I have no idea what's going on in this body. I do know it's not a baby.
That just makes it a bug without a purpose, as far as I'm concerned.
Also, because this weekend is the Coug's bye weekend, Shoes and I had planned to go back to Portland for the weekend and see friends we miss dearly and visit the city we kind of maybe wish we hadn't left.
That, of course, is no longer the plan.
Stupid stomach bug without a purpose.
I've yo yo'd in between home and work this past week. I feel good in the mornings, by mid afternoon by stomach starts hurting and by late night I'm in severe pain with other symptoms. I thought my supervisor yesterday was going to lose it when I kept telling her I had just one more thing to do before I went home. (Really, my work boundaries are getting much better. I have a few families in crisis right now, though, with little coverage options, which makes not being at work a little difficult.)
I went to Urgent Care on Tuesday, because, even though I'm 36 and we've lived here for 2 years I'm slightly juvenile and irresponsible and still haven't established care with a PCP. The doc on call said, "Eh, you're either pregnant or you have The Bug. You're fine to go back to work."
I'm tired of home. Tired of my bed. Tired of reading. Tired of social media. Tired of daytime TV. (When I watch TV, I catch myself thinking things like, "What do you mean Jwoww and Snookie and Janelle and Kim K can have babies and I can't; That makes zero sense ...." Then I have to remind myself that those thoughts help nobody and it doesn't matter who's having babies and who isn't.)
Tired of my stomach hurting.
Not tired of the Rosie snuggles. She's been a steady, constant companion, often choosing to lay her 75lb dog fluff directly on me, or choosing to snuggle her dog nose into my neck. Every time I'm really not feeling well she brings me her favorite stuffed octopus, which is extremely endearing and also disgusting because that octopus is really very extremely dirty.
Not tired of Shoes, who has gone out to buy Saltines and more Saltine and Gatorade and more Gatorade and lies down next to me and continually asks me what I need. How did I get so lucky to have him, you guys? I look at him and I remember just two years ago when all I could think was, "Our long distance is going to end soon and then we get to have a normal relationship where we see each other every day." He's a good one.
So today I'm at home, orders of my outpatient clinic, who are alarmed by my pasty pallor. (look guys, it's just a product of having no food energy for several days ...) I'm going to crack open "Play Therapy With Children in Crisis" (which I really have been wanting to read.) I'm going to start planning next Spring's garden (when else am I going to have this kind of time?) Shoes and I are re-arranging / redecorating the bedrooms in our house to make symbolic / spiritual / metaphorical room for a child; I'll probably start looking for paint colors.
And just continue to believe that whatever this stupid bug is it's not serious and will leave soon.
(I did schedule a real appointment with a doctor for next Tuesday to talk about the stomach issues and to establish care with a PCP. I am a grown up, in the end. I'm just a grown up who's tired of Super Bug.)