On the Mend

I am sitting here, eyes burning, trying to write just to stay in the habit of writing. Yesterday was a very rough day. I was still recovering from the stomach bug, while at the same time starting to feel achy and yucky. We were also on a death watch for one of the guinea pigs, Leather. She ended up passing away while we were away at Bekah's party. Guinea pigs are interesting in that they don't like to pass away while they're around their friends. I have had multiple piggies who have held on until I've removed them from their cage. Upon being placed in a different environment, they pass away in short time. In any case, we have had two other piggies (Laverne and Shirley) pass away since we moved in. Cagney and Lacey are still with us. When Laverne passed last year, we told Jeremy that she went to help her grandma in South America. Brian and I decided that Jeremy was too young to deal with the subject of death. Our hope was that this simple explanation would serve to answer any questions he might have.

What we underestimated was his memory. A year later and Jeremy is still asking about Laverne. "Where did she go, Mommy," he'll ask me. He also asks me about the "white one," Shirley, who passed when he was only like 20 months old. I mean, really. So now I am anxious about him realizing that Leather is no longer with us. It would seem ludicrous to think that this sick grandma pig needs three girls to help her convalesce. The guinea pigs no longer have the cache that they used to. Frankly, I think that the girls are quite happy being left alone. The friendliest ones we had have now passed (Laverne and Leather). I am not feeling well enough to deal with this, so I'm hoping it will come up in a few days.

Bekah's party was a huge success. We paid more than we had expected, but Pump it Up really handled it so well. I knew I was still not feeling great when just seeing the kids jump up and down made me feel nauseated. As the evening progressed, my achy and tired feeling did, too. Luckily, I felt well enough to participate and it was just a treat and a hoot to see Bekah enjoy herself. Jeremy struggled, though. He wasn't happy that he didn't get any gifts and then threw a fit that I hadn't made him a goody bag. By God's grace, Billy forgot his so I was able to at least let him hold it. Again, though, he was a step ahead. He knew it wasn't his name written on the outside. My dad proved to be a big help in dealing with Jeremy's emotions. He was holding Jeremy at one point and told him that he could have his birthday party at Pump it Up. Jeremy responded, "yeah, and I will get birthday presents and Bekah won't be able to open any of them, hah hah hah." (The hah hah hah was in the style of an evil villain.)

When we got home, I really started feeling awful. I had the worst chills. I couldn't get warm to save my life. I took my temperature but had no fever. I slept fitfully through most of Mission: Impossible and awoke during Quantum of Solace. At that point, I took my temperature and it was up to 101. I was burning up, dizzy, the whole nine. I went in to nurse Doug and then came out, still feeling awful. My throat felt like I was swallowing knives. I finally got the fever to break, but then I was sweating like crazy and couldn't get comfortable. I slept even more fitfully and woke up feeling worse. I was able to find someone to watch Jeremy and Bekah, then headed off to the doctor. My temperature there was 103.8 (under the armpit, so add a degree to that). I texted Brian, asking him to come home.

I have not been able to get more than a couple of hours of sleep over the past 48 hours. I am sitting here, sweating. I can't manage to get comfortable anywhere. My stomach is churning from the antibiotics and ibuprofen. I wish that I could fast forward through this. The worst part is that it's likely I'll have to have my tonsils out. My doctor is concerned because I've had strep twice in the past six months.

While all of this has been happening, I'm mourning the death of my friend, 27-year-old Remi. She was found by her parents yesterday morning. There is an autopsy, but the reality is that it was an alcohol-related death. I am a member of a 12-step program, which is where I met her. I had known her for about 4 years. She was 100 pounds and nothing, a worrywart and a lover of McFlurrys. I have not completely processed her death. I am grateful for my sobriety. I am grateful that my parents didn't have to find me like that. I miss her sense of humor, her predilection for multiple types of mascara, her melodrama and her baking. I keep hoping that this is all a bad dream, that she is still holed up in her townhome in Mundelein. She loved to go to Goodwill with her mom. She gave me a bunch of magnets for Bekah and Jeremy to play with-they still play with them to this day. She was so beautiful and everyone loved her. I am sad that she died the way she did; I can't blame myself because she did have the solution but didn't apply it. I am not sure why some are taken so long before they should be.

All of this happening at once has been a lot to handle. I wish I could get comfortable enough to sleep, but I'm not sure that's going to happen. I am grateful for so much today and hopeful that the antibiotics will begin to do their work before too long.