I've been thinking a lot about my re-entry to the blog world. I never meant to go away, you know. But once one finds oneself "away", it's crucial that one re-enter under optimal conditions. I'm not foolish enough to believe that any one of you cares to hear more about the illness that kept me away.
So, my illness. It was one for the history books, not only for the fact that it was TWO ILLNESSES IN ONE. People, I couldn't make this stuff up.
First, I got the flu. The good, old-fashioned influenza that everyone is always a bit confused by. To clear up the confusion, I'll say this: if you ever have one of the happiest Fridays of your life and it's almost 80 degrees even though it's just mid-March, if you end up going to dinner at Wendy's just for the hay of it then watch your kids play at the park, if you breeze home in your sexy mini van, get the kids to bed and then realize that you are covered with goose bumps, and then your goose bumps get goose bumps, and then your goose bumps' grandbabies get goose bumps and you have no idea what's going on? You might be coming down with the flu.
Just go on ahead and order up your casket, because you will need it.
If, three days later, just when your symptoms are starting to subside, you fall prey to the worst stomach virus this side of the Montezuma, you'll know for sure that your luck is worse than the Devil's himself.
Three separate times I called Cory at work crying, "I think I have caaaaaaaaaancer!" I thought for sure that I was dying. And on the off-chance that I wasn't dying, I would think to myself, "Well, this is it, Shannan. You'll be spending the rest of your life in bed and your children will remember with decreasing clarity the days when you walked upright and cooked them food."
Between the time I got sick and tonight, here are some of the things that have happened:
* Calvin turned 7. I don't want to talk about it. I rallied for a few hours on Saturday just long enough to let a dear friend throw him a proper party. I wasted all my dinner and breathed germs on the kind souls we tried to bail me out. I stumbled home half-crying. I think I kissed Big Boy goodnight, but I can't promise.
*My mom drove straight through the night after a shift at the nursing home to come and take care of me for a day.
*I developed three bed sores in their earliest stage 1) right ear 2) left ear 3) right hip beneath my under-britches seam.
* I lost 10 pounds. That's what happens when you don't eat anything for almost a week. I'm trying my dangdest to find the lost pounds, but my stomach still isn't himself. Yes, my stomach is a boy. Aren't they all?
*I dreamed that Rush Limbaugh tried to assault me in public, but I thwarted his attempt by grabbing a paper out of his hands and tearing it into tiny pieces while I ran screaming off toward the horizon.
* I found my first gray hair. I don't want to talk about it. I thought it was really, really blond at first. But then it was also wiry, you know, thicker than usual. Incidentally, if I could happen upon an entire head of gray hair, I might not look half-bald. It's a trade-off I'm willing to consider.
* My 7/9 experiment ended. I'm going to keep it real: I planned to push through until Easter, make it a Lenten sort of deal. But then I wore the exact same shirt for 3 days straight and all of the connecting nights and when the dust finally cleared I was on day 30 and it seemed like a natural stopping point. I needed a little something in my life and that "something" happened to be inky blue, 3/4 sleeved, tiny gold buttons on one shoulder, hip length. (I've worn it two days straight.)
Dear, kind giveway winners? I haven't mailed your books yet. But at least I remember that I haven't sent them, which is more than I could say five days ago.
Bear with me as I sneak back into the atmosphere. I'm on a steady diet of probiotics and Mexican food, so I should be back to 100% in no time.
Thanks for waiting. I know now that our love is real.