I stayed in bed til eleven this morning...
For three hours, I laid in bed hearing all the various family sounds down the hall...
clattering cereal bowls/laughing/crying/snapping and clacking Legos/pitter patter pajamed feet on the kitchen floor/faucet on and off/flushing/cartoons/garbage disposal/tea kettle whistle...
Saturday morning family noise, minus me.
For three hours, I laid in bed feeling sad and sick, hoping desperately that the familiar ache in my bones and thud in my head was not another onset of meningitis.
I've been all clear since October, with only three more months to go of suppressive therapy...admittedly, I was a little too cavalier with my meds around Christmastime, forgetting more days than not to take both doses.
I have the option to try to treat/manage this at home, should the symptoms return.
So, this morning, I dutifully began my at-home protocol (one pill every two hours) and got out of bed, groggy, down, out of it before noon.
I ate some dry cereal for "breakfast" and spilled half my cup of tea.
Bill handled the kids and I barely even interacted with my baby girl before she went down for her nap.
I alternated between wanting to crawl back into bed and wanting to get up and about...after a shower wore me out, I decided up and about wasn't much of an option.
After speaking to the doctor on call (not the doc I normally see), I decided against his advice to go to the ER.
I don't want to be admitted and spend more nights away from my husband and kids...I don't want to be in the hospital.
If this is meningitis, I know there's not much they can do to treat the virus; just drugs and more drugs to manage the pain and help alleviate the symptoms.
And lots of blood being drawn, which used to not phase me a bit, but now really bothers me for some reason.
Max went to his dad's late this afternoon, Maeve has been her chipper, easy self and I've just been lazily sitting here, tucked into the corner of our beat-up couch waiting to feel better.
The game is on, Bill is sort of watching and I am happy to be home feeling this way.
(happy to be home, not happy to be feeling this way)
I'm not into this game, at all...I hate football.
I'm hoping this is the worst of it and I can get by right here, right next to Bill.
My brother called this afternoon.
Weekends suck in jail because he doesn't get to work and all the TVs are tuned into "the game," so he likes to call and just chat (whereas many of his weeknight calls are more "businesslike"; can you ask my lawyer this/can you see if so and so can visit Thursday/would you mind arranging a care package/I'm sending you a copy of a song I wrote, keep an eye out...)
He asked about my health (I hadn't mentioned feeling sucky, haven't talked about my "illness").
Weird psychic-sibling sh*t right there.