WildGinger of Leave

[ismo]

Not much to report today, except that there is still a lot of available pain and I've had another helping of it. I was up twice in the wee hours: once because my ears hurt so much I couldn't remain horizontal. I came downstairs, drank ice water, waited for the pain to abate, went back to bed. Then I got up again a couple of hours later because the pain had moved on to my jaw and teeth. I made a cup of tea and then fell asleep on the couch for awhile. When I opened my eyes, the Sparrowhawk had come down and was sitting on the other end of the couch, and it was getting light. I dragged myself upstairs and went back to bed. I'm so hot and feverish that when I'm rolled up in the blankets I'm like a little burrito wrapped in foil paper and basking under the heat lamp. This disease is like the weirdest thing ever. It is my nemesis of nemeses. I thought nothing could be worse than the flu, but then I encountered this love child of Satan. It has caused me to renounce the gift of consciousness. I want to take it back to Walmart and get a refund. It is a failed experiment. I'm not happy when I wake up. I just want to remain in a stupor for the next week.

I know I must be getting better, though, because I'm typing. The Sparrowhawk ordered some takeout for us. I asked for only noodley things that were not chewy. They still burned the pipes on the way down, but it could have been worse. And how lucky am I to have tasty noodles, a soft bed, and a helpful Sparrowhawk to bring me cups of tea and more kleenex?