WHAT A WEEK. Can I please press replay? This was supposed to be my vacation?  My well needed, well deserved vacation.  WTF Happened?

I’ll tell you what… the mille-second I relaxed the lergy of the universe came crashing down like a thousand tons of stone gargoyles writhing upon my vulnerable soul infecting me with a radioactive festering flu and tsunami cold of the century where every single molecule and hair on my body screamed in excruciating pain.  I poured sweat, fever blisters formed around my parched lips, my skin cracked and eyes glued together in pussy pockets of flotsam and jetsam. And that was just Sunday,  Monday I woke to the slicing sound of needle sharp killer kitten nails hooking, carving and scoring across my face….I felt the wetness first, startled by the profusely bleeding gash – I ran to the bathroom to reveal the mark of Zorro (aka Charlie).  Half a bottle of peroxide, a tube of polysporan and a half hour of applying strong pressure…. the bleeding stopped.  Guess I’ll stay up now …it is 7:20 on the first day of my vacation…..then the phone rang and it was my sister telling me she was off to emergency.

I drank apple juice, oregano oil, yogi tea, neo citron, Buckley’s and whisky. I slept and sneezed and tossed and turned in perpetual sweats and dripping nose until my pillow was soaked. Every time I blew my nose I re-opened the kitten slash…eventually giving up on what would become a bulbous infected nose. I was too sick to go visit my sister in the hospital, so stayed closed to the phone with one eye peeled, the other glued shut.

Tuesday was a blur – it was supposed to be my Patty Pamper Day. I had 4 appointments lined up to transform me into the new and improved me – all cancelled.  I do remember throwing up and the toilet over flowing. Sister was stable. Gash mending. Tummy not happy. I stumbled to Shoppers Drug Mart for some pepto bismal, ripple potato chips and Glosset raisons.

Wednesday I had an appointment to get my stitches out from the 6 month ordeal known as “the tree growing out of my leg”.  I was delirious with malaria, typhoid and hoof and mouth disease….but Doctor Coasta was dreamy and this was my last chance…*(I said I was delirious)…so I put make up on only for it to melt off. I took a cab down to the clinic only to realize once I got there I was wearing jeans.  Skinny leg jeans. Skinny leg jeans that were so tight on my calf that I couldn’t roll them up to get to the stitches and had to take them off and sit in my sick day ratty panties.  Kill me now.  Needless to say we didn’t play doctor.  I walked over to the grocery store and bought Kraft Dinner.  I ate the entire box.

In between laying in fetal position on the cold kitchen floor to cool my burning forehead, laying on my back to preserve it from being coughed out of its vertebrae and feeling pretty darn sorry for myself with intermittent displays of stomping, touretting and over all hissy pissy fit tantrums – I heard my Mother’s voice….”it can always be worse”.  I went to spit out the words “shut up” but remember the last time I did that she washed my mouth out with a bar of soup…so instead took a deep breath, opened my eyes to see Sadie at floor level looking at me wondering if she should dial 911…. I said “it’s ok Sadie”.   I sat up and indeed realized it could be way worse.  I was luckily at home, I was lucky to have a floor to lie on!  I had a frig full of comfort food, three nurse cats, and no serious obligations. My stitches were healing and thank Gawd I wore panties that day. We’re lucky to have a medical system, doctors and thankfully my sister was getting better. And although I felt like death warmed over – it was just a juicy Lowry cold that would probably be gone in a few more days. So I made another pot of yogi tea, added in some whisky (thank GAWD for whisky) and went up to my sewing room and cut out a dress and started sewing. (Thanks GAWD for Fabricland).  Alfie was running around on the hamster wheel, the cats were snuggled up together on the bed, my sister was improving and just like that I started to feel better.  It could have been the Buckley’s or the whisky or just a slight shift in my molecules.   Perspective is everything.  Thanks Mum xx

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