I'm beginning to wonder what happened to the kid who proudly brought home a Perfect Attendance Award at the end of almost every school year. Because now I am the Queen of Sinus Infections, blessed with all things stuffy and snotty, with a number of used-up sick days to show for it.
Like yet another depressing quarterly report on the state of our national economy, I can pretty much bank on being laid up with a sinus problem usually once every three months. Here it is November and I'm taking to my sick bed again with my third infection of the year. (I managed to side-step one in May.)
Like yet another depressing quarterly report on the state of our national economy, I can pretty much bank on being laid up with a sinus problem usually once every three months. Here it is November and I'm taking to my sick bed again with my third infection of the year. (I managed to side-step one in May.)
That's better than recent times, though. The year after Daughter X was born I had three times that many. Seriously. Who produces that much snot? Me, apparently. That track record landed me into a very cozy relationship with Dr. Broccoli, the best ENT in the whole world, who hooked me up with a weekly date with a needle. My drug cocktail might not by illegal, but my allergy shots sure are like crack to me - especially when they successfully keep the crud away.
I wonder how I stayed so healthy as a child. Was it the ungodly amount of hours I spent pedaling on the Huffy? The gallons of guzzled Kool-Aid? The hours spent holed up memorizing each installment of "The Little House on the Prairie" series? In high school, I would occasionally take a stress (er, sick) day - eat chicken noodle soup, nap and watch "The Sound of Music." Just because I wanted to. (God, I can now think of a bajillion other things that would be so much more cool and fun to do if I was skipping school. Julie Andrews - please!) In college I think I got sick more off of smoking cigarettes, drinking Zima, or kissing a random boy than anything else. I had laryngitis once, but I think my roommate was more thankful than I was upset about my lost voice. (Then I wouldn't force her to listen to all my talk about the before-mentioned random boys.)
I wonder how I stayed so healthy as a child. Was it the ungodly amount of hours I spent pedaling on the Huffy? The gallons of guzzled Kool-Aid? The hours spent holed up memorizing each installment of "The Little House on the Prairie" series? In high school, I would occasionally take a stress (er, sick) day - eat chicken noodle soup, nap and watch "The Sound of Music." Just because I wanted to. (God, I can now think of a bajillion other things that would be so much more cool and fun to do if I was skipping school. Julie Andrews - please!) In college I think I got sick more off of smoking cigarettes, drinking Zima, or kissing a random boy than anything else. I had laryngitis once, but I think my roommate was more thankful than I was upset about my lost voice. (Then I wouldn't force her to listen to all my talk about the before-mentioned random boys.)
And if I'm not currently serving my term as the Queen of Sinus Infections, then I'm definitely upholding my title as Duchess of Disgusting.
Do you know anyone else who:
1. Suffers from such a serious ear-wax build-up problem that she has to have bi-annual visits to the doctor to have it sucked out;
2. Breaks out in itchy welts that move from one body part to another after touching live crayfish or any number of plant combinations;
3. Instead of just a normal sunburn, that involves cool compresses or ongoing application of aloe vera, has an upper lip that swells up twice its normal size after continued sun exposure;
or 4. Has such a strong gag reflex that she can puke at the mention of key words that absolutely gross her out?
And Shingles. Hopefully, that God-forsaken virus will never visit again. That was the low point for me. Imagine a thousand sting rays stabbing hot knives into a blister the size of a pimple, and then imagine a stripe of those stemming from your shoulder blade and wrapping around to under your boob, along your bra line. It made me question my faith for the first time in my life. Holy Mary, Mother of God, it did.
I'm not sure what the deal is... Dust? Mold? Stress? Too much running? A crazy schedule? Parenting? Hormones?
Nah, it's got to be the recent lack of Kool-Aid - tastes great, can't wait and all that. And if I could just get back on the Huffy and go, and keep going, and forget about the pollution, the pollen and life politics, I wouldn't need an apple a day for the rest of my life.
Nah, it's got to be the recent lack of Kool-Aid - tastes great, can't wait and all that. And if I could just get back on the Huffy and go, and keep going, and forget about the pollution, the pollen and life politics, I wouldn't need an apple a day for the rest of my life.
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