Boop's Anatomy

I will try to keep this short, as I am decidedly still unwell. I have come down with a combination bacterial/viral gastrointestinal infection. This on top of dealing with the politics of caring for my in-laws while my husband is absentee, trying to keep my career afloat, etc. My latest StreetWise has been out for two days already, and I haven't even seen it. I was forced to turn down a fairly lucrative academic writing project this week due to my sudden illness, and I am left hoping that professional relationship isn't permanently soured, as I couldn't deliver on their first request. I suppose if it is, it will be alright somehow. If this post sounds somewhat depressed, noncommittal and and exhausted - well, that's about how I feel right now.

I started developing a headache on Tuesday evening, which later progressed to some violent vomiting (and other intestinal pyrotechnics). I was sort of up and down the next two days and nights, but around 6 PM yesterday, I started to worry something was really amiss. By that point, I had been able to hold nothing in for three days. Eddie's folks were downtown at the Art Institute, and of course my husband, as usual, was out of town on business. I rang up my BFF Gary, always dependable, always a friend, always a giver, and we hightailed it to Weiss Hospital at Wilson and Marine drive via taxi.

Four hours, one IV, several blood and urine tests later, I was pronounced the victim of an awful virus. One would think I'd be unhappy to hear this, but in fact I was relieved. This is because the resident on duty had initially scared the crap out of me with words like "aneurysm," "stroke" and "spinal tap." Eddie arrived at my bedside from O'Hare just as I started to shriek that I wasn't undergoing a spinal tap, no way, no how. When I was finally released, I had to sign a form stating that I was rejecting both a cat scan and the tap "AMA" - against medical advice. Honestly, I don't think it's that bloody serious, but that 1% doubt in my mind is playing with me a bit.

The good news is that my head still hurts, but feels much better, and I have successfully held down the plain boiled potatoes and Gatorade that are to make up the bulk of my diet today. In the evening, I have a hearty meal of Swanson's Chicken Broth in a can to look forward to. Beside turning down the well-paying writing job, I had to contact my Life Coach and give him the 411. He has been kind enough to extend my deadline until Monday.

Mummy and Papa have just gone off on a trolley tour of downtown, so I am able to snatch a few hours of uninterrupted peace. I need a bath, that's for sure. I may walk around the house with my now-scrawny body naked for a few minutes, well just because I can. It seems it's been forever now since my life was my own. It's shameful, but the weight loss is the one part of this week that pleases me. How vain and stupid, I know.

We have another full round of family visits this weekend. I will be sitting out the delightful eating portion of things, but at least folks will understand if I am a bit quiet.